#do I…start an Olivia blog?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

When “GIF” was named word of the year in 2012, Oxford Dictionaries U.S.A. credited Tumblr for pushing the word.

#do I…start an Olivia blog??

theerastour · 9 months

Text

finally listening to Guts and omg??? It’s so good? What took me so long??

#Tessa talks #do I…start an Olivia blog??#or is that my impulsive thinking lol

23 notes · View notes

midmourn · 4 months

Text

play the part

PAIRING Lee Donghyuck/Haechan/GN!Reader/Na Jaemin

SUMMARY Haechan’s your boyfriend, but Jaemin’s your best friend. How could he ever compete?

GENRE Angst

CONTENTS Brief mentions of (almost) vomiting, I think the phrase is called emotional cheating, alcohol use, surprise sad ending

WORDS 1,428

LISTENING TO that way by tate mcrae, traitor by olivia rodrigo, high infidelity by taylor swift

NOTE im not writing a part two so please don’t ask, thank you <3 i found this in my google docs so i tweaked it just a tiny bit and i couldn’t find it on my old blog so idk if i ever posted it or not

When Mark finds Haechan, the younger boy is still nursing the drink that he had received from Jaehyun when they first stepped inside the party. “Woah,” he tries to joke, already knowing how his best friend was feeling, “Still drinking that drink? You’d usually be in your fifth one by now. Finally decided to take AA seriously?”

Haechan doesn’t laugh, and Mark’s smile fades, sighing as his shoulders slump. Mark downs the rest of his own drink before setting it aside, not wanting it anymore. Haechan doesn’t look up when Mark sits beside him on the railing of the balcony, “You know, it’s probably not safe for us to be this close to the edge while drinking,” Mark gestures to the ground beneath them.

“I feel like death would be better than life right now,” Haechan murmurs, and even those the words could be taken as a joke, both of them know it’s not. And Mark has a pretty good idea on why that is. Mark follows to where Haechan’s gaze is, finding a group of people sitting around the pool in Jaehyun’s backyard, but Haechan’s eyes were only on two people— a familiar head full of of black and a familiar face.

Jaemin’s arm was thrown around your shoulders, the back of his head facing Mark and Haechan but your face was clear for Haechan to see. The grin on your face was so bright that even Mark’s eyes hurt. He wasn’t close enough to be able to see, but if he was, he was sure that he would’ve been able to see the stars decorating your eyes. Mark remembers when you and Haechan first met, the younger would not shut up about you. Mark knows things about you that he shouldn’t, and that’s because of him.

“They’re just friends,” Mark says, swallowing the lump in his throat for he can’t swallow the empathy swelling up inside of him— knowing exactly how his best friend feels. “You’re their boyfriend.”

“I have the title,” Haechan sighs, tilting his head up to drag his eyes away from the two of you. His glistening eyes stare up at the dark sky, clouds decorating the sky and moving to cover the moon. “But he has their heart.”

“If they had feelings for him, they would break up with you, Hyuck,” Mark tries to reassure him, but even Mark doesn’t believe his own words. He wishes he could help more.

“Not if they knew I’d be heartbroken by it,” Haechan swallows the rest of his drink down, welcoming the burning taste. It couldn’t beat the burning in his heart, though.

“Either way, you’re heartbroken,” Mark argues, shaking his head as he turns to face Haechan. “But if you were over, at least you’d be free to move on.”

Haechan doesn’t respond for a moment, only rolling his shoulders as he looks back down at the group of people again. He licks his lips before saying, “I have the title. That’s enough, right?” When Mark doesn’t respond, he exhales through his nose sharply, “I’m their boyfriend. I love them. That should be enough.”

There’s a painful silence before Mark speaks with an underlying tone of hurt, “Sometimes, it isn’t enough.” He’s starting to wish he had another drink. “Hyuck, you’re going to have to do it if they won’t.”

“Guess I’ll just have to play the part, then,” Haechan says suddenly, pushing himself off the railing and onto the balcony floor.

“What part?” Mark asks, eyebrows furrowing as he turns to him.

“Acting like I’m really stupid,” Haechan smiles, but it’s an empty smile. Mark’s not familiar with it— and he hates it. “And that I have no idea that they’re falling in love with their best friend.”

“How was your day?” Haechan asks, his phone laying on his bed with the speaker on. He’s drying his hair with the t-shirt he had on before he took a shower, staring into his mirror in front of his bed. “Have fun?”

“All I did was sleep and play Among Us with Jisung so,” you giggle and his heart swells at the sound, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, I did have fun.”

“So you’ll play Among Us with Jisung but not me?” He snarks, throwing his shirt into his dirty clothes hamper but you know he’s joking— he’s always joking like that. “Maybe you should date him instead.”

You giggle again, “Jisung is too young—”

“It’s barely two years,” he sits down on his bed, grabbing his phone to go through his photo gallery, almost every single one being of you. “I’ll even tell him for you, that way if you get rejected—” A small smile is on his lips as he stares down at a picture of you and him, visiting your shared lock at the Love Lock of Namsan Tower.

“Hey!”

“— You don’t have to witness it and ugly cry.”

“In this hypothetical situation, even if he said he liked me back, you’d still tell me he rejected me, wouldn’t you?”

Haechan laughs from surprise, sometimes forgetting just how much you know him, “And you’re right, for once. I’d then tell him the text was for someone else to humble him.”

