#and asked if they would mind if i traced and colored their sketch and they said yes

[mo-ondial]

i think that heaven has no gate,

but the fence is low, and unguarded.

there is no angel to bet on you,

and take away your blame,

only the promise you make

when you step over,

or roll under,

or duck through.

i think heaven has no gate,

but i know i will be damned to circle it,

not in hopeless search,

but hopeful.

[theonottsbxtch]

A FUTURE WORTH LIVING | CS55

an: this was a request from @carlossainzapologist and RAHHHHH they’ve given me so many ideas chat be ready to be blown up on here please enjoy knight!carlos

wc: 3.6k

The castle walls were always cold at night, the chill seeping into her bones no matter how many fires roared in the hearth. She stood at the balcony, the silk of her gown whispering against the stone as the wind tangled itself in her hair. Below, the training yard was empty, save for one figure—Carlos.

He moved like the ocean, each swing of his blade fluid and unyielding. Moonlight danced along the edge of his sword, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to mock her. She had watched him countless nights like this, a silent penance for the sin of her love. The knight was hers in duty, bound to protect her with his life, but not in the way her heart so desperately craved.

She clenched the railing, the cool stone biting into her palms. Tomorrow, she would stand before an altar, draped in gold and jewels, and vow her life to a man she barely knew. A prince who was everything a kingdom could hope for—noble, strong, diplomatic. And yet, she could barely remember the color of his eyes.

Carlos, on the other hand... She could sketch the curve of his jaw from memory, trace the faint scar that cut through his brow with her fingertips. But he had never once looked at her as though she were anything more than his charge.

She turned away, unwilling to let the tears fall where they might be seen, even by the night.

“Your Highness,” his voice broke through the stillness, low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine.

She hadn’t heard him climb the stairs. “Carlos,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

He stood in the doorway, his armor glinting faintly in the moonlight. “It’s late. You should rest.”

She laughed softly, bitterly. “Rest will not come easily tonight.”

He hesitated, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You’ve...much to think about, I’m sure.”

Her heart twisted at his careful tone, the way he avoided her gaze. “Do you ever think about what it might be like to leave all of this behind?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos stepped closer, and for a moment, she thought he might say something—something that could shatter the fragile balance they had maintained for years. But instead, he bowed his head.

“My duty is here,” he said, his words as unyielding as the steel he wielded. “With you, always.”

And wasn’t that the cruelest part of all?

She turned back to the balcony, desperate to hide the tremble in her lips. His words echoed in her mind, a hollow comfort and a deeper torment. With you, always. But never in the way she longed for.

“Duty,” she murmured, tasting the bitterness of the word. “And what of desire, Carlos? Do you ever think of what you want?”

The question hung between them like a blade poised to strike. She didn’t expect him to answer; he never did. He was a master of restraint, trained to subdue his every impulse, his every want, for the sake of the kingdom.

But this time, he faltered.

“I have no right to want,” he said at last, his voice tight with something she couldn’t quite name.

She spun to face him, her heart pounding. The stoic knight who had stood at her side for years, unflinching, unyielding, looked...fractured. His jaw was clenched, his hands trembling at his sides, as though holding himself back from something he couldn’t afford to let loose.

“Everyone has the right to want,” she said, taking a step closer. Her voice was steadier now, emboldened by the crack in his armour. “Even you, Carlos.”

He shook his head, “It’s late, Your Highness,” he said, his voice cold again, the mask he wore sliding back into place. “You should go to bed.”

Her heart stuttered.

“I…” She swallowed, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. “Carlos, I—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice a little softer but still firm. “It’s been a long day. You need rest. Tomorrow, I’ll be here to take you to your wedding.”

The words stung, sharper than any blade. Your wedding.

Her chest tightened. She nodded, but it was a hollow motion, an empty gesture. “Of course,” she whispered, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “I will go to bed.”

Carlos didn’t move, didn’t speak, as she turned away, her steps heavy as she walked past him and into her chambers. His silence followed her like a shadow, and when the door clicked shut behind her, the walls seemed to close in.

She collapsed onto her bed, the weight of the night pressing down on her chest. The tears came then, hot and relentless, streaking down her face. She buried her face in the pillow, her sobs muffled by the soft fabric, but the pain was no less real. How many years had she spent in this prison of her own making? How many nights had she wondered if he felt the same? And now, she had the answer.

He had never loved her. Not like that.

The cruelest part was that she had always known it. He had always kept his distance, had always put up that invisible wall between them. But tonight—tonight, she had hoped for something different. A sign. A glimpse of what could be. But instead, he had pushed her away, as he always did. As he was bound to.

And tomorrow, she would marry a prince. Not Carlos.

The thought was suffocating.

She cried until the tears were spent, her body aching with grief. The room, the bed, the very air around her felt like a tomb. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, but sleep was fitful, filled with dreams of a life she would never have.

When the morning came, bright and cruel, she woke to the sound of birds outside the window. The sun was already rising, casting its light on a future she was powerless to change.

The day had come.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror in her chamber, staring at the reflection of the woman she was supposed to be. The dress—gold and white, sparkling like the dawn—felt like a weight, a gilded cage around her body. Her hair, braided intricately, was pinned perfectly in place, but her heart was a mess of tangled threads she couldn’t untangle. She had spent the last few hours preparing, her hands trembling with the knowledge of what was to come. The crown, the prince, the vows.

But as she looked into her own eyes, she saw only a woman who had never been allowed to choose her own fate.

Her father’s voice echoed from outside the door. “It’s time, my daughter.”

She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears.

When she stepped into the hall, the air seemed to thicken with the weight of expectation. The guests were already seated, whispering amongst themselves, all of them dressed in their finest clothes, their faces a blur of curiosity and anticipation. The music began to play softly, and her heart raced in response.

She could feel every eye on her as she made her way down the aisle, each step feeling heavier than the last. The golden carpet stretched out before her like a path to a life she had never wanted but had been told to accept. Her father’s arm was warm and steady at her side, but his grip felt more like a shackle than a reassurance.

And then, she saw him.

The prince stood at the altar, tall and regal in his embroidered cloak, his expression composed but his eyes glimmering with the excitement of their union. He was a handsome man, noble, with a smile that promised safety, security. But it was a smile she had never truly felt for.

The thought of marrying him—of giving herself over to someone who had always been a stranger to her—gnawed at her insides.

She caught sight of her people sitting in the pews, the nobles, the courtiers, their faces filled with eager expectation. The kingdom was relying on her. They all expected this—her duty to marry and secure the future of their land. And she had always known it was her responsibility, her burden, to uphold this legacy. But today, as she walked closer to the prince, closer to the altar, something inside her broke.

This wasn’t her life to choose. This was a life written for her before she had even taken her first breath.

Her heart pounded as she neared the altar. The prince’s eyes were fixed on her now, his smile widening. He reached out, eager to take her hand, to finalize the union that had been arranged for years. But something inside her snapped.

She looked to her father, his face a mask of pride and expectation. And then, she whispered—her voice trembling but resolute, despite the tears that threatened to spill.

“I can’t.”

The words were quiet, but the silence that followed felt deafening. Her father’s face faltered, the confusion and anger flashing in his eyes as the entire room fell into stunned silence.

“I can’t do this,” she said again, louder this time, her breath shaking. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Before anyone could stop her, she turned. Her gown swished in the air as she fled from the altar, her heart pounding with every step, every beat screaming to be free. The room erupted in chaos, gasps of shock and whispers of disbelief. Her father’s furious voice called after her, but she didn’t look back.

She ran down the aisle, past the stunned guests, toward the doors. The weight of their eyes was suffocating, but it wasn’t enough to make her stop.

But then, as she reached the doors, she heard it—the sound of footsteps, fast and urgent. A figure pushed through the crowd, his heavy armour clanking as he moved with determination.

Carlos.

Her breath hitched as he came to a stop in front of her, his face flushed with exertion but his eyes filled with something softer—something she hadn’t dared to hope for.

He didn’t speak at first. He didn’t need to. The world had stopped, leaving only the two of them.

“Carlos,” she whispered, her heart thundering in her chest.

He looked at her, his gaze gentle but firm. “You’re not alone,” he said, his voice low, raw. “I’ll be here. Always.”

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she allowed herself to breathe, to feel something that was her own.

He reached out, taking her hand with a tenderness she hadn’t dared dream of.

“Come with me,” he urged quietly.

Without a second thought, she nodded, her heart finally free of the chains that had bound it for so long.

Carlos led her swiftly through the palace, his hand firm around hers as they moved with purpose. The chaos of the wedding behind them still echoed in the corridors, muffled voices and heavy footsteps trailing in their wake, but they were already a world apart.

He knew every hidden corner of the palace. Every secret passageway and forgotten alcove. He had trained here for years, had wandered these halls long before he had become her protector. Now, as he led her through a narrow, unlit hallway, his grip tightened, a silent promise that he would never let her go.

They reached a small, inconspicuous door at the end of the hall, tucked away in the shadow of a grand staircase. With a glance over his shoulder, Carlos pushed the door open, revealing a small room that had been untouched by the outside world for as long as either of them could remember.

The walls were lined with old tapestries, their colors faded with time, and the floor was covered in a thick rug. There were no windows—no light except for the soft glow of torches on the far wall. The air was thick with dust, but it felt safer than any grand chamber in the palace. Here, in this forgotten corner, they could be hidden from everything, from everyone.

He closed the door behind them, the click of the lock sounding final.

For a moment, they both stood in silence, catching their breath. She was still in her wedding gown, the fabric bunched around her legs, her chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands were still warm from the grip he had kept on her, his fingers now twitching with the need to touch her again.

Carlos took a step closer, the heat between them building. His eyes searched hers, full of questions, but also something deeper—something he had fought to conceal for years.

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “What now?”

Carlos didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, his hand gently brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. His touch was hesitant, as if he were afraid she might vanish if he moved too quickly.

“I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “I didn’t mean to make you run. But I couldn’t let you do this, not when I knew you weren’t ready.”

Her heart skipped at the weight of his words. He knew her. Truly knew her.

“You should’ve let me go,” she whispered, her voice strained. “You should’ve stayed out of it. This is not our fight.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “It’s always been our fight, Your Highness. I’ve watched you—” His voice faltered as if the confession had come too suddenly. “I’ve watched you give everything for this kingdom, for your people, for your father. But it was never your choice, was it? Not once. And I couldn’t bear to watch you live a life you didn’t want.”

The words were like a dagger to her chest, but they were also freeing. For the first time in her life, someone saw her, truly saw her—beyond the princess, beyond the duty. He saw her heart.

“I don’t want to marry him,” she said, the words coming out with a rush of emotion she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now. “I never did.”

Carlos stepped closer, his breath mingling with hers. “Then don’t. Not now. Not ever.”

She looked up at him, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name. “But what do we do now, Carlos? What’s left for us?”

He didn’t hesitate. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. Whatever you need, I’ll be there. Always.”

And in that moment, everything that had been left unsaid, all the years of longing and silence, came crashing down.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against hers for the briefest of moments, tentative, searching. She gasped, her heart racing as she finally let herself feel everything she had been holding back. She kissed him back, her hands moving up to his chest, tugging at the fabric of his tunic, desperate to feel him closer.

The kiss deepened, their bodies pressed against one another as though they were two halves of a whole, finally coming together. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her flush against him as his mouth claimed hers with a fierce urgency.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her breath coming in short gasps as the heat between them intensified, the room spinning with a mixture of passion and desperation.

She had imagined this moment a thousand times—dreamed of it in the silence of her heart—but nothing had prepared her for the reality of it. The way his hands burned against her skin, the way his lips moved over hers with a hunger that matched her own.

Carlos pulled back for a moment, his forehead resting against hers, both of them gasping for air. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’ve always wanted this,” she confessed, her voice trembling.

And without another word, they kissed again, this time with a fierceness that spoke of all the years they had spent apart, of all the moments they had lost. In that hidden room, within the walls of the palace that had confined them both, they were finally free.

Just as their kiss deepened once more, a sharp, urgent knock at the door shattered the fragile moment between them. The sound echoed in the small room like a warning bell.

She pulled away immediately, her heart leaping into her throat as she scrambled to straighten herself. The panic rose within her, hot and suffocating. What if it was her father? What if the whole palace had come after her?

Carlos, too, immediately stepped back, his expression flickering between concern and irritation. He moved toward the door swiftly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, though it wasn’t drawn. His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and in that glance, there was no need for words. They both knew they were far from safe.

The knock came again, louder this time, followed by a low voice from the other side.

“Carlos? Open the door. It’s Lando.”

Her heart skipped. Lando—one of the knights she recognised from the court. He had always been polite, professional, and loyal to her family, but what was he doing here?

Carlos hesitated for only a moment before he reached for the latch and opened the door. Lando stood there, his expression tense, eyes scanning the room quickly. He wasn’t wearing his armor, but he was still dressed in the colors of the royal guard, his dark cloak billowing slightly behind him.

“Carlos,” Lando began, his voice low but urgent, “I’ve heard the rumors. Your princess...she’s gone?”

Carlos didn’t answer right away, his gaze still fixed on Lando, weighing the situation.

“Yes,” Carlos said, his voice steady but tinged with something like defiance. “She’s with me. No one else knows of this.”

Lando nodded, glancing quickly at her—still in her wedding gown, eyes wide with fear—and then back at Carlos.

“Good,” Lando said, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “I’m not here to make trouble. I’m here to get you both out.”

The words struck her like a bolt of lightning. “Get us out?” Her voice trembled, the reality of what that could mean slowly sinking in. “Where? How? They’ll come for us. The entire palace…”

Lando closed the door behind him with a soft thud, cutting off the room’s only escape from the chaos outside. He leaned against the door, his hands steady. “I have a plan. I know the back routes. I can get you on a train, to the border. The prince and your father will have no idea you’ve gone. But we need to move now, before they realise what’s happened.”

Carlos turned to her, his eyes dark with unspoken emotion, but this time there was no hesitation. He wasn’t waiting for her to choose anymore.

But she was frozen, her mind racing. The weight of everything was bearing down on her—her family, the kingdom, her future. She had run away from her wedding, run away from the life she had been promised. It wasn’t just a momentary flight of passion. This was real, and there would be no going back.

Her heart was torn between the life she had been forced into and the man standing in front of her. She had always known she was meant for something more, but this—this escape—felt so final. So dangerous.

The room seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing against her chest as she breathed in sharp, ragged breaths.

“I can’t... I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Carlos took a step toward her, his hand gentle on her arm. “You don’t have to decide now, but we don’t have time. They’ll find us, and they’ll make sure you marry him. You’ve already decided you can’t go through with that. So what are you going to do? Stay here, be forced into a life you never wanted?”

The words stung, but they were true. She had always been the dutiful daughter, the princess. She had always done what was expected. But this—this was hers.

She looked at Lando, then back at Carlos. The decision was there, right in front of her.

The chaos of the wedding, the pressure of her family’s expectations, the silence she had lived in for so long—it all came rushing to the surface. She didn’t have time to think anymore.

Fuck it.

The thought shot through her mind like a spark to kindling.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice steady now, her decision final.

Carlos’ eyes softened, relief flooding through him. He reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You won’t regret this.”

“I already have,” she replied, a wild grin breaking across her face. “But this... this is my choice.”

Lando smiled, and with a quick nod, he moved toward the door. “We’ll need to move fast. You two better follow me.”

Carlos took her hand, guiding her toward the door, but before they stepped into the unknown, she paused for a moment.

“Carlos,” she whispered. He turned to her, his hand resting on her back. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. “Are you sure? Will you stay with me? I... I don’t want to be alone in this.”

Carlos stepped closer, his voice firm. “You’re not alone. I will always be here.”

And with that, they followed Lando through the dark corridors of the palace, the sound of their footsteps fading into the distance.

