#i dont know how to tell her that straight girls dont get those kind of insane urges 😭 it also never happens with men

[transgaysex]

i still think about how when i as a kid id see these tales of jealous people being so upset when their partner would check out other people and id be like "well im glad my parents arent like that, whenever my dad sees a pretty woman he tells my mom so they can both admire her"

[sturnskiss]

imgonnagetyouback ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 2.1k (holy shit)

summary: you are a world renowned popstar, and after a very public breakup with youtuber matt sturniolo, he can’t bare to watch you look hot on stage and know you’re no longer his. he’s determined to get you back.

warnings: smut obvi, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of ‘y/n’, nicknames (baby), overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t be fucking stupid), matt calling reader ‘slutty’, probably more i can’t think of

authors note: I HAVE RETURNED!! i have come back from like a two month long hiatus (HIATUS??? DONT USE BIG WORDS MATTTT) to bring you guys the much requested imgonnagetyouback inspired fic featuring popstar! reader! in my mind i see popstar! reader as sabrina carpenter/madison beer type, not necessarily looks wise just their presence. anyways i love ya and thank u for all the kind words on pretty voice :(((

you walked around stage with more confidence then ever. you questioned if fake confidence still counts as confidence, but nobody seemed to know that you’re faking it. it had been 2 weeks since your breakup with matt, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t wreck you. but you don’t want to ruin the fans experience while you’re on tour, so you maintained your confident-happy-seductive-popstar act.

you were considered the new it girl of pop music. even though you were at your worst, you were getting a lot of attention. most questions fans asked you were about the breakup, but you were trending on twitter for a week straight. fans were making sad breakup edits and update accounts were notifying everyone about the latest stuff regarding the breakup.

because of those update accounts, you knew that matt and his brothers were at your show tonight. you didn’t know why, and even though it made you sick, you got up on the stage and shook your ass and sang your little heart out.

you wore a short lilac skirt, the one that fits you like skin. it drive matt crazy; the way it matched your skin tone so perfectly and accentuated your curves. you were a humble girl, but there were times you knew just how hot you were.

you felt bittersweet about this being the last stop of your tour. you were excited you could rest and grieve and mourn your ended relationship. but you were sad because of the happiness you did feel at one point performing to your fans and the family you created with your band.

with it being the last stop of tour, your team is throwing a little party at some club nearby the venue in seattle. it was planned for weeks now, and at the time you planned it, you added matt and his brothers name to the guest list. and you didn’t have the guts to remove it after the breakup, you didn’t even think you needed to because why would he show up? you regret it as you look at him from your spot on stage. he’s standing on the balcony with his brothers, and he looks guilty and mad at the same time. you quickly look away before you became sick, like how you normally feel seeing his face anywhere.

you say your goodbyes to the crowd and walk off stage as confetti shoots from the ceiling. you make your way backstage where your team awaits you, showering you with compliments and praises. the usual ‘you did so great tonight’ shit. matt used to be the first one to compliment you after a show, whispering sweet things in your ear; odd compliments that nobody else would tell you but that’s why they meant so much. you shake the thought of him from your mind as you pray that he won’t attend the party later tonight.

standing at the bar like somethings funny, bubbly.

God didn’t answer your prayers, unfortunately. you stood talking to one of your best friends, madison beer, but instead of keeping eye contact with her as she talks to you, your eyes are on matt. he’s on the other corner of the room by the bar, with his brothers. chris is sipping on a pepsi, nick with a dr. pepper, and matt has nothing in his hands. he glances over to you and goes back to his conversation with chris. he laughs and you wonder what he’s laughing at, you brush it off and engage in your conversation with madison.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. an endless stream of curse words run through your mind because knowing he’s in the same room as you, at your party, is driving you insane. you wander through the crowds, making small talk but never staying with the same people for long. you sneak a quick look at matt who seems oddly bubbly while he’s talking to some blonde girl. as if he can feel your stare, he looks at you and makes a face. not a disgusted face, but one that reads ‘i see you too.’

an hour or two passes and i see some blonde girl approach him, and i know he wouldn’t *dare*. while we technically can see other people, we were never *not* each others. the blonde girl, who had to have been someone’s plus one cause i know damn well i didn’t invite her, is so obviously flirting with him. how bold of her! he seems uninterested but he’s still talking to her, which makes me feel sick. i hate he still has that effect on me.

say you got somebody, i’ll say i got someone too.

i know it’s petty, but i just want him to know that i can have someone too. i walk up to the first boy that i see, making small talk and his eyes almost pop out of his head when he realizes who i am. i can feel matt’s stare from across the room. i have zero interest in this guy i’m talking to, i just want to piss matt off. i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i tell all of my friends that i hate him, but i go fucking crazy when i see him or hear anything about him.

part of me wants to yell at him and curse him out, and the other half wants to take him back to my hotel. your phone is tucked into the neckline of your dress, feeling it vibrate. you smile at the stranger and pull your phone out, matt’s name on your lockscreen. you look over and see him staring at you. it definitely worked, this man is furious.

ten minutes later, you wait in the gender neutral bathroom. you apply more lipgloss in the mirror when matt walks in, quickly locking the door behind him.

“you hate parties,” you mutter as you layer on more mauve lipgloss, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

he shrugs, “yeah, but i don’t hate you.”

you roll your eyes, “well, i hate you.”

he laughs dryly, “yeah? how come you’re here then? in this bathroom with me, with the door locked?” he says, walking up behind you. you can feel his bulge against your ass.

you sigh and turn around, less than an inch of distance between you. “i hate you.”

he nods, “for sure.” he brings his thumb to your glossed lips, smirking. “so pretty.”

before you could even think twice, you’re sitting on the sink, wrapping your legs around matt’s waist, making out. maybe if you were sober you wouldn’t be in this situation, but if you were sober you probably would have wanted it more.

“hate you so much,” you mumble in between sloppy kisses.

“i know,” he mutters. he taps your thighs, signaling for you to spread them more. and of course, you do. he reaches his hand under your dress, pulling your panties to the side. he does all of this without breaking your kiss, too. and to no one’s surprise, you’re soaked.

he looks up at you, “you hate me so much but you’re soaking wet? doesn’t make sense.” he says.

“stop talking,” you whine.

he plunges two fingers into your cunt, and your hand immediately flies to your mouth. while it isn’t out of the ordinary to have sex in a bathroom at a club, you don’t want people to know it’s you.

he uses his other hand and pulls your hand away from your mouth. “let ‘em hear you.”

he continues fingering you until he feels your walls clench down on his fingers, and he pulls them out.

“matt!” you whine.

he nods, “i know, baby.” matt loves to edge you, and it pisses you off.

you roll your eyes and push him away, hopping off the sink. “no, i really do hate you.”

matt rolls his eyes, “oh, here we go again with that bullshit.”

you’re about to unlock the door and walk out of it before matt stops you. he swats your hand away from the door knob and walks closer to you until you’re up against the door.

“off,” he says, tugging at the fabric of your dress. and even though you said you hated him 5 seconds ago, you obey him.

he helps you wiggle out of your dress, you step out of it and slide it across the bathroom.

matt takes his belt off and unbuttons his jeans, you slide his boxers down to his ankles along with his jeans.

you’re still against the door when matt says, “jump.” you quickly obey, wrapping your legs around his hips. he uses the door to help not drop you, and you’re sure your back will hurt and have some bruises after this.

his dick is firmly pressing against your clit, and matt uses one arm to support you and the other to slide his dick inside your entrance. you hadn’t had his cock in a couple months, and it’s like it’s the first time again.

“oh fuck,” he groans. “still so tight. none of the other guys can stretch you like i do, huh?” he whispers into your ear.

“shut up and fuck me already, matt.” you reply bitterly.

“if you say so,” he whispers before bucking his hips into you so hard you think you might have a bruise.

“oh!” you gasp.

matt maintains eye contact with you, “you miss this dick?”

you nod as he continues to fuck into you, the door rattling against you.

“i don’t believe that, use your words, y/n.” he teases.

“i missed— oh fuck, missed your dick,” you whimper.

he pushed you harder against the door behind you so he could use his other hand to rub circles on your clit.

“well, i missed this pussy too. know it missed me back.”

your hole fluttered at his words which made him let out a soft groan. you felt his dick everywhere, in your soul.

he moved his hand away from your clit, leaving you trembling.

“m’back hurts,” you whined as he slid his dick in and out of you.

matt looked at you with sympathy, “i know baby… but we’re in a bathroom cause you’re jus’ so needy, so there’s not much room for me to fuck you like i want.”

this was true.

he rammed into you harder and faster, causing you to let out an almost pornographic shriek.

matt dryly laughed, “sound so pretty. such a pretty voice.”

you knew how much matt loved your career. the most famous pop girl at the moment wrapped around his finger. he loved watching your shows and seeing how all your female fans would bring their boyfriends to a concert and he’d watch their intense stares as you pranced around on stage in nothing but a tiny dress and heels. everyone wanted to fuck you or be you, and he loved that you were his in every way. but after the breakup, he’s gotten angry so of course he has to make up for lost time with a very intense fuck.

he slammed into you and pulled out just as quick, repeating this until he can feel your walls tightening against his lengthy cock.

“c’mon, baby. know your close, give it to me.” he whispered in your ear.

“oh god,” you moaned.

matt stopped fucking you, “s’not my name, baby.”

you whined, “fuck me, matt.” you said, putting emphasis on his name.

he smiled and started pounding into you again. “good job, baby. love when you use that pretty lil voice of yours.”

your nails scratched artwork onto his back, maybe breaking skin but matt didn’t mind at all.

“you gonna cum?” he taunted.

you nodded, “matt!”

“cum for me baby,” he demanded.

“oh god! oh, oh matt!” you said it correctly this time as your orgasm ripped through you. the first genuinely good one in two weeks.

matt didn’t slow down, he stayed fucking you through your orgasm.

“can’t!” you yelled.

matt shook his head, “you can. jus’ gimme one more. one more.”

you shut your eyes tightly gripping onto his back as tight as you can. you start squirming as your next orgasm approaches.

“m’cumming! oh! matt, i’m cumming!”

he nods, “i know baby.”

after you come down from your orgasm high, matt helps you adjust yourself so you look presentable to go back out into your party.

you reapply your lip gloss and run your fingers through your hair, combing them out. you fix your dress while matt hands you your panties.

“well, it was nice seeing you.” you say sweetly, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“very nice.” he says with a smirk on his face. he adjusts his hair too before unlocking the door and holding it open for you. you’re greeted by a long line of upset faces waiting to use the bathroom.

you and matt make side eye each other as you walk away from the crowd, giggling.

you and matt both know you were never not each others.

[billluver0124]

"middle school shenanigans!"

synopsis : tom goes through his 'first love' experience with y/n! WARNINGS: there is none, its a fluff story !!

authors note: once again, @rottinglilys helped me with the plot of the story ! i hope you guy enjoy my lovies<3

it all started back last year in grade 7, tom had a MASSIVE crush on y/n. he would always catch himself staring at her in classes because they had most classes together.

he always adored how she looked; her hair, her eyes, her bubbly personality, her willingness to be kind towards those who dont deserve it. but most of all...her smile. toms heart used to explode like fireworks whenever he was blessed to see her smiled.

then on the day before spring break started, tom slipped her a note in her locker.

"Hey, ich bin in dich verknallt. Magst du mich auch?

ja oder nein ?-t.k"

y/n was so confused when she got the note. she didn't know what 't.k' stood for, until the very last hour of school. when tom decided to man up and go up to her.

"y/n!" he yelled, jogging up to her to catch her attention. she turns around "oh hi tom!" she said, smiling. tom almost fell to his knees right then and there, but no! he needed to tell her how she felt! "did you get my note?" tom asked, his hand wrapped around the back of his neck. then it hit y/n straight in the face, t.k = tom kaulitz, how could i be so fucking stupid? she thought to herself. "o-oh uh yea!" she answered nervously. "c-can i see it?" tom asked, y/n nervously giving it back. he opens it to see that it wasnt answered "you didnt answer it, do you not like me back?" tom felt his heart sting a little but it was soon reassured. "n-no i do like you, i like you a-a lot!..." y/n blurted out "i just didnt know what 't.k' meant at first until now..." tom chuckled, "what did you think it meant?" "i-i dont know...t-turkey kabob?" she joked, causing them to both laugh. after a moment of silence, tom speaks "so, are you my girlfriend now?" tom asked, not knowing where to go from here. y/n nods, giving him a hug. tom feels his heart flutter at the feeling of y/n in his arms. "you wanna hangout this weekend? ill ask my mom if its okay" she asked, tom nods "yea for sure! ill see you then"

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

it was now grade 8, tom and y/n have been dating for a year! their families have grown fond of each other and they hangout at each others house after school most of the week and sometimes on weekends...

with the condition that the door must stay open of course...

today they were at toms house, tom was showing her a song he was playing some guitar for her and she just peacefully watched. y/n always admired toms talent on guitar, she knew he was gonna make it big one day.

after a little while, he puts the guitar away and pats a spot next to him "wanna cuddle liebe?" he asked, she smiles and lays next to him. he pulls her into his embrace, her pretty head rests upon his chest as he strokes her hair.

as tom stroked her hair, y/n found herself staring at a particular feature on his face, his lips. the pretty pink color, the way they curved into a smile whenever he was happy, and oh my god his lip piercing...y/ns never kissed anyone before, but she wanted to kiss him so bad. "is something wrong?" tom asked, slightly nervous. "nothing its just..." y/n took a breath before she finished her question "h-have you ever kissed anyone?" tom sighed "uhm, yeah..my babysitter when i was like..9" "oh.." "why? have you ever kissed anyone schatz?" tom asked, y/n looks down; embarassed "n-no, i havent.."

then almost immediately, tom got an idea in his little brain>.<

"do you want to have your first kiss?" "well, yeah every girl wants to have their first kiss" y/n joked "no schatzi..." tom chuckled "i mean do you want to have it...with me?" y/n hesitates for a moment, nervous of if shes a good kisser or not. shes really new to this! what if shes a bad kisser? what if she goes too far? but it couldnt be that bad right? its just a kiss for christs sake!

"yeah..is that okay tommy?" "its more than okay with me schatzi.." tom sat up, scooting closer to her "you ready?" he asked...

y/n nods, shakily moving her face closer to him. tom places a hand on her cheek then boom! their lips were sealed together! (aww so cute! >.<) y/n places a hand on his shoulder, deepening the kiss. then they let go because if they kissed any longer they would suffocate!

"woah.." y/n mumbled, tom chuckling at her reaction "did you like it?" "yeah i did" y/n said, softly smiling... "then we should kiss more often then hm?" tom said, smirking at his girlfriend.

[ohdeerfully]

hi! I have a request, I've never really done this before but I'll give it a shot. so my request is that Charlie is tasked by heaven to watch over a very special human soul via a device that is like a full 360 VR kind of setup and this soul just so happens to be Alastor's immortal wife (he didn't know she was) whom he thought had died with him during a bad event and wound up in heaven but she didn't and She stayed the same since the 1930s like her looks stayed the same and her love for Alastor stayed too she never once tried to move on even when her new friends in this time tried to get her a guy but she just refused still wearing the wedding ring her gave her

I hope it's not too much to ask it can be changed to whatever you see if you have full creative control over it!

thank you for your brain anon

theres a couple awkward POV shifts in the story and im super duper sorry about that D: im not good at those

An Eternity

alastor x reader (angst) TW: reader is female, reader gets a lil drunk and drives but shes fine(i do not condone this pls dont drink and drive im so serious), yearning goes ouchie ):

join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

Alastor rarely, if ever, talked about his time alive. He saw it pointless; a waste of time and energy. How could it benefit him if somebody else knew his history? If anything, it would only open up weak points. And, being an Overlord, he couldn’t afford that.

The only hint of his past was a band on his finger that he never took off. Even after decades in Hell, nobody saw him without it.

People often asked, of course, because how in the Hell did the Radio Demon get hitched? Even in life, he was probably just as unusual and off putting. These questions were always met with a dismissive wave and a laugh, but anybody who knew him—which wasn’t many, truly—would recognize the strain in his voice as he brushed them off. Whatever the story was seemed to only grow more painful with time.