Your laughter is loud and unapologetic, just how he likes it. “Oh, you are so—” You cut yourself off and it’s silent from your side before you start giggling, “Stop it.” His eyebrows furrow, head tilting as he pauses in his scrolling. What had he done? “No! Don’t be like that and don’t you dare—” You start giggling loudly again, shrieking for whoever to stop what they were doing. If you weren’t laughing, he’d have been concerned.

Haechan says your name once but when it’s not heard over your laughter, he frowns and goes back to the call, seeing that he’s not on mute. He says your name again and when no reply, he goes to say your name once more but a familiar voice stops him. His body freezes as his blood goes cold, staring down at his floor when he recognizes the voice.

No one has a voice like Na Jaemin does. And even if there was, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

It’s when even after you stop laughing, and you talk to Jaemin like Haechan still isn’t on the phone with you, is when his heart finally drops like an anchor to the bottom of his stomach. You forgot.

They forgot, they forgot, they forgot, his mind chants back at him.

Haechan doesn’t register when your voice first cuts off, only looking down when he realizes and seeing that the call ended. He doesn’t remember if he ended it or if you remembered and did it yourself. Either way, his heart still hurts. Tears stream down his face as sobs rip out of his chest, with loud, violent sounds. His chest hurts, too. His chest is tightening, and coughs start to cough, each cough getting more violent than the next. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the harsh crying or—

He turns to find a water bottle for him to drink but his vision is blurry from crying and the coughing won’t stop, no matter how much he tries to breathe and calm himself down. The crying doesn’t stop, either. He has a feeling he’s about to throw up and pushes himself off his bed, stumbling to his bathroom with his hands on the walls and door frame so he won’t fall.

It doesn’t work, and he falls on his knees anyway. In only a matter of a few minutes, he’s soaked to the bone and his shirt is wet— his previously dry hair is clinging to his forehead and neck. Bile— he thinks— crawls up his throat and he throws himself to where he knows the toilet is, clinging onto the bathroom sink as it comes up and into the toilet.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he finally comes around, dried tear streaks on his cheeks and his vision is no longer blurry. His breathing is still heavy, but it’s slow and ragged. He’s not coughing or crying anymore. He can’t help but look in the toilet, not even knowing if he really threw up or if it was just his imagination. His breath catches in his throat, the sight of a familiar singular flower floating in the otherwise empty toilet. A light pink Orchid, your favorite flowers. He knows because he gave them to you on your first date.

Haechan isn’t stupid— and the flower only confirms his thoughts.

155 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 20 days

Text

Forced Hand

Casey Novak x reader warnings: language, regular SVU case details talked about/mentioned, anxiety attack. it's a hurt/comfort besties. A combination of requests that were relatively along the same lines so I put it together into one. Welcome back to the blog Ms Novak, we've missed you! If you don't want to miss a thing, sign up for the taglist here! If you like what you read, don't forget to reblog/comment and always feel free to send in your own requests! They're always open!

You worked homicide, you weren’t supposed to be in a courtroom like this, and you certainly weren’t supposed be on the losing side. Your squad had picked up a case that later appeared to be linked to a string of open cases over at SVU and your captains insisted on working together. A few extra sets of eyes were always a good thing, a fresh perspective on the situation, they said.

What they hadn’t been able to prep you for was the viciousness of the case, and the fact that three of the victims were still alive. The crime scenes had been brutal and you were honestly shocked that anyone had survived through it, you’d been rattled to your core to discover your victims were all girls under the age of twelve. Girls who you had to watch be treated for shock on top of their injuries before retraumatizing them all over again with questioning to get their full stories, children who you then had to spend hours prepping for the brutality of a trial like this.

You were typically good with kids; Casey knew that which was one of the reasons she’d chosen you along with Benson to help her prep everyone. She watched with pride as you were able to break things down from confusing legal terms to something the girls could understand, how soft you were with them, how cautious you were how well you worked with Olivia in reminding them how strong and brave they were for doing this, and that the bad guy couldn’t hurt them anymore.

She also watched how that strong, encouraging façade would drop the moment you stepped into your shared apartment, weariness and exhaustion taking over your features and you turned down dinner and attempted to wash the day away in a too hot shower. You’d eventually reappear a couple of hours later in a pair of sweats and her worn Harvard tee, silently cuddling up to her side on the couch and she’d pass off her glass of scotch for you to finish. She’d put her work away, wrapping it up neatly so you wouldn’t have to see any of the crime scene photos again, urging you to lean into her embrace, pressing soft kisses to your skin and the top of your head until your stomach would let out a growl you’d finally submit to ordering some take out. You never said a word about it, and Casey never once pried or poked around until you said something, she let you go about your day, happy when she would catch you smiling or laughing with someone and she would always make sure she was ready and available for extra cuddles and wordless encouragement. She knew you were struggling, but that you were also handling it, and doing so in your own way, the case was close enough to over that you’d be able to breathe freely again in a matter of days.

However things were looking bleaker and bleaker as the trial strung along. The girls were strong on the stand for Casey, answering properly, detailing what they needed to, not matter how hard it was. When Casey turned around to take her seat again she caught your eye in the gallery and felt her heart tug at the tears shimmering in your eyes and the pain written across your face. What she missed was that pain turning into absolute outrage as the defence attorney started their cross and tore into all three of the victims like he was the devil. He twisted things around, barked out questions too quickly, stepped too close to the witness box, doing everything he could to get at least one person on the jury to side with him. And every motion he made broke down those poor little girls and their families even more. And you right along with them.