They were no longer bound by duty, by royal expectation, by anything but their own desire for freedom. And in that moment, they realised that together, they could forge a new path—one they chose.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby

[lotus-pear]

YAAAAAYYYY ITS FINALLY HERE!!! ty guys sm again for 5k i rly appreciate it <3

rules and guidelines under the cut!

rules and due date (i've never done this before so bear w me ok!!):

-due date will be march 1st! i will accept entries a few days late dw i'm nor ur professor or smth BUT I WOULD RLY PREFER IF U GET IT DONE BY THEN (just dm me if u need more time)

-pls tag ur finished piece under #lotuspear5kdtiys and dont forget to mention my user @lotus-pear! if i neglect to reblog ur piece then pls lmk even though that probably won't happen bc i'll be checking that tag every day for new entries👹

-pls don't trace the art.. i'll be really sad if u do that :(((( if u need help at all w the posing or hands then shoot me an ask or weed ur way into my dms bc ik this is kind of a complicated piece

-anyone can participate!! u don't have to be following me or anything and it's fine if we've never interacted before

-colors and expression are completely flexible and i'd even encourage playing around w it since the final product isn't meant to mimic my style. if u can then pls try to keep the pose relatively similar although i don't mind if it's changed a little bit. whatever is most comfortable to u as the artist.

-if u guys want to see the piece without any shading or rendering then pls dm me, ik it might be easier for some ppl to just see the bare sketch or the lineart w base colors

prizes🤩 (ik this is what u guys are rly after /j):

-alr so ik everybody's all like "well what's in this for me🤨" oh my god if u would just let me explain 😐 i'll be choosing three winners and two honorable mentions amongst all the contestants

-the top three winners get a follow (yea ok kinda sucky but wtv) AND they get to commission a fully rendered piece from me of a single character of their choice for free >:) (i'll discuss the details w the winners in two months)

-the two runner ups will also get a follow from me AND they get to commission a sketch of a single character from me (again, i'll discuss what this entails in further detail when the honorable mentions are selected in two months)

————

ermmm yea i think thats it for now i'll come back and edit the post if i feel the need to add anything.. HAVE FUN GUYS I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT U GUYS DO🫶🏼🫶🏼

[bl00dyfaiiry]

Yandere Serial Killer x GN!reader

tags: non-con, gore, blood, sadism, helpless reader, insane yandere, possible death, stabbing, knife, twisted mind, gore painting, psychopath yandere.

a/n: this is not really long but aside that enjoy reading

You had noticed him in class, the quiet one with the gentle smile and the way he always had his head bent over a sketchbook, his pencil moving in swift, sure stroke.

he was known for his art. It was something of a surprise when he approached you one day, asking if you'd like to come over to his apartment to see his latest project.

You had nodded, curious but slightly uncomfortable. Art was subjective, and you didn't want to hurt his feelings if you didn't get it.

The apartment was small but surprisingly well-kept, a stark contrast to the chaos of your own dorm room. His artwork adorned the walls, a mix of charcoal sketches and vibrant paintings that seemed to pulse with life.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you took in the crimson hues that dominated one corner of the room. He noticed your gaze and offered a proud smile, gesturing towards the pieces. "These are my latest creations," he said softly. "I've been experimenting with a new medium."

As you stepped closer, the unmistakable metallic scent of blood filled the air.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself it was just a clever use of paint, a trick of the light.

But when you examined the textures, the way the "paint" pooled and dribbled down the canvas, you couldn't ignore the truth.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of madness.

He watched you intently, his gentle smile never wavering as he took in your reaction. "It's a bit... intense, isn't it?" he mused, his voice low and soothing.

"The human eye can't quite replicate the depth of color, the visceral quality of real blood. I find it... inspiring." You nodded, trying to keep the horror from showing on your face, trying to play it cool.

But then he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

"Would you like to be a part of my next masterpiece?" His hand closed around your wrist, and your heart stuttered. The room spun as he pulled you closer to the crimson canvases.

You tried to pull away, but his grip was like steel.

You looked around frantically for an escape, your eyes landing on a sharpened palette knife glinting on his desk.

He followed your gaze and chuckled darkly, "I knew you'd be special." With a swift movement, he grabbed the knife, his smile turning into a grin that sent chills down your spine.

"But not quite in the way you're thinking."

The panic bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing a shaky laugh. "It's... really something," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady.

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of fear or disgust, but you held his gaze, trying to convince him you were unfazed.

"You know, I've never actually painted with real blood before," you said, hoping to distract him. "It must be quite an experience." His grip on your wrist tightened, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Oh, it is," he breathed. "The way it flows, the way it dries... it's like capturing life itself."

He guided you to a chair in the center of the room, his touch cold and firm.

"You're going to be perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with excitement.

The realization of what was happening hit you like a ton of bricks, but your voice remained eerily calm.

"How do you get the blood?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation going while your mind raced for an escape plan.

His smile grew wider, his eyes darkening. "Ah, that's a trade secret," he said, his voice a serrated whisper. He reached out and traced a finger along the edge of a crimson smear, his eyes never leaving yours.

"But I can show you, if you'd like." Your stomach lurched, but you nodded, keeping up the act.

He stepped closer, the knife in his hand glinting in the soft light. "I usually find it on the street," he began, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "But sometimes, I get to harvest it myself." The words sent a jolt of terror through your body, but you managed to keep your expression neutral.

"It's all about the connection, you see. The bond between artist and muse."

Your eyes flicked to the knife, then back to his face. He noticed your gaze and brought it closer to your skin, tracing the line of your neck with the cold steel.

You could feel your pulse pounding beneath the blade. "Don't worry," he assured you, his smile never wavering. "I'll be gentle."

The room grew hot and airless as he began to cut, not deep enough to be fatal, but deep enough to make you wince.

The pain was sharp, a stark contrast to the coldness of the metal. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, watching as drops of blood welled up and trickled down your skin, staining your clothes.

His eyes lit up with a twisted sort of pleasure as he caught the droplets on the tip of the knife, then brought it to the canvas. He painted with your blood, the crimson mixing with the other hues in a macabre dance of life and art.

You felt faint, the world swirling around you as he worked, but you forced yourself to stay present, to keep up the facade of interest and engagement.

You had to get out of here, had to find a way to escape before things went too far. The smell of your own blood was thick in the air, mingling with the chemical odor of his paints and the faint scent of his cologne. You tried to focus on the latter, anything to keep the panic at bay.

As the crimson streaks grew longer, his eyes grew more feverish, his breath coming in quick gasps. His grip on the knife tightened, and you knew you had to act now.

With a burst of adrenaline, you brought your knee up sharply, aiming for his groin. He grunted in surprise, his eyes flickering with pain, but his grip on you didn't loosen.

He leaned down, his mouth close to yours. "I don't think that's going to work," he whispered, his breath hot and sour.

He shoved the chair back and you stumbled to the floor, your vision blurring.

He was on top of you in an instant, his weight crushing, the knife forgotten. His hands were everywhere, tearing at your clothes, his touch cold and unyielding.

You fought back with all your strength, your nails scratching at his face, but it was like fighting a monster in a nightmare, his body unyielding and relentless.

The fabric of your shirt gave way, and you felt the cool air of the room kiss your exposed skin, sending a fresh wave of panic through your veins.

He pinned your arms above your head, his eyes alight with a sickening hunger. You screamed, a raw sound that seemed to echo off the walls, but his mouth was on yours, muffling the sound, his tongue invading your mouth like a serpent tasting its prey.

His hands moved down your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You struggled beneath him, your muscles straining against his iron grip.

His weight was unyielding, a crushing force that stole your breath. The world outside the apartment was a distant memory, a muffled existence that you were desperately trying to reach.

You felt his hands on your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your neck, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

As he pushed into you, you gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut, willing the pain away. But it was inescapable, a searing agony that seemed to split you in two.

You could feel every inch of him, a violation that went beyond the physical, invading your very soul. Your body trembled and arched, trying to find some semblance of comfort, some way to resist the horror of what was happening.

But then, unable to contain it any longer, a scream ripped from your throat. It was a raw, primal sound, filled with all the fear and rage and despair that had been building inside you.

He stiffened above you, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into a look of irritation. He leaned back, raising the knife, and with a swift, practiced motion, he stabbed it into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

The pain was blinding, a white-hot fire that consumed you. The room spun, the colors running together like a Jackson Pollock painting.

You felt the warmth of your blood spreading across the fabric of your shirt, seeping into the floorboards beneath you.

The world grew dark around the edges, the edges of your vision closing in like the pages of a book slamming shut.

Then, there was a soft laugh, a sound so incongruent with the horror that it almost seemed like a hallucination. His breath was hot against your cheek, and his voice was a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I didn't mean to make it hurt so much." The words were a knife twisting in your gut, a mockery of compassion from the monster on top of you.

You felt the warmth of your own blood soaking through the fabric of your shirt, and the pain from the knife wound in your shoulder was a pulsing reminder of your plight.

Yet, amidst the agony, something inside you refused to give in. A spark of defiance flared up, pushing back the tides of fear.

then you black out and never see the light again.

[sombrathedragon]

Soooooo I wanted to do a DTIYS for my birthday (which is in 3 days btw !! :D) but I’m too impatient to wait so you guys are getting it now !!! :D and I’m at THREE HUNDRED FOLLOWERS ?? Tysm guys !!! :D

Wrath. Sing, O Animus of the wrath of Kestrel’s daughter Peril. Murderous, doomed who cost the Skywings countless lives, hurdling up to be reborn, so many sturdy souls.

[plain text: Wrath. Sing, O Animus of the wrath of Kestrel’s daughter Peril. Murderous, doomed who cost the Skywings countless lives, hurling up to be reborn, so many sturdy souls.]

more info about dtiys under cut !!

Sooo I was trying to think of what to do for my dtiys, as I wanted to combine my 2 top interests (Wof and Greek mythology), and technically I have to thank @mythos321 for speaking about the idea of a Wof x Iliad AU in the first place lol (I have not stopped thinking about it) Sooo tada !! You guys get Peril as Achilles and Clay as Patroclus :3 (technically cause that’s the vibe I was going for here)

RULES:

I would like for you to use my Peril design :] but for Clay I don’t mind what design to use for him :D

You can relatively change perils pose! But I would like it if you kept it at a side angle like I have it :] but she can be like attacking someone, flying down, or just like I have her, just make her distraught! >:D also keep Clay grabbing onto her :3

The due date will be June 1st, but if you need an extension feel free to ask me for one !! :3

If you have questions, I don’t bite :3 (but feel free to ask me any !!)

use the tag #sombradtiys2025

NO AI OR TRACING ALOUD.

any level of artist welcome !!

PRIZES:

1st place: Fully shaded and colored drawing of oc/Wof character

2nd place: Fully colored drawing of oc/Wof character

3rd place: Sketch/doodles of any oc/Wof character

Have fun !!! :3

[starheavenly]

hiii!!! loving your locket comics!!!!!! just wanted to ask a few questions about your process, if you dont mind :D

whats your general process like?

do you do thumbnails, how do they look like?

roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

how detailed are your sketches? do you do multiple?

do you have any specific techniques for lineart?

do you typically use references for your comics?

generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

do you have any advice for drawing comics?

sorry for for the absolute bombardment of questions, lmao. just really enjoy your art and comics and very interested in the behind the scenes!! feel free to skip any questions (or this whole ask) well wishes and salutations!!! :D

Hello! I'm so glad you enjoy my comics, and I totally don't mind breaking down the process!

For a normal comic page, I would likely actually write a script since it's much easier to keep track of dialogue and actions. But since these are short, I just write it into my thumbnails.

Step 1: Thumbnails. Easily one of my favorite parts, since I get to throw all my ideas down. I do these comics on a 2-panel grid, so I don't have to worry about actual paneling, and it allows me to focus more on the setup of each shot. Think of it like storyboarding!

Step 2: Add cleaner thumbs if needed. I actually made 3D models of Deadlock and Ratchet's chest in Blockbench, so I often trace them to save myself some time! (It might look insane, but I promise, for me, it's not.)

Step 3: Lettering! I actually like to get the lettering out of the way right away since it can take a while. Ever since I started treating lettering as its own form of art, my skills have gotten better, but it also takes much longer.

Step 4: Clean sketch! I'm just now finding out that people think I’m doing lineart for these? I am not… these are all just clean sketches. Maybe doing the blackwork gives the illusion of lineart?

Step 5: Color! Most of these comics are in black and white to save time, but it also lets me focus on values and shot framing again. I add my glow overlay to the eyes, and boom, done!

Roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

It really depends on how complicated the panels are. I like to step out of my comfort zone. I know the Grimlock and Misfire one took longer because of how many panels there were and the fact that I was drawing characters I’d never drawn before, but I’d say it usually takes around 5-8 hours for a whole page.

Do you typically use references for your comics?

I'm literally the reference GOD- we all know this. But yes, I love using references and doing character studies. I have yet to do a study on LL Drift, but I have a few references of him that I’ve made.

Generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

I mean, I wouldn't say I don't put in a lot of effort? I put in enough. I don't know… there's a point in the clean sketch process where you can kind of just turn off your brain. I'm passionate about comics, but we can all agree there's a point in a drawing where you just zone out.

Do you have any advice for drawing comics?

I think being able to balance dialogue and visuals is super important. I don't know if you guys have picked up a graphic novel from Barnes & Noble recently, but if you open a page, you'll see a character sitting with the biggest bubble you've ever seen, filled with paragraphs of text. While I get it—being a novel as much as it's graphic—I personally like to visualize emotions more. If it means adding two more panels to make an interesting dialogue setup, I don't mind doing it. Another thing to remember is that not all panels need to have details or 100% effort. Sometimes you need to simplify and move on, and that's okay! Those two extra panels that are giving you a better stage setup might be the ones that need fewer details and less time. I would consider my comic page work and my 4-panel work very different. One is about paneling, setup, and visuals, while the other is very much like storyboarding. Both are skills you learn with practice and study.

[noel-levine-fan]

guess what babbyyyyy

day 1: fairytale / bar

yeah thats right sirinoel week and i decided to torture myself by drawing both prompts every day

notes under the cut

fairytale concept notes: i know sirinoel + fairytale is ripe for cinderella stuff but i just needed an excuse to post about my little mermaid au so bad (well, loosely inspired by little mermaid au). i know it doesn't really come across that this is that au within the illustration i chose to make and that something involving a mermaid noel would have made it more clear but i like my human design for him more so lmao. (well i had a better outfit design for him in mind but i couldn't find where i initally drew it so i just bs'd it. still.) besides that i struggled to come up with an interesting scene but realized i wanted to do something with them by the dock, but i won't elaborate further, i'll leave it to your imagination

art notes: i can't draw backgrounds yall it looks half decent if you squint but only if you squint. basically traced the outlines of this pic for the bg. also because the light source was blue i thought i'd try making the highlights cooler and the shadows warmer (whereas i usually do the opposite) but it looks like dogshit, yet it still came out better than i thought it would

bar concept notes: hardly original to put them in bar whimsy, but this was almost an idea for a "reprise" on the original bar whimsy scene. the original scene showed noel wanting to know more about what happened to sirius, so the idea for this is some timeline after that (well, it's not really possible because it happened in bonus stage, the only timeline after that is timeline 10,000, which i assume they wouldn't do anything like this in any of the conclusions but shhh alternate universe) is one where sirius is instead asking about noel - kind of putting a balance to it, as noel has always been learning new things about sirius, but sirius doesn't properly ever get to learn that much about noel, but i feel like he probably would want to know. plus noel is pretty dodgy about answering questions too directly about what's going on with him and often gets interrupted before he ever really has to explain so i'd like to see how he handles being asked directly without interruptions.

art notes: the new hair shading style is hit or miss depending on how i draw the light chunks and i didn't do it very well for sirius's hair there but didn't feel like redrawing it, so... also i feel like you'd think the background would be easier to draw but nope it just doesn't give the same vibes

---

additonal: i drew sketches including basic grayscale coloring for each day in advance because i knew i couldn't do it all at once but even still i might not actually end up posting consistently due to health issues (yippee), i imagine i'll get all the drawings done but whether or not within the confines of the challenge is another question. i know i could've just chosen one for each day but i already did all the sketches for everything so LOL

[hobiebrownismygod]

Could you make a hobie fanfic where you and hobie plan and paint a mural/graffiti and in doing discover things about each other? Idk I think that art can show a lot about someone and it would be cool to see that with hobie

OMG, this is such a cute idea!! What I wrote was a little bit short, so sorry if that's a problem. I'm willing to add on if you'd like more though :) I tried to include some indirect symbolism and characterization, but if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ask <3

Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x GN!Reader

Sketch with Me - Short Fic

____________________________________________________________

In a universe where color was a crime, a city where individuality was a sin, and a culture based around greed and want, Hobie Brown stood out amongst the masses. Hobie had always been a child of chaos, never conforming to the ideals others imposed on him, and never trusting the higher-ups to know what was best for him. In a world where everyone kept themselves locked under a mask, Hobie Brown used his mask to express himself even further, surpassing a limit that had been pulverizing the citizens of London ever since that dreadful election.