He was deep in thought, humming absently as he trailed through the hotel. He ended up meandering by Charlie’s room, which was cracked open. He took this as an invitation to let himself in, cheerfully grinning as he saw the girl sitting on the edge of her bed looking extremely confused.

“Hello, dear!” He announced himself, standing up straight and fixing his bowtie with one hand. “What does this afternoon have in store for the Princess of Hell?”

“Heyy, Al,” Charlie responded, still frowning at the contraption in her hand. It was a rather bulky thing; an unappealing piece of new technology, Alastor decided. Still, he loomed from behind Charlie with a curious bend in his neck. Her shoulders were stiff, and he couldn’t tell if it was from frustration with the thing in her hand or discomfort at him watching her. 

“What is that peculiar thing?” He finally asked, since Charlie made no attempt at explanation. She seemed too focused to really pay him any mind.

“Something Heaven gave me to watch some curious soul they can’t control,” She murmured, fiddling with a couple buttons and knobs. “They’ve got me doing some ridiculous things. I mean, some human soul shouldn’t even concern me. But, they promise these favors will help with my hotel.”

Alastor hummed in response. He of all demons would recognize a manipulation tactic when he saw one—convincing a powerful demon princess to do your chores and promising to help her desperate project in return seemed like something the angels would do. He didn’t care one way or another, as long as Charlie’s naivete didn’t get in the way of his own goals.

He took a few steps back when Charlie stood, seemingly finished with setting up the box. He grinned, amused, when she pulled it over her head. It wasn’t the most flattering thing, and pretty bulky on her face. She looked ridiculous, honestly.

“Modern technology,” He sighed dramatically, leaning down onto his cane as he continued to observe her. “Only getting uglier.”

Charlie didn’t respond to his comment, looking around at what Alastor saw as nothing. She played around with the settings again, and adjusted the straps on her head again, before looking around again. She let out a successful sounding “hell yes” before pulling a remote of sorts from her pocket. She pushed on a joystick.

“What are you doing?” Alastor asked plainly, the building curiosity finally becoming too much. “Why do you have a box on your head?”

“It’s like…” She began to explain, trying to think of how to make sense of it to him. “Like… imagine you were looking through the eyes of somebody else, but still standing in the same spot..?” Her voice tilted at the end, unsure of her explanation.

Yeah, no, Alastor had no clue. But he dismissed it as unnecessary, as he often did with any technology he couldn’t understand.

“I’m seeing… Earth, I guess,” Charlie explained more. “Following around this girl.”

Alastor was only partially listening, humming quietly to himself as he just observed. He wondered if he should just leave—nothing interesting was happening. He was curious to see what antics Heaven was pushing on the Princess of Hell, though.

“Wanna try?” Charlie offered, lifting the headset up away from her eyes. Alastor immediately scrunched his nose up and narrowed his eyes.

“And look as ridiculous as you? Hah! No thank you,” He sat down on a chair near the wall, leaning against the back of it. He threw one leg up over the other. Charlie shrugged in response, and pulled the contraption back down.

Alastor sat for a while, absently thinking about what he wanted to do later as he waited for something to happen.

“Oh! Hold on,” Charlie suddenly said, causing Alastor’s ears to straighten to attention as she reached up and pressed a button. A holographic projection appeared out of nowhere, manifesting through some strange magic. “Forgot I could do that. This is what I’m seeing in here.” 

Alastor stood and walked closer, leaning forward on his cane as he studied the projection. It seemed like some kind of bar. He mused at how different modern bars looked from the speakeasies he would frequent during his own life.

“What heavenly task are you doing in a bar?” He joked, trying to find something interesting in the projection. It just seemed like generic bar business. Loud, flirtatious women and boisterous, over confident men. That, at least, was the same from his day.

“Like I said earlier,” Charlie explained, looking around the room. The projection seemed to follow her movement, and Alastor recognized that he was basically seeing through her eyes. How curious. “There’s some… soul they lost control of. And they want me to report to them about her.”

Alastor was very curious to see what kind of soul broke from control of literal heaven. He watched rather intently, leaned forward against his cane to watch the projection.

Charlie turned another knob, and the sound of tacky pop music and loud chatter began to emanate from the bar scene. Alastor wasn’t a fan of newer music, but he was often forced to listen anyway in the hotel lobby.

“Is it possible to turn down that dreadful noise?” He complained to her, announcing his dissatisfaction.

“No. I need to be able to hear what the woman is saying,” Charlie answered stubbornly. Alastor’s microphone of a cane began to obnoxiously play a song of his choice for a moment in retaliation, but died down after a few moments. After all, Charlie ignored his attempt at aggravation, so there was no point in keeping it up.

Charlie looked around the bar, searching. Finally, her gaze settled on a fancier booth with half drawn curtains. From her angle, she could only see a woman. She looked frustrated.

“---get out of your shell! It’s about time you start talking to some guys for once,” Charlie caught the tail end of the woman’s statement. She was gesturing wildly around, exasperation evident in the jagged movements. “I’m sick of watching you pine for somebody who’s been gone for ages.”

★

“Ten years isn’t ages, Mechiele,” You drew your finger against the table, making shapes with the rim of water that the condensation from your glass left. Nearly a hundred years, more like, You commented to yourself. You never told anybody that you were an immortal being. Nobody believed you when you did, anyway.

You sat your cheek against the palm of your hand and lifted your gaze to your friend, who looked at you with a sharp frown. You shot her a weak smile. 

“Can you just drop it?” You asked, nearly pleading. You didn’t want to cry tonight, being a little tipsy—you were an emotional drunk. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself blabbering about a dead husband.

“Come on,” Mechiele said impatiently, pushing your pleas aside. “There’s so many hot guys in here, I bet one would just love to take a piece of work like you home and-”

“Mechiele.” You hoped your tone was enough to shut her up.

You should’ve known better, honestly. Mechiele was already abrasive when she was sober, but with the amount of drinks she’s had tonight…

“No, no, no! You bum! Get your ass up right now and get out there! And take that ring off while you’re at it!”

Mechiele quickly lunged at you, a much too playful look in her eye considering how pissed you were right now. You yanked your arm away from her grasp, cupping your hand protectively with the other, shielding the golden band on your finger from her.

“Fucking drop it!” You snapped at her, standing from your seat. “I’m going home. You’re too drunk. I’ll drive.”

“You’re so fucking lame,” Mechiele droned, falling back into her seat. She wouldn’t budge when you urged her to stand and come with you. “He’s fuckin’ dead! Get a new man, already! Alastor’s not-”

Mechiele stopped abruptly when you smacked her. It wasn’t an incredibly hard smack or anything, barely enough to leave a red bloom on her cheek, but it was enough. She looked at you through narrowed eyes. You returned the same expression.

You left the booth and stormed off, cursing under your breath about it all. About Mechiele, about this stupid bar, about the tipsy feeling in your head, about Alastor—

You folded your arms together as you briskly walked to your car, yelling in frustration at your heels and ripping them off your feet. The ground was a little wet and cold, but you didn’t care. After making it to your car, you threw yourself in an switched it on.

You thought for a few moments. You were lightheaded after a few drinks, but you really didn’t want to wait for a taxi. You’d probably be fine, yeah? Sure. Against your better judgment, you began to drive.

It was a long drive, but it gave you some time to think.

You missed him. You pined for him. Nearly every night was agony, missing the presence of the only man you’ve ever fallen in love with.

You cursed whatever higher power there was for making you this way—immortal. How cruel it was, to make you live forever to suffer this longing. You didn’t even notice when you ended up in your room, but you let yourself fall face first onto your bed, curling up into a ball.

Even more, you cursed yourself for ever falling in love. You should’ve known it would only lead to an endless torture of heartbreak. You would never love anybody the same; although, you don’t think you’d want to, even if you could.

You were born to suffer. To spend an eternity in life without him.

★

Charlie continued to watch in shock for a few moments, her mouth dropped at the mention of the Radio Demon’s name. The previously hidden woman stepped from the bar, a furious look in her eyes as she stormed away. Mechiele was left with stubbornly folded arms and an empty glass of alcohol.

“Heyyy, uh, Al, how common is your name..? Do you know…” Charlie asked a bit awkwardly. She got no response. She lifted the headset, and realized he was gone. Even still, there seemed to be a lingering feeling of intense static, and the air somehow felt a bit heavier than before.

★

This had to be some cruel, sick joke, right? Heaven had to be toying with him, finally finding a way to torture his soul. His wife—she was dead. It had been nearly a hundred years since he died, and even if she had lived till she was old—

Alastor was pacing his room, ears pinned and eyes wide in frantic thought. Oh, how he yearned for her. He had managed for so long to push the memory of her away, to lock up his loss in a tight cage as he climbed the ranks of hell; it had all come rushing, barreling, torrenting back when he had seen her—or, no, somebody that looked like her—step out of those curtains. It was only a coincidence that that woman looked like his wife, and only a coincidence that she had a dead husband that shared his name.

His wife was in heaven, no doubt; which was where she belonged, of course, but Alastor had spent the last decade pining for somebody who he could never see again. If given the choice, Alastor wasn’t so sure himself if he was kind enough as to not tear her soul from Heaven and down to Hell by his side. Alternatively, even if Charlie’s idea of redemption were to work, Alastor was truly irredeemable. It was all wistful thinking, anyway.

Alastor’s claws dug into the curtains of his window, staring out into the streets of Hell in an attempt to concentrate on one steady stream of thought.

When billions of people touch the Earth, it’s only natural that coincidences like this rise. Right? He tried desperately to convince himself of different possibilities. It just made no sense.

A knocking at his door made Alastor’s grin curl in deadly malice. He really wasn’t in the mood.

He paced to his door, opened it just enough to fit his body in the frame, and glared down at Charlie. She was wringing her hands together nervously, and only seemed to grow more timid as the heavy, almost palpable ambience of his radio static filled the hallway she stood in.

“I’m busy,” Alastor said bluntly. His lips were curled in a sneer.

“I can tell,” Charlie responded. "I know you don't like talking about yourself-" She began to ramble on about him talking to her about his feelings and whatnot, but Alastor didn’t listen as he shut the door again.

Though, the interruption did give his mind a chance to slow. He sat on a chair in the corner of his room, and opted to fiddle with the radio on the drawer next to him. He tuned it—or, more just magically infused it—to play some jazz to try to keep his head level.

It would take some time to rebuild the dam that held back the memories of his wife. Even just the mere thought of her made him feel weak, and he hated it. The only soul he was capable of falling in love with—gone, forever.

Alastor never took the whole “eternity of damnation” thing seriously, considering the power he held and how comfortable he really was in Hell. However, when he remembered her—

Hell truly was torture. And he was cursed to spend his eternity in death without her.

[scriptnoir]

SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN.

you develop a strange friendship with the pretty college girl who visits your library.

pairing. olivia hayes (jessica alexander) × female reader

length. 12.9k words

themes. smut, uni student!olivia, librarian!reader, legal age gap, praise kink, pet names (princess, ma'am), fluff, angst

warnings. homophobic and blackmailing antagonist, age gap, smoking, get even spoilers, maybe ooc olivia but NO ONE GETS HER LIKE I DO DON'T @ ME

author's note. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!! yall dont know how special this fic is to me. i started this in september, continued writing it in february (!!!) after being down bad for jess then, after watching get even, revised it to be for my baby olivia hayes :) also my first fic on this blog ! olivia hayes and get even in general are pretty niché in fics, but i hope you'll give this a chance </3 also, i will be writing for more female celebs so stay tuned !!

There was a library - a nice, wide place located in the smaller parts of the university. It’s where the students seldom went to study for their exams, perhaps find a little reprieve from all the youthful stress that curled around them. They’d lounge on the sofas with a textbook in their laps, or hide behind an aisle of novels to make out. That didn’t matter to you - what you cared about was that your second home was a safe space for them, just like it was to you, where nothing else was out to get them but the smell of new books.

That’s where it all started.

It was all supposed to go so normally, but then she came in. 

Suddenly you weren’t so safe anymore.

Oh, but could she do any naught? You heard and dismissed rumors, but she was just a schoolgirl - well, the better and more guiltless term was perhaps college student. Still, you're a handful of years older than her with a degree she's using the end of her teens to fight for. She was young. Innocent too, with those bright, casual eyes that passed around the library fascinatedly. But it was far from easy to remember that when those long legs strode confidently in your vicinity, underneath that short skirt which ought to get her in trouble with the dress code. But why? It was standard uniform - it wasn’t her fault she was beautiful. Ah, and one couldn’t forget the socks, simple white ones yet looked painfully beautiful on her with how they wrapped around her thighs like a present. 

When she looked at you and smiled, it was a cut straight to the bone. No remedy here. Stitches couldn’t save you.

In the second minute since she arrived here, you realized that she was familiar. That was the kind of face you never forgot - engendered into the ripples of your brain forever, a flame of memory kept alive. Because she was just a college student - many years your junior - but she was so goddamned beautiful that it ached your tongue and left it numb.

“Hi,” she said softly. From one word you could tell that curled preppy accent - something that teetered between an heiress’s and a sweet friend - was natural. From one word you were left breathless.

“Olivia Hayes.” You mentioned her name without thinking and with too much a realization, and now it sounded as if you didn’t know her, and oh, how rude that was. How dare you be rude to a girl like her, known and adored by everyone, a princess? You wanted to say you just recognized her, that you knew her already - which wasn’t false - but she’s already smiling.

Her smile, sweet with tender full lips and her eyelids reaching for their other halves, was something you could swim in forever. Oh, you’d drink from her, too - she was a saltless sea that tasted of nectar instead.

“That’s me,” said Olivia, beaming. “I’m the president of the student council. I think that’s where you remember me?”

Of course. She was the pretty face that always led a group of giggling schoolgirls to the hallway; the pretty voice that spoke at auditoriums for the school’s events; the pretty body that flexed as it twisted to send a ball that’s just as small as her head over the net. While you weren’t a professor by any means (you had tried to be, but that dream was whisked away quickly), you were a frequent presence for the student activities. The one who always, always stood out to you was her.

You suddenly found it very, very hard to gulp down another rough bout. She was beautiful in a way that was impossible to perceive without falling for her. When she had that relatively tall yet slender form all compact and tight in her uniform, with lips that became her brand - (because the other girls would always gossip and say how they wanted lips that full, and maybe you were jealous too) - and had their glossed signature, it forged a path that only led to wanting her.

“Yes, you’re right.” You collected yourself. “Anything I can help you with Ms. Hayes?”

“Do you have anything about Greek mythology?” 

That was the lilt of tone she used with her close circle of friends, fondly. Were you a friend to her now? Oh, but you had just met. Not just, perhaps, but this was the first time you actually talked to her lengthily. But she knew you - she’d said your name, and she, with the allowance of you basking in her sweet voice, considered you as someone trustworthy.

But you were far from that. A trustworthy individual did not reach desperately after a kempt schoolgirl like her, or fantasize about doing away with that skirt and scheme to watch all that royal composure dissolve from the princess that she was.

It was only now that you came to the realization that you had always, after all this time, wanted Olivia Hayes.

“Ma’am?” she asked, and all you could think was, oh, it’s the end. It was the beginning of the end the moment she was a polite girl and called you a name that was as innocent as her. It was of no ill intent when she called you that - she was merely asking for your help - but your fist curled up and your throat was tight.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” 

You had to act before you did anything stupid, like make her use those perfect lips on you, put them to good use; get your hand all up in that golden-brown hair. Instead of acting upon all those sinful fantasies, you placed a book she might like, the one you recommended for her only, and brushed the old crumbs of bookshelf dust from its cover. Because you’d hate to see those long, pretty fingers get stained. 

As you handed her the book, which she accepted with a smile, you asked, “You read a lot I presume?”

She giggled. “I try to,” she said. “Haven’t got time for it lately. But I have to.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re excellent,” you told her, not being able to help yourself. It wasn’t like it was a lie - Olivia Hayes had a lot of potential in her. A great leader, having watched her create the rules to keep the students in line; a great actress, having seen her perform at the theater with emotions that shook you to the core; a great person in general.