Casey lost you at lunch, no clue where you had ran off to when you weren’t in her office when she got there. Still, she knew you’d be there for the verdict, so she grabbed an extra coffee on her way back, deciding to go in the side door to avoid the press. She jumped a puddle as she crossed the street, cursing that she’d left her umbrella in her office, thinking the rain was done for the day. Dodging rain drops she finally rounded the bend to the side door and found you leaning up against the wall, staring down at your feet until you heard her voice.

“It’s raining, you should be inside.” She commented.

“I’m fine.” You replied, and her eyes caught the movement of your hand, hiding it behind your back and she realized you’d snuck out for a smoke.

“Okay.” She stepped up to you, kissing your cheek softly, “don’t get too cold.” She passed off the coffee and you took it from her with a small smile.

“Thanks.”

Her finger curled under your chin so she could catch your eye, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You mustered up a small smile, letting her kiss you softly before she disappeared inside.

Finishing your smoke, you stubbed it out with your toe and took a heavy breath, the last thing in the world you wanted to do right now was go back into that courtroom. You didn’t want to know the outcome, wanted to walk away from this forever and pretend it never happened. But you knew that those families were depending on you and your squads to help get them through it, to be the backbone when the verdict was read and help them figure out what their next steps were. There was a reason you preferred homicide.

The surefire grin on the perp’s face was the first tell, how casually he was talking with his lawyer, the nearly awkward, slightly guilty look on the faces of half the jury was the second, the way Casey’s hand tightened around her pen as she chewed on her lip, her jaw tightening was the last. You felt the burning in your stomach start to creep up your throat, your hands shoved into your pockets so no one would see them shaking as the verdict was read.

“Not guilty on all counts.”

Your ears were ringing, you couldn’t hear yourself think much less the commotion in the courtroom, the scared and confused questions coming from the girls as their parents scrambled to try and figure out any kind of an answer. Your vision was nearly blurring and this time it wasn’t from the tears, everything about this was wrong, it was more than wrong and it was disgusting. Someone grabbed your hand and it was as if you had been clapped on the ears and you could suddenly hear the cries of the girl beside you, the terror written across her tiny features as she looked up at you for an answer. You barely heard yourself when you spoke,

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Your chest was suddenly tight, squeezing all the air out of your lungs as pictures from the case began to invade your brain, memories collaborating with imagination, making everything even worse. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening but you knew you couldn’t let it happen in this courtroom.

When Casey heard the door heavily drop shut she instantly knew it was you leaving and her heart dropped into her stomach. A glance over her shoulder confirmed her theories, catching Liv’s gaze with an incredibly apologetic look in her eyes, the brunette nodded, her way of saying ‘I know you did everything you could’ before her head tilted in the direction of the door. ‘I’ve got this, go get your girl.’ Casey didn’t even bother to give the defence the privilege of a glance as she packed up her things and slipped from the courtroom. Unsure on whether you would still be in the building or not she headed toward the side exit, knowing there was a fairly unused bathroom over there that was still close enough to the part you’d been in. She heard the flush of the toilet through the door, the sound of the tap running as she pushed it open, catching you rinsing out your mouth, splashing cold water over your face as you struggled to catch your breath.

You barely even noticed someone else in the bathroom with you, your vision still tunnelling and filled with gruesome, bloody images and the faces of those poor girls while they told their horrible stories. Wiping the water off your face you took a heaving breath, it still felt like there was a cinder block resting on your chest and as much as throwing up had helped, there was stomach acid creeping up your throat, making it burn even worse. Your brain started to race, remembering all the things you’d said alongside Olivia to the girls, encouraging them that it would all be okay, that you’d caught the bad guy, now you were going to put him away. That their nightmares would eventually stop, they wouldn’t have to be scared anymore because he would be in prison, the promises you’d made them, every single one of them turning out to be empty.

“Oh god….” It came out as a half choked sob and you turned toward the window, bracing your hands on the sill as the heavy cries started to spill from deep within you, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

“Hey…” Casey’s soft voice didn’t manage to break through your conscious, but you felt the welcomed coolness of her hand between your shoulder blades and you shuddered, “it’s not your fault.” Her hand began to rub slow circles, “you worked your ass off and did everything you could.”

You tried to form even a single word but you couldn’t find your voice, another choked sob escaping your lips as you started to hyperventilate, completely unable to get enough air into your lungs, feeling even more like you were drowning.

“Whoa, whoa…” Casey’s arms cautiously wrapped around you, “c’mere.” She pulled you flush to her, frowning at the feeling of your heart pounding against your ribs and just how hot your skin was to her touch.

You didn’t struggle, but you protested a little bit, your hands pushing against her arms until she grabbed your wrists in one of her hands, restraining you as she leant forward, pushing open the window as far as she could. You let out a cry, not wanting to be forced to be still but the sudden woosh of cold air was a refuge to your burning lungs and your breath shuddered as you finally collapsed against Casey. Your eyes finally cracked open, tears continuing to trail over your cheeks as the cool breeze ghosted over your skin. You could feel Casey’s heart strumming against your back, slow and steady, a stark difference to yours pounding in your chest, her breath was cool on the side of your neck, breathing calm and even. Her chest rising and lowering slowly, and you were able to slowly match her breathing, calming yourself down and you felt like you could finally breathe again, sniffling as you relaxed in her arms.