But that mask wasn't the only way for him to indirectly flip Osborne off.

"A mural?"

"More of graphic declaration, but yes."

"That's what a mural is."

"Eh..."

You gave your best friend a sore look, eyes running over his figure sprawled out across the couch and boredly shredded paper between his fingers. He sat up and looked back at you, that mischievous grin spreading across his face. "And I know just the place to do 't."

"No."

He blinked at you. "B-But you 'aven't even heard what I was gonna say-"

"One of Osborne's places, right? They're always swarming with cozzies (cops)." You said, folding your arms over your chest as you glared at him. He nodded sheepishly, standing up and walking over towards you. "I'm not going to get myself arrested for some lousy graffiti."

"I won't let y'get arrested." he looked a bit hurt at the fact that you didn't believe he'd be able to keep you out of jail.

"You can't promise that." You replied, paying no mind to his frown.

"But I can." he held out his pinky towards you, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "I swear." You rolled your eyes at him, muttering your annoyance under your breath before you interlocked your finger with his, effectively giving him what he wanted and signing your refusal away.

"What are we gonna paint?" You asked with a sigh, moving over so he could sit next to you. He plopped down on the couch. "I don't care what it is as long as it pisses Ozzy off." he grinned, leaning back against the couch. "Lot's of color, lot's of tongues and lot's of harsh words. He won't like that ruining his pretty mansion."

You snorted under you breath, grabbing his sketchbook from the table in front, along with a half-broken pencil. You flipped through while he watched, stopping on a blank page and pressing the pencil against the paper. You hesitated, looking back at him. "So...what are we gonna paint?"

"What do you want to paint?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. "Mmm..." you began to sketch out a rough outline of what you wanted to spray onto that wall. He wanted colorful. Hobie leaned over your shoulder, watching as you messily drew out what looked somewhat like a woman's side profile, her hair sticking up in odd, angled spikes and a lollipop protruding from her mouth. Her eyes were closed, with long, thick lashes, and you sketched in a singular teardrop falling down her cheek.

Hobie nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. "Tha's lovely." You smiled back, putting the book down and staring at it, biting the inside of your cheek as you mulled over what else you could add. Hobie ran his finger along the outline of her hair. "Make it rainbow, lots of green and purple."

His eyes lit up as he traced his finger onto the tear. "And make this red."

"Red?" you asked with a laugh. "Tears aren't red."

"'s not about what color they are normally. It's about wot they symbolize." He said cockily, pulling out the collar of his shirt with his finger as if he was too hot. "Yeah?" You asked with a laugh. "And what do they symbolize?"

He thought for a moment. "Anger." He looked back down. "Yeah, anger. Anger at wha's going on in London, anger at those wankers up in Ozzy's parties, anger at-" he stopped himself, taking a deep inhale as he sat back. "You know what I mean" his expression darkened.

You put your hand on top of his, offering him a reassuring smile before you labeled down the teardrop as 'red'. "For the words, I'm thinking we could write words that her face will cover up." You scribbled down random things like 'money' and 'police', erasing the parts that her face covered up. "Yeah, that's cool." He said, tone returning back to normal.

"We put the A on her cheek" Hobie added, referring to the ACAB symbol he added onto all his graffiti art pieces. You obliged, writing down a small 'A' that the two of you would detail when you actually painted it later. The two of you looked over it one last time. "It's simple." you said with a slight frown. "It's perfect."

He stood up with a grin, offering his hand over to you. As you took his hand, he pulled you towards him, picking the sketchbook out of your grasp and tucking it into his vest before he spun you around.

"Let's go cause some chaos, shall we darling?"

Tags:

@therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder

Click here to be added to the taglist!

[madsworld15]

Just a little something on this beautiful Sunday.

This comes from Justin’s POV part of Just Know I Learned to Hide It Well.

Justin

The minute Brian went to take a shower, with a subtle shake of his head, I went back over to his computer and responded to Senator Baxter’s request. Knowing that we now had a deadline for Brian’s surgery gave me more confidence to agree to speak about my bashing at her Gay Rights fundraiser. Brian’s ability to take each new turn with this diagnosis reminded me that even if I don’t remember much about that night I can still speak about the lasting effect it had on me and my activism since.

I sent off the email and tried to distract myself so that I wouldn’t end up finding my way to the bathroom. Brian made it clear he didn’t want my presence this time. And honestly, I didn’t blame him. Where the date gave me something tangible to hold onto for him it was a ticking clock. I knew how much Brian relied on his beauty, youth, and sexual prowess to avoid difficult things. To him this surgery meant the end of the Brian Kinney he’d always been able to hide behind.

While Brian wasn’t “The Brian Kinney” when it was just us, he still struggled to let that persona go in public. I sat down at my art table, situated in the corner by the kitchen, just behind the dining table. Without a second thought, my next art creation just started to flow out of me. My hand moved swiftly across my computer screen as I added lines and swatches of colors. I was so wrapped up in my art I didn’t hear Brian get out of the shower.

He crept up behind me and slowly dragged his hands from the back of my shoulders to the front. It was one of my favorite moves and I subtly held my breath waiting for the kiss that was sure to come. Once his lips pulled away from my neck he nuzzled me and whispered.

“Working on something new?”

I grinned, reached my left hand back to cradle the back of his head, and then replied.

“Mhm. Been contemplating this one for days.”

It went without saying that this art was a representation of the emotions and turmoil currently raging through both of us. I watched silently as Brian’s hand left my chest and started gently tracing the lines I'd already created.

He was silent for a beat longer and then he said, “I like how the darker part looks like it’s intertwined with the brighter part.”

I twisted my body around so we could face one another, “That’s the whole point. No matter how dark things seem there is always hope.”

I knew the moment I said it Brian wasn’t going to react favorably, and I was right. He snorted and then rolled his eyes.

“What a bunch of Pollyanna bullshit.” But he kissed me on the cheek before he walked away.

I knew he was still trying to wrap his head around what cancer meant for his life moving forward. Not for the first time since all this started I wonder if he was actively considering me or if he simply went along with me knowing everything because I had found it. It wouldn’t be the first time that Brian had done something regarding me because it was easier for him more so than it was beneficial for me.

He told your mom unprompted. That has to count for something.

I still wasn’t fully convinced I was tagging along on this journey because he needed me. Ever since Ethan I’d felt like he took me back because he missed having a regular sex partner. Every time I did anything I still worried that the wrong thing would push him to shove me out the door.

As I thought about how he probably only kept me around for sex I also wondered if the rules still applied. It’s not like I could ask any of the guys if he’d kept to our rules while we were apart. It would ease my mind, but none of the guys knew we even had rules. Another one of Kinney’s secrets.

I glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 9 p.m. I needed to head to bed soon since I had a morning shift at the diner and then afternoon classes. Just as I reached a stopping point, saved my art, and gathered up my various half-brained sketches Brian was back from the bedroom dressed in his club clothes.

He smiled at me with mischief in his eyes. “Oh good. Perfect timing, let’s go. Babylon awaits.”

“Brian,” I sighed. “Don’t you think we should have a night in?”

He leaned over and kissed me on the lips. “We aren’t dead yet, Sunshine. Now get changed.”

I knew saying anything more was a recipe for disaster, but my desire to feel like I was being heard and considered ruled out my preservation instincts.

“Do you ever consider what I might want?” My voice came out much more petulant than I intended, but I didn’t let it break me.

“Do you have fucking cancer?” Brian’s eyes were hard, almost cruel. “Come with me or stay home. Your choice. I’m going to dance and forget for a while.”

I stepped toward him, wanting physical contact. Brian allowed it but refused to make eye contact with me. I looked him up and down. He would never say it out loud, but I could see the fear just under the surface. Brian Kinney who everyone thinks isn’t scared of anything was terrified.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s your life changing. I’m being selfish.” I gently shove him in the hopes he will look me in the eyes.

“Why do you do that?” Brian mumbled and then glanced up.

His question threw me off. I couldn’t understand what he was referring to. I remained silent as I mulled the words over in my brain. Brian stepped back and sighed.

“You’re allowed to be mad at me. And I’m allowed to be irritated by you, too. I don’t know why you give in so easily and apologize. Haven’t I taught you apologies are bullshit?” He fixed me with a challenging eye.

So, I allowed my insecurities to boil up again. If Brian wanted me to never back down then, fuck, I would give that to him.

“Why is it always what you want?! Why can’t we do something I want for once?? You don’t get to pull the fucking cancer card because that’s bullshit! We ALWAYS go to Babylon so cancer isn’t even a factor here.” I paused to take a deep breath.

Brian moved so that he was leaning on the dining table, crossed his ankles and his arms, and waited for me to continue.

He smirked as I started to pace and continued ranting.

“For years I have let you run the show because I loved you so much I was afraid rocking the boat would push you further away. Hell you kicked me out when I had nowhere else to go because you wanted to put that robbery on my shoulders. Then, when I started up with Ethan I hoped it would force you to say even the smallest thing to prove I meant something to you. Instead you told me to decide!”

I stopped again, this fight between us had been a long time coming. I still wasn’t sure he’d ever respond or just let me rant uncontested.

“What do you want from me, Justin? Haven’t I proven over and over that you’re important? What more do you fucking need from me?” Brian uncrossed his arms and threw them out.

“I need you to say something to prove that I belong! That I’m not too much for you.” I stopped pacing and faced away from him, the pain in my chest too overwhelming. I couldn’t look at him when he denied me this one thing I need.

Silence fell between us as I tried to get myself under control again. I said more than I had ever intended to reveal to him. But the last few days had been a whirlwind and we were both emotionally raw in different ways. I roughly pressed my hands to my face, hoping it would stop the tears that had started leaking out.

I startled when I felt Brian against my back. “You’re the only reason I haven’t lost my goddamn mind.” His voice reverberated against my skin and warmed me up.

Well I asked him to prove it and dammit he did.

[i-am-not-a-violent-dog]

Hihihihihihi first rp ask blog of mine! Mission as a character + this blog in general are owned by @these-secondhand-wings ! Meee :D

Here you can find the rules and boundaries for this blog, and below, the rundown of this funky dude's story! Please review these before interacting if possible :]

RULES / BOUNDARIES

- No NSFW. Ever. Romance is okay but will probably not be reciprocated!

- OOC interactions welcome!! Give the robot a cookie! He can't eat it, though.

- If interacting in character, please be reasonable! You can talk, ask, poke the robot, just be courteous of the nature of the blog and please don't powerplay.

- Art is a solid maybe! Most will be cleaned up response sketches, if anything. I struggle lots with creative motivation right now.

- Tread lightly. The owner of this blog is a DIDsys with an introject of the mentioned character, albeit separate from the blog. We will be uncomfortable answering and interacting with some asks.

- Keep in mind interactions will be outside of the aforementioned junk yard after a certain point. I have a few plans for the blog, please respect that!

- You are welcome to post code translations in the notes, tags, replies, etc. :) Those will be plenty.

- IC will be written like a story page. IC codes will be in purple text. OOC stuff will be in blue and parentheses.

- Tags for now are "I don't know why I bite ; MISSION" (general ic blog tag), "Transmission received; MISSION" (answering an ask), and "Visual input detected ; MISSION" (answering an ask with art)

And now, the show you've all been waiting for!

Story and references will be below the cut.

Mission.

A custom Biograft model created to be a guard dog. Up to date with the latest in attack technology. A pricey choice, for some, but worth it for the protection it offers for the buyer. Or, in this case, the buyer's child.

Mission came into the Inpherno with one distinct instruction in its coding. "Protect them at all costs." And protect it did. Its owner's closest friend was disposed of immediately when proven to be a threat. A machine designed to kill will do precisely that, but a machine designed to protect needs to be much more complex.

Gentleness was never Mission's strong suit, but it tried its best when it came to the owner's kid. It kept an eye on them at all times, but it also let them count its spikes and play with its horns. It would trace the texture of the child's palms and ask questions about their day. Maybe it wasn't programmed to be gentle, but a bond was made. Its owner could only hope such things would motivate it further.

Unfortunately, the subject of Mission's protection gained lots of attention for the unusual method of safety. Their gear was highly sought after already, but now their wealth as well. Some were deterred, others took this as a challenge. Mission knew this well. Mission never failed.

And with this in mind, one must ask: Why don't these things ever come with a failsafe?

One fatal flaw in Mission's coding would be its downfall. It was never designed to fail. Not once had it been considered how this guard dog might snap at the wrong hand, given the right situation. So when it lost sight of the kid during a hunt? It flipped its lid.

And that's how Mission found itself draining battery in a junk yard, with a bullet lodged in the back of its metallic skull.

REFERENCES / FURTHER INFO

Sketch ref art by @these-secondhand-wings .

Color reference art by KarkinosMIA on Toyhouse.

[tainted-liquor]

'Swing By Anytime˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Earth1610!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Personal Seamstress!Reader Ingredients: sugar, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! TWs: cursing, you being Miles's M.J., Reader being mean as encouragement (you'll see babes trust) W/C: 1.1k? A/N: Purely for the sake of the plot, miles is like 18-20. NOT SMUT!

"Gorgeous! You're so pretty, girl! Alright, the changing room is to the left, you can put it on the hook. It'll be ready for you tomorrow when I finish making all the proper altercations." You squealed in pure joy. Since you had been a fashion major, outfits had just poured out of you like run-off. Of course every now and again there were people who wanted things custom ordered, which made you extremely happy. But you knew who your favorite customer was. And, speaking of your favorite customer, he should be here right now. There was a muffled tiny 'thwip' noise that you would have missed if you weren't straining to hear every individual sound over the beat of 'Shirt' By SZA in your studio.

You sighed with a small smile, walking to your studio's window. "Darling, I keep telling you this, I have a door, just strut through it whenever you want" you giggled as you lifted the window pane, coming face-to-face with the one and only Spider-Man. "Whatcha got for me today, my dear?" you asked as you beckoned him inside the studio, taking a set in front of the many vision boards you had pinned down to your desk. "Hey! sorry, snips, I'll use the door next time. And I brought this design plan, actually." He hummed with a smile that was hidden behind his mask. He had a habit of calling you snips due to always seeing you with some sort of scissors, not that you minded anyway. He walked up to you and handed you a folded-up piece of paper, which had a plethora of sketches for a new Spider-Man suit.

Your eyes widened with joy as you took a scan of the paper. Next to the various drawings, there was one circled design with many notes jotted down next to it with measurements, material, color shades, and substitute color shades. It was the most solid suit plan you had ever seen. You turned the paper around to see more notes, and the smaller parts of the suit enlarged. It was perfect from top to bottom. Everything you needed to know was on paper, which made your job unfathomably easier.