“Oh.” Olivia’s cheeks filled with pink. And you found out that when she got shy, her ears flushed too. You ought to smile. “You think so?”

And this was the kind of schoolgirl sweet you pictured her as. She found everywhere but your eyes to look at, and her legs began to sway to and fro, shifting her weight from here to there to stabilize herself. Olivia Hayes - president of various important clubs, prom queen and honor student - could also be . . . adorable?

The rumor mill claimed she wasn’t such a sweetheart. A real fucking snob, a boy claimed after leaving her classroom with tears on his face. Stuck-up bitch. Too arrogant for her own pretty good. 

You never believed them. You . . . .did, perhaps? But it was not a belief you held to defame her. 

You actually found the roll of her eyes, the snide of her scoffs and checking of her perfect nails a little hot. 

But the pink on her face was how you realized that she’s the type of girl who’d melt if called anything remotely complimenting. It’s what she was used to; what revolved her world. 

“I know so.”

“Ah,” she mumbled, nodding thoughtfully as she looked down at her black Mary Jane shoes. “Thank you.”

Quietness settled into your humble library. It was what you insisted upon hearing, but there was something about Olivia - how she rolled her words, giggled when she was nervous, spoke softly but easily - that made you want to break your own rules. And several others.

“You have a library card?” 

“I don’t.” You envied how she managed to recollect herself before she melted more. You could never say the same thing about yourself. Suddenly her chin was up again, and a small smile played on her lips. “Is it alright if I read here for a while Ma’am?”

What else could your answer be?

The day became night, the moon stark in the sky from behind your library windows. All the students had filed out. It was time to close.

You looked at your log book. Plenty of people came in today. You were happy about that. As a librarian (you taught too if that meant anything), you were naturally passionate about books. Having a job related to them was a dream right from the start. When you were young, you wanted to be a librarian. When you entered high school, you wanted to be a librarian. When you finished college, you became one. The pay was nothing close to meager which was enough for you. You wanted this job and not one day passed that had you upset about it.

Mostly, people came here to hang out or hide. That didn’t matter to you, but what struck you was Olivia. Ever since dismissal time, she was in that corner reading. A pile of books sat on the table with her. All of them were about mythology, whether novels or retellings or anecdotes. 

You pretended not to notice her as you rearranged books and disposed of unattended belongings. It kept you busy. Sometimes nobody cared about the system you ordered your books in, or the tidiness overall of your little place. So it took a while, one you were pleased about, until you walked over to Olivia.

She was on the four-hundredth page of the novel. Her thumb pressed above the high number on the foot of the page. Didn’t she just start that? And she was still going. 

“You’re a fast reader,” you remarked, fascinated. 

She looked up in surprise. A sense of calm passed over her features when she realized it was you. “Y-yes I am. Other days I finish books in like a year, but I guess this isn’t one of those days.”

“Same here.” You liked how you had that in common with her. She was pretty already, but a voracious reader? That was the key to your heart. 

You picked up her bag beside her chair and placed it on the table. She returned to scanning the book, the pages crisp between her manicured nails and eyes bright and thoughtful. In her lap was a notepad. Her writing was tidy and smooth. Small letters spelled details about Odysseus, gods, and fables.

“You have a quiz about Greek mythology?” 

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I’m doing research since I got the part in a play about this stuff.”

“Let me guess: Aphrodite?”

It was a basic line - so easy, actually, so obvious. But it fit so well and her ears started to color again. She covered her mouth to giggle, then sat up straighter. The form of her back was like a duchess's: composed, slant, smooth. But she wasn’t a duchess. No - perfect lips, eyes shimmering; she was something more. Something else.

Olivia pursed her lips before smiling softly. “If I were naïve Ma’am” - there was that word again, sweet and faultless but making you pent up, as she considered you with a serious gaze - “I’d think you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Too quick for that, don’t you think?” you backtracked. You had to be appropriate. Yet you reeled forward again: “But you’re a beautiful girl, fitting for the part.”

You normally didn’t go for the model-in-the-making girls, much less ones who were younger than you. But she had this different aura about her. She was quiet, sweet, and incredibly polite while maintaining her popularity and schoolwork. She was each one of those but people still chose to put her down. You wondered how she dealt with everything. What was behind that pretty, pretty face?

“Unfortunately, being pretty doesn’t free you from my rules.” You pointed at the clock. Regret filled your heart as you informed her. “It’s 7 PM. According to school regulations, I was supposed to close twenty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you close then?” A smile creased the corners of her eyes and emphasized her lips. “I thought being beautiful didn’t exempt me?”

There it was. She knew how to reply, how to send back a maimed question with a bigger bullet. This was why people liked to deem her an intimidation.

She was smart, cunningly sweet. You never doubted Olivia’s intelligence but it still surprised you. She looked at you knowingly while you flustered. You searched for an answer when all you searched for was the hike of her skirt up her thighs. She knew your game, and she was not afraid to play it.

Olivia was a tactful, patient pupil. She sat with her hands folded in her lap - like a good fucking girl - and waited for your response. You mustered nothing. It felt stupid to stand there and wordlessly admit you got cornered by a nineteen-year-old.

“It . . . does now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Fuck.

“You know you can take these books back to your dorm? All you need is a library card.”

“Oh!” Delighted, she stood up and beamed with a light that always was with her, even in the night. “When can I get one?”

“Here tomorrow. Like I said, library hours are done.” 

Olivia didn’t take your sternness to heart. She picked up her bag and slung it on her shoulders. She began to leave. 

She was simply following orders but you hated to see her go. You were already yearning for her. You would have wanted to like her in a purely pure way, but you weren’t a good woman. You yearned for the slip of her stockings down her knees, the prop of her neck, the flight of her hair as the wind pushed past her.

She turned to you at the doorway. Did she read your thoughts? Did she forget something?

“Well,” she said, “if here’s where you want me to be.” 

Then, in a low voice and the final smile of the day, “Ma’am.”

Plenty of students came in after her. They were either the ones who didn’t have friends to eat lunch with (you didn’t enforce the no food rule for them) and the ones who were rowdy, using your sanctuary as a place to yell and make jokes (you tapped the silence rule taped to your desk.) Everyone signed their names in your log book, but the words flew past your notice. All those days gone and your eyes still remained on Olivia.

Everyday she sat on the loveseat with her legs crossed. She didn’t speak one word. Olivia simply read and read and read, occasionally pausing to rest and take notes. Her nose was buried in the book, but you could see her brilliant eyes above its edges. They disseminated, observed, analyzed. The rest of her face was covered and you still found her beautiful. 

“Ma’am,” spoke a student nearing your desk, “can I get a library card?”

The background blurred. You looked at the student and realized you were staring at Olivia for too many an hour. You had to focus. Ogling at a student was inappropriate, and not what the private university paid you for.

Also, the title didn’t sound as nice as it did if it came from someone who wasn’t Olivia Hayes.

“Of course.” You rose from your chair as you took his ID. 

“It’s free, right?”

“Yes, no charge.”

You typed in his name. It wasn’t long or a unique one but you had to read it several times over to ensure its correctness. Typical procedure. Ronny. Soon, his library card was laminated and printed. You placed it on your desk for him to take.

Thanking you, Ronny picked behind his ear. “I couldn’t help but notice,” he began, “you were looking at Olivia for a bit there.” 

You swallowed. Were you that obvious? You hated to think so. The last thing you wanted was your ogling at the girl to be something controversial. (It was.) You were doing it for days, ever since her initial visit. 

What did you say to him? What did you do?

“Oh, uh. No. I just space out a lot.”

He saw through your lie. His easy grin made you uncomfortable. Why? He was just making conversation. “I mean, I understand. She’s really pretty and popular, but she doesn’t have many friends.” 

You turned to look at Olivia. She was still reading. The whole time she was quiet and preserved, not taking time to speak to others. She liked to keep to herself for a girl who was the talk of the campus.

“Doesn’t she?”

“She needs someone to talk to,” he told you. His words were overly friendly, like he was lulling you into a drunken false sense of security. “I think you’d be perfect. She’s just getting into reading.”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He gave you a smirk of knowledge and left. Shit. Why did you have to be so indiscreet? You quickly collected yourself and returned to your book. You had to forget about it.

The characters in your book fought against dragons and fell in love and fell apart and passed on. Chapters became nothing like the minutes. There were rare moments when you had to look up and assist someone, but aside from that, the day was relatively uneventful. 

Night arrived, slowly like it always did. You were a dedicated reader, but the story was uninteresting compared to the pretty girl lounging across you. She was the only one there now. 

Before you could return your eyes to the book and stop watching at how she flicked her hair back and checked her phone, she caught you. Her attractive smile was full of awareness of your plight. You quickly looked down at the pages. It was too late.

School shoes tapped a rhythm on the floor as she approached you. She leaned down on your desk. You tried to ignore her and pretend she wasn’t there. But Olivia had a face people would never forget. She was most likely someone’s first love, who, even when along came a girl who filled their life, was not erased from memory. No, she was too precious to let go.

“You know,” stated Olivia, her tongue curved upwards at the side of her lips, “you could just talk to me. I’m not scary, am I?”

You lowered the story. She was so good to look at. Her hair was tossed over the side and she wore a carefree smile that invited you to close the book.

Was she scary? Yeah - her exclusiveness, tight-knit friendships and beautiful wit - you’d call that scary. 

But the fear always turned into a yearning - please notice me when I walk past; please say my name again; please ruin me- let me ruin you-

“Sure.” You gave in. “What do you wanna talk about?”

She thought for a while. “Anything that’ll make us friends. I like you. It’s gonna be easy.”

Being friends didn’t sound dangerous. What could happen? It’s not as if the moment you bonded you would suddenly grab the small of her back and let your lips meet.

“Wanna get out of here?’’ She framed her cheek with her fingers. “I’ll put on a jacket. Nobody will know.”

You’d love nothing more. But was it alright? There were lines being crossed here: the relationship between a student and a mentor; the rules; the propriety.

She looked you up and down, taking note of everything, then cocked an eyebrow. Oh, it was a challenge. Would you give in?

You found yourself buttoning your coat and walking out with her. The library had to close early. She grinned and looped an arm through yours. You made an excuse that your sudden freezing up was due to the night air.

Well, it was chilly. The breeze puffed Olivia’s hair into the night. She always made herself look like a femme fatale from a fan favorite watch - red lips; smoky eyes; and a tendency to make anyone want her. Ah, not a tendency - she was a natural heartstealer. She broke it even if you weren’t a thing when you saw her with boys, with girls, with anyone looking to tear her uniform down in pieces when you felt the exact same thing.

The school looked more serene in the darkness. It was so grand but looked just like home. Old bricks built themselves up into pillars that resembled castles. Dim light illuminated from dorm windows. 

“It’s nice to get out of that place for once,” Olivia said. She tilted her head to the school and sighed humorously. But the smoke of air that left her mouth shook a little too. “It’s kind of suffocating in there, honestly.”

The branches reached for her hair. Your shoes were torn by growing roots. But through everything, you kept walking. You wanted to know: what was more to this forest? What was more to her?

“Let me guess,” you said. “It’s the popularity contests? Friends? Math?”

She rolled her eyes, a confirmation. “Ugh, math.” 

“You’ll get through it,” you assured her. It was cliché to say, but everything would eventually come to pass. You were on a planet in a galaxy in a galaxy in a galaxy, or whatever. It didn’t matter. “I mean, I did. If anyone could do it, it’s you.”

“I was gonna say you did excellent getting through it, but I don’t know you that well.”

“So get to know me.”

You talked, and Olivia was surprisingly easy to connect with. She listened with attentively creased brows and an occasional laugh. You narrated the basics: “read” was your first word. You did your classmates’ homework in exchange for candies. Reading was your foundation. If you had to go without it, you died.  

You thought that she would make a joke about the cheesiness, or worse, laugh at you. But she didn’t. She kept listening. She sometimes threw you a few interesting questions that kept the drain of conversation going. The thoughtful, caring energy in her face was solid and you felt undeserving to bask in it.

“What I like to say is I’m a reader before a woman,” you told her anyway. The depths of the forest came up and for some reason you weren’t scared. It was the rumor mill for ghosts and hookups, but you were with Olivia. Why would you be scared? “That’s how I wound up here in a uni, letting them read what I have.”

Olivia nodded, hands on opposite elbows. The trees towered over you and made horrific shadows on the dust. Fear didn’t get to you. “Do they pay you well?”

“They do.”

“Must be fun.” She bit on the inside of her cheek, making the soft skin hollow. “Doing something you love.”

There was a wistfulness in her voice. Her expression was dreamy as she thoughtfully stepped over the roots and twigs. 

“Well,” you began, carefully, “what do you love?”

Olivia smiled self-assuredly. “Me.”

She told her story. She was born rich, lived rich, and would die rich. Her mother was an heiress whose love was a businessman, and the wealth would go on for the next ten or more generations. She wanted to be an active and proper student, behaving well enough so as not to take advantage of her father buying her out of any situation. She participated in many clubs and, according to this year’s paper, was the school’s Actress of The Year.

You didn’t think you had too much coffee today but you thought that it wasn’t illusion she had inched closer. Olivia’s knee was beside yours, and she was speaking and chuckling like you weren’t close to being insane about how smooth her skin felt. 

Was this the “bitch” who supposedly broke hearts and ruined lives? She flipped her hair and giggled like she had all the time in the world. She didn’t seem so terrifying.

“I try not to be so stuck up. I want people to leave me alone, but only when I need them to.”

You shrugged. “That explains why . . . ”

“Yeah?” She was not going to let that obvious halt pass.

You blinked. “Oh, I didn’t mean-” 

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, continuing the path down the forest. Olivia studied her fingernails. “It’s not like I don’t know people think I’m a bitch.”

So she knew. She had that admirable composure steadying her, but how did she deal with the falsehood? There was everything to cope with - the pressure of her parents; school; and friends who expected a lot from her. What was her method?

“For the record, I don’t think you’re a . . . ”

“Say it.” Olivia’s eyes flicked up from her nails and shot you with a cheekiness that made you feel lightheaded. “Call me a bitch.”

She slipped her hand in yours. The textures of your skin were vastly different. Hers was as soft as a baby’s cheek. Smooth and blemishless too. 

“Actually,” she added coyly, “call me whatever you want . . . Ma’am.”

You stared back at her. What did you just start? She winked at you then continued talking like she didn’t almost cause a heart attack.

The moon was stark and sent bursts of wind whipping you around. Sometimes you felt her grip tighten around the slots of your fingers to keep her balance. You hoped your palm wasn’t sweaty.

“They’re right though.” She giggled, fixing the blazer of her uniform. “I need a little redefining. So I’m doing some self-improvement, working on my habit of rolling my eyes.” 

“You’re a perfect student,” you joked, but you meant it. Every word was genuine. “You’re intelligent, pretty, studious, and committed. Who do I have to fight to be you?”

As expected, she rolled her eyes with a stifled simper. You both burst out laughing and for a few seconds it was all you knew. The lines of her smile, the shrink of her eyes as she chuckled - it was all so beautiful. 

“Seriously! You’re a beautiful girl. And that hair is lethally gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s smooth too. I guess combing like ninety times a day helps.” She scooted closer, as if close weren’t close enough, and turned her head. Golden-brown locks showed themselves to you. “See for yourself.”

Was she bold or just friendly? You gingerly ran your fingers through them. No knots blocked your way. Each thread was silky and clean. This was the kind of soft you’d feel on pillows in hotels you couldn’t afford. You were pretty sure she had well-paid, adoring women who attended to her for this.

It felt intimate. Too intimate. There was hesitance as she observed you, like she wanted to do something but had to think twice. You were getting so comfortable in the familiarity of her features that you had to remember she was a student and you were . . . you. This was like busting yourself out of the closet and getting yourself a case of being improper with a student, although she wasn’t a child by any means.

You put your hand back down. “What color is it?” you asked.

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Brown? Blonde? Somewhere in between?”

Whatever it was, it looked good on her. Everything looked good on her. She was the only student you saw who never looked stuffy in the hot uniform. The British air was hot in the morning but not one drop of sweat stuck to her skin. Her mane of somewhere-in-between was articulately brushed and straightened.