“I’m sorry…” you finally whimpered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, “you did your job.”

“I’m not strong enough.” You admitted with another soft cry, finally letting yourself turn around when Casey stepped away to grab a tissue. You took it from her but dropped against the wall, staring down at your shoes. “I can’t do this. I’m not good enough for it, I disappointed so many people today. I’m a complete failure.”

Casey’s hand found your cheek, wiping away your tears as she stepped back toward you, “you’ve been completely out of your comfort zone for almost a month, there’s nothing wrong with that, but you are not a failure.”

You dared a glance up at her, unsurprised at the complete empathetic expression on her face, “how do you do this every day?”

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’ve cried in my office.”

“Case…” Your voice softened as the tears finally came to a stop.

“I know how incredibly hard sex crimes is, I didn’t want to be bringing that home to you every day.” She leant in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “you see enough brutalization over at homicide, I don’t need you getting SVU’s baggage too.”

“I am never going to forget the look on that girl’s face….” You were almost talking to yourself, staring off into the distance and Casey’s thumb and forefinger curled around your chin, redirecting your gaze to her face.

“You will.” She assured, “and it is because you are strong, and you are strong enough. Do you know how I know why?” You shook your head, “because I see the cases that you bring home, the trials you’ve sat through, the amount of times you’ve taken down a perp, dismantled a defence attorney during a cross. You’re not used to living victims, and that is completely okay. Days like today will absolutely rip you to shreds and make you think that you aren’t cut out for it, but you’re going to wipe these tears, keep that pretty little chin up and come out even stronger on the other side. Okay?”

You nodded meekly, trying to hold back any remaining tears as Casey wrapped her arms tightly around you, tucking you into the crook of her shoulder as you finally relaxed into the embrace. She held you for as long as you needed, leaving tender kisses on the top of your hair and your temple, hands soothingly rubbing up and down your back.

“You’re incredible baby, don’t even forget that.” She murmured, “you were forced to try your hand at a new thing and now we know it’s not for you. You’re still an incredible rockstar when it comes to homicide and come Monday that’s what you get to go back to doing. Promise me you won’t let this drag you down too long?”

She pulled away from the hug, her hand brushing a piece of your mussed up hair behind your ear before caressing down the side of your cheek and she left a kiss on the tip of your nose, waiting for a response. You took a breath, finally feeling calmed down enough to feel human again when you finally looked up at her.

“Only if you promise to not keep everything bottled up and to yourself anymore.” You offered and her brow furrowed, “I know you Casey, you wear your heart on your sleeve, someone like you, doing something like this every day? That can’t be easy, I don’t need to know all the details but I don’t want you doing it alone. You shouldn’t have to cry alone in your office when you can come home and cry over a pint of ice cream with some extra cuddles.”

“Okay.” Casey let out a tiny laugh, her lips curving up into a grin, a warmth soothing through her at the sight of smile finally on your cheeks. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Her arm wound around your shoulders, “now how about we get out of here? A pint of ice cream sounds pretty fucking good right now.”

“And pizza?” You asked, looking up at her with a pout and puppy dog eyes and she chuckled again, kissing the tip of your nose.

“The perfect combo. But that doesn’t answer what Disney movie we’re going to watch to forget about today.”

“Mmm…” you tugged your lip into your mouth as you thought, “Emperors New Groove?”

“That… sounds amazing.” She smiled at you, “you ready to go home?”

“Yeah.” You replied with a soft sigh, leaning into her side for a moment before her hand trailed down your arm, linking your fingers with her own and you were finally ready to leave the bathroom. “Casey?”

“Yeah baby?” She glanced back at you, nothing but adoration pouring from her eyes.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

____________

@bisexualcrowley @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @wannabe-fic-reader @altsvu @disneyfan624 @svulife-rl @svushots @mysticfalls01 @bumblebear30 @solemnnova @infernumlilith @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @thestarrynightslover @lawandorderuswnt @ex-uallyactive @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @dxtery @poisonedcrowns @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @clarawatson @mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @yeeterthek33per @brooklynmhm @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @7thavenger @augustvandyne @msvenablesbitch @happenstnces @valentinesfrog @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @riveramorylunar @irishavengersassemble @kmc1989 @holycrapraewth @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy @chimnlex @nilaues @borinxnovak

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #forced hand #law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #casey novak fanfic #casey novak hurt comfort #casey novak x you

101 notes · View notes

dreampenned · 11 days

Text

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

73 notes · View notes

katz-chow · 10 months

Note

Coming from puff puffs blog 🤧🤥 hope you don't mind 😝🙈🙉 ur also totally gaining a new follower..