"You know I love you for this, right?" You squealed with a wide grin. "Fuck you! How dare you bring such perfection into my studio!" You joked, giving the Spider a tight hug. He chuckled quietly, muttering, "Had to make it easy for my personal seamstress! C'mon, snips, I'd never do that to you." he added as he gave you a pat on the back. Miles usually came into the studio to fix tears or rips in his suit, get patched up, and then swing back out. But recently, he's been talking about reworking his Spider-Suit. So, like a good 'friend' you offered to help him with his project. Of all your clients, only he had given you such a thorough and precise outfit plan.

He began to recall some of his adventures as his alter-ego, letting his mask hook over his nose as he ate some of your cookies on the ceiling. You listened to his experiences as you plucked each corresponding fabric from the fabric closet, placing them next to each other on the ground. You traced each required pattern with a white chalk pencil, referencing the measurements documented on Miles's paper and keeping seam allowance in mind. "Damn, that's crazy...so what'd you do next, B? You had to web her?" you replied as he raved about some Doc-Oc he caught on his way here. "Yeah, I got her in webs and turned her over to the police. She was dead ass putting up a fight too." He spat as he took the final bite of his cookie.

"That's insane...C'mere I gotta make sure I got this little web design right on your mask," You said as you beckoned him to come down from your ceiling. He zipped down, landing on both of his feet within seconds. You held up the small fabric sheet, allowing him to examine the thin markings where his web design would go. "Nice! Looks amazing. Wouldn't expect anything less from mi Costurera personal!" He exclaimed. You smiled delicately as you continued cutting out the patterns, leaving the spaces he wanted to spray paint on blank.

You spent the next 9 hours talking as you finished his suit and mask. He leaned back on your desk, arms crossed against his chest as you explained color theory, why you were sewing his suit inside out, and why you outlined the pattern with white chalk. It was getting dark outside, and you felt slightly drowsy as you finished the last stitches on his mask. "Alright, love, here you go. I'm pretty sure it's the right size, but put it on when you get time and come back if it's too small." you smiled as you hand him the mask. "Oh, dope! Bet." He says as he suddenly pulls off his mask, releasing his fluffy hair from the tight confines of the spandex. Your eyes widened as you slowly realized Spider-Man had casually taken his mask off in front of me.

You didn't hide that you were staring at his entire face, analyzing his features as soon as the mask came off. He chuckled as he put the other mask on, looking in the mirror on the wall to check out his new mask. "It's perfect! It's exactly like how I wanted, you're a literal angel!" he fanboys as he poses like a dork in my mirror. "How much do I owe you?" He asks as he turns around, fidgeting with the gloves of his suit as he pulled out a wad of money from seemingly nowhere. "Pshh, bitch you look amazing. Just take the suit. It's free." I insisted, leaning back in my chair and placing both feet on my desk.

His eyes narrowed as he advanced to me, grabbed my wrist, and firmly placed the money in my hand. "That was 10 hours of work. I'm NOT taking advantage of your labor." He stated, pulling off his mask purely so he could give me the most serious, slightly-offended look of his life. I nodded slowly as I put the money in my bag cautiously. "Good. Thank you, mi angelita!" He added, pressing a small kiss to my forehead. "C'mon, I'll swing you home. I know your studio closed hours ago" he reasoned as he scooped me up from my chair, throwing me over his shoulder and slipping his new mask back on. "Spidey, c'mon its really no trou-" I began

"Miles." He corrected.

I sighed as I packed up his suit, gently wrapping it in a cute little box and signing it with my infamous signature, "M.J." before wrapping both arms around his neck gently and giving him a small kiss on his temple, mentally preparing myself to swing through half the damn city at inhumane speeds.

Miles's eyes widened at the small detail, turning to look behind him slightly with a small smirk.

"M.J, huh?"

[artist-heart83]

First week of the smg4tober finished!

Decided to do every time the week is finished and show some concepts and the sketches from each day.

Day 1

You know I want to do something simple at first, but lol

This was the original sketch

But then I changed it for two reasons:

1. Struggling with the way Three would hold the remote and

2. I remember that Jub Jub got possessed by the remote, best solution ever

First time drawing some of these guys, but really love the ending result, it was worth it to stay up until 3 am

Day 2

This is like.. one of the first episodes that come to mind when I think in a favorite, I have a few more but this one have one of my favorite catch phrase: “Back by unpopular demand… ME!”

This day was meant to have an extra drawing, that was the reason why Four and Three got their hands stuck

It was this one (in the case culprit is bad written, shhhhh I was tired)

Due to time, I have to scrape it, but it help me a lot to make easy the next drawing

~~~

Fun fact: Day 3, 4 and 5 were draw in my phone, just made a quick sketch in a note app that come in my phone and do the lineart and coloring on MediBang

~~~

Day 3

Original idea was drawing all smgs, but due to me having to go to a little trip, I have to stop my ambition ass

I decided to draw SMG1 and SMG2 because of the fact that scrap the little doodle from the day before and because they’re my favorites and also to do my own designs

I have fun designing SMG1 clothes, it mostly inspired by @/nomono3 design (not tagging because haha I’m shy)

Day 4 and 5

Since I have to think on simple drawings due to my own limitations, maybe I would do this with the other characters or maybe not, let’s see

Mostly those drawing were the first time that my brain come with it, really fun the Mario one hahaha

Also like I said in tags, the “objection” was traced from the original because I couldn’t find one in good quality

Day 6

I was brainstorming on which au draw but then I realize how important Apprenticeship AU is for me that I didn’t think twice

Originally, the idea was drawing Exubus with Smg4 but then I couldn’t decide if I do that or just draw SMG5 and SMG6, so I make a quick poll on the server that I’m in and the guys win

Luckily, because I remember that I uploading these drawings on Twitter and then rethink the idea of making the drawing spoiler free hahaha

But hey, I like you, have the sketch of the initial idea

If you ask me how I felt doing all of these, it fun!

Still struggling drawing caps and I make my calculations and I have draw them like… 11 times or more

Boy next week have my favorite movie, favorite character and I have the opportunity to draw Niles hehehehe, I have the Revelations day sketch, I could show it but naaaah, see ya tomorrow

[yatsurinamikaze]

Sombre (ninth - part i) - (ninth - part ii) - (ninth - part iii)

//tw: miscarriage, blood, depression, dark stuff, angst

Miya Atsumu x Reader (Angst!)

Life in your village was… comforting. Mornings began with helping your father in the kitchen, resuming your morning runs, and feeding ducklings by the pond. With your neighbor, Mr. Kishimoto, you ventured into the rhythmic choreography of seaweed farming, where the ebb and flow of the ocean soothed the pain in your heart. The days were relatively busier. Yet, as dusk fell and night draped its veil, you found yourself in the quiet of your room with an unsettled mind, tears trickling slowly as you hugged your pillow tightly until morning came again.

One afternoon, while browsing the quaint local market, you spotted Mrs. Tanaka and a young, eccentric woman named Yuki with short, brightly dyed hair and a paint-splattered smock, standing in stark contrast. "Y/n-chan!" Mrs. Tanaka greeted warmly, her eyes crinkling with delight as you exchanged greetings. She grabbed a yogurt from the shelf and turned to leave, then paused with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, by the way, Yuki was looking for some help painting a background tapestry for the Eisa festival. Are you free to lend her a hand?"

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to decipher her smile. Slowly, you nodded, "Sure." Yuki beamed with enthusiasm. "Let's meet on Sunday at my studio by the beach. It'll be a blast!"

On Sunday, you arrived at Yuki’s studio, where she had transformed an old fishing shack into a vibrant workspace. You were greeted by canvases splashed with bright colors and the scent of fresh paint lingering in the air. Yuki welcomed you with a wide grin. “Shall we get started?” She handed you a brush and pointed to a bucket of paint. You began painting the backdrop, mirroring her movements.

After some time, Yuki began sharing her passion. “I love expressing Okinawa's spirit through my paintings,” she explained animatedly, showing you her sketches for the tapestry. “Art allows me to capture the essence of this island—the rich culture, vibrant colors, and deep connection to nature.”

You listened intently, captivated by Yuki's fervor. Your eyes traced the intricate details of her work. “It's amazing how art can convey so much emotion and beauty,” you mused, recalling your own joy in photography. “Capturing moments in time felt like capturing a piece of the soul.”

Yuki's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Why did you stop?" she asked gently. You sighed, a hint of regret tugging at your heart. "Life happened, I suppose. Moving to Osaka, starting a career, and then... other things got in the way. I lost touch with what brought me joy.”

Yuki nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes life distracts us from what truly matters,” she hummed, continuing, “But you're back now, and Okinawa is waiting for you to rediscover its beauty through your lens."

"Yeah... maybe," you hummed along with Yuki's song, stroking the brush against the canvas. You started thinking about your old camera, making a mental note to ask your dad about it. Mrs. Tanaka entered, marveling at the progress you both had made.

Suddenly, a mischievous grin spread across Yuki's face. "You know, yn-chan, we should capture Mrs. Tanaka doing the Eisa dance! That would be a sight to behold!"

You chuckled, picturing the usually composed Mrs. Tanaka in the midst of the dance. "That would be quite a photo! Mrs. Tanaka, are you up for it?"

Mrs. Tanaka chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, my dear, you might need a faster camera for that!" The three of you burst into laughter.

Inspired by Yuki's encouragement and lighthearted humor, you returned home that evening with renewed determination. Rummaging through your belongings, you unearthed your old camera, its familiar weight comforting. Alongside it, you found a few photographs from your early days.

Standing by the window, you gazed out at the tranquil Okinawan landscape bathed in twilight's soft glow. The rhythmic lull of the ocean waves echoed a gentle reassurance, prompting a realization to bloom within your soul.

In the quiet solitude of your thoughts, you recalled Yuki's words, “Those who find contentment within themselves will be truly rich.” This resonated deeply, reminding you that true wealth lay not in material possessions but in finding peace and fulfillment within oneself.

You understood that amidst life's tumultuous journey, finding solace in passions and embracing self-love were the foundations of happiness. Each click of the shutter would capture not only Okinawa's beauty but also your journey—of healing, rediscovery, and the profound wisdom gained through embracing solitude.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of gold and lavender across the sky, a serene calm settled within your heart. With a peaceful smile, you whispered a silent promise to yourself—to never lose this part of yourself again.

You realized that true happiness begins within oneself before it can be shared with others.

I know the three parts of the ninth chapter are boring. Bear with me. :)

Masterlist (taglist is open!)

[pixel7777]

Threefold Returns - Chapter 8/16

The naughty version of the beautiful artwork commissioned from the incredible misfitlunatic (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social) can be seen in all its glory here.

See Ch. 1 for work summary and content tags. Read this chapter below the break here or on AO3!

Zelara

Zelara thumbed through the grimoire with renewed vigor, basking in the lingering satisfaction from breakfast. The look on Gale's face when she'd asked if he'd slept well—priceless. She'd waited months for this, and by the gods, she was going to enjoy every second of their awkward honeymoon phase.

But beneath her smug exterior, a warm current of genuine joy swelled in her chest. Astarion standing in sunlight. The Tower, that clever bastard, had given him something she'd spent years trying to create in her lab. But how could she be jealous when it meant Astarion could experience something he'd been denied for centuries?

"Right," she said, slapping the book shut and scattering a small cloud of dust. "Time to stop fucking around and focus on kicking a goddess's ass."

Gale looked up from his notes, a small crease between his brows. "Must you be so... colorful with your language?"

"Yes," Zel and Astarion answered simultaneously.

She grinned at Astarion, then turned her attention to the blackboard she'd commandeered. She'd filled it with her nighttime scrawl—diagrams of the Weave's structure, equations tracing energy patterns, and a particularly unflattering sketch of Mystra with horns and a mustache.

"So here's what we know," she said, tapping the board with a piece of chalk. "One: Mystra has been mind-fucking our wizard." She ignored Gale's wince. "Two: She's trying to keep him from remembering something he saw while wearing the Crown of Karsus. Three: Whatever he saw is bad enough that she's willing to turn his brain to magical mush rather than let him remember it."

The Tower seemed to pulse in agreement, the lights dimming momentarily.

"And four," Astarion added, lounging in an armchair that had definitely scooted closer to him of its own accord, "she loses her hold on Gale when I'm near him."

"Exactly." Zelara circled a diagram of three interconnected nodes. "The rapport spores worked in small scale, but we need to scale rapid distribution or pre-distribute and activate. We need to fully recover what Gale saw, document it, and then figure out how to shield him—and possibly disseminate the information broadly enough that killing him becomes pointless."

"Always comforting to hear my potential murder discussed so pragmatically," Gale muttered.

"Would you prefer I weep dramatically and wring my hands?" Zel asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Because I can, but it'll waste time we don't have."

"No, no. Proceed with your refreshingly morbid efficiency."

Zel tapped the chalk against her palm as she considered their next steps. The Tower seemed to hum around them, lights subtly shifting in response to her movements. She couldn't help but notice how its responses to Astarion had become more pronounced—it had given him the sun again without even being asked. The sentient building had clearly chosen its favorite.

"I'll focus on the spores today," she announced, setting down the chalk and dusting her hands. "We need to perfect the distribution mechanism before Mystra sends more of her lackeys."

She cast a sideways glance at Astarion, who was examining his nails with affected nonchalance while the armchair beneath him gradually adjusted to a more comfortable angle.

"And I assume you'll be alternating between sunbathing, whispering sweet nothings to your architectural admirer, and—if you're feeling particularly productive—maybe evaluating the Tower's physical defenses?" She grinned, waiting for the inevitable comeback.

Astarion looked up, one eyebrow arched perfectly. "Oh darling, don't be jealous. The Tower has certain... amenities you simply can't provide. Though I'm sure you're still my favorite in other departments."

The Tower's lights flickered in what Zel could have sworn was amusement.

"Fuck off," she laughed, turning toward Gale. "What about you? Is your priority accessing the memory today?"

Gale ran his fingers through his hair, now neatly trimmed thanks to Astarion's ministrations. He looked better—clearer-eyed, more present—but uncertainty still shadowed his face.

"Theoretically, yes," he said, frowning at the books spread before him. "But honestly, I'm not sure where to start. The memory feels... slippery. Like trying to grasp water." He glanced up at her. "Perhaps we should work on the spores together again? Yesterday's attempts had enough near misses that perhaps my supervision could continue to mitigate."

Zel considered this. Yesterday's experiments had indeed shown promise—the spores had successfully transmitted surface thoughts between them, though the undercurrent of attached emotions seemed unavoidable. And working together meant keeping Gale engaged, focused, less likely to slip back under Mystra's influence.

"Not a bad idea," she agreed, already mentally cataloging the adjustments they could make. "We'll need to modify the binding agent. I think the problem is that the spores are breaking down as they disperse."

Zel began arranging her reagents in a neat semicircle, her mind already racing through potential solutions. "The issue isn't just getting the spores to transmit information—it's making them resilient enough to survive dispersal." She picked up a vial of iridescent liquid, holding it to the light. "Maybe some kind of coating? A protective shell that dissolves only under specific conditions?"

Her fingers danced over her ingredients, muscle memory guiding her as her thoughts expanded. "But then there's the actual dispersal mechanism. We need something more elegant than just tossing them into the air and hoping for the best." She frowned, tapping her lower lip with a glass stirring rod. "The most efficient thing would be some kind of internal impetus to spread, but only so far—like, each spore maintaining optimal distance from each other spore..."

"Zelara," Gale interrupted, alarm evident in his voice. "Surely you're not suggesting giving the spores some kind of consciousness?"