Footprints of athletes still were visible on the ground. You stamped your foot over a mark of a rubber one. She followed suit. With that, you left a sign you were here. It might be the only sign that you ever lived. 

Books and shelves faded over time, but the earth would always remember your mark. It was sort of sentimental. This would be the first and only time you live, and you were glad to spend it enjoying a night with a girl you liked and getting to know quickly. Maybe you knew her all along. 

“If you really think I’m all that,” Olivia said, toying with the zipper of her jacket, “you should come to the play. I’ll prove my worth. It’s next week.” 

“I’ll be there,” you instantly replied.

You’d love to see her act again. Plays weren’t your thing but it would be good to see Olivia onstage, reciting her lines with deep emotion and twirling from prop to prop. You knew she wouldn’t disappoint. 

Her eyes lit up, and that response told you, without overassumption, of a mother who was too busy to come to her activities, of a father who wasn’t there. Never was. “You promise?” 

She was holding you to it, you could tell. It was a promise you were willing to keep. You’d never break it if the circumstances tested you.

“If that’s where you want me to be.”

“That’s my line,” she objected. She pulled the end of her skirt down to her knees. The waistband sank and unveiled modest skin. It was so devoid of ill intention that it was just right to make you feel guilty for looking. “If you use it, you need to have a nickname for me too.”

She turned to you. The crescent moon refracted in her pupils. Olivia was dead serious. You stopped in your tracks and tried to think. But she was there - so gorgeous, so put together and so lovely - that it made your thoughts go static.

Right from the start, you yearned. You thought it began when she visited your library for the first time. But now you thought that it dated back to watching her act, watching her and her group of friends, watching her be herself in a midst of elites. You wanted her since the moment she stepped in the university and it was difficult to deal with.

Why? Because you wanted to call her a lot of things. Each would be sweet or sour, whichever she chose, as she sank between your legs and/or sat in your lap and/or just kept being the tantalizingly beautiful thing she was.

“What’s something people call you?” you offered weakly. 

“Uh. Ollie and um, Hayes-Are-For-Horses” - you laughed and she had to explain it was back in primary, when she used to be bullied by the people who desired her now - “Liv, Livvie, Livia, Princess-”

“Princess?”

She looked down, a little embarrassed. “My friends call me that. It’s my code name.”

She was a princess, truly. Olivia was everything a princess should be. That’s why her peers loved her. That’s why her peers hated her. She was royalty, and people didn’t know if they wanted to lust for her or reject her just to say they had the opportunity to.

You nodded approvingly. “Very fitting.”

“That’s it then,” she said, satisfied. “You’re Ma’am, and I’m Princess.”

Saying the name felt like sinning - you realized this when you thought it over. But she was smiling again, so of course you’d do it without penance.

The play was beautiful. The props were crafted diligently and all actors quoted with diction and importance. You sat at the front as staff should and kept searching for your favorite student. She came in a white dress and hair styled in endless curls, and delivered a performance deserving of whatever Oscar there was for college plays. She was an excellent actress. All bias melted when you believed she was the best out of the whole drama club. Even her fellow actors said so.

While Olivia performed her nuances, she looked at the crowd, as if willing them to come onstage and save her. The fourth wall was broken through. You were too. She saw you at the front, went out of character with a smile, and got away with it. Her slip-up was so unnoticeable that at the end of the play, you thought you would have signed up for drama club if you were a student. She made it all look so easy. 

“You came!” she said, bouncing off the stage stairs and wrapping you in an unexpected hug. 

You fought back your giddiness. She was just being friendly. You returned the embrace like a good friend should. “Of course.”

The purple dress swayed around her like water, the little details and seams the seashells that fit the siren that she was, born from foam. You saw it hug her waist and flow around her legs and - despite everything: your promises to remain professional, a good senior, a good friend - you couldn’t deny she looked insanely good.

She ushered you backstage as the curtains closed. The cheers erupted for her, and you could picture her making it really big out there. She was gorgeous, talented, and excessively charming - a director would ditch screenplays to cast her. The coach was sure to die if they watched her rehearse. And anyone’s going to fall in love with her, really.

“Beautiful,” you remarked, and it could mean either way: the performance or the pretty little thing in front of you.

“You liked the yelp I did when Paris dragged me?” asked Olivia. Her eyes contained all the stars in the galaxy. She made a wish to each of them, asking for an eager attendee to her play. “I strained my voice, but I did good, right?”

Never did you ask about the black wig, or the smoky makeup, or the way she was almost in tears - almost like she never expected you to come. Or anyone for that matter. 

All you said, squeezing her forearm where you could feel the beat of her excitement, was: “The Princess was more than great.”

She never got that library card. Olivia chose to stay in your library for hours at a time rather than take them back to her dorm. The play was done but she began reading for fun instead of necessity. You recommended her thrillers and romance. Your heart grew bigger. She was actually very easy to be fond of. 

Now she took a seat near your desk where she occasionally asked questions - what does this word mean? what language is this? have you read this? - and left you biscuits in your lunch break. You enjoyed her company. You were insecure about a lot of things but one: she did back.

“Coffee.” Olivia brought a cup of steam to your desk. She pulled a chair to your desk and sat on it, crossing her legs. “Nobody’s here. The rules don’t exist.”

Your heart did a little offbeat thump. She was a generous girl. You forgot to thank her upon seeing that her strawberry blonde hair was tucked into a bun on her head. The strong curve of her jaw and her swan’s neck were just out there.

Olivia’s full lips closed on the straw of her iced coffee. You couldn’t stop watching her. You could help her out with her lessons - there’s her opened textbook, her reviewers - but you had eyes only for her. What a cliché. But you’re a reader. You liked your fair share of clichés. You could give this one a pass.

“Thanks Princess,” you said. You took the coffee and blew its smoke out. “You’re really kind.”

She was the kindest girl you ever met. These past few months, she did nothing but keep you company and spoil you. Olivia was a generous princess - she stepped out to meet the populace, give them food worthy of a royal, and kept them company. That was why you liked her. 

You stopped there. You didn’t want things to go too far. Not yet. These feelings you had for Olivia were inappropriate and deserved hindering. But she was just so beautiful and lovable that blocking the thoughts from your head felt like torture.

“It’s no problem.” 

She was smiling again. You really wondered how her peers carved her out to be an alleged pain. She was so thoughtful that you were beginning to think if anyone had chosen to befriend you this way. Were you even deserving?

“What are you studying?” you asked her. You had to make conversation before you slipped up again.

Olivia’s simper melted. “Math.”

You looked over at the formulas, fractions and calculations. It already made your head hurt. “Can’t help you with that,” you said regretfully. “It’s either I don’t know it or I forgot that thing a long time ago.”

“Can you help me with something else?”

After you nodded, she began to speak. Well, tried to. She trailed off, looking blankly at her textbook. Her face wore a blue little look that was a break of character from the serious one she always had. Olivia Hayes, as far as you knew, was not once lonesome.

“It’s been . . . really hard these days. I’m sorry, I know it’s completely out of topic but-”

“You can tell me anything.”

Hope crossed her features. She didn’t really have anyone to trust with her feelings. Her mother was too busy. Her friends would use them against her. The guidance counselor would just tell her to pray. Would you listen to her without bias?

“I don’t know if I’m hanging with the right people. I don’t know if I’m even that good. I don’t know if I-” Olivia stopped and made complicated gestures with her hands. A defeated sigh sounded from her slim throat. “-am.”

Self-doubt. It was your accurate diagnosis. You were surprised that a girl like her would experience it, but even the most confident people went through that. It would be easy to assume from the way she walked, talked, and acted that she had all the assurance for herself.

Olivia sighed at her textbook and shut it. Her shoulders were trembling. Was she sulking? Nearly crying? You couldn’t bear to see it. 

“I don’t think I know myself at all.” She swallowed, then without looking at you, asked, “Do you ever feel that way Ma’am?”

She was too young and too pretty to be going through this dilemma. You couldn’t say you didn’t go through the exact same thing yourself in the younger years of your life. But seeing the look of pride and strength disappear from her face was a death to your own self-pity. 

You looked at your hand close to her. The pins you gifted for her bag. The jacket you let her borrow after she lost it. Foolish to think, but maybe you finally found someone you could care about more than you did yourself.

“Every day of my life,” you said quietly.

“Oh,” she whispered, nodding. She said nothing more. Olivia’s view was focused on the cover of her textbook, which boasted happy students reading from it. It wasn’t the case for her. Revising this subject, being in this school? It didn’t make her happy.

Well, one thing did.

It hurt to see her like this. Had anyone ever considered what she felt? Or did she put up a front, being pretty and kind? 

“I just feel like I’m wasting borrowed time,” Olivia muttered. Each fragment of her broken sentences grew heavier.  “I want- I need-”

Before she could burst into tears, you tilted her face up. The water in her eyes remained there. What held them back besides your gentle hand was the tight frown of her lips. She was trying very, very hard not to break down.

“Hey. Chin up Princess,” you told her. You offered her an encouraging smile. “I know you. You’re a strong girl, aren’t you?”

Her eyelids were still puffy in their fight to keep her tears back. She didn’t quite believe that. But you would make her.

“Look at you. You’re smart, studious and sensitive. Nothing would make me think otherwise.”

Her gaze lingered on you, thoughtful. Did you really think that? Were you this sweet to anyone else? She chuckled and looked down shyly. “Alliteration.”

Smart girl. “That’s right,” you said. “I’m rubbing off on you.” 

“I guess that makes me okay.”

“You’re doing great. I promise.”

Light coffee stained the end of her mouth. You wiped it away with your thumb. A bit of her lipstick smudged your skin. An indirect kiss? 

When you retracted your touch, you thought the coffee was doing something to your head again. You could have sworn that Olivia leaned in.

And just when you thought lines couldn’t be crossed further:

People like to believe in things that they can see. Why trust in ideas that aren’t visible to the naked eye - it’s a lie for sure, right? Thus, the concept of atheism. Thus, the need for eye witnesses in court, primary sources, the like. Thus, the school not believing that the odor of cigarettes from behind the library could possibly be from you.

Well, they’d be damned.

Gray floated from your mouth like a lost dream. Vices aged along with your soul. See, you weren’t a bad kid. You stayed in school, did your homework, only tried a few prohibitions. But the smoking stuck to you - it reminded you of a more youthful time. It also made you feel a little light on your feet.

The thing was: the school couldn’t know. So you sank into the wall of the back of your library, fingers twined between a cigarette. You may not know yourself but you weren’t depressed or anything - it’s just a thing you do, like drinking coffee in the morning and writing. People often got that wrong.

The forest was just close by. Naturally you mistook the crunches of leaves for the usual PE class. Then they grew louder, and when you turned your head, there was-

“Ma’am? Oh!” Olivia stopped in her tracks and gasped sharply. It was a sound only an actress could make - sweet, tiny. “I’m sorry, am I-”

You waved your wrist. “Not at all,” you said. If there was anyone in the school you trusted with this secret, it was her. “It’s just smoking. I’m not committing a felony.”

She nodded. Her eyes remained doe-wide. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it time for your classes?” you asked.

It was the middle of the afternoon. She should be having English at this hour. Would they be surprised to find out that the top student was absent? The reason being . . . you?

Olivia swept her hair back. Time slowed down and made permanent the flight of her mane and the pride that stayed. “I’m cutting. I know, I’m a very bad girl.”

She was skipping classes for you. You didn’t want to assume, but was your friendship really that strong? It felt like you knew everything about her. She knew you too, like a book. She read you from cover to cover and annotated your pages. Olivia was a significant part of your life now.

“Oh, what have I done to you.” You played into it as if you were an actress as good as her. What she didn’t know was that you were enjoying it. 

Her nose wrinkled at the smell of your cigar. Still, she stepped closer, albeit cautiously. “Can I-”

“Leave?” You nodded. “Sure. Secondhand smoke’s cancerous.”

Yet if there’s anything you would hate, it would be for her to go.

Olivia shook her head. “I-I’d like to try, Ma’am.”

Your brows were furrowed. You took one look at your cigar then at the student. She was looking down shyly, her side fringes hanging from her face. It was obvious she was trying to prove something. But what else did she have to make worthy to you?

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” 

“Please?” she said, a pout stretching on her pretty mouth.

“Princess.”

Your sharp tone didn’t hold her back. It seemed to drill her on. Olivia slipped beside you with a look in her eyes that you didn’t know if you liked. Her lashes sat low and her smile - god help me. Like that wasn’t enough, she wore a low ponytail with a few specks of hair left untied. She was too beautiful, and you weren’t strong enough to handle it.

She let a finger twist through the smoke. “It’s just smoking,” Olivia echoed. “I’m not committing a felony.”

Her character was hard to read sometimes. She could be sweet and innocent to you then switch to being a coy serpent that told you to do all the wrong things. Her breath next to your ear didn’t help your hypocritical case. The fight in you yelled to be the bigger person, to tell her it wasn’t right. It was anything but easy when she had a face that you’d die to hold.

“I don’t have more on me,” you excused. It was the truth - your pockets were empty, this was the only one you got.

“Wouldn’t mind using yours.” Olivia was almost whining at this point. The desperate look on her face was one you chased after, and you wanted to make her beg more. She sounded pretty that way. “I’m not a child, am I?”

She had a point. It wasn’t like you were giving away and teaching vices to an impressionable little girl. It didn’t feel right.

“Please, Ma’am?” 

You found yourself giving it to her - not only this, but your everything. Your future, your job, your morals.

Your main takeaway from that moment wasn’t to never do that again, or remind yourself that you could easily say no to a pretty girl (you couldn’t.) It was this: 

Olivia Hayes’s lips looked gorgeous wrapped around a cigarette.

She was made for the part. Her mouth fluttered around it while her stare was distant, piecing something together. She lowered it down and blew a ring of smoke in the air, just like in the movies. Olivia was an old Hollywood actress - a blonde bombshell; the main lead.

“It feels . . . ” She struggled for a word. “Good.”

You took the cigar away from her. “Don’t get attached,” you said. It was genuine advice. “We all know how that ends.”

She was smiling. You were too. 

She rested her head on the brick wall, facing you. Not quite - her gaze was fixated on your lips. “You look beautiful today Ma’am.”

You leaned forward. It was a dare for her to be audacious enough to prove it right. “Really now?”

The bump of her neck bobbed. You realized that your faces were too close to each other. Her lips were so full that it would take a small stumble to accidentally kiss her, to accidentally pin her to the rusty wall of this building. Those wide, princess eyes stared back at you in fear.

It was your signal to back up. This wasn’t right. No matter how beautiful she was or how close you were, flirting with a girl years younger than you wasn’t right.

Even in the silence that carried guilt, the universe didn’t take kindly to your offense. It brought about a punishment you would remember: the snap of a camera flash. 

You jolted. Who was that? 

Privy to your conversation, there was the man who asked for a library card. He was smirking. You knew and tried to avoid him because it was an open secret: he was bad news. He blackmailed, lied, used-

Ronny Kent was his name, and he was not a good person. 

There was Mika, whose reputation was solidly ruined after he leaked a picture of her. The rumors were too loud to keep secret. Then the janitor who only wanted a private moment with his partner. Ronny turned everyone inside out and it wasn’t pretty.

“Chainsmoker and a slut,” he said to Olivia, lowering the camera. “You play every game, even your friends. Gotta respect you for it.”

“Shut up,” said Olivia. Her jaw was tight. She spoke very softly that the insult bore no real bullet. “Please.”

But she meant this one. You hadn’t seen her this uncomfortable. There was real fire in her eyes but a downness in them too. This was not the first time Ronny had seized her dignity and smashed it beneath his feet. You could tell from the sudden rigidness of her body, the loss of her stability.

You couldn’t speak. He was so close to her, and you were afraid you would shove him if he came closer. Maybe you should.

“I don’t think so.” Ronny’s mouth sat next to Olivia’s ear. She cringed in spite of trying to remain nonchalant. Hot odored breath huffed on her face. “Get out of my way.” 