WHAT ARE YOUR HEADCANONS ON SOAP? 🥰🥰🥰 unless you've already done this before then I am so sorry 😓

relationship with soap headcanons

warnings: sfw, fluff, some angst, relationship arguments, family trauma mentioned, religious trauma, homophobia, bad dad

a/n: my fav cod man is soap so this took my top priority!!! i think about this man a lot, 09 and reboot version. reboot is my fav though, realistically, he's who i would actually get with. here’s all the things i’ve thought about him, there’s probably more tbh… OK OK HERE :))

childhood hcs

johnny soap mactavish comes from a large family of 5 siblings, he's the second oldest. it's elsie, him, blair, callum, and olivia.

growing up in a family of mainly girls got him on that respect women juice. he would always have to make sure his younger siblings are ok and aren't you know, being bullied. his parents were adamant on 2 year age gaps between them all.

his cousin, jack, was an sas operator and that was what made him want to join. they had to call security forces to arrest him out at some point because he kept sneaking in to watch them do stuff lol

elsie left for uni with her bf to live in soho when johnny was 16, the same year he would talk to recruiters around his hometown, driving hours and then getting rejected the same day due to his age

9th grade (year 10) chemistry got him obsessed with stem and its *explosive* results. he aced chemistry and then took advanced chemistry and physics just because he loved it so much

after this, as soon as he turned 18, he went to sign his papers THEN graduated school (he's just like me fr). his mom was so worried for him, especially when her sister told her about the danger that jack would get himself into. in the end, he promised he'll always call her and his siblings

his dad's an ass, hes an alcoholic, a cheater, a *bitch*... he would always take the kids to church on sundays and twisted the religion into a reason for his behavior. claiming that johnny's mom being at home was just "their culture"

she makes a killer shepherd's pie though

always had had some sort of love-hate relationship with the catholic faith. on one hand, it was nice to know there's always at least someone watching out for him, but after hearing the constant belittlement from his father, claiming he wasn't "manly enough" for not willing to give his life up in the service, he started to resent the “all merciful”.

he ended up blaming god for all his faults, letting him take accountability. this especially happened when he got diagnosed with adhd when he was 17, his dad didn’t believe in mental health. his mom was only a bit better about it, they both refused meds for him.

he's bisexual, leans towards women though. found this out after a truth or dare game in junior year (year 12) and some beers in a closet

at one point, callum acccidently let it slip at dinner when johnny had first moved out that he had met a cute guy and their dad screamed and yelled at the whole family, especially their mom, about "raising a fucking whore of a son, dragging the family down to shite"

blair called and told johnny a few days later and johnny rushed his work as quickly as possible and begged his chain of command for a few days off to go back home to his family

his family gets loud…like really loud. there’s 7 people what do you expect?

it gets especially bad when it’s sunday morning and you gotta get 7 people awake and looking their church best for an hour and a half 😔

johnny is the quickest everything there is, which has its downsides too. he could run and swim the fastest in the family, but he was also the quickest eater…meaning he’s on dish washing duty. he’s quick at that too so by the time everyone’s finished, he’s washed all the other dishes that took to make dinner

broke his arm chasing a cat through someone’s yard (he was 14)

had a goat scream and kicked him because he wanted to give it a hug

he got a part time job at a local bakery in 10th grade (year 11). the pay wasn’t much but neither was the work really. olivia, who was 9 at the time, made him promise that he’ll get her a doll to have tea with. her tea set had 4 cups but only one of her, so she must get another one to join her! he kept his promise; he ended up getting three dolls for her

he can make amazing soda bread and brioche loafs now too, still keeps a starter from the owner of the bakery to this day

he had a mountain bicycle that he would take everywhere. had room behind his seat for packages and his backpack, which he would tie down. that thing had such a loud bell too, would ring constantly to “let people know hes coming and get ready”

was terrified of selkies for some reason, always had the window closed and made callum sleep by it while he slept by the door

wasn’t much of a troublemaker, but would get into trouble with his adventurous heart.

got lost in the woods once and after a while of fake courage, he sat down and cried until elsie found him. he was 20 yards (13 meters) away from the clearing 😭😭

laugh at that guys, mf was 15

personality & relationship hcs

johnny is such a fun lover. he’s handsome yeah, but what makes ppl flaunt over him is his humor. he’s what jessica rabbit said “he makes me laugh”

such a charismatic and charming person, gets it from his dad. he could talk about just about anything, also the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store. then end up with their number and a date or helping them dog sit

this isn’t always a good thing though, one time before he was medicated, he would talk on and on, his story becoming incoherent due to the amount of self-interruptions he made, that a group of guys got so annoyed at that pub, they punched him.

he was young, 19, and couldn’t fight, so he didn’t win and came back to the barracks with a nasty black eye

he likes to be the big spoon, has to hold something in order to sleep

feel like he’s the type to wrap his arms around a pillow and lay on his stomach to sleep

speaking of sleeping, he HATES sleeping with socks on. he tried it one day and he just shivered at the feel of it, woke up and his socks were missing (he found them under the bed)

i also feel like he sleeps like a log, unmoving once he finds his comfort, i also think it's because he had to sleep in the same bed as his siblings at one point and he didn't want to wake them by moving, so he got accustomed to being a still sleeper

one time he accidentally got into a fight at a bar when a guy kept being misogynistic and was arrested and kept in jail for the whole night until one of his civilian friends bailed him out

johnny's the type to race you in the rain to the car. again, he's quick so he's always ahead of you but then he slips from the rain and ends up all wet and muddy and in the car.

his favorite thing to do is hear you laugh. he'll do anything to hear you laugh.

whenever you're sad, he'll purposely stub his toe or trip down the stairs or make you kiss his "owie" (a papercut) to get you to cheer up. like yeah it hurts like a fucking bitch but seeing you sad hurts more than a silly tumble

number one date event is city exploring and hopping. like cafe hopping, pub hopping, museum hopping, restaurant hopping, anything that makes you get up and get going with time to sit and chill at the same time.