Zel's eyes lit up as she spun toward him. "That's brilliant! That would be easiest of all!" She grabbed a fresh piece of chalk and began sketching rapidly on the board, her handwriting becoming increasingly illegible with excitement. "Taking these particles with their unique psychic properties and infusing them with just enough sentience to understand spatial relationships—"

"Zel—" Gale tried again, but she was already three steps ahead.

"—creating a permanent network we could access! Then the mechanism of propulsion could be slow and gradual—they'd get themselves in place ahead of time, maintaining optimal coverage without our intervention!"

Astarion leaned forward in his chair, genuine interest breaking through his casual facade. "Like a kind of latent magical network we could use for long-distance communication?"

"Exactly!" Zel pointed at him with the chalk. "Instant messaging across continents!"

Gale stood abruptly, his face pale. "It's like if the Weave could—" His expression suddenly contorted in agony. He clutched his head with both hands and screamed, a sound of pure torment that made Zel's blood run cold.

Zelara's heart slammed against her ribs as Gale's scream cut off abruptly. The moment stretched like honey drizzling from a spoon, and then—

"Gale!"

His body pitched forward like a tree toppling after the final axe blow. Before Zel could lunge forward, Astarion moved—a silverish blur across the room—and caught Gale's limp form mere inches from the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit—" Zel abandoned her notes and scrambled to help as Astarion eased Gale down with unexpected gentleness. "What happened? Did I trigger something? Is it Mystra?"

"I don't know," Astarion snapped, genuine fear sharpening his voice. "He was fine and then—"

A trickle of blood appeared from Gale's nostril, scarlet and stark against his ashen skin. His body convulsed once, twice, limbs twitching violently before falling slack.

"He's unconscious," Astarion hissed, hands hovering uncertainly over Gale's face. "What do we do? Zelara?"

The panic threatening to overwhelm her receded slightly at the sound of her name. She'd dealt with emergencies in the lab countless times. This was no different. Breathe. Assess. Act.

"Elevate his feet," she ordered, already moving to position Gale's legs. "Get blood back to his brain. And keep his head turned so he doesn't choke if he vomits."

The Tower, sensing the emergency, manifested a thick blanket from nowhere. Astarion snatched it and tucked it around Gale with tenderness.

"Gale," Astarion patted the wizard's cheek, his normally sardonic expression replaced with naked concern. "Gale, wake up. Can you hear me?" When there was no response, he looked up at Zelara with something uncomfortably close to fear. "He's not responding."

"Keep trying." Zel scrambled to her feet, rushing toward her workbench which had helpfully expanded itself across the nearest wall. She yanked open drawers until she found what she was looking for—a half-finished diagnostic instrument she'd been tinkering with for months. A network of copper wires and crystal nodes designed to detect magical anomalies in living tissue.

It was still a prototype—temperamental, unpredictable, and prone to shorting out at the most inconvenient moments—but right now, it was their best chance at figuring out what was happening inside Gale's head.

"Come on, you bastard," she muttered, priming the device as she hurried back to where Astarion was still gently tapping Gale's face, voice growing more desperate with each unanswered plea.

"Gale, darling, this isn't amusing anymore," Astarion was saying, a slight tremor in his hands. "I've only just gotten you back. You're not allowed to check out now."

Zelara knelt beside Gale's prone form, her diagnostic device clutched in trembling hands. If she could just get some readings on what was happening inside his brain—maybe identify which parts of the Weave were entangled with his consciousness—

"What in the nine hells is that?" Astarion's voice cut through her concentration.

She glanced up to find him staring at her contraption with undisguised horror. The copper wires gleamed ominously in the Tower's light, crystal nodes pulsing with unstable energy.

"It's just a diagnostic tool," she explained hurriedly, already positioning the main sensor array over Gale's forehead. "It'll help us see what's—"

"Oh no you don't." Astarion's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with unnerving strength. "Not another one of your experiments. Gale is still breathing and I'd like to keep it that way."

"But I need to—"

"What you need to do," Astarion said through gritted teeth, "is something that won't make this worse."

Zelara opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue as she took in Astarion's expression. Behind the anger was something she rarely saw in him: genuine fear.

She felt suddenly, utterly helpless. If only she'd paid more attention to healing magic—if only she'd spent less time learning to blow things up and more time putting them back together. If only she were a cleric instead of—

Wait.

"Oh yeah. I make potions." She dropped the device without ceremony, letting it clatter to the floor as she sprang to her feet.

She dashed back to her Workbench, which had apparently been several steps ahead of her. The surface had rearranged itself completely, prominently displaying her strongest healing and restoration potions in a neat row. The lab had even helpfully color-coded them by potency.

"Clever bastard," she muttered gratefully, snatching up three vials and tossing the healing potion—a vibrant crimson liquid that seemed to glow from within— to Astarion across the room.

He caught it one-handed without looking, his eyes never leaving Gale's face. In a practiced motion, he uncorked the vial with his teeth and spat the stopper aside. With unexpected gentleness, he cradled Gale's head and began carefully pouring the potion into his mouth, just a few drops at a time.

"Come on, darling," he murmured, massaging Gale's throat with expert fingers to trigger the swallowing reflex. "That's it. Just a little more. You're doing wonderfully."

Zelara rushed back to Gale and Astarion carrying her other potions, skidding on the polished floor in her haste. Zelara watched, clutching the remaining potions to her chest, as Astarion continued his whispered encouragements. His face, usually so carefully composed, was completely unguarded—raw with concern and something deeper that made her chest ache.

Zel watched Astarion's hands—steady despite everything—as he tipped the last of the healing potion into Gale's mouth. Without prompting, she uncorked the restoration potion and passed it to him. Their fingers brushed in the handoff, and she felt the slight tremble he was hiding so well.

"This one next," she said, forcing her voice to remain clinical despite the panic clawing at her throat.

They'd been so close. So damn close to something good. After fighting gods and monsters and saving the world, they'd almost carved out something for themselves—something real and precious. The way Astarion had looked at Gale this morning. The way Gale had smiled back, unguarded for the first time in months.

And now this.

Zel swallowed hard, watching Astarion carefully administer the restoration potion with the same gentleness as the first. His face was composed, but she knew him well enough to see the fear in the tightness around his eyes, in the tension of his shoulders.

If Gale didn't wake up... gods, what would it do to Astarion? After two centuries of abuse and isolation, he'd finally opened himself to trust, to love beyond just her. And Gale—sweet, brilliant, infuriating Gale—who'd spent months drowning in Mystra's influence, had finally found his way back to them.

It couldn't end like this. She wouldn't let it.

And what about her? The thought slipped through before she could stop it. How could she bear losing Gale now? She'd chosen Astarion over him once, but that didn't mean she loved Gale any less. Didn't mean she wasn't still holding space for him in her heart, waiting for him to find his way back to them both.

"Come on, you stubborn wizard," she whispered, reaching out to squeeze Gale's limp hand. "Don't you dare check out when things are finally getting interesting."

Halfway through the second potion, Gale's body suddenly convulsed. A wet, choking sound escaped his throat, and Astarion instantly rolled him onto his side as Gale began to cough violently.

"That's it," Astarion said, relief bleeding into his voice as he rubbed Gale's back. "Get it all out. You're doing splendidly."

Gale's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused. More coughing wracked his body as he struggled to breathe through the liquid in his throat.

"Wh-what—" he managed between coughs.

"Drink the rest," Astarion ordered, already bringing the vial back to Gale's lips. "Now, darling. Don't argue."

For once, Gale didn't. He took the remainder of the potion in small sips, grimacing at the taste but accepting Astarion's ministrations without protest.

Zel felt the tightness in her chest ease slightly as the color returned to Gale's face. She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him, settling instead for a light punch to his shoulder.

"Blood, Gale," she said, gesturing to her own nose. "Might want to deal with that before you start asking questions."

Gale's fingers went to his face, coming away red. He stared at the blood with puzzled concern. "What... happened?"

Astarion, still cradling Gale's shoulders, made an inelegant sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "What happened? What happened is you decided to take a dramatic nosedive in the middle of a perfectly pleasant conversation." His voice had a brittleness Zel rarely heard. "Do you have any idea—" He cut himself off, looking away.

Zel watched as Gale registered Astarion's unusual display of raw emotion. The wizard reached up tentatively, brushing his fingers against Astarion's cheek. She cleared her throat, feeling suddenly like an intruder.

"Maybe you'd like the less emotionally charged version?" she offered, fishing a handkerchief from her pocket and passing it to Gale. "Less weeping and accusations, more facts?"

Astarion shot her a glare that could have curdled milk. "I am not weeping."

"Of course not," Zel agreed cheerfully. "Just getting misty over collapsing wizards. Happens to everyone."

Gale dabbed at his nose, looking between them with growing confusion. "Please, someone just tell me what happened."

Zel sat back on her heels, adopting her best storyteller voice. "Picture this: we're discussing magical theory—as you do—when suddenly you went rigid as a board and pitched forward." She made an exaggerated falling motion with her hand. "And then this one—" she jerked a thumb at Astarion, "—came swooping in like some dashing hero from those terrible novels you pretend not to read."

Despite everything, Gale's lips twitched.

"Caught you like a princess," Zel continued, warming to her theme. "All that was missing was the dramatic kiss to wake you from your enchanted slumber."

Gale laughed weakly. "A princess? Really?"

"Not even in your wildest dreams," Astarion sniffed, regaining some of his composure. "If anyone here would look ravishing in a ballgown, it would obviously be me."

"Obviously," Zel agreed, winking at Gale. "The tiara would look so fetching in his curls."

Gale's laugh was stronger this time, though it ended in a slight wince. "While I appreciate the mental image—" his gaze lingered on Astarion, "—perhaps we could return to what actually happened?"

The momentary lightness faded. Zel met Astarion's eyes over Gale's head, their shared concern hanging between them like a thread pulled taut.

Zel watched as Astarion maneuvered himself behind Gale with surprising gentleness. For someone who often insisted he wasn't the nurturing type, he certainly showed remarkable instincts when it came to caring for their wizard. He positioned Gale between his legs, pulling the man's back against his chest in a protective embrace that made something in Zel's chest twist with fondness.

"Easy now," Astarion murmured, his hands steadying Gale's shoulders. "I've got you."

"I can sit up on my own," Gale protested weakly, though he made no actual effort to pull away from Astarion's support.

"Of course you can," Astarion agreed, not loosening his hold one bit. "But why would you want to when I make such an excellent backrest?"

Zel couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Princess metaphors aside," she said, crossing her legs beneath her on the floor, "that's basically what happened. We were just talking about the spores, you mentioned something about the Weave, and then—bam. You screamed like someone had stabbed you and went down like a sack of potatoes."

"And started bleeding from your nose," Astarion added, thumbing away a smudge of dried blood Gale had missed. "It was all very extra, even for you."

Gale frowned, his fingers going to his temple as if probing for the source of pain. "I think... I think something we were saying must have triggered an attack from Mystra."

"An attack?" Zel repeated, her mind already racing through possibilities.

"Yes," Gale nodded, wincing slightly at the movement. "It felt like—like someone had reached into my mind and crushed something. Just for a moment, but..." He shuddered. "It was excruciating."

Astarion's expression darkened dangerously, his arms tightening around Gale. "If that bitch damaged so much as a single precious neuron in your adorable brain," he hissed, "I'll pull Mystra's out through her nose with a fork and shove it up her ass, where it belongs."

Zel might have laughed at the colorful threat if she weren't so concerned. She chewed her lower lip, her mind racing. How, exactly, did Mystra attack? Mystra wasn't physically present, and while her influence had been pervasive, she hadn't seemed able to interfere since Astarion had somehow pushed her influence out. Could a deity reach directly into someone's mind across such distances? Or was there some other mechanism at work?

"As much as I appreciate your dedication to avenging Gale's brain," she said, "maybe we should focus more on how Mystra did it? If we figure that out, we can make sure she can't do it again."

Astarion's eyes met hers, that familiar spark of understanding passing between them. Sometimes it was almost eerie how quickly he could follow her train of thought.

"Precisely," he said, nodding. "How did the vile thing manage it? There hasn't been a sign of her inside these walls for more than a day now." His fingers absently stroked Gale's arm as he spoke, seemingly unaware of the gesture.

Gale shifted against Astarion's chest, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Mystra is very powerful. She's the goddess of magic, the embodiment of the Weave itself. Her reach—"

"No," Zel cut him off, waving a dismissive hand. "This isn't some raw magic thing. You always jump to that when there's often a simpler answer."

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she sorted through the problem. "Think about it logically. If Mystra can't talk to you in your head anymore—which she apparently can't when Astarion's around—she certainly can't stab you in it."

Gale opened his mouth to protest, but Zel pressed on.

"So if it wasn't her there in the moment..." She tapped her fingers against her knee, the rhythm helping her think. "It must have been something she left behind. A trap, of sorts."

Zel watched Astarion's face as understanding dawned. He was a master at defusing traps, had spent two centuries working around them at Cazador's bidding, and then had sharpened his skill daily while saving their collective asses on their adventures. She could practically see the connections forming in his mind.

"Whatever we said was the trigger," Astarion continued her thought, "and Gale's collapse was the effect. But where was the effector—the mechanism that produced the effect?"

The way they were sitting, with Gale leaning back against Astarion's chest, Gale's head was quite near Astarion's. Zel saw the exact moment Astarion spotted it—the small silver earring still dangling from Gale's ear. The one with Mystra's symbol that he had inexplicably continued to wear even after everything.

"You absolute sodding idiot," Astarion swore viciously, freeing his hands from around Gale to reach for the earring.

The moment his fingers touched the silver, a sizzling sound filled the air. Astarion yanked his hand back with a pained yelp.

"What—" Gale started, but was interrupted by a loud clatter.

A bowl of ice water spun across the floor toward them, droplets splashing in its wake—courtesy of the Tower, apparently.

Astarion plunged his fingers into the frigid water with a hiss, still muttering a string of curses that would make a dockworker blush.

"Now that," Zel said, half-impressed despite the awful implications, "is a clever bit of work. Have to give the goddess credit where it's due."

She gestured at the earring in Gale's ear. "It actually pierces your flesh, and you put it there willingly. It's a perfect vehicle for this sort of thing." She tapped her own ear. "Even conveniently close to your brain."

Gale's hand flew to his ear, fingers almost brushing against the small silver ornamentation before Astarion could bat his hand away. "This?" His voice was incredulous. "But I've worn this for years—"

"Which means she's had a direct line to your mind for years," Zel concluded grimly. "Good gods, Gale."

"No, that’s ridiculous. I’d know if I was being influenced… Except... no, I wouldn’t. She’s been in my head. Of course I wouldn’t."

Zel watched Gale's face shift from confusion to horror as understanding dawned. She knew that expression—the realization that you'd been carrying your own doom around without knowing it.

"Well, at least we're well-equipped for this particular problem," she said, pushing herself to her feet and extending a hand to Gale. "You happen to be in the company of experts."

Gale looked between them, a small, wry smile forming despite everything. "Let me guess—explosives specialist and master of locks?"

"I prefer 'alchemical genius,'" Zel corrected, hauling him upright, "but close enough."

Astarion withdrew his fingers from the ice water, examining them with a scowl. "And I am, as ever, the undisputed champion of trap diffusal."

"Which you just demonstrated beautifully by immediately triggering said trap," Zel teased, unable to help herself.

"I was gathering valuable information," Astarion sniffed, rising gracefully to his feet. "Now we know it's protected by some kind of anti-tamper failsafe."

Zel guided Gale toward her workbench, which had helpfully unfolded itself from its compact traveling form into a sprawling laboratory setup. Various tools and instruments lay organized in neat rows—tweezers, clamps, small vials, and a selection of reagents that might neutralize whatever enchantments protected the earring.

"Sit," she instructed, pushing Gale onto the stool that had slid across the floor toward them. "And don't touch anything. Especially not that earring."

Gale obeyed, looking slightly dazed. "I can't believe I've been wearing Mystra's personal listening device this whole time."