Olivia stared down at her socks. Nothing else existed to her. She felt cornered, afraid and humiliated. 

“Mr. Kent.” Your authoritative voice was no match to a teenage rebel. You glared at him and crossed your arms, but he took none of the signs. “It’s not your place. I’ll kindly ask-”

“When I told you to be her friend,” he said, completely ignoring you as he stroked the camera lens, “I didn’t mean to try hooking up with her. What would her boyfriend think?”

Boyfriend?

Olivia lifted her head with a short-lived defiance. “He broke up with me, Ronny.”

“Of course, because he found out she kissed me.” He was proud of it too. “She took me on a date. Ice cream and coffee.”

Olivia had just cut things loose with Donté. She never told you why. But this couldn’t be true. That wasn’t the girl you held close to your heart. Anger was clear in her face but she didn’t move. She took each word to heart as tears welled up. 

You had never seen Olivia Hayes cry before. This might be the first time.

“Everyone knows what you did to Mika,” she said, slowly and sourly. The end of her sleeve brushed at her eyelid. “You can’t hurt people anymore.”

“Oh, you don’t know that, Princess.” Ronny squeezed her shoulder. Each move he made stenched of bad luck. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Olivia was trembling so bad you had to step forward to hold her. You had to defend her and set a boundary with Ronny, who had crossed anything you could have made. To your shock, she left before you could speak up. Her shoes clicked angrily to her exit. 

And there was Ronny’s cruel smile that told you nothing good was going to come out of this.

And there was her somewhere-in-between hair: soaring in the wind, like a closing curtain.

You finished several good reads and Olivia was still not visiting you. She hadn’t been for the past three days. It was beginning to concern you. 

You watched the campus from outside of your library. It was full of rushing, bustling students, but you couldn’t spot Olivia. Your heart ached. She was a face you could spot in a crowd miles away but she wasn’t showing up in one or alone.

Was that her friend? A pretty girl with hooded eyes and an atmosphere around her that reminded you of Olivia. “Excuse me?” you asked. “Amber, right?”

She looked almost irritated to entertain you. She always wore that bored expression anyway. “Yes?”

“Have you seen Olivia? Olivia Hayes?”

“She’s probably here. Or there.” Amber lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you see her, please tell-”

“I don’t want you looking for her,” interrupted Amber seriously. The little once-over she did told you that she knew something, and everyone did too. She wasn’t afraid to be upfront about it. “If what they say about you is true, you shouldn’t be allowed near her.”

She left without another word. That was the end of it. 

Now you knew why less and less pupils logged in. Ronny had done the job: spread the rumor, took the reins, rendered you completely of your power. 

It was your fault. If he had crossed a line, you crossed thousands with Olivia. From your thoughts to your gestures to the bond you had - none of it was supposed to happen. None of it.

You brought this upon yourself.

You didn’t want to seem suspicious by asking around. Anyone who visited your library knew you and Olivia were close. You didn’t want to ruin the girl’s reputation.

Maybe someone already did.

The days felt empty without her. No biscuits, no fun conversations, no Olivia. You missed her coquettish laugh and lean posture and thoughtful little gestures. The desk across yours was devoid of a girl who became important to you. Everytime someone entered, you hoped it was her tall and pretty self coming to check in on you. Much to your dismay, faceless pupils were the only people logging in. 

It hurt. You didn’t want to make this about you. But it hurt. 

You had to quit being selfish. She probably needed space. Space? She wasn’t your girlfriend. She couldn’t be. 

You were finishing up for the night. The screen of your computer was bright. It reflected in your tired eyes an Excel sheet. It was a record of late fees and damage compensation. Someone had missed their return date and as much as you didn’t want to charge anything, you had to. Generosity wasn’t a skill they hired you for.

Calculus. It was exam season; you expected that.

What you didn't expect was the loud banging on your door. 

“Jesus-” You flung out of your seat, clutching your chest. The clock said it was past 7 PM. Didn’t they have a watch? Elite heirs usually had watches whose prices skyrocketed past your salary. So who was it?

You ignored it, sitting back down. It wasn’t your fault they couldn’t read the rules.

The rummage of the knocks grew louder than the typing sounds. Along with the darkness and otherwise complete silence, it was beginning to terrify you. Words didn’t make sense for the first time ever. You had to tell them to cut it out.

You stood, paced to the entrance and opened the door. 

“Ma’am?”

It was Olivia. 

She was crying.

Tears streaked her face. Sniffling, she threw her arms around you. Her back rose and rested to the tempo of her sobs, an unwelcome rhythm. The redness in her eyes and the desperation in them - full of need to be comforted, to be held - you ached seeing it.

Something was wrong. You closed the door and hugged her. She was shaking like she had escaped a rainstorm. The only rainstorm here was the flood of sobs that stained her cheeks. Now they spotted your collar.

“Ma’am,” she murmured. Her lips were on your neck, vibrating her cries into your skin. Oh, if you could, you’d take that with her pain. “I thought I lost you. Ma’am-”

Olivia’s voice was broken. She said your nickname not only to call you, but almost like a reminder that you were here. She had nobody else. 

You held her tight and let her cry it out. It was alright, you told her. You were here. Your hours were done but you had and would add more if it was for her.

“I’m here. Hi Princess.”

Your Princess.

Olivia didn’t let go. She was suffocating you with her arms knotted behind you, and a mouth that muffled her pain into your shirt. The pain that bubbled in her chest killed you. but you’d die a thousand times if it were for her. 

Olivia shivered when you let go. You led her behind your desk, her safe place. She leaned against it and tried to control the tears dropping from her red eyes. But the rainstorm was inevitable. The whole day poured down on her ruthlessly.

The familiarity of everything seemed to calm her down a bit. Hands on her hips, you gently pushed her down her usual box. She didn’t sit alone. You were there for her this time.

“Hey,” you repeated. 

You wanted to call her your girl, your baby, your Princess - anything that would comfort her. You wanted to take care of her. You’d wrap a blanket around her and take her out to eat. You’d kiss her and tell her you were here. You’d say: hey little dove, you don’t have to soar all the time. You could just sit here with me.

All you could do was hold her waist and try to control the shudders. “What’s wrong?”

She whined and placed her face into her hands. “I’m sorry.”

What was she apologizing for? She did nothing wrong. She couldn’t do anything wrong. She was so frail and weak as she supported herself at the end of your table that you wrapped her in an embrace again. You knew she needed it.

“Sorry for what?” 

Her words trembled, regretful too. “He . . . he leaked the photos . . . ” Olivia stammered.

Your heart dropped. You didn’t need to ask to know what photos or who did it. Ronny’s visit was a revelation of the end. “Oh baby-”

It was one of a girl’s worst nightmares. There came a deceptive boy whose threats held bite to them, who deceived and lied and manipulated. Nothing could ever be given to them without the fear of the tables turning. 

That was why you couldn’t find her like you always did. That was why she didn’t visit. The world was against her, and she couldn’t keep her resilience anymore.

Her breaths kept tying around her neck and choking her. You kept a hand on her back so she could at least catch them. Her shaking was knives to your chest.

“I was looking for you. I thought they . . . they took you away.” The thought got to her and she looked at you with begging written all over her face. Her frowned lips uttered the words you didn’t think would hurt you this way: “Ma’am, please don’t go away, please don’t go away-”

You pulled her close. Her hair stuck to her cheek, glued with teardrops. 

“I’m not going anywhere Princess,” you told her. 

She didn’t quite believe that. Sniffling, she pushed you off.

“I lied to you Ma’am,” she laughed sourly. Her thumb soothed a teardrop at the end of her mouth as she stood up. “All this time. Did you know that?”

What was she talking about? Was Ronny right? You denied it with all your heart.

Olivia looked villainous. The rage was new. She’d contained it all these years, keeping it together, keeping pretty. But this was the end of it. 

“He’s spreading it around too so I think you know already. I’m not an heiress. Fuck, I’m not even rich. My dad’s been gone for years. My mom would rather die than go to my shit. But I thought that everyone would love me if I was just like them.”

“Olivia-”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” She broke down again. She was the victim and the villain - crying, laughing; hurting, hitting. She was hysterical, hands together as she pleaded for your forgiveness. “You like me so much and I like you so much but you won’t trust me ever again. So I’m sorry-”

“Olivia.”

She beat her wrist on the counter in frustration. “What?” 

Her scream deafened you. The feedback ringing was so high yet it didn’t cut out her frantic crying. It couldn’t save you from the pain of hearing her tear herself down.

You took the red trunk of her wrist and held it close. She wasn’t going to hurt herself. Not when you were around. “Olivia,” you repeated, “I don’t care if you’re rich or not. I want you anyway.”

She tossed her head back, trying to keep the water in her eyes. It pooled and overflowed. Olivia couldn’t hide anything anymore.

You squeezed her forearm. “I still wait for your gifts.”

She glanced down at your touch enveloping her. Slowly, there was a realization that sank into her. 

She swallowed. “I still look if they have your favorite on the menu,” Olivia said softly.

“I still read the notes you leave.”

“I still want you to call me Princess to get through the day.”

You pulled her in. It was an unconscious decision but you didn’t regret it. Her skirt swished against your legs. You were chest to chest and stomach to stomach. No boundaries. Just her skin against your skin. Her eyes connecting with yours. 

“I still pray you never get a library card,” you confessed softly, “so you can read with me everyday.”

Olivia was silent. Her glimmering eyes pierced through your soul and saw what you didn’t need to say. Actually, she would have said something herself, had she not chosen to kiss you.

She was whimpering as she devoured your lips. She held your cheek and let the passion infect you too. It was like in these little kisses, these little touches, she found a promise that it would all be okay. 

(It would be - in all due time.)

You closed your eyes. Shock melted into passion, passion melted into the need to carry her to the edge of your table. Everything about her was perfect. You believed that until now.

It never stopped. Your fingers laced into her golden brown hair to lead her face closer. You would burn if she left you. Your mouth trailed hotly down her neck anyway. Even here, in the little space where her skin flexed and sweat, she was delicious.

You noticed her ragged breathing and stopped. Was it alright if you tore away the line that put you apart? 

You couldn’t say anything. Were you really doing this? To a student? To a girl that you adored?

Olivia’s legs were spread open. Her chin below yours, she blinked up at you. “Ma’am?”

Your thighs squirmed together. The word eternally had this meaning, this double-edged sword that killed you. “Yes?” you asked.

“Wh-What do you think of me?” Olivia asked weakly. The vulnerability in her question was painfully sweet.

You kissed down her chest and opened her blouse. Little gasps coming from her pulsing throat sounded like heaven. Her pretty bra cupped her breasts and she was just singing these tiny moans - begging you to take it off, begging you get your hand all up under her skirt; make the lines of her mouth twist with shock and pleasure; change the color of her face to red. Oh, she needed you to do a lot of things to her - you knew you wanted to do each one of those when you saw her walk in through that door.

Your tongue played with her stiff nipple. She began to move around, afraid to moan yet afraid to leave you hanging. 

“I think,” you said, before giving a final peck to the sensitive chest that came up to your mouth, “you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Pretty face, pretty soul. Eyes as big as the heart everyone thought was ice cold. Lashes as long as her patience, her understanding. The beat of her heart matching the loudness of her need to feel good, just for one night.

“Oh.” She sighed. A familiar pink settled over her cheeks. “I really like hearing that from you.”

“Want me to keep talking to you?” It was impossible how every scape of her flesh was appetizing. You licked behind her ear, where she could hear every word. “Want me to tell you how pretty my Princess is, what a good girl she is for me?”

Her thighs clamping around you was enough answer. She was nodding and nodding, the desperate little thing. She was just coming undone. The student, who was so confident and collected, sat on your desk with her uniform tor and lips swollen from kissing.

Her lips. 

You pressed a kiss to your fingertips before tracing them to her mouth. Olivia’s lips were cushiony soft. When you slipped your digits past them, she rolled her eyes back.

Your fingers were the source where she drank and drank. Small moans fought their way out of her. She was enjoying this too much. The angry heat left in her body changed to one she enjoyed. This one made her feel giddy, made the little hairs on her skin rise. And Olivia had to voice it out in tiny sighs which provoked something in you. 

It wasn’t right, but weren’t you entitled to a little sin?

You freed her mouth and instead imprisoned her chin with your hand, letting them float around her face. “You know where these are going Princess?” 

Olivia shook her head. Behind that innocent look, you had a feeling she knew. 

A path forged down to her skirt. It was unfair that the uniform fit her so perfectly. Under the blazer, the blouse, the curve of her body slanted beneath your touch. There came the hourglass line of her waist then the flare of her hips, full around your palms.

Olivia was getting an idea now. No sound needed to leave her mouth when it could all be read from her face. The puppy dog eyes, the quiver of her lips, the red of her cheeks.

“These are slipping right under this skirt,” you continued. You did as you said. Her slim thigh was held by a long, white stocking. It would stay on. “Right between your legs, through this pretty white underwear. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Oh god.” She shut her eyes. “Take it off, take it off-”

Olivia gasped sharply as you touched her. You weren’t in her - not yet. But she was already this sensitive. She squirmed around at how you cupped her core, felt how she was cleanly trimmed through the thin undershorts, how the heat was unbearable. You had to do something about it.

Not yet. You clicked your tongue, continuing to feel her. You would take your sweet time with this princess, make her feel good, make her remember this night. 

“You can’t boss me around, Sweetheart.” Sweet talk never truly left your conversations despite the scolding. Punishing a poor little girl who keened and sighed to your touches was cruel enough. It was like wielding an upside-down cross to an angel. “Play nice. What do you say when you want something?”

Olivia kept shimmying her hips into your palm. Her fingers struggled on the desk to keep her stable, and her mind struggled as well to do the same. 

“P-Please.”

“Yes?”

“Please . . . ” Olivia breathed, “please fuck me, Ma’am.”

Shit.

You wasted no time. She was true to being a princess - her panties were lace, frilled and white, a bow on the top. Perhaps it was simply you admiring Olivia like you always had, but it was making you so pent up: seeing her with her skirt lifted, the front of her blouse unbuttoned, her long legs embroiled in a fight not to close.

Olivia whined in response to your thumb caressing her clit over the fabric. The rhythm had her chest tightening while her breathing abruptly lost itself. She was done with the teasing. 

So were you.

You hooked on the sides of the fabric and gently pulled them down. And God - if her panties were pretty, her pussy was even more so. Her wetness glistened, as if telling you it would look better coating your fingers. Filling your mouth. Sheening your thigh.

You pushed first, not pulled. 

“Oh . . . oh.” Olivia lowered her head with her eyes squeezed shut. She was throbbing like crazy. She lifted her head and you could see the gratification written (no, scrawled) all over her face. “Ma’am, I- oh . . . ”

You let yourself curl inside her for a moment. The texture of her walls slid over your skin and the wetness satiated your thirst. Slowly, she took over you. And it was the same on your end - you slid yourself deeper and felt for her sensitivity. It was everywhere, taking from the whines she let out and the frown on her lips.

“Princess,” you said. ”You are so fucking tight.” 

You couldn’t even start thrusting. What if you hurt her? 

“Just clenching around me, yeah?” You caressed her nub in slow circles. “So damned wet too. Fuck-”

One hand on the small of her back, you buried yourself inside her. Her gasps were shorter and blunter as you fixed yourself inside her. The only thing that made it easier was her wetness, sticking to you and allowing faster movements.

You smoothed her hair as she threw her head back. Her collarbone stood out from beneath the fabric. You pressed your lips there with a nibble gentle enough to increase the sensitivity that set her skin on fire. As her jawline grazed your mouth, you felt her moans vibrate below it. You wondered if she knew how pretty she sounded. 

She lost everything once you sucked on that spot. Olivia sounded prettier.

“Ma’am, Ma’am, please-” Olivia thrashed around as if she were a wild animal. What if she were? And not the royal she made herself out to be? She rode your fingers with a fury that beat the angriest of hearts, but she was whimpering - lips pursed; sweet little sounds barely escaping their soft prison. No, this girl was too angelic, too fragile to be feral - but the ferocity of her hips and the grip she had on your wrist said otherwise.