feels like he can eat a lot, he's the type to eat your food if you end up not liking it or being too full

when he gets home from missions and the initial excitement of seeing you dies down, he also dies down and nap for hours until it's the middle of the night and he gets up to eat something.

he loves naps. feels like he needs a nap time every day if it was possible

he's a very kind lover, he's easy going so its not hard that sometimes people take advantage of this and push his buttons until he can't take it anymore

causes a huge blowup because he can have a nasty temper whenever he bottles stuff up and pushes things aside

not a physical manifestation of anger, but definitely a verbal anger, will say things he doesn't really mean just to say it and realize right after the words leave his lips that he fucked up

but he'll stake out in front of the guest bedroom in which you've locked yourself in until you come out and he gets the chance to forgive you

the type to stand in the rain and hold a sign saying sorry right outside your window, a very cheesy romcom style (gaz made him watch them)

he loves you more than anything and loves you even more than you can keep up with him and laugh at his jokes, no matter how awful they are

he wants 4 kids by the way

180 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 6 months

Text

Santa Claus has been (George Russell)

A sneak peek into Christmas in the Russell household

Note: english is not my first language. Before New Year comes around, let me get the holidays is somewhat of an order!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Do we have all the supplies we need?", George questioned as Arthur set the glue down, "yes, we're ready, daddy! Can you help me make sure I'm writing it correctly, please?", the little boy asked. While Olivia was fine to write on her own, Arthur had started second grade a couple of months before, and sometimes he still had a little slip here and there.

" 'Dear Santa, my name is Olivia Russell, and this year I have been a good girl. I have always helped mummy and daddy around the house, and I only hurt my brother, Arthur, once and it was an accident because I didn't think I was that strong when I threw the ball at him. ' Do you think that's good, daddy?", your daughter wondered, wanting to know her father's opinion.

"That's good, darling. Now you go on to tell him what you'd like to get from him", George praised, turning his attention back to Arthur's letter, "That's good, well done! Just this one here, it's two 's' and not just one", he pointed to the spot in the paper.

"Are you and mummy also writing a letter for Santa?", Olivia asked once she was finished, hands already holding glue and glitter as she bedazzled her letter, "Me and mummy got eachother a gift and that was it, we have everyhting we need already", George said as he kissed both of their heads, "but I do think Santa is bringing something for mummy as well, but it's a secret between me and him, so you guys can't tell her!", he mused.

"Do you think he knows we're coming?", Arthur wondered as you walked along the Christmas themed park.

"Of course he does, daddy spoke to him, didn't you?", Olivia reasoned back with her brother, "he told us he knew him because he spoke to him!".

"Does daddy know Santa, hm? I didn't know that!", you looked at your husband, quizzical look as you silently wondered where the kids got the idea.

"Daddy knows a lot of people, don't I?", George urged as they walked, winking at you as you made sure you didn't lose anyone in the sea of people, missing the way Olivia apologetically looked at her father, whispering "sorry, daddy!", as she realised she nearly outed her father's secret.

"The line isn't that long", you commented, seeing three families in front of you, "I have your letters here", you fished them out of your bag, handing them to each kid who held onto them.

"Do you think he'll remember us from last year?", Arthur wondered, "well, you two have grown a lot, maybe he'll have some trouble first", you reasoned, not sure what to say and knowing the kids would ask the person in the red and white costume.

"You guys are next!", a young woman dressed in her elf costume clapped, "do you have your letters ready?", she added.

"Merry Christmas! Oh, look at you! What are your names?", the old man in costume asked as he received them inside his house.

"I'm Arthur", your son said, sitting in the bench as his sister followed, "and I'm Olivia!", your daughter cheered, "and that's mummy Y/N and daddy George!", she introduced. "We wanted to bring Maya and Winston", Arthur explained, "but mummy and daddy said that they could get scared so they stayed home, but they're out family too!".

"Do not worry, my friends, I will make sure I leave something for them when I go by your house, I'm sure they've been good this year too", the man winked, gathering them so they could take a picture and talk a little about what they wanted for Christmas.

Leaving things for Santa

"So, we have cookies we baked, a glass of milk if he's thirsty, and then some carrots for the reindeer!", Arthur said, checking if nothing was missing for your visitors.

"Now we have to go to bed, or else Santa won't stop here!", Olivia said, putting a few extra cookies in the plate.

After putting the kids to bed, you and George began to work on your plan. Grabbing the boots, you sprayed them with oil and then dunk the sole in flour, attempting your best to create footsteps, "it's not snowing outside though", George pointed out, wiping the remnants of flour in hopes of making it realistic enough, "Lapland has snow and he still had some on his feet", you shrugged, continuing your task while he filled the stockings and put the big presents under the tree.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, a tiny thought came to your mind, "love?", you called, checking if your husband was still awake.

"Yes?", he acknowledged your call, "I wrapped all of the presents with the same wrapping paper. Which means our presents on the stocking and the presents from Santa Claus are going to be wrapped in the same paper. And we have very observant children!", you hissed.

"We'll just say that Santa's Elves and daddy and mummy have the same taste", George cuddled you, rubbing his lips on your forehead, "sleep, darling, you and I both know we'll need it as much as we can".

You slept for about four, five hours, you guessed until you were woken up by footsteps.

"I heard the door, they're coming here", you groaned into your pillow, feeling George's arm around your waist squeezing you closer to his body, "you're just listening things, darling", he replied.