"To be fair, you were wearing it when we saved the world too," Zel pointed out, selecting a pair of rubber-tipped tweezers from her workbench. "So it's not like she could have been that upset about it."

"Or," Astarion suggested darkly, "she's simply been waiting for the right moment to use it."

Zel pulled on a pair of thick gloves and positioned herself beside Gale, peering at the earring. "This might sting a bit."

She reached for the earring with the tweezers, and immediately a small spark leapt from the silver to the metal tips. The jolt traveled through the implement and into Zel's hand, sending a painful shock up her arm.

"Fuck!" she yelped, dropping the tweezers with a clatter.

"Perhaps a bit more finesse?" Astarion suggested, looking annoyingly amused.

"Perhaps a bit more shut up?" Zel shot back, shaking her hand to dispel the tingling sensation.

Her next attempt involved coating the tweezers in an insulating resin. This time, she managed to grasp the earring, but as soon as she tugged, a small puff of greenish gas erupted from it. The cloud enveloped her face before she could react, immediately making her head spin. She staggered backward, dropping to one knee as the room tilted alarmingly.

"Zel!" Both men moved toward her, but she waved them back.

"Don't—" she gasped, fighting the heaviness in her limbs. "Knockout gas. Give me... a minute."

After several false starts and one more minor burn that left Astarion hissing curses in at least three languages, they finally managed to extract the earring. Zel held it suspended with a pair of ceramic tweezers over a small glass vial filled with a neutralizing solution she'd hastily mixed.

"Do the honors?" she asked Astarion, who was still nursing his singed fingertips.

With exaggerated caution, he reached out and tapped the tweezers. The earring dropped into the vial with a satisfying plunk.

"Tower," Astarion called, his voice imperious but somehow fond, "be a dear and dispose of this wretched thing? Preferably somewhere Mystra won't find it easily—the bottom of the harbor should do nicely."

The vial floated up from Zel's workbench and was yeeted out of one of the windows, which obligingly swung open to let it pass.

Zel watched the vial vanish into the distance. Turning back to Gale, she noted with satisfaction that his color was already improving. The earring's removal seemed to have lifted some invisible weight from him, his shoulders looser and his eyes clearer than they had been minutes ago.

"How do you feel?" she asked, tugging off her gloves.

Gale touched his earlobe gingerly, a small red mark the only evidence of what had been there. "Lighter," he said, sounding faintly surprised. "Like someone's turned down the volume on a constant noise I'd grown so used to I stopped noticing it."

Astarion, still fussing with his burned fingertips, made a dismissive noise. "You wizards and your poetic hyperbole. Can't you just say 'better'?"

Zel snorted. "This from the man who once spent twenty minutes describing how the moonlight made his skin look 'transcendently luminous.'"

"It did," Astarion sniffed, examining his fingers with exaggerated concern. "And I was right to point it out."

Gale laughed, and the sound hit Zel straight in the chest—warm and rich and so free of the strain that had clouded everything since their arrival. This was her Gale, not the fog-brained, haunted man they'd found.

She looked between them, a sudden fierce possessiveness washing over her. Her boys. Her ridiculous, brilliant, dramatic men. One who'd spent centuries thinking he was too monstrous to be loved, and one who'd spent years convinced that he wasn't enough to be loved. Both utterly wrong, and both finally, finally starting to see it.

Something warm and dangerous swelled in her chest, burning past her usual careful restraint.

"Oh, fuck it," she muttered, and before either of them could react, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around them both.

She felt them stiffen in surprise, but she didn't let go, burying her face against their shoulders where they met. Gradually, she felt them relax, Astarion's arm sliding around her waist while Gale's hand came up to cup the back of her head.

For a long moment, the three of them simply stood there, a tangle of limbs and warmth that felt—impossibly, wonderfully—like home.

Finally, she stepped back, clearing her throat against the suspiciously tight feeling there. "Now," she said briskly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "what were we talking about before that harpy interfered?"

[misquitz]

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Sketch: 90%

Line: 50%

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[buckysgrace]

Fourteen

Kim felt like she had used a whole bottle of hair spray by the time she’d finally gotten some volume to it. Her curls weren’t nearly as noticeable at this length, nor did it want to style in any of the ways that she was used to putting it in. She was so frustrated by the time she was finished getting ready that she thought it would be better to shave it off completely.

“I like it,” Billy said gently as he touched the ends of her hair. He tossed it lightly in his hands, wearing a bright smile on his lips. She shrugged her shoulders, doing her best to smile at his compliment. She still hated her hair and it left her feeling bitter, “You look very pretty.” He mumbled softly, his blue eyes raking over her features as he pressed her lips against hers. She sighed against his mouth, moving her mouth against his eagerly.

“Uh,” Sam’s voice broke them apart, “I figured we could leave early on Saturday morning. I booked a motel about half way, we’d get home later in the afternoon on Sunday.” He told them gently as he began to make himself a cup of coffee. Kim tucked her hair behind her ear, wincing at how stiff and sticky it felt against her fingers.

She felt a flush spreading over her cheeks, although Sam acted unbothered at the sight of them kissing. She honestly wasn’t sure if Billy bothered him or not. He didn’t really bring it up, nor did he ever act like he was upset with how she and Billy acted. She wondered if he cared at all.

“Okay,” She said gently, still hating the idea that they were moving. Max seemed to be just as gloomy over it as well, “That’ll work.” She looked back up towards Billy, noticing the calculated look in his eyes. She was well aware that he didn’t trust Sam, not that she could really blame him. All of his valuables had been locked up, hidden tightly away. 

She didn’t know how to explain to Billy that her father really did seem different this time around. It reminded her of when she was younger, far before she noticed the hold his addiction had on him. She’d noticed newer things about Sam as well, such as he was always busy with his hands. He had many crosswords and different puzzles that he searched through. He spent a lot of time outside, collecting more than just rocks and minerals as he’d sketch them into his journal while using another book to identify them.

“Are you ready?” Billy asked softly, looking back towards her. His eyes looked softer this time as he peered at her, but she still noticed the irritation in his eyes. She felt her lips pulling into a soft smile as she nodded her head. 

“Yeah,” She nodded her head, glancing towards Sam as she sent him a gentle wave. He still took Max to school, but Billy still liked to insist that he took her. She didn’t mind. She was partially afraid of what Sam might say if they were finally alone, “See you after school.” She said as she grabbed her backpack, wishing she could be a little more cheerful about her sentence. 

Billy followed her out the door, taking a quicker pace so he could pull the door open for her. She grinned towards him, her heart fluttering harshly in her chest at his kind gesture. She slid into his car, cushioning herself into the seat. As September grew later, the weather changed as well. She pulled her cardigan closer as she crossed her arms tightly. Traced her thumb across the design, noting the various shades of purples and blues that decorated it. The leaves hadn’t yet begun to fall, but they were beginning to change colors. 

“What do you think about all of this?” Billy asks her seriously, looking unsure of what he thought as well. She watched him for a moment, wondering if he even wanted to leave. 

“I don’t know,” She said at last, “It seems sudden but maybe he really does want to keep us together.” She shrugs her shoulders softly, hoping that Sam really was trying to do his best for them. She still felt like she didn't trust him and felt even guiltier for thinking like that. 

“At least we’ll be out of this shithole,” Billy mumbled, “Thank God.” He said underneath his breath, but part of her was unsure if he really meant his words. She settled back into her chair, watching as the scenery changed around them. She bit her lip as he rested his hand against her thigh, giving her skin a gentle squeeze. She felt warmth beginning to spread through her veins as she turned to look at him, feeling desire beginning to build inside of her. 

She slowly slid closer to him, feigning an innocent smile as he looked towards her curiously. She let her fingertips drag across the material of his pants before she moved to his fly and began to work it down. She struggled for a moment, leaving him to lift his hips up to assist her. She bit back a giggle, wondering if he wore his tight pants on purpose. She cupped his dick in her hand, slowly beginning to pump him as she watched his cock began to throb to life. 

"Fuck," Billy breathed out, looking down at her as his fingertips tightened across the steering wheel. She watched as he grew in her hand, amusement sparking inside of her as a million questions began to grow inside of her mind. However, she felt like it wasn't the right time to ask how all of this occurred. Instead, she brought her other hand down to squeeze at his warm balls, enjoying the change in temperature, "Mhm, wanna feel your mouth." He told her quickly. 

Kim licked around his fat tip, brushing the precum across his skin with her tongue. He groaned as she lightly pumped him in her hand, and she enjoyed the feeling of how warm he felt against her palm. She flicked her tongue across his slit, teasing it as she moved her other hand down to cup his big balls. 

Billy gasped softly, his cock throbbing underneath her touch as she wrapped her lips around his thick length. She strained to widen her jaw enough for a moment as she stroked him in her hand, slowly beginning to bob her head up and down the length of his cock. She moved slowly, only taking his cock halfway before she moved back down to his tip.

“Fuck,” Billy cursed, his eyebrows furrowing together as she glanced up towards him. She watched the way his tongue flicked against the corners of his lips, licking away a groan as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road. She felt a warm sensation filling her chest as she rolled her tongue along his heavy cock, “You fucking whore.” He spit out and she fought the urge to move a hand to touch herself. 

She hollowed her cheeks, pressing his thick cock deeper inside of her mouth. She moaned softly as she traced her tongue along his cock, licking around her veins as spit began to leak from her lips. Billy groaned, shuffling in his seat like he was fighting the urge to thrust his hips forward.

She twisted her hand around the base of him, letting her drool seep down his cock and coat his balls. His groans were slowly becoming louder, ringing in her ears as she bobbed her head a little faster. She felt her eyebrows knitting together as his tip hit the back of her throat and she shut her eyes tightly, fighting the urge to gag around him. 

“Feels so good,” He breathed out roughly, his words lightly broken from the pleasure that he was experiencing. She wished she could make him sound like this all the time. She enjoyed the way he’d whimper and moan underneath her touch. She wanted more of it as her fingers squeezed against his balls, “Dirty little whore.” He mumbled, moving one hand from the steering wheel to grip her ass.

She gagged, sliding his cock further down her throat as she jolted forward in surprise. He groaned louder, his cock sliding against her throat as she slowly pulled away. She gasped, drool falling from her lips and onto him as she roughly pumped him in her hands. She sighed, enjoying how wet and slippery he felt against her.

“Feel good?” She asked gently as she placed a kiss on the head of his cock. She continued to pump him, her eyes slightly widening as Billy traced his fingers along her wet cunt. She could feel the material of her panties sticking to her skin as she slowly rutted herself against his fingertips, “S’nice.” She breathed out, her eyes feeling heavy as she slid her lips around his throbbing dick again. 

“It feels so fucking good,” He responded gruffly, lightly grinding his hips up to meet her eager mouth. She moaned, bobbing her head quicker as the urge to taste him on her tongue grew, “So wet.” He sighed blissfully as he slid his fingers underneath the band of her panties. He traced them along her folds, brushing against her clit before he curled two fingers inside of her. 

She moaned around his cock as she took a sharp inhale from her nose. She pressed her mouth down further, squinting her eyes together tightly as his cock filled her mouth. Her lips pressed up against his balls, her nose against his tuft of hair as she gagged around him. He exhaled sharply, the car jolting for a quick second as his hips snapped forward. He was pressed in ever further, causing her to gag again as he spilled his spunk inside of her mouth.

She pulled away quickly, her lungs burning from lack of air as his cock slipped from her mouth. She wiped at the corner of her lips, quickly swallowing his cum so she could breathe again. Her cheeks were hot as she panted, giggling softly at the blissed expression that was written across his features.

“You taste good,” She teased him playfully, continuing to wipe at her mouth to make sure she had all of her salvia wiped away. He chuckled, shuffling in his seat as he reached down to adjust himself back into his pants, “I think today will be a better day.” She teased him softly, admiring how handsome he looked.

“Mhm,” He bit his lip as he pulled into the front of the school. He bit his lip, glancing around quickly before he pulled her forward and kissed her roughly. She giggled softly, licking her bottom lip before she hastily pulled away. She could feel her cheeks burning as she confirmed that no one had seen, “Remember, don’t let him be a dick to you. Stand up for yourself, you can do it.” He nodded his head encouragingly. 

“Okay,” She said softly, although she didn’t have any confidence in herself. She gripped her backpack, pulling it onto her lap as she glanced over at Billy. She chewed on her bottom lip, figuring that Jason would find some way to make fun of her hair, “I’ll see you tonight.” She said breathlessly, already hating to think about what the day would hold. 

“I love you,” He reminded her softly, “Only a few more days and we can start all over.” He tried to sound cheery, but she hated the thought of that too. She wished she was homeschooled suddenly. Perhaps she could convince her father to do that, “I’ll see you tonight.” He smiled, one that she really did return. She really did feel special to have him.

“I love you too.” She said gently before she hopped out of the car. She pulled the backpack over her shoulders and headed in front of the car. She sent him one last wave before she walked inside of the school, feeling a sense of dread wash over her as soon as she stepped through the doors. She spent the first fifteen minutes in the library, wishing that Jason and his friends had developed food sickness and were unable to come to school. 

She never got that lucky. Her first class with Jason arrived far too quickly and he seemed to be even more in a mood today. She had shuffled herself between a group of girls, hoping that at least in this position he couldn’t try to stick anything else in her hair.

“I like the new haircut,” He grinned as he looked down at her, his pockets shoved arrogantly in his pockets, “It suits you better.” She breathed out harshly as her heart pumped harshly inside of her chest. She tried to calm herself down, to relax herself but it didn’t seem to be working. Jason headed back towards his friends who were laughing, like he had actually said something funny.

She thought of what Billy said and found herself standing before she knew what she was doing. Her eyes were wide for a second as she clenched her fingers together in a fist. Her face was red as her hands shook and she was sure this was the first time that some people would be hearing her speak. 

“Jason,” She drew in sharply, fully aware of the whole classroom turning to face her. Jason quirked an eyebrow, looking at her a little amused as he waited, “You’re a dick. And maybe that’s because yours isn’t that big, but it doesn’t give you the right to be mean to me.” A round of gasps filled the room before it was filled with laughter. Jason’s eyes were wide, looking at her in shock. She breathed in deeply.

“And your breath smells,” She said at last, tilting her chin up and straightening her shoulders out, “So please leave me alone.” She didn’t get to notice his exact reaction before she was getting tapped on the shoulder. She turned, already knowing she was in trouble by the look on Mr. Holt’s features. More snickering followed as she sighed in defeat, pulling her backpack up to her shoulders as she followed him to the principal's office. 

/////////////

“Why would you say that?” Sam asked as he drove, the car quiet as the scenery rushed past them. She held her backpack towards her chest, the car holding an odd tension. It wasn’t even the afternoon yet and Kim felt like it was dumb for her to miss an entire day of school just because she’d stuck up to Jason. He never got in trouble for any of the things he’d said to her. 

“What?” She turned towards Sam curiously, furrowing her eyebrows together in confusion. She wasn’t sure what he meant extra. She didn’t even think she’d said anything bad, not in comparison to the things that Jason had said to her. 

“You were very mean to that boy.” Sam said softly, speaking gently as he drove. She felt her jaw dropping, unsure if she was hearing her father right. Jason had been making her life hell for weeks now. She didn’t really say that he had a small penis, only that he was acting like it was small. 

“He put gum in my hair. He’s said so much worse to me. I only stood up for myself.” She defended herself quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears as she spoke. She didn’t feel like Sam had a right to scold her when he had no idea what had been happening recently. He hadn’t been in her life for years now, he couldn’t just pick up like nothing had happened. No matter how badly she wanted that to happen. 

“Monkey,” Sam sighed deeply. The old nickname pulled at her heart, making her look down towards her shoes, “There’s no telling what that boy is going through at home. You shouldn’t have done that.” He told her quietly, bringing up something that Kim didn’t even consider. She inhaled deeply. 