Maybe it was fate that she took you so well. All the little conversations, all that twisted yearning pinned the thread right to this moment wherein you got lost immediately upon sinking inside her cunt. She was so tight, almost too tight, but her wetness let you finger her without having to be careful. You had a feeling she didn’t want you to be careful at all.

And the thing between you and this pretty girl you had literally wrapped around your fingers? The intuition was always right. 

Yes, she wanted you to nip at her beautiful shoulder so she moaned louder. Yes, she wanted you to keep a hand firm around her ass so she wouldn’t collapse against the wood. Yes, she wanted all of this - and it’s not in you to say no.

Neither was it in Olivia. The pitiable girl was tearful. Turns out it wasn’t the cigarettes that would eat away at her cleverness, the breath leaving her weak lungs - it was the pleasure. “Yes yes, oh my God, I need them, I need it, need you to ruin me-”

Her words were an invitation to add another finger, and perhaps fuck her harder on this desk. No one had to know. Not the school, not the students - it was just you and Olivia, in your own world, kissing and touching.

It was, too, an invitation you accepted.

Her chin tipped back. “M-mmm, oh!” Olivia cried. Those long lashes carried big tears that fell down her cheeks, as if she were a mystical saint, the monarch of monarchs, a girl worth worshiping. Saint Olivia Hayes, martyred by a want that blossomed in her chest for far too long. Drink from the nectar between her legs and she’d grant a miracle as good as an orgasm. “It’s just- it’s- oh-”

You thumbed at her clit fast. It was so easy to get her moaning and whining but you still felt that you had to work hard. You had to make love to her in a way that she’d forget everything. You had to drive yourself in her like you were trying to start the engine of her insanity. Oh, come on - whose approval were you trying to gain? Olivia’s? 

Plausible. Because the ache of your wrist you would trade over and over  for the shiver of her body and those big blue eyes staring at you with this subtext that said if you give it to her harder, she might just be yours. 

“More.” You felt her twitch around you, your fingers wrapped by the heavenly feel of her pussy. “Oh fuck me now, faster. I deserve it, I’ve been so good.”

“Of course you have.” You lifted her face and looked at her with the gaze of a doting teacher, almost making this moment justifiable. You were only taking care of her. This was nothing out of the ordinary, teacher and student. “You deserve everything, Princess. Oh, you don’t even have to ask for anything. I’ll give it all to you, baby, I promise.”

And this was around the time, or perhaps exactly when, Olivia melted. Her cheeks flushed and her pout ran deeper. As queen bee and campus celebrity, she carried herself as if she didn’t need anything, not even a compliment. But the need throbbed and screamed inside her. This was the true Olivia, wanting to be petted and praised and kissed. You were the one to satiate it.

You rubbed the tips of your fingers along her weak spots while thrusting quickly. The marriage of your eyes obligating her to meet them, the curl of your fingers, the thumb at her chin - it was too much. She was pushed to the edge and she could fall at any moment.

“Don’t-” Olivia shook her head. Tears ran freely. She didn’t know what she was feeling anymore. The lust was overwhelming and there were too many things she wanted you to do to her. “Fuck… oh God, please!”

Your thumb worked on her swollen clit; meanwhile, you’d spread her legs and instantly slid your tongue through her slit. It’s fucking crazy - when her flavor pooled in your mouth and you drank her freely, she tasted like a memory. You’re already missing her. She was a habit you wouldn’t think to kill off and she’d grow within you and become part of you.

And you would lose her. Just like that.

But you would never, ever, forget her.

You lapped her up. You savored her because the repercussions would catch up and you had to save every last bit of her until you could. Oh, she was screaming, loud and raw - you heard her despite her soft thighs clamping around your head. You kept them there. You wanted to stay in her forever.

“Too much,” Olivia implored, but not for you to stop. She had a fist around your scalp and another around your heart. “Ma’am please, you’re going too fast!”

This was the first time in her life she liked being overwhelmed. Her novel plot of an expression twisted and turned - (it would end like this: beautifully, yet not the way you wanted.) She pouted, she smiled in spite of, she gaped. She did everything and showed you how good you were being to her. But nothing quite prepared her for the feel of your lips tight around her clit.

Her river flowed and flowed. She arched her back and screamed for what all of it was worth. She fell in love with you and you let her dance on the tip of your tongue. You fell in love with her and she let you quench your thirst with her taste. You - two women, from two different lives - fell in love with each other, and you weren’t quite sure how to end that.

You secured her clit in your mouth and sucked as hard as you can. She burst into tears, trying and crying and swearing that she couldn’t handle more but she’d chew off more than what she can stomach, for when the orgasm bubbled in the pit of her stomach, she knew that it was going to be difficult.

“Ma’am, please, I don’t think I can handle it.” 

You were sure you were going to suffocate. The hold of her thighs around your neck was deadly. 

“No, please make me cum, it’s too much!” She sobbed and rode you harder. “I can’t I can’t I can’t, Ma’am, Mommy-”

And there it ended. With the sudden drumming of your heart you didn’t know how to do it. But it finished itself with your Princess finishing on your face, static shock running through her blood and looking quite lost in her own world. 

It happened. The expectation of it did not make it easier. Ronny’s photos reached the school authorities and the students. Every detail was out there in the spotlight. It included how you met, how you admired her from afar, how you were caught smoking suspiciously alone with her.

You were brought in and quietly dismissed. Nobody wanted attention brought to the school already gained by the murders happening. It was an unsafe place, for both your heart and soul. It was just right to leave.

You didn’t get to have a last conversation with Olivia. Afterwards, she simply sat there on the desk with her eyes closed and exhausted. Her head rested on your heart. You could still feel it now, as you sat at home, looking for another job. There was no use tearing up about it. It was wrong from the start and it was wrong now.

A few tears did end up on the black and white ink of the classifieds.

Not a day went by that you didn’t think of Olivia. How was she doing? Was your Princess coping? To be outed like that to what she saw as her world, to be named a slut and villain by her peers . . . it couldn’t be easy. You wanted to apologize to her in some sort of way. It would be to pay back all the good things she’d done for you. She was a good listener, a good student, a good girl. She deserved to be okay.

But how?

The answer came to you one day in the form of an email, from an unknown address but a familiar name:

We broke the rules. How about we and some good friends of mine break more to get even?

You in? ;)

Yours, 

Princess

[dr-spectre]

Okay so this rant is gonna be mildly nsfw. So if you are a minor DONT LOOK! OKAY?! GET OUT! I DONT WANT MINORS TO LOOK AT THIS SHIT!!!! THIS IS FOR 18+ ONLY!

Im gonna be talking about an issue when it comes to a subset of people in the Splatoon community. So yeah, MINORS! LEAVE!!!!!

Go on... leave....

Imma be real, a fair amount of the straight male fans in the Splatoon community who constantly sexualise all the women in the series need to realize that characters like Marina and Shiver would never get with you and you wouldn't be able to handle them either. You would not be able to handle Marina's hour long autistic rambles about excavators and machinery, and if you judged her for her interests because your pp is getting soft listening to her, she would despise you and not have sex with a random dude like you. She is not eye candy. She is not some slab of meat to go "AWOOOGGA HUMNA HUMNA HUMNA!" at. She's a dorky girl who has nerdy interests and is canonically a lesbian, not some bimbo to get looked at like a toy for your eyeballs. Sorry to burst your bubble.

You would probably HATE Shiver if you met her, i guarantee it. Marie as well, you would probably find her annoying and not vibe with her snarky personality despite you wanting to do bad things to her because you only see her as flesh for your pleasure. Marie hates and makes fun of ""fans"" like you. Sorry to tell ya. If you see Marie as some dommy mommy then I'm gonna have to ask you to get the fuck out of my sight dude. If you sexualise Callie too and make her some weird lustful woman who wants sex all the time, I will fucking murder you idc.

You would crumble to dust and get rejected SOOOOO fast by women who look and act like them. I'm telling you. Or they would run away from you so fast because you smell terrible.

Start thinking with your head and not the small head downstairs.

Listen, we get it, they are attractive, but don't make it your whole personality and say how much you wanna f them and use nsfw art of them in thumbnails and discussions (you can figure out which youtuber I'm talking about here...)

I say that stuff as a joke at 1am at night and 99.9% of the time i talk about how wonderful their personalities and stories are. I ain't going "ZAMN!!!" over these characters because I'm not THAT big of a loser.

Marina being so passionate and giddy about her interests is one of the reasons why i like her so much. Marie being so relatable is why i like her, Shiver being such a silly girlfailure who's funny is why i like her, not because of their hips ffs. That's like the last thing on my mind when i think about these amazing characters.

As a straight male myself, you guys gotta do better, i don't wanna be grouped up with the rest of you horny lot that needs some fresh air. I'm not talking about all heterosexual men in the fanbase obviously, i'm not that kind of person where i hate on an entire group of people and I go "those friggen straights ruined the series!!!" Like the people who say that are half true but not every straight guy in the community is a horny lustful mess you know? And i am a straight guy myself but... I hate getting piled up with the creepy fans who lust over these women. Like we don't wanna hear you thirst over them and if you are gonna say something a bit more nsfw AT LEAST BE CREATIVE WITH IT! OR BE REALLY PATHETIC ABOUT IT TO WHERE IT'S FUNNY!

It's also so telling on how you probably treat women as well. I wouldn't be surprised if you have never been close to a woman, friendship or relationship wise. Sex and looks ain't all the end all be all of relationships, if you can't understand that then good luck finding a girl who will actually like you and even think about doing it with you.

I've never been in a relationship before AND EVEN I KNOW THAT!!!!! HOW SAD IS THAT?! The single and alone dude understands relationships better than you.

Be better and go outside for a change. Get a hobby, or something idfk.

[vaniloqu3nce]

Yoko Headcanons Pt 3. (this has been in my draft for a while)

Yoko isn’t a big romcom fan but Enid and Divina are so her and Wednesday end up watching them begrudgingly for their girls. That does NOT stop them from complaining though.

Wednesday: Yoko I can feel my brain cells deteriorating.

Yoko: Girl same im getting dumber watching this and I’m already the dumbest person here.

Unlike Enid, Divina helps Yoko study on her own and teaches Yoko little tricks to help her remember things in class. Enid usually just lets her copy.

Though Yoko acts very confident, she does have a lot of insecurities surrounding her intelligence because she’s never been really good at operating in a school setting. Things that don’t immediately capture her attention will often not keep her attention very long.

Yoko can sit and read Wednesday’s books for an hour straight squealing but she cannot take a math test for thirty minutes.

Yoko finds out Wednesday likes Enid (not that she didn’t already guess) because Viper so obviously has a crush on a new character that’s supposed to be Enid.

Enid and Yoko met in their freshmen year, Yoko tried flirting with Enid but Enid wasn’t really interested. Which is how they became best friends.

Young Yoko was a bit more of a menace and much more spoiled due to her wealthy upbringing. She absolutely thought she could have anyone she wanted and Enid was like “I’m not really attracted to you.”

Yoko: Not possible but OKAY.

Enid: Well do you want to be friends?

Yoko: This is literally the most embarrassing day of my life. Yes.

Enid and Yoko are literally inseparable. Yoko is an only child and Enid has only brothers. They’re literally so thankful for each other.

Because of her upbringing, Yoko has a lot of trouble showing and expressing negative emotions. Enid is like a sister to her and is always patient with Yoko when she needs time.

Yoko calls Divina princess, at first it was an insult because she’s stuck up and such, but it grew on both of them. Yoko is very affectionate with Divina when they’re alone, Divina loves it.

Divina: Get up. We have class.

Yoko: Come back to bed, princess. It’s cold.

Divina: Because you’re dead. Get up.

Yoko: You don’t love me.

Divina, rolling her eyes and climbing back into bed with her: You’re right. I hate you.

Yoko: Mhm. :)

Nobody in their right mind besides Enid would believe Yoko is so affectionate and loving because outwardly she is so against relationships and she kicks girls out as soon as they’re done. “I’d call you a cab but you live next door.”

Yoko is in fact only soft for Divina.

I raise you Yoko and Wednesday having a talk about being afraid of emotions.

I raise you Enid and Divina wondering if their girls actually like them because they have those kinds of insecurities and little do they know their girls would die for them without question.

I raise you Wednesday at first being jealous of Yoko until she realizes there couldn’t be anything to be jealous of because all Enid and Yoko do is argue.

Yoko, kicking the door down: Wednesday get your fucking girlfriend shes DOING IT AGAIN

Enid: Babe DONT LISTEN TO HER SHES LYING

Wednesday, sighing: Do you want this chapter done or not, Yoko?

Yoko: with ALL MY HEART MI AMOR

Enid: STOP FLIRTING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND FOR CHAPTERS

Yoko: STOP TELLING MY GIRLFRIEND WHEN I SKIP CLASS

Basically Wednesday was jealous up until she realized they’re basically siblings and they are trying to kill each other at least 90% of the time.

Divina had to win over Enid and Wednesday first. It was like asking for their daughter’s hand in marriage.

Wednesday: What are your intentions with our idiot?

Enid: I will skin you alive if you ever hurt her.

Wednesday: I’m so in love with you.

Thing, Yoko, and Enid have girls nights.

Yoko never liked Tyler either. “He just looks like a card board cut out.”

Yoko actually wants to become a movie director but not many people know that. Specifically horror movies.

Yoko was the kind of kid who would film her own movies on her phone.

Since Yoko has trouble expressing herself, her forms of love come in physical ways. Bumping Enid in the halls, playing with Divina’s fingers in class when she’s distracted, ect.

Wednesday and Yoko actually become amazing friends. They have a lot to bond over. Their love of horror, they both hate Tyler, they both have girlfriends who love them more than anything, they’re both bad at expressing emotions.

[velvetvexations]

gender is so silly. i dont want to look like a girl because im transmasc but i DO want to look like a guy who looks like a girl. always fun when reading/watching something and they get to a crossdressing bit with one of the men and i feel some sort of way about it

This is exactly what TRFs would be down your throat about fetishizing transmisogynistic caricatures but I'm telling you it's okay and I'm the only person worth listening to on any subject.

I want to look like a girl who looks like a guy myself, but that's difficult to find. A vocal minority of the internet insists it's praxis to misgender cis men as often as possible but it's still considered a devastating and disgusting insult to say a woman looks masculine. I think Rhea Ripley is cool enough she'd be understanding if not entirely flattered that most of the reason I relate to her so much is that I was convinced she must have been a trans woman on sight.

But even with actual trans women, then it's even worse, which sucks because I do a happy little clap when I clock another correctly. Awhile ago I saw someone listing out signs a girl is AMAB to be a transphobic asshole but all I could think was about how ecstatic I'd be for someone to tell me those things, I'd just straight up be like "thank you for noticing!" like someone asked if I had my hair done.

I think that's what it means to me to be a male woman. Most trans women would obviously prefer to pass, and there are butch trans women, but I don't know if many of them conceptualize their butchness as being a feature of the body that got them AMAB or if it's just the same sense of style as butch-identifying cis women. For me it's very much the former. I'm loud and proud that my body is the kind that was assigned male. I don't intend to imply that must mean trans women who want to pass, or who don't center that physicality, hate themselves or anything, it's just a different path.

When I was younger I wanted so badly to look less masculine. The fact that I couldn't is, I think, a large part of why I eventually flipped the script and went all in on being masc, but most trans women who can't physically transition are either going to kill themselves or continue being miserable forever, and that sucks so much.

Even now, when I say I've been getting cooler with body hair lately, that doesn't mean I'm proud of or enjoy the hair on my actual body, but am more into the idea of my sona's design potentially having body hair in the future. I'm completely disassociated with this body entirely, which pre-dates me embracing masculinity. At a certain point, not being able to look the way I wanted to (feminine, then hyper-androgynous) made me snap and just fully break off from the physical world. This is especially true of Rally, the cis woman in our system, because the others feel themselves in this body but simply don't have a mental image of it at all, but she feels entirely removed even when fronting.

And as I noted before, my two examples of people I want to look like, particularly in regards to being visibly AMAB, were a clocky cis woman and a guy who the internet calls a faggot a million times a day, so there's still femininity there, androgyny.

Presentation sure is a thing.