"Oh yes? Why did you wake up too, then?", you snickered, looking the moonlight peaking through the curtains, "the sun is not even out, George, my goodness", you muttered, snuggling further into your husband as you heard the door open, "Winston can't do that", you grumbled, "neither can Maya", George reasoned with you, making you both groan in unison, "it's the kids".

"Mummy, Daddy", Arthur was the first to speak, "we think Santa has been already, we heard his footsteps on the roof!", Olivia said as she climbed in bed with you, "can we go and see? Please!".

"Don't you guys want to wait a little bit? Warm up in bed with us?", you attempted, hearing the huff from both kids, "we really want to go, mummy, please! We can sleep later!", Olivia reasoned.

Getting up and grabbing a fluffy robe, you and George followed the kids, seeing the grey cat look at you weirdly, "they probably just heard you, Winston, there isn't actually someone else in the house", you petted him as he followed you to the living room, seeing Maya at the corner of your eye who huffed, not understanding why her humans were up that early.

"You can go to sleep, Maya, although they're probably going to start squealing soon", George petted her caramel fur.

"HE HAS BEEN! LOOK, OLIVIA! He ate all the cookies, and the carrot is bitten!", you heard your son excitedly say as he looked for his presents with his sister's help.

"It's your genetics that make them get up this early, I think I'm still asleep", you murmured against your husband's clothed chest, hugging his waist as they unwrapped and gasped at what they got, "my genetics also make them incredibly cute, along with your genetics that make them irresistible, so that's how we do this", George kissed the top of your head.

"Mummy! Santa thought you were a good girl this year, too, look! You have a big present!", Olivia said, "Oh, I'm the best girl, specially for being up at this hour!", you chuckled.

#george russell imagine #george russell fanfic #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

88 notes · View notes

chaotic-mystery · 9 months

Text

Traitor | J.M.

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x reader!

Summary: This was a request I had received by @livingdeadmaria awhile ago and I finally got out of my funk to write! It’s based on the song Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo.

Word count: 1.3K || Warnings: angst. Angst and drinking and more angst. || notif blog for updates ||

You cleared your voice and took a deep breath, preparing for whatever was about to fall out of your mouth while the phone rang on the other end. Two rings and it went to voicemail but that didn’t surprise you. “Hey…I um… I know it’s late but I had to get some stuff off my chest. You always said I could call..if I needed you.” You sat in silence for a few seconds before you fiddled with your finger against your leg, questioning if you should even say anything. “D-do you remember how you used to read me sections of your book so I’d fall asleep faster because you said something about how sleep is important and I need it for my brain to stay sharp? Not sleeping so great these days to be honest with you..I remember you’d call me sweet pea and tell me to get comfy, it’s a long chapter. So I’d tuck myself next to you and you’d read for hours, even after I was asleep.” Your voice faded on the last bit of the sentence, your hand that was tucked into your coat pocket twirling a loose thread.

“I tried one of those audio books of some story to help me sleep but it didn’t work, she didn’t give the story enough of a monotone like you did. So then I tried music to help me fall asleep. I found out I love piano covers of songs. There’s one song though that could never be covered and that would be the one you showed me-” your voice cracked a little, the sting hitting your throat. “And I Love You So by Perry Como. That’s a good one to sleep to…has a lot of memories tied to it.”

The wind nipped at the tip of your nose and you sighed lightly, the puff of air disappearing in front of you. He showed you that song on the old radio he had tucked away in a shelf in his living room after you looked over his music collection he built over the years. He grabbed your hands and begged you to dance with him just until the song was over. As the short memory faded back into your mind and you were in the present, you stood up from the bench and finally walked inside your home. Taking off your coat and boots while your phone still squished against your cheek, you sniffled slightly.

“I heard that song today for the first time in a few weeks and it made me think of you. Took it as a sign to reach out. But then…I uh-” Hesitation overcame your voice before you continued.

“I saw you downtown earlier. Finally went to that winter festival thing they put on every year, the one I used to beg you to go with me to. Man, that was like pulling teeth with you, Joel.” It was. He said the lights and all the cheerful faces and overpriced hot chocolate wasn’t his thing. Of course you wanted to go anyway and you did go, alone.

“I was going to come up and tell you hi, see how you were…but then I noticed you with someone. Funny enough she looked like the one person you said you’d never date.” Your breath hitched and you made your way to the fridge to grab that bottle of wine you bought earlier to pour yourself a glass. You chugged down the first one and poured a second one before continuing the one sided conversation. The anger started to build up inside of you once more, completely taking over the good memories you had with him.

“I begged for you to tell me you had feelings for her, Joel. You always swore to me you didn’t, that I was paranoid for caring so much. Were you lying to me all those times I asked you anything about her? You didn’t even want to hold my hand in front of her towards the end of our relationship…why is that? I never said a word about what I actually thought was going on, just so you’d stay. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I played stupid you'd be happy with that and still stick with me. I loved you through everything, including your worst. Remember when you were terrified of me seeing you at your worst and you thought I’d leave? Never once did I do that, Joel. I stayed through all the bullshit you put me through, tried to help you be the best version of yourself that you could be. I showed you what love was again. You were the one who told me you couldn’t fall for someone after Sarah’s mom left and yet I stuck around. For you and for Sarah. You left me during my worst. Was I that shitty of a person to you that you didn't care about my feelings at all and thought the best thing to do would be to leave in the middle of the night after a fight?"