“It doesn’t matter,” She crossed her arms bitterly, “We’re moving anyways.” She mumbled as she looked out the window, wondering if it really would be better. She only had to get to May. Then she would graduate and not have to worry about it. 

“But he will remember those words forever,” Sam pointed out in a soft manner. He was wanting her to think about what she did, “Just think about that.” He said in a gentle manner. She huffed in irritation again. 

“I didn’t say anything bad,” She mumbled underneath her breath, rubbing her fingertips across her cardigan again, “Just that he might have a small penis.” She mumbled underneath her breath as she chewed on her bottom lip. She was surprised to hear Sam snort. He shook his head and she couldn’t tell if it was because of her words or if he was irritated with the way she was acting. 

The car ride turned silent again, tense as Sam drove on. Kim hugged her backpack tighter to her chest, breathing in harshly. She hated how terribly Sam was making her feel. She felt like she was being punished for something small. 

“So, Billy,” Sam drew out softly to fill the car ride with conversation, “Your mom really let you two live together?” She felt her eyes widening as she stared out the window, twisting her fingers together as her heart hammered in her chest. She breathed in deeply, doing her best to relax as she reminded herself that it was a simple question. 

“Uh huh.” She said gently, hoping that the conversation would go away quickly. She felt like she no longer knew how to speak to her father. So much had passed between the two of them that she no longer felt safe to share anything with him. 

“She didn’t have any complaints?” Sam asked, sounding a bit in disbelief. She was sure it was referencing them sharing a room. Sure, that had been pushing it a bit but Sam had yet to protest about that. Kim rubbed her tongue along her teeth, glad that Sam hated Susan enough that he hadn’t gone to speak to her. She didn’t think Susan would expose them, but she really wasn’t too sure. She wanted to keep it all safe. 

“No,” She said with a shrug of her shoulders as she reached up to tug at the ends of her hair, “You don’t like him?” She questioned at last, thinking that she already knew the answer. Sam didn’t really make an effort to discuss Billy with her at all. She figured there was a reason for doing so. 

“I never said that,” Sam quickly defended himself, looking over a little surprised, “He’s a little brash. I just, I guess I didn’t picture you with someone like him.” Sam said at last, shrugging his shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal. Kim tried not to get defensive so fast, but she couldn’t help it. 

“What do you mean?” She knitted her eyebrows together as she placed her backpack on the floor. She turned in her seat, moving at a better angle so she could look at Sam while he spoke. He sighed, dropping his hand against his lap as he glanced towards her again. 

“I always thought you’d be with someone that looked a little softer,” Sam nodded his head as he did his best to express his thoughts, “Not so rigid.” Kim felt as if she had just been slapped by the way Sam was speaking about Billy. 

“He’s not rigid,” Kim defended Billy hotly, “He’s just been through a lot. He’s kind to me and he loves me. That’s all that matters.” She said quickly, knowing that Billy could look a little rough around the edges from the outside. But he really was sweet and kind. Kim didn’t care if Sam liked him or not. 

“He seems close with Max.” Sam said softly. She glanced towards him, trying to figure out what his tone meant. She paused for a moment, feeling like he was searching for something to accuse Billy of. 

“They’re good friends,” Kim replied coolly, “There’s nothing to worry about. Billy and I are happy.” She brushed away Sam’s worries, feeling like it was far too late for him to pretend like he cared. Other than the first afternoon he’d returned, he hadn’t offered any explanation over what had changed. Other than the fact he had found a new wife. 

“He doesn’t like me.” Sam said briefly as he glanced towards Kim again. She looked at him for a moment, thinking of how desperately she had missed him a few days ago. Now, she was just irritated with him. She didn’t like that he was pretending like he had any say in what she did. He wasn’t around, so he couldn’t judge her for what she’d done. 

“No,” Kim nodded her head in agreement, “He doesn’t.” She said stiffly as she pinched her fingertips together again. She looked away from Sam, feeling awkward as she shuffled her shoes against her backpack. She wished that Sam hadn’t been there to answer the phone when the school called. 

She felt like Billy had been fairly understanding around Sam. He hadn’t been drinking, in fact Kim hadn’t seen any alcohol in the house since Sam arrived. She appreciated that and grew to appreciate Billy even more. Even if he didn’t like Sam, he was constantly looking out for her. Even Max, though she doubted that he would admit to helping her out. 

“Is there a reason for that?” He said after a brief pause, acting like he really didn’t know the answer to his question. She glanced towards him again, feeling a little hurt as she began to open the wound in her heart. 

“He knows that you left,” She said underneath her breath, “His mom left him too.” She said at last, speaking a little softer this time around. She still felt bad for Billy. She didn’t understand how Rosemary could just leave him. He deserved to be happy too. She wondered if they would’ve still gotten together had their parents never married. She wondered what he would be like now if he still lived with his mom. 

“He’s coming with us then?” Sam asked quietly. She looked over him in surprise, knitting her eyebrows together. She realized then that Sam had never invited Billy to come along. She parted her lips in surprise. 

“Yeah,” Kim said quickly, “We’re a package.” She said at last, nodding her head just as fast. She wouldn’t go anywhere without Billy and she knew Max felt the same way, though she probably wouldn’t admit to it. They were all tied together. 

“How about pizza and a movie tonight?” Sam replied instead, changing the topic completely. Kim sighed in relief, thankful that the awful conversation was over with. She hoped that Sam realized just how important Billy was to her now. Billy was bound to her in a way that Sam would never understand. 

“Sure,” She nodded her head in agreement, “That’s fine with me.” She shrugged her shoulders as she tucked her hair behind her ear again, feeling more relief flowing through her. Sam never questioned too much and Kim was glad to have secrets of her own. She wasn’t sure how he’d react if he ever found out the truth about her and Billy. Not to mention if he knew who Max’s possible father may be. 

They fell into silence again, not quite peaceful as he drove around. At first she wasn’t sure how Sam was able to find everything so easily, but then remembered how small Hawkins was in comparison to San Diego. Not to mention that he had always been good at directions. 

Kim breathed in deeply as they pulled into Family Video. She unbuckled her seatbelt, watching as Sam shifted and pulled out his wallet. He glanced over at her as he fumbled with more cash than she had ever seen on him before. She felt her eyebrows widen, surprised that he wasn’t blowing it. 

“Get whatever you think Max will enjoy,” He paused as he opened his door, “Billy too of course.” He nodded his head. Kim felt a smile pulling onto her lips as she took the money in her hands, glad that Billy was slowly being accepted. 

She shuffled into the store with Sam, following behind him as she browsed through the different selections. She debated for a few minutes about renting Romancing the Stone again, but in the end decided to try Blame it on Rio. Sam shuffled behind her in silence.

“They like horror movies,” She said softly, “Do you have any suggestions?” She asked Sam, watching the way he adjusted his glasses over his nose. He thought for a moment as they moved through the different titles.

“Gremlins is always good,” He suggested and Kim had to admit that she didn’t mind that one. Mostly because she thought the little animals were cute, “The Shining?” He asked finally, looking down to her to see if she agreed with it. She shrugged her shoulders, figuring that it was something. She couldn’t remember if Max had watched it or not. 

“Sure,” She nodded her head in agreement as he handed her the movie. She glanced at him again, glancing into his warm brown eyes, “Do you want to pick anything out?” She asked, feeling odd for feeling so shy around him. He was her father, there was no reason for her to be acting so different. 

“No,” He smiled at her, “These are good enough for me. What about popcorn?” He asked her as they walked over towards the concessions. She nodded her head, suddenly feeling like she was a little girl trudging along after him. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen a movie with him before. She wondered if he had seen many with his new wife and with the kids he shared with her. The thought made her sad. She thought that they had probably seen more of the real him than she had. 

“Sure,” She glanced at him again, “Do you know how popcorn was invented?” She asked, suddenly missing Sam’s voice again. He smiled as he picked up a few bags along with a bag of M&M’s.

“I think it was invented with the Aztecs,” He said, looking like he was deep in thought for a moment. He ran his fingers across his stubble as he pondered on it. She looked at the white that was poking through. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he had looked much older than the last time she’d seen him, “Do you want to get this? I’m going to see if there’s any Lemonheads.” She nodded her head, trying to snap out of her thoughts as she carried everything in her arms.

She stepped towards the checkout desk, glancing over her shoulder one more time to make sure that Sam really was browsing through the candy. She felt silly, knowing that she was too grown to be worried about him leaving. She breathed in sharply as she turned around, noticing a familiar face. 

“Hi,” Kim drew out quietly, still feeling awkward about approaching Steve, “I think this is it.” She shuffled the movies forward, feeling a little tense. She didn’t know how to speak to him, or if she was supposed to. She stared down at the counter instead, beginning to pick the polish from her nails. 

“Hey,” He smiled brightly as he began to ring everything up, “Did you have a good birthday?” She was a little surprised at his question, but found herself slowly relaxing. She nodded her head as she tucked her short hair behind her ear again.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun. Thank you for the card and everything.” She said, glancing up at him. She met his big brown eyes, thinking about how they had once made her stomach churn and her tongue falter. He bit down on his bottom lip as he slowly rang the movies up. 

“Sorry you had to spend it with Billy,” Steve chuckled, like it was funny, “He seems like a debby downer.” He mumbled underneath his breath as he began to type numbers into the computer. She looked over curiously, wondering how it all worked. 

“He’s not bad once you get to know him,” She said honestly. Steve had an eyebrow raised as he turned towards her again. She smiled bashfully, knowing that it was true. She paused for a moment as something else was weighing heavy on her chest “Steve, I don’t like girls.” She whispered quietly, so quiet that she made sure that no one else heard them.

“Oh,” Steve’s big brown eyes widened, “Oh shit.” His lips were parted, like he had no idea that she was speaking the truth. She felt her cheeks beginning to burn at the way he was staring at her. She shrugged her shoulders softly, trying to do her best to play it all off. 

“I don’t know where that came from,” She admitted, wondering if it was more rumors about her, “I mean if I did, which I don’t think I do, Robin would for sure be on the list. I mean I’ve never been with a girl before so I guess I don’t really know, but I’m in a relationship with a guy who I really love so like -” She began to ramble, using her hands to speak as she did her best to explain herself. She didn’t want to be rude, but she didn’t want to think that Robin had a chance either. 

“It’s alright,” Steve held a hand up, “I get it.” He said quickly, shutting her down before she began to speak for hours. She felt her cheeks burning even brighter as she nodded her head, grateful that he stopped her from speaking for too long. She didn’t want to make a complete fool out of herself. 

“Do you hate me?” She asked him softly, looking up at him in worry. She didn’t know much about Steve, but she didn’t want anyone else to hate her. She was really beginning to get along with Robin as well and feared that this would ruin it. 

“No,” Steve said quickly, “I guess I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.” He shrugged his shoulders as he looked away from her. They stayed awkward for a moment as she tried to think of the best way to explain how she felt. 

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” Kim admitted, worried that she would crush Robin’s heart. Heartbreak wasn’t any fun and she certainly didn’t want to be the reason someone else experienced it. She didn’t want to lead the other girl on at the same time. She breathed out, wishing that things could be easier. 

“Are you ready?” Sam approached just as Kim slid the cash over towards Steve. Steve looked up curiously before he began to flip through the cash, counting up the part that he owed her. Kim pulled her elbows off of the counter. 

“Oh yeah,” Kim tucked her hair behind her ears, “I was just talking.” She shrugged her shoulders, hoping that Sam hadn’t overheard anything that they’d said. Sam pushed his glasses up again, looking at Steve curiously. 

“Oh, you’re one of Kim’s friends?” He asked, tilting his head in interest. Kim felt her eyes widening as she took the money from Steve, wanting to get out of here as fast as she could. She was sure that she and Steve were not friends and really didn’t want him to confirm that in front of her father. 

“Uh yeah,” Steve nodded his head, “You could call us that.” Kim picked up the bag, suddenly feeling shy as she met Steve’s smile. She was surprised at his answer, flattered even. It felt nice to have someone else say that they were friends with her. 

“Cool,” Sam smiled towards him, “You know, you’re the type that I imagined Kim would be with. Not that there’s anything wrong with her boyfriend but B-” Sam began to ramble and Kim felt her eyes widen as she jolted forward. 

“Dad!” She cut him off quickly in embarrassment, before he could spit anything else out, “He’s just, he’s just kidding. Have a good day.” She smiled stiffly, her face burning as she pushed her fingertips against Sam’s back and nudged him towards the door. She moved them forward quickly, ignoring Steve’s curious glances as her heart pounded roughly inside of her chest. For some reason, she didn’t think about Sam talking to anyone about her being with Billy. 

“What did I say?” He looked at her confused, “Oh, I see.” He nodded his head, like everything had become apparent to him. She felt her eyes widening in fear. 

“You see nothing,” She said quickly, hoping to reassure him that nothing was wrong, “That was so embarrassing.” She muttered as she held the bag close to her chest. She pulled the door open, leaning over the seat so she could put the bag of movies and popcorn in the backseat. 

“You liked that boy at one time, didn’t you?” Sam was grinning from ear to ear as he pulled the door open. She looked over the console, sighing in relief as she nodded her head. It wasn’t a lie. She had a crush on Steve once upon a time. 

“Yes,” She said quickly, “That’s it.” She agreed as she pulled herself into the chair. She began to buckle herself in, feeling her nerves beginning to slide away. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. 

“I won’t tell Billy,” He said at last, as he climbed into the seat. She grinned in response, but was well aware that Billy already knew, “Why didn’t you give that boy a chance?” He asked as he slowly buckled up in his chair. Kim felt like grumbling. 

“He got someone else pregnant.” She said at last, hoping that this would change the topic completely. It didn’t seem like Sam didn’t like Billy, more so that he didn’t trust him. Which Kim thought was pointless. She trusted Billy more than she trusted Sam. 

“Oh.” Sam said simply, his eyes a little wide at the thought. She bit her lip, wanting to remind him that Susan was pregnant with Kim far before they got married. She wondered if Sam knew how hypocritical he was acting. 

“Could you just,” She breathed in deeply, “Drop me off at the car garage?” She asked at last, thinking that Billy was the only one that could calm her right now. She bit her lip as she thought about how calm the alcohol had made her at the cabin. She shook her head, beginning to scratch at her arm. 

“You want to watch Billy work?” Sam questioned. She nodded her head, feeling like that was better than sitting around the house and talking to him. She realized that she missed Sam a lot, but it was like every little thing made her irritated too. She didn’t understand what was boiling inside of her. 

“It’s fine,” She shrugged her shoulders, “I can work on homework.” She didn’t think that Billy would mind if she did that. Nor did she think that any of his coworkers minded. They were all fairly nice. 

“Why don’t you practice driving? I can teach you,” He said with a smile, looking a little thrilled at the idea, “I’m excited for you to see your car.” She nearly hated to tell him the truth, but she didn’t want it to be apparent that she was lying about driving too. In all honesty, she was excited about having her own car. 

“I’m excited too,” She said gently as she twisted her fingers together, “But Billy already taught me how to drive. He set my test up for Friday.” She said as softly as she could, hoping that she wouldn’t offend Sam. In her defense, it was already two years past when she could’ve gotten her license. It was almost silly to suggest that she wouldn’t have practiced at least a little bit. 

“Oh,” Sam nodded his head, a look of disappointment crossing his features, “I could take you up there.” He suggested lightly. Her mouth felt dry as she thought about it. She was already nervous about taking the test and didn’t think that Sam being there would help her any. Billy always made her calm; she wanted him to be there with her instead. 

“You don’t have to,” She reassured him, not wanting to hurt his feelings either, “I’m sure Max will want to see you.” She said, knowing how excited Max was with Sam being there. Kim felt guilty suddenly, so guilty that it made her sick to her stomach. She needed to tell Max what she knew. 