[star-fandoms]

The demons took hold of me again

The "demons" being Sally Face... SIGH!! I was OBSESSED with this game in late middle school early high school, and now I'm back baby. Crazy what seeing fanart will do. ANYWAYS!! time to introduce my babeyyyyy

Here are "refs" cause i know these don't exactly count, but eh, i dont like drawing feet/shoes! ANYWAYS!! Slight Sal redesign, I'll probably end up putting him in whatever emo ass fit honestly. Anyways I love cute fashion sooooo obvs had to make my girl cute asf. It's kind of a gap moe moment with her cause my girl has seen the horrors(like literally ANY other of my ocs honestly)

QUICK NOTE ON SAL'S REDESIGN!! The original design is fine, I'm not "fixing" the design or anything, it was simply for fun, I wanted to see him in more emo fashion and thought it fit and looked good! The necklace he's wearing is actually a locket! I can see him having a little picture of all his friends close to his heart(SOBBING ONE SEC) I might also put Sal in gothic and scene outfits eventually as well, I actually thought about giving him scene coontails on the two little front sections!

TRANSCRIPT

Not a super organized outfit, but they don't care, they like their outfit

Emo ass outfits

Prob graphic design tee, I just didn't want to draw it.

Literally will never grow again, wears platforms tho(Note: With platforms on, she's 5'3)

More organized fashion, honestly wears a lot of different styles(Note: usually seen in cute, comfy clothes, but also can wear emo outfits, clowncore, really anything honestly, she likes a lot of different styles!)

Her name is Jellie, not really, but she doesn't really remember her name. The gang picked it out for her(in which they simply asked her what she likes and she said "jellyfish" and they went "okay, Jellie for short" and she's sported the name since) She doesn't live in Addison apartments, but she lives close by enough to walk and occasionally would sleep in Larry's treehouse when she got kicked out(which eventually they offer her a place to stay when that happens)

She's known of Sal since the first day of school for him after moving, and the rest of the cast(Larry, Todd, Ashley, and Travis(and some other Sally Face oc's of mine that are still in the works)) for even longer, however she never had the courage to really talk to them. She doesn't know how to make friends or talk to people and instantly assumes that she'll just be a burden and annoy them and that they'll all hate her. She's also a stickler for rules and is horrified of being late or doing anything to get in trouble, she states that "she'll never get to college and that the teachers will tell her to kill herself" if she's late for even a minute. She's usually pretty stoic or straight up freaking out and muttering self deprecating thoughts.

TW: SELF HARM SCARS!! (not realistic)GORE!!

HERES SOME EXTRA INFO ABOUT JELLIE!!(based off of the doodles)

She cuts, a LOT!! She literally hates herself so much and does a lot of harmful things to her body. She just goes in when she cuts, she doesn't think about placement or how deep she goes, as long as she bleeds and feels pain(please don't cut and get help in you can if you struggle with suicidal thoughts)

She really REALLY like horror and doesn't react much when she watches scary stuff. Not that it existed at the time, but she could handle those 50/50 challenges EASILY!! Girl watches a lot of true crime and goes digging for shit, she straight up just looks up images of dead people(she realizes how fucked up this is in the future)

Literally awful at smiling, you can TELL she has not smiled in a bit. She could be genuinely happy and still would not be able to smile normally. It also hurts her because she doesn't use her face muscles often(hardly spoke for years, only eats dinner, doesn't smile) It is something that gets better in the future, but the cries whenever she laughs!

The way she stares at people creeps them out, she's often bullied for it(amongst a shit ton of other things) She does NOT realize she does this or that it's creepy, she continues to do this even in the future LOL!! Also she's not mad, this is just how she stares at people

If she gets forced to live another life, she wants to be reborn as a Jellyfish. She really, REALLY loves the ocean and aquatic animals!

She has hallucinations and visions(like how Sal has visions) however, she cannot tell the difference between the two. It's easy to tell from an outside perspective when she has visions though because she gets nosebleeds every time and occasionally passes out(the passing out gets worse the older she gets and the more frequent the visions become) She refuses to tell her friends though because she's so happy she finally has friends and is worried that they will be weirded out by them

Finally! Just some art i did of 16 year old Sal and Jellie, it took forever and my hand and wrist are sore(i've just been drawing and writing nonstop for the past week anyways so oh well LOL, the carpal tunnel bouta go CRAZY! Cant wait to get another ganglion cyst) but it was worth it, they are worth it. Anyways! The scenario was that Jellie was hiding from her bullies(idk some random ass background ocs i made for SF) however Sal wasn't expecting Jellie to hide behind him, much less wrap her arms around him. Erm ^^ they cute or whatever

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen, please forgive me if this sounds deranged. I understand if you don't reply, but I don't know any older women like me to go to for advice. Also, please disregard this if i forget to press anon (paranoid lol)

I never thought I wanted kids, my fiancé says she doesn't (sometimes she says things that make me think otherwise, but im going to say she doesn't because I have to take her at her word)

The thing is that recently it's been more and more in my head. Im in my early 30s so I don't know if it's a biological clock thing, I know I should say it to her but im not sure if I should either because I don't want to cause problems in our relationship, but also I don't even know if I understand how I feel about it (this is made worse by the fact that, while we live in the same city, we have temporarily had to live apart for financial reasons while saving for a mortgage)

The thing is, I feel like I'm starting to really want kids, which I know I should say to her

But

I feel like I only want kids with her if that makes sense? If I was with anyone else, I wouldn't want to

I'm not even sure if I actually want kids at all. It's more like (sorry if this is gross or anything). i have this increasing... need for want of a better word? To have with her what straight people have, I wish I could get pregnant by her somehow, I wish I could make a person who is made of me and of her, this makes me feel guilty and pained and confused (just to clarify this is not sexual confusion, I am and have always been exclusively same-sex attracted) I guess I just am at the point where I love her so much that I want something that I can't have, im not sure whether I actually want kids or whether it's some hormonal thing but (I know this sounds weird) i3 guess I wish I could express our love in that way? But I'm kind of in my feelings and confused about it, I dont know where to start or whether to tell her or what I would even say to her about it. Also most of my friends are either younger (wouldn't get it) or straight (and it would be humiliating to me to go to them over something that they could do without a second thought)

Anyway, i thought I'd come here because I know you have a lot more experience than me, and i was wondering what you would do in my position

I am one of those moms who never wanted kids. I am a realist and understood from a pretty young age that kids are a pain in the ass. They are expensive, a lifelong commitment, noisy, unpredictable and invasive. I was raised around nephews and nieces and younger cousins .I saw women my age get pregnant in high school. I grew up in the 80’s where half the “After School Specials” were about the hardships of teen pregnancy and a fair amount of books for teen girls and sitcoms aimed at my demographic featured young women having and raising unplanned kids. I very clearly saw the writing on the wall and wanted NO part of it. I wanted MY LIFE to be mine. 

     I have 5 kids all adopted from foster care and the truth is I didn’t want ANY Of them. I stated in my dating profile that kids were a deal breaker. I communicated over the course of my second relationship that kids were of negative interest to me and my life. My mind never changed and in all truth I just got tired of saying no and we became foster parents. MY ex loved the “IDEA” of being a parent but not the actual work. I understood this about her which was one reason I pushed back for years before giving in and agreeing. I know, based on my parents and my siblings I would be a decent mom, I just didn’t want to be. My kids are all grown except my 17 year old. They are 25, 25, 26 and 23. I have a pretty good relationship with them. My oldest daughter has a daughter who is 21 months. I am not a wonderful grandma. I work all the time and we live hours apart. I am focused on my life and home and future because for a 17 year marriage I neglected it. My kids all know I was a reluctant parent because we have a very open and honest relationship.

      Parenting with my ex was horrible. I worked two jobs, budgeted, did the majority of the homework, bedtime ritual, morning prep and house work and I spent years being exhausted. I partially stayed with her because until the final adoption we could not legally be married so I had NO legal right to the older 4 and was not about to abandon them to my wife. 

      I am telling you this background so you understand that I have a unique and possibly skewed perspective about parenting as a lesbian. It is totally normal to be unsure about wanting kids. I would say most straight people also go back and forth between the emotional idea of having kids as an extension of love and of a good use of their compatibility and partnership, to have and raise a happy, healthy child (ren) AND knowing the stress of money, unpredictable times, and the fact that, no matter how great parents are , kids are people and they very quickly for their own idea, personalities and who KNOWS what can happen given those facts. The difference is just that lesbians can’t accidentally become parents so we have to either overcome the fear and want the kids more than we don’t OR stay childless. Many great parents did not get there with careful planning, just one day they are thrust into the role and step up to the task. 

     My advice is to keep talking to your partner about your thoughts." I think I might want kids” is not the same and “WE MUST have kids or I won’t be happy”. Communicate your confusion and insecurities about it and also the good things you see about becoming parents.  I highly suggest volunteering for Big Brother Big Sisters, or even getting a foster care respite license. When you do respite you are essentially babysitting kids so adoptive and foster parents can get a break. These kids can be everything from charming and sweet to struggling with mental illness and trauma (which is why it requires training).. You can get a lot of fulfillment, experience and learning moments plus you are giving exhausted caretakers a break. Offer to babysit a friend's kids. See if the local Girl Scout needs volunteers, A lot of nature centers run kids summer programs or weekend programs like birthday parties and always need volunteers. Consider taking some childhood or first time parent classes. All of this is to give you a well rounded perspective of how kids can be, which is sometimes awful but very often wonderful and sweet and even when they are misbehaving you can feel joy in watching these tiny people learn and grow. 

You are correct about the idea of biological children vs adoption. They are not the same. I know a lot of people want to believe that they are exactly the same connection and bond but in my experience that is a lie people often tell themselves.  The fact is, parenting a child that is not biological does take a little more effort to bond and connect. Eventually it strengthens and can be wonderful but it is unique. Not better or worse, just different. My kids were all older, 4, 7, 8, 10, and 16 when they came into my life so they were already established in personality and habits and world view so it took time to align with each other. We are now all more like friends than a parent/child relationship but perhaps that just happens with age and maturity.  Adoption is by far cheaper with more available resources (through foster care) than using a sperm bank or asking a friend to donate so one of you can be pregnant but each couple needs to weigh what works for them. 

     I would suggest putting off major discussions until you can see each other but if not, do it over zoom or facetime so you can see each other’s expressions and have a nuanced conversation. I would not make any major purchases like a house until you are settled a bit and you both are at least on the same page with kids. That page might be neither of you are sure yet or that you both think it should wait until life is less up in the air to decide together. If you land solidly in the “i must have kids” camp and she says “NO”, you might have your answer. Then you must decide between letting go of the need for kids or moving on from the relationship. The worst thing you can do is push someone who is expressing that they don’t want kids into having kids. This is a bad deal. 

I know this is a lot. Kids are a big deal to both the relationship and to the kids who are brought into that relationship, no matter now that happens. I wish you the best and I hope, together, you can talk it out and get some clarity.

[nerves-nebula]

I know this might be kinda stupid but. do you have any music recs. specifically of the child abuse variety because I'd be very interested in that.

*sweats* ok so here's the thing- I have a playlist called "Abuse" and its full of music that is either explicitly about abuse, related to abuse thematically, or just has Abuse Vibes to me (some of which is likely inexplicable to other people)

im also kind of self conscious about my taste in music, cause sometimes it's like. i dunno. the steven universe soundtrack or a fnaf song i really like. and thats CRINGE! and really any genre of song can be about Child Abuse so it's like. idk if you'll like any of the things i recommend.

THAT BEING SAID, here's a selection i guess!! because I'm flattered you would even ask haha. a lot of these are pretty well known already tho so idk how helpful this will be. anyway this got hella long so. under the cut!

songs explicitly about or including themes of child abuse/having shit parents/having familial issues:

Guiltless by Dodie

Black by Okkervil River (narrative about a guys girlfriend telling him about her dad sexually abusing her. one of, if not the first, song i ever heard about CSA and it holds a special place in my heart)

The Mute by Radical Face

Ripple Effect by Scott Helman (kinda more about generational trauma & healing if im honest. i dont listen to it as much as the others on this list)

Poplar St by Glass Animals

Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood

Twin Sized Mattress by The Front Bottoms (classic i know)

The Family Jewels by Marina and the diamonds

Family Line by Conan Gray

Christmas Kids by ROAR (ok technically not about the kids but i find the subtext of how the kids are used in this abusive relationship horrific. also, it reminds me of my parents)

Drift Away - Steven Universe (OK I KNOW ITS NOT TECHNICALLY ABOUT THAT BUT TO ME IT'S ABOUT MY MOM. IT TRACKS TOO EXACTLY TO NOT INCLUDE HERE)

Other Abuse songs:

labour by Paris Paloma

This Hurts by Mindless Self Indulgence (my ex wife says i listen to this song to go joker mode and i hate that because i know she means Straight Joker and not Camp Joker but i do really like the song)

I'm your puppet by Gregory And The Hawk

Eric by Mitski (REAL GOOD)

Believe Me by James and the Shame (more about spiritual abuse sort of)

Girl Anachronism by The Dresden Dolls

Thermodynamic Lawyer esq GFD by Will Wood and the Tapeworms

We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross (less about abuse and more about, like, a healing relationship. still i think you can easily read into the alluded past abuse or sexual issues going here)

Fuck About It by Waterparks

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths (this is just such an abused person song)

This Hurts by Mindless Self Indulgence (my ex wife says i listen to this song to go joker mode and i hate that because i know she means Straight Joker and not Camp Joker but i do really like the song)

Sex With A Ghost by Teddy Hyde

I Cant Handle Change by ROAR (obviously)

rotting by vivivivivi

rook by sardonica

My favorite "Abuse Vibe" songs (NOTE: some of these songs might be about abuse or toxic relationships but um. im not very smart or good at sorting so. they ended up here):

Take a Slice by Glass Animals (PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS ONE FUCK THE REST OF THIS LIST EXCEPT ANIMALS I LOVE THOSE TWO)

Animals by Stomach Book (SEE ABOVE)

Youth by Daughter

Duck Or Ape by ROAR

Million Dollar Gold Digger (idk what it is about this remix im not even a huge fan of either of the songs its mixing. this is the VIBES part of the rec list i don't have to explain myself)

I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young

Gooey by Glass Animals

Breaking Down by Florence & The Machine

Moby Dick by Jakey

Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon (hard to justify but this song just brings such vivid "abused kid failing to be normal while hanging out with someone and further isolating themself" vibe. yes im projecting. leave me alone)

The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid (sometimes you just wanna kill your parents)

I'M GONNA WIN by Rob Cantor (this one just feels like anger and bitterness and being suspicious of anyone who tries to help you. I listen to it when im fucking going through it. its also a bop but you prolly already know that, i think it's pretty popular? idk)

It's Alright by Mother Mother (stereotypical i know)

South Dakota by Jakey (honestly i dunno. i dont even know where south dakota is)

My Blood by Twenty One Pilots (for all you sibling havers out there)

My Play by AJR (my parents arent divorced but man i wish they were. Also, this just brings up very vivid memories for me trying to show my parents things and it is fucking crushing haha)

Best Of You by Foo Fighters (idk just more shit that reminds me of my parents)

The Woods by San Fermin (this one is just very "I should have died as a child"-core to me)

JUVY ft. Julia Bard by Nnamdi Ogbonnaya (this guy is weird and i didnt like his stuff at first but then... i came back... and now he holds a place in my heart)

Grape Gil by Nnamdi Ogbonaya (i think this is my favorite song of his. I nearly made an owl house animatic to it)

Obsession by OK GO

Better Than Me by The Brobecks

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS by Tyler The Creator

Dumb Dumb by Mazie (honestly this one just reminds me of thinking "i hate it here everyone is so dumb" and then maladaptive daydreaming for hours to escape the situation hah)

Stone Wall, Stone Fence by Gregory And The Hawk

Never Wanna Fall in Love With U by Nelward

Another New World by Punch Brothers (this one is such an explicit and straightforward narrative i really can't explain it other than like. the emotions.)