“I’ve seen a lot of Max,” He was speaking just as soft, “I’m very grateful for that. I’m not complaining, I’d never complain about spending time with her-,” He sighed to stop his rambling, “I only meant that I haven’t had much time with you.” He said at last, glancing towards her. She felt sick all over again, but in a whole different way. 

“I guess we’ll have a lot of time in San Diego.” She suggested, unsure of how she was supposed to take the tension out of their relationship. She chewed on her bottom lip, fearing that she was being too harsh to her father. She didn’t think it was a bad thing to keep him at a distance, just to protect herself.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed as he turned his attention back towards the road, “We’ll have plenty of time.” He nodded his head and reached for the dial on the radio.

/////////////////

“Hey,” Billy looked at her worried as she approached him. She held onto her backpack straps, smiling bashfully, “You’re out of school early.” He looked worried suddenly and she figured he was right about that. She pulled a smile to her lips, hoping to diminish his worries. Nothing bad happened today. 

“I told Jason he had a small penis and they sent me home early.” She said quickly, almost too quick. She blushed, realizing she was speaking a little too loudly as one of his coworkers turned towards them. He chuckled before turning away. Billy paused as he wiped his sweat away with his forearm. 

“What?” He laughed looking at her in disbelief, “You really said that?” He asked in shock as he set down the tool he was holding. She looked away quickly, wondering if it was some forbidden thing to talk about a guy having a small penis.

“I already got lectured about it,” She mumbled as she shuffled her shoes into the hard floor, “I feel bad.” She admitted, thinking about Sam’s words. Billy tilted his head towards her, looking at her curiously. She noticed them that he looked amused as well, a hint of pride in his eyes. 

“Don’t feel bad,” He said seriously, shaking his head like it was ridiculous for her to suggest, “Maybe the asshole will leave you alone now.” He mumbled as he began to wipe his dirty hands clean with one of the towels resting near his station. She stared for a long time, watching the way he twisted the towel around his thick digits. 

“But what if he has a bad home life?” She whispered softly, glancing towards him as the thought continued to echo in her mind. She really didn’t want to be mean. She was just so frustrated earlier. Now, she was regretting it entirely. She inhaled, thinking about how awkward it would be in class the rest of the week. 

“Doubt it,” He nudged her forehead softly with one of his clean fingers, “Wanna take a break with me?” He asked her and she nodded in response. She slid her backpack off of her shoulders, following him out the door. 

“Just think,” She said softly as she leaned against the wall with him. She watched as he pulled out a cigarette, “We’ll be in sunny California soon.” She didn’t mention how gloomy San Diego could get too. It was better than Hawkins, she was sure of that. It especially didn’t get as cold. 

“Have you told anyone about moving?” He asked after he took a drag from his cigarette. She watched how the smoke easily rolled off of his tongue. She had an urge to lean forward and kiss him, to taste him on her tongue. 

“No.” She answered finally as she tore her eyes away from his pink lips. She glanced down a little bashfully, knowing that she probably should’ve told at least Addi by now. In her defense, she had been forced out of school early today. “Kim.” Billy told her softly, the tone of his voice making her drag her shoes along the ground. She glanced towards his observant eyes. 

“I know,” She sighed heavily, “I just don’t want it to be true.” She admitted at last. She wasn’t sure how she would get along in another school. Especially without Addi. She had been her only friend for so long. 

“You like it here?” Billy knitted his eyebrows together, looking at her in disbelief. She peered at him, fighting the urge to smile at how horrified he looked at the moment. She shook her head softly, diminishing his concern. 

“I like that it feels like I have friends, real friends,” She said at last, thinking about how nice it was at lunch the other day. It even felt nice to have Steve refer to her as a friend, “Not like the girls back home.” She admitted, rubbing her arm as she temporarily thought about Cindy and her other so called friends. She was worried that she would run into them again. 

“I bet these friends will keep in touch,” Billy promised her softly, his blue eyes soft as if he understood what he meant, “What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” He asked as he stomped his cigarette out. She bit her lip, thinking about how they’d been cooking dinner together nightly. Billy really was a good chef. 

“We’re having a movie night with pizza,” She said softly, smiling at the way his eyes narrowed, “I think daddy feels bad.” She admitted slowly as she pressed her thumbs together slowly. Billy turned to face her, his shoulder resting against the wall. 

“He should.” Billy said simply. Kim sighed as she nodded her head, knowing that there were plenty of things for Sam to feel bad about. Still, she didn’t like to make Sam feel guilty. She already felt awful for how she had been acting earlier. 

“I feel so angry with him,” She said at last, feeling a ton of emotions rushing forward at once, “He just thinks he can take us back to California like he didn’t leave us behind before. I don’t know how to talk to him.” She spit out all at once. She was worried about being left alone in California. At least here they had some kind of support with their friends. She was afraid to go to California and have nothing. 

“Have you told him that?” Billy asked, looking a little surprised at what she had to say. She shook her head no bitterly, knowing that she didn’t have the guts to admit that to Sam, “Try talking to him.” He spoke softly, like he was giving her the gentlest push forward. She breathed in through her nostrils. 

“It's hard,” She replied, although he looked like he disagreed. She thought that it would be similar to him trying to talk to Neil about what Neil had done to him, “He just doesn’t like to talk about stuff like that.” She said honestly. They were both similar to not wanting to confront anyone about serious things like that.

“Probably not,” He agreed as he linked his fingers through hers, “He knows he’s in the wrong. And a pussy.” He said at last, nodding his head like it was the final word. She shook her head, a smile forming on her lips. 

“Billy,” She shoved him gently, giggling, “Stop it. I’m being serious.” She told him as she looked up into his pretty blue eyes. She wondered when they had gotten so close to one another. She looked over the freckles on his cheeks and nose, then at the hair that decorated his upper lip. 

“So am I,” He said more seriously as he held her hand to his chest, “You’re very forgiving.” He was leaning over her as she spoke. She felt her heart fluttering in her chest as jolts of electricity raced up her arms. She wondered how his touch still affected her in such a manner. 

“You are too,” She said, tilting her head as he turned away with a snort, “You are. You just won’t admit it.” She let her hand drop from his chest, wishing that he would believe her. He was still seeing Neil, it really wasn’t that different from her letting Sam back into her life. 

“Mhm,” He said softly, still looking like he didn’t believe her, “Do you want to help me?” He asked her, looking curious at what her answer would be. She looked at him surprised, her eyes widening a bit in interest. She wasn’t sure that she cared about getting dirty, but working with Billy seemed to be a fun idea.

“Can I?” She questioned him seriously, wondering if she would even be allowed to do so. She didn’t want him to get in trouble with his boss, but she was curious to know how a car worked. Billy nodded his head.

“Yeah, it’ll be easy,” He said eagerly as he opened the door for her. She walked inside, glancing back at him in interest as she waited to know what they would be working on, “I just have to change some brake pads. You can get in the car.” He said as they walked back to the car he had been working on. 

“I’ll just sit in there?” She asked him, feeling a little disappointed that she didn’t get to do anything cooler. Her reaction must’ve been obvious by the look of amusement that crossed his features. 

“No,” Billy chuckled as he pulled the door open for her, “I need you to press down on the brakes.” He explained easily. She smiled, thinking that it sounded a little better than just sitting there. 

“Oh,” She said with a nod of her head, “I can do that.” She insisted, feeling like that sounded fairly easy to do. She sat down in the car, beginning to pull the seat belt over her before Billy stopped her.

“You don’t have to do that,” He grinned as he let the seat belt slide back into place. She blushed a little bit as she nodded her head, pushes her short hair from her face, “The car will be off.” He said quickly, nodding his head as if to confirm with her that the car would stay off. She bit her lip.

“Heard loud and clear,” She told him seriously as he shut the door. She grinned as she rested her hands on the car steering wheel, thankful that he was letting her do something he enjoyed with him, “Do I press down now?” She asked once he disappeared underneath the car.

“Yeah,” He spoke a little loud. She giggled at the sound of his voice coming from underneath the car, “Press down now.” He repeated and she followed his command. She waited for a second before she pressed her foot down harder on the brakes. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as she waited. 

“You’re sure you’re hitting the brakes?” She heard at last. She glanced down between her feet, nodding in confirmation that she was pressing down on the brakes. She looked up again, glancing out the window but was still unable to see him. 

“Yes,” Kim said confidently as she pressed down harder, “Do you see it now?” She asked, unsure of what was happening underneath the car. She wondered if it was really that easy to see if someone was pressing down on the brakes. 

“Stay just like that,” She listened as he slid underneath the car and rose. Her eyes followed his movements as he opened the front door and bent inside to peer down at her feet. He bent further, his hand taking a hold of her ankle and lifting it, “That’s the gas.” He told her softly as he moved her foot onto the brake pedal. She flushed, feeling a bit dumb.

“I knew where it was,” She tried to answer confidently, though she had a feeling he could see right through her, “I was just testing you.” She replied sheepishly, wondering if she should really be trusted on the streets. Billy nodded his head, chuckling a bit.

“I know you were,” He reassured as he poked her nose gently, “Keep your foot on that pedal now.” He clarified as he shut the door behind him again. She watched as he walked away and disappeared again. She kept her foot on the gas, leaning her head forward to rest against the steering wheel as she groaned in embarrassment. She wasn’t sure how people were so smart with cars when they seemed so complicated. 

It only took about ten minutes for Billy to get it fixed before he was rising again and letting her know that he was finished with that task. She still had a bashful smile on as she rose from the car, wincing over the situation once again. 

“Sorry,” She mumbled as she held her hands over her chest, “I don’t know if I’m ready for my test.” She admitted at last, wondering if she should’ve practiced driving a little more with Sam earlier today. Billy knitted his eyebrows together as he peered at her.

“Why are you sorry? It happens to the best of us,” He shrugged her off as he returned his tools onto the desk. His features were light and airy as he peered at her, “You’re more than ready. Don’t doubt yourself.” He reassured her. She wondered if anyone else believed in her the way that he did. 

“Yeah, sure,” She shrugged her shoulders as she looked away from him, suddenly feeling shy, “Maybe I just need to practice helping you more.” She teased him lightly as she looked back towards him. She liked the light smile that was plastered on his lips as he watched her. 

“I’m fairly good at teaching you stuff, yeah?” He bit his lip, looking quite pleased with the way she squirmed underneath his gaze. She rubbed her elbow softly, giggling softly. She couldn’t deny him that fact at all. 

The next few hours passed blissfully long as Kim caught up on her homework, staying to herself as she waited for Billy to finish. Person after person left before he was the only one that remained with her. 

“Can you help me with this?” He asked. She nodded her head, walking towards him curiously. She looked at his hands, noticing that they had been scrubbed clean.

“What is it?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows together as Billy's hands moved to her waist. Her eyes widened as she was lifted onto the hood of the car. She giggled, shifting a bit as she tried to get herself comfortable, “What are you doing?” She asked.

“Repaying you,” He said simply, looking at her with a smirk as he slowly rubbed his fingers against her panties. She breathed out in awe, gaping as he ripped her panties in half. She squealed, looking at him surprised as he discarded the material, “I’ll get you a new pair.” He replied cheekily as he dipped between her legs. 

She was unable to protest as his lips peppered against her thighs, tickling her skin softly as he sucked and licked at her thighs. She breathed in deeply, leaning back a bit as she glanced around to confirm that they were the last two that remained.

His lips pressed against her clit softly, giving her the softest kiss before he dragged them against her folds. She moaned, licking her lips as he lightly sucked on her pussy. She rolled her hips forward slowly, enjoying his warm tongue against her skin. 

“Feels good,” She whimpered as he shifted her up higher on the hood of the car. She sighed, her legs parted widely as he flicked his tongue over and across her wet folds. She rolled her hips forward blissfully, her fingers linking in his sweaty curls, “Oh god.” She moaned, rolling her hips forward.

He groaned against her drenched heat, his tongue dipping along her slit and up towards her clit. He peered up at her with dark eyes, keeping her legs spread further apart as he puckered his lips around her clit. She whimpered at the feeling, jolting at how good it felt. 

He groaned as he pulled away, his lips wet with slick as he stuck his pinky finger in his mouth. He watched her as he swirled the finger around in his mouth, wetting it before he dipped it between her ass cheeks. She gasped, sitting up a little bit as he slid it inside of her puckered hole.

“Billy,” She shivered at the sensation, her eyes widening as he slid two fingers into her cunt at the same time, “Oh. Oh, Billy.” She breathed out harshly, her chest feeling tight as he curled his fingers against her wet walls. She whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair again as he began to lick at her pussy again.

Her nipples felt unbearably hard against her clothing as she rocked her hips forward, her bottom dragging against the hot hood of the car as she began to grind against his fingers and mouth. He grumbled in response, using his other hand to hold her still as he languidly licked her clit. His movements with her fingers became more intense, rocking them deep inside of her. 

Her head fell back as her fingertips curled up against the hood of the car. She whimpered, fighting the urge to jerk her hips forward as Billy’s tongue roughly flicked against her sensitive clit. She sighed, her lips parting  at the bubbling pleasure that was building deep inside of her tummy.

“S’nice,” She spit out, her toes curling inside of her shoes as Billy’s fingers curled up against her bundle of nerves. She cried out, enjoying the way his tongue moved across her wet pussy. She listened to the way her wetness coated his fingers, how it dripped down his skin as he continued to fuck them into her, “Gonan cum.” She hissed, her hips jerking forward even under his strong grip. 

He moved his fingers harder, pressing them deeper inside of her as he continued to stretch both of her holes out. She whined, feeling like she was coming undone sooner than not from how stimulated she was at the moment. She licked the corners of her mouth, trying to keep from drooling.

“Billy,” She chanted, her mind feeing fuzzy as she tried to grind up against him. He pressed down her hips harder, holding her still as he quickly removed his fingers from her drenched holes. He moved his mouth away, rubbing her clit furiously the same way he’d done on her birthday, “Oh, fuck!” She whined, her muscles clenching tightly together as she gripped his forearm. She cried out, her legs trembling as the muscles inside of her exploded.

She squirted again, making a mess all over the hood of the car as she continued to writhe and wiggle against his hand. Her eyes crossed as she moaned loudly, her legs trembling and snapping together from Billy’s tight hold.

“Fuck,” He breathed out in awe, his eyes looking dark and full of lust, “Holy fuck.” He leaned forward, gripping the base of her neck to kiss her harshly. She moaned against his tongue, tasting herself as her tongue poked and prodded against his. She whined, rubbing her hands along his chest.

“S’lot,” She giggled shyly, still feeling a little intimidated by the action, “Messy.” She said simply, her mind feeling too fuzzy to create full sentences. Billy chuckled, licking his bottom lip.

“It’s fucking hot,” He stated and she could tell that he really meant it by the bulge that was formed in his pants, “C’mere.” He gripped her hands, slowly helping her slide off the other side of the hood. She stood on trembling legs, giggling as she kept a tight grip on him.

“Hi,” She breathed out, her chest flush against his as their lips were nearly pressed together, “I want you.” She mumbled, pressing herself closer to him. She didn’t care if she got his uniform all wet. She wanted to feel his cock stretching her cunt instead.

“Mhm,” He mumbled softly as he dragged his lips against hers, “Tonight.” He promised, earning a soft groan from her. She pressed herself against him again, hoping that she could change his mind.

“You’re a little cock slut,” He smirked at the way she squirmed in response, “Be patient. It’ll be better that way.” She nodded her head, although she wasn’t happy with his answer. She peppered kisses along the side of his mouth.

“Be good to me,” She teased lightly as she dragged her teeth along his skin, the same way he’d done to her before, “I want you so bad.” He groaned softly as he moved his hand down, cupping her ass in his large hands. 

“You’ll have me,” He promised, peppering a kiss against her lips, “You always have me.”