Julep by Punch Brothers (once again, the emotions)

Always Sayin' by The Littles Man Band

A NIGHT OUT ON EARTH by Waterparks

Consequences by Lovejoy

Scum by Lovejoy

SMELLS LIKE TEEN SECRETS by lil boodang (another hard to justify one. idk. it just feels like it ok. sue me)

anyway i'm sure there's more but thats just a quick selection from my Abuse playlist. and by quick i mean you better appreciate this cuz i put way more effort into this than i needed to.

[davekat-sucks]

>Pride month includes trans pride, and who’s deemed canonically trans by the Huss? THAT’S RIGHT! HOPE YOU LIKE SEEING JUNE EGBERT ON YOUR DASH A WHOOOOOOOOLE LOT AAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL MONTH!

(hopefully this formats the text right i dont use tumblr a lot and i usually only lurk)

Listen anon, this shit aint gonna work. June Egbert is not canon and she wont be, it doesnt matter if she appears on HSBC because let me tell you, its already on its name: BEYOND CANON.

You are not owning transphobes or helping trans people by screaming that June is canon everywhere you go, all you do is annoy people who arent trans and help make those trans stereotype become even worse and that just makes everything more awful than it already is. What you are doing is not helping ANYONE and it just makes you look like an asshole.

In fact Homestuck trans rep sucks as a whole. Vriska sucks in general and people like Kate will use her being "canonically" trans as an excuse when like I said all that does it make things WORSE. June is forced and people like you usually try to force people that its canon when its not and the Roxy one from HSBC is the same thing but nobody gives a shit about one so people usually dont talk about it.

And no just because Hussie said it doesnt mean its true (ie. Andrew Hussie Formstring) and sure the circumstances are different but the webcomic is done, its like if George Lucas claimed Luke Skywalker was actually a trans girl in secret all this time or some shit, it would be nonsensical to suddenly say that when theres never evidence for it + the main material having ended years ago. It has already ended and HSBC is just a non-canonical continuation.

And I don't know how much it "being planned from the beggining" means but I'm pretty sure its about being planned since the epilogues or something and not since the Homestuck Beta from april 10th, look at me in my invisible eyes and tell me that the Hussie from that era was thinking about transgender rights and not about his next webcomic and i dont fucking know that creepy puppet he had as a kid or horses.

AND before you assume Im transphobic, Im not and support trans people because i know how gender dysphoria feels [even though i do feel like some people online are faking it for attention or are there not for support but because they have some fetish which is pretty fucking bad (and Im unsure if fit the label or if I want to fit it considering I dont tell anyone about it at all and everyone online nowdays seems to suck overall and I also dont want to go around telling online strangers on a public profile about it)], so please understand this. June Egbert is not canon and is not a good rep, if you like it then keep it on the parts of the community that like it and stop trying to force "dubiously canon" on everyone. You are causing more harm than good, in fact I think that you are doing might not be doing any good at all.

And because I feel like I didnt let enough steam off Im gonna say this

Fuck June. Fuck her stupid fucking name. Fuck her rep. Fuck Post-Canon. And she and other shit reps deserve to be forced to take a permanent vacation straight to Hell.

Oh and davekat-sucks please keep existing and dont let these people put you down, you are one of the few people in this community nowdays that seems to not be overly aggressive and you allow people to show their opinions without having to fear getting harassed on or getting dragged on a full blown warzone just for not thinking like most people on the community do. Your blog means a lot for fans like us and remember, just because a lot of people seem to disagree with you it doesnt mean you are wrong! ^U^

Thank you for the kind words, Anon. And thank you for this amazing post here too. ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ )

[youremyheaven]

Wow I literally stopped talking to my Pushya asc, Rohini moon best friend of like 10 years bc they would habitually try to embarrass me in front of boys. They were obsessed with male validation and would get visibly jealous when they weren’t getting the attention. Nobody else could outshine them in any situation. I’m sun nak dominant so I find behavior like this so pick me and disgusting when i don’t even WANT the attention in the first place 🙄 and then they would giggle and play dumb when confronted abt it. So childish. That post was so accurate, I too am a victim of a moon dominant individual lol

😭😭 prayer circle for all of us who've had to put up with moon dominant people🕯️🕯️

but this is sooo funny, hope she grew out of it tho

i knew another moon dominant girl (not super close, just on friendly terms) and she was dating a guy i knew very well and he had just dumped her, i knew he was one of those fckboys who masquerade as softboys, like he will use you for sex, never call you back and then say "its not you, its me🥹you deserve better, so please i'm letting you go even tho it hurts, i dont deserve you at all" and anyone who knows a thing or two about men YK that this is how they manipulate you into thinking they're not fckboys they just want what's best for you (after having sex with you ofc,, they only have this realisation after they get what they want) and i told her that she shouldn't feel too bad because he's an asshole and she dodged a bullet and this girl straight up told me its because i wish i could've had him like babe he used you not me?? i gain nothing from this or from telling you what kind of person he is?? lol, she was Rohini Sun

[leastdatablebracket]

ROUND 1, MATCH 53

Propaganda under the cut!

Baxter Ward

That Boy Needs Therapy

He ghosts you after the end of step 3, even if you try and date him.

look i love my boy, but baxter literally dumps you outside of your childhood home, shuts the door in your face even if you’re sobbing in the middle of the street, and then ghosts you for five years and then pretends he doesn’t care about you when you meet again. this is even if he’s aware that he’s your first love (if you chose to make him that). he literally says that you have bad taste in men if you choose to date him again before you’ve talked anything over shshhshssbb. love him but he needs a therapist waaaaayyyyy more than he needs a partner.

Ryouta Kazama

ok so i havent actually seen all of his route cause the game's only available in japanese and the streamer i watched play the game switched to a different guy like halfway through the game n i seriously doubt anyone else is gonna submit him i just need someone else to know about this so! ryouta and the player character (doesnt have a canon name but is given the nickname of marii by the two girl friends) were friends in kindergarten with ryouta having a very blatant crush on her n wished on a pinwheel for them to get married when theyre older he then moves to england as soon as he gets old and he n marii dont interact at all until nine years later when he comes back for high school and is still very blatantly down bad for a girl he last talked to when they were six but has spent the last nine years still thinking about (theres something in the game you can unlock called adv events where you get the love interests pov on moments in their lives and one of ryouta's reveals that even though he couldve he never sent marii any letters but very much did spend all those years thinking about her) n a lot of his interactions with marii are weird n circle back to him being obsessed with them being friends as kids and like a first it just kind of seems like oh he hasnt gotten over his puppy love yet lol but it is kind of like acknowledged that this is a weird thing in game as if marii gets his gift in the christmas exchange ryouta will say something about it being fate n marii pointedly ignores that n is like wow what a coincidence that we got eachother's gifts (not in an oblivious heroine way btw ryouta's straight up is like oh ok ur ignoring what i said) n he treats her like shes naive n completely innocent which like marii is cause shes a mostly blank slate otome heroine but its still noteworthy as being weird due to his aforementioned memorialization of them being friends in kindergarten n that none of the other love interests really treat marii that way or really make note of those being notable traits of hers that often while its something ryouta does frequently anyway so the moment that made my thoughts on ryouta switch from "lol hes kind of weird" to "i want to study him like a bug" is that His Bedroom Is The Exact Same As It Was When He Was A Six Year Old Child In Kindergarten And Hes Keeping It That Way On Purpose like genuinely thats immediately read to me as horror movie shit imagine reuniting with a childhood friend of urs who keeps bringing up stuff you did as kids (that you dont really remember cause you were like six n are now in high school) n making comments about how naive and easy to read you are n gets weirdly jealous about other guys being buddy buddy with you and then like a year or so after hes moved back n you've becomed friends again he invites you to hang out at his house so you go over and then His Room Looks Like It Belongs To A Six Year Old and hes telling you about how his room hasnt been altered (beyond cleaning) at all since he left n since hes come back hes chosen to keep it exactly the same n hes telling you this like its a reasonable thing literally what the fuck also while ryouta is the posterboy childhood friend love interest of this game theres another love interest who was both ryouta n marii's childhood friend and you'll never believe this he treats her like a normal person and is just a normal guy who barely remembers being friends in kindergarten and him n marii only learn that theyre childhood friends cause of ryouta being mildly exasperated that neither of them really remembers them being a trio when they were six theres definitely like worse love interests i could submit from this series (like the teachers n one of the three secret love interests in the second game whos route is just straight up him emotionally abusing the heroine) but im submitting ryouta cause his reasons for sucking as a romantic partner are bizarre n live rent free in my mind

[gladdygirl18]

omggggg i have an amazing story for you guys! It might be a bit long im not sure but ofc as always, read under the cut

Blue me, orange BF

some spicy stuff (mainly implied)

so about a few days ago, i was chilling with my boyfriend in his room (i was doing HW/writing a story, he was reading a webtoon) and him being cheeky, started tickling my feet (i swear to fuck i think my feet got more sensitive after being with my ex-gf)

Okay so what Im about to say will shock many ppl, but in this relationship, my BF and I don't hide things from each other. So he already knows I like tickling and I have a tumblr page. He had asked me, "what is your blog about tickling?"

I told him, and I quote, "Yes, actually, it is."

Yes, I told my boyfriend I had a tickle blog.

"I've had it for about.... since before covid, or during covid, i don't remember."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm being so deadass right now. Our friends know i have a tumblr blog, but they don't know what it's about. You are the only one that knows."

I then continued to tell him that I not only do I write about the 2 of us (like I am now), but about the tickle fics i write for my OCs and characters of other fandoms. He was surprised and even looked me up on google, and low and behold, he found me.

After all of that, I then asked him, "Is it weird that i have a blog about tickling?"

"Of course not. Tickling is something you love, and from what you've told me, it's gotten you through a lot of hardships because it cheers you up. Why would I judge you or shame you for something you love and something that I can easily provide for you?"

AHHHHH I DONT DESERVE HIM I DONT 😭💖🥰

And when he said he would provide, oh my goodness, does he provide. After that conversation, he straddled me and started tickling me like crazy. When I would try to fight back, he would grab my wrist and hold them back.

"See this is why I need those restraints, because someone won't take their tickling~"

Just end me now. He said he'd mainly use them for my ankles so he could have both hands free to tickle me 😆💖😋 he is such a fucking tease i cannot with him, but i love him all the same💖🥰

And you wanna know what he said after he tickled me for damn near 5 minutes straight?

"Put that in your tickle blog~"

😶🙃💖😭WHY HE BULLY ME /jk /lh

Some days later, i believe during the weekend while at his place, he had left early morning for work and i decided to sleep in. After waking up, I helped his mother make her other sons' halloween costumes (It was really fun! My mother was a tailoress and she taught me how to mend clothes, so doing this with my boyfriend's mother felt like i was doing clothes with my momma again, and it was great 🥰💖 God bless that woman, I love her so much!)

Around mid-afternoon, my boyfriend came home from work, ad we just cuddled for the rest of the day. and once again, my boyfriend's hands started to travel up my sides and he started tickling me once again. And while I was laughing my ass off, he says, and I quote:

"Would you write about this in our tickle blog? Dear tickle blog, today my boyfriend tickled me till i couldn't breathe~"

I HATE TO ADMIT IT BUT HE DID😭😆💖

Yknow the type of laugh that just has your mouth open, nothing coming out but just air (best kind of laughs in my opinion) but yeah, he had me silent laughing.

Cut to a few days later, my boyfriend and I were getting a midnight snack. At first I thought he was being cute by hugging me from behind (how wrong I was😅) ofc he starts tickling me, and idk y but i was just very sensitive that night and I literally crumbled to the kitchen floor, and he followed me down. He sat down on the floor with me between his legs just tickling me.

"Let me gohohoho!" "Nope, I've got you right where I want you."

where we were sitting, we had a clear view of the oven door, and he goes, "Who's that giggly girl? Who is she? Do you know her?"

THE BABY TALK I CANT AHHHH 😆😆💖🥰

After that, he started tickling a part on my upper/inner thigh and oh my God. I was bucking around and laughing like a maniac, and my boyfriend couldn't help but laugh along to. He would stop after a while and ask "Are you okay?" while laughing and then do it again. His grip around me was strong but i was thrashing around a lot. "You almost knocked me off a few times there."

After he finished torturing me, he stood up, looked down at me and grinned, "Put that in your tickle blog"

"You're evil"

"Oh, dont act like you didn't love it"

I couldn't say a word after that, cuz there were no lies detected

Three mornings ago, I'm sleeping over at my boyfriend's place, and me, I like sleeping in (but we had to get up and leave the house within the hour to get to campus) but our classes started late so we had time. This man climbs on top of me and starts tickling me for like 10 minutes straight

"Rise and shine honey" "Come on, laugh for me, baby~" "Who's my tickly girl?"

AHHHHHHH I CANT WITH HIM 💖😆😭

After he finished tickling me, he craddled me in his arms and pulled me in close, hugging and kissing me sweetly.

"You don't know how happy I am that you're ticklish."

"What do you mean?"

"It's my way of giving back to you for all you do to me. I may not always give you pleasure in certain ways, but having you laugh and squirm around in my arms, and cuddle close to my chest... it makes me really happy, because it makes you happy."

WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE HIM 😭💖💖🥰 I LOVE HIM SO MUCH OMGGGG 💖💖🥰😍

And a few days ago, my boyfriend and I had a day out with our families to have them meet (his mother and 2 younger brothers, my father and sister), and everything went along better than expected. Throughout our time out, I had wore a crop top with short shorts and ofc, my boyfriend would sneak in some tickles to my sides every now and again.

After our day out, my boyfriend's mother drove us back to campus. While driving back, my boyfriend wrapped his arm around me and started tickling me; my sides, belly, thighs, behind my knees, neck

AND I COULDN'T MOVE CUZ WE WERE IN A CAR 😭😭😭I WAS LEGIT TRAPPED

But id be lying if i said that wasn't fun. When he finished tickling me, he whispered, "Put that in your tickle blog."

Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh he's never letting me live that down

This was a very long TTS, only because it was covering a plethora of days and crammed it all into one. Stay tuned for another one!

Tagging the fwends: @giggly-squiggily @sunstone-smiles @burningablaze @cutesmokes @otomiyaa

[mariatesstruther]

maria millers’s “whos been cutting your hair” line is so insanely interesting to me because, objectively, it’s an absolutely bonkers and unnecessary question to ask in the context of a literal apocalypse, but she says it so sure and normal. you can tell it actually matters to her so much about whose been cutting this random little girls hair that shes probably been thinking about it for their entire conversation, and then she sets up this cute little salon chair situation instead of just cutting her hair over the trash can. maria puts a towel over ellie’s shoulders and (SO MAD they dont show it) even wets her hair to make sure its all straight and even when it gets cut, which ellie has likely never had anyone do for her before. the woman is also incredibly attentive to her: she realizes by ellie’s lack of response that she likely has zero clue was a district attorney is and immediately puts it into the simplest terms for her. she engages her in genuine conversation super directly, which i think is ESPECIALLY important to point out because a big point of tension for ellie this whole episode is feeling left out of the conversations (unspoken and spoken) that happen between tommy and joel—and maria, as we know from the matching looks on their faces when joel and tommy hug, feels the exact same exclusion.

their entire first meeting scene just goes crazy in that maria is so immediately inclined to help ellie feel as comfortable and normal as she can be at this point. she sees that her coat isnt thick enough for their winter, so she instantly trades for a heavier one. she gets ellie new shoes and double-checks that theyre the right size. she guesses ellie doesnt have access to period products so she gets her some without even knowing for sure if she has one already. she knows from ellie’s negative reaction that she doesnt like to get her hair cut and immediately promises that shes not doing anything drastic, just a trim.

and to bring it back to the that line, cutting your split ends regularly is such small thing, but so so so important for your hair’s growth and health. i think its a great little example of how, over time, everybody has just learned to live without these kinds of small but incredibly meaningful gestures and rituals and habits, like getting their hair cut. and maria mf miller is out here being the one to make sure jackson is a place where people dont have to sacrifice those small and meaningful things because its just her instinct (likely left over from being a mom, just like her affinity for cutting hair)

idk man just thinking about maria miller and ellie miller and the shared experience of post apocalyptic womanhood