“Baby cmon I told you nothin’ is going on. She’s just a friend from years ago, I never had those feelings for her.” Joel followed you into your bedroom as you started to pack your stuff in a duffle bag, cleaning out the drawer he gave you in his dresser. “Baby, stop…just listen to me.” His hands grabbed your wrists and shook the clothes from your clutch, pulling you into his chest. Warm tears fell against his shirt and you broke down finally. All the pent up anger and sadness you had spilled onto the fabric against your cheek while Joel’s hand smoothed over your hair. “You’re my girl, okay? What can I do to make you trust me that she’s just a friend?” “Tell me you’ll never date her if we ever break up. I need to hear you say it.” The idea flopped out of your mouth before thinking it over but it was already out and in his ears. Joel just nodded and gave you a soft smile. “You have my word, I won’t date her if we break up. Which we won’t.” He kissed the top of your head and hugged you once more, his words still feeling a little empty.

That was a month before he broke up with you.

You downed the rest of the glass of wine and sighed, wiping the tears away from your cheeks. “I wish you would’ve thought this through before letting me fall in love with you, Joel. I really do. You betrayed me. You told me-” You choked out a sob and swallowed hard, “you told me you wouldn’t date her and you lied to me. How could you do this to me? Joel..we were together for two years and you left me when the going got tough…you ran right to her. Did anything we did matter to you?” With the tears clouding your vision, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. “I hope you feel good about yourself, I really do. While she’s sleeping in the bed we made, I hope you replay this voicemail in your head and remember everything I said. I wish you’d call me after this to try to apologize for hurting me even more but I know you won’t. You’ll never be sorry for hurting me this bad and I think that’s what kills me so much. I know how kind you can be but it seems I’m not lucky enough to get that anymore. Thank you so much for making this heartbreak so much easier to get over. Just know that I always loved you and I would’ve never hurt you like this, you fucking traitor.” — Joel’s POV

He sighed and looked at the phone screen, the voicemail ending and the screen dimming out. His girlfriend woke up behind him in bed, rolled over and hooked her arm into his, “What’re you doing baby?” She asked tiredly but didn’t sit up to see his phone. Joel coughed and took a deep sigh before deleting the voicemail from his phone.

“Nothin’ sweet pea. Go back to sleep.”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller pedro pascal #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller angst #traitor by Olivia Rodrigo

133 notes · View notes

jewishbarbies · 1 month

Note

Bitch, YOU ARE AN ABUSER.

This is so true. I have been saying it to the other anti blogs. When I saw that she called her ttpd set, 'female rage' obviously to get a dip on the impact of Paris Paloma's song, Labour, which is completely fucking different from her rage because she IS a fucking ABUSER! It actually makes me so angry too. Paris created a song that every fucking woman can relate to from all backgrounds, ethnicity, race but here comes this fucking imbecile of a white woman taking the moment for her own because she is the insufferable billionaire woman. That song is NOT talking about abusive women! Fucking hell! She's also obviously taking a bite of the 'female rage' that is all about Olivia Rodrigo's second album. She comes up with these words to get the power from where it should be and being dramatic about her lunacy! I'm fucking tired!

taylor is a culture vulture. the second something starts being popular, she descends on it to make it all about her, and finds any way possible to make money from it. she wouldn’t know female rage if it walked up and punched her in the mouth. if anyone should be singing labour, it’s joe after having to deal with her. but Paris even talks about how she based the song on the experiences of women in history but also heavily on the experiences of women of color throughout history and that’s such an important part that I think a lot of women using the song overlook/don’t know. yes, women have all had it hard. but women of color and women further oppressed because of their minority group had so much more shit to deal with and for much LONGER than white women. it’s just another thing taylor will never be able to understand. she grew up upper middle class in a rich, white neighborhood where mommy and daddy bought her a career and paid to make it happen until they 100% ensured she’d be a millionaire to make back their investments. and this bitch wants to sing about doing too much labour. give me a fucking break.

#Asks #anonymoose #anti taylor swift #swifties dni

42 notes · View notes

olivianyx · 4 months

Text

INTRODUCTION ♡

It's Olivia, welcome to my blog! 🤍🤍

I've realised that I haven't yet introduced myself.

♡ I'm olivia nyx

♡ you can call me olive or nyx

♡ medical student in Sydney University of medicine 👨‍⚕🩺💉

♡ I'm South Asian born in Sydney, Australia 🇦🇺 and raised in Canada 🇨🇦 and currently living in Sydney.

♡ 19 ('04 liner)

♡ wish me happy b'day on September 8

♡ been in the loa community since 2021 (law of attraction since 2020, we all have been in this phase (T_T)) shifting and respawning community since 2022, and non dualism since November 2023

♡ I love animals alot like they know what's humanity than humans ( ͡°Ĺ̯ ͡° )

♡ I'm 5'7" Tall, and pretty curvy though ✌

♡ I do swear alot in my head lol, not outside. Bc if I start to swear in front of people I might get cancelled 💀

⚠️⚠️ Warnings: anti loa/shifters or whoever tf you are, you'll be blocked. Any nonsense hate comments will be reported cus I won't stand any useless drama and stop doing to other users too. I won't entertain any sexual comments, racism, homophobic acts, discrimination, plagiarism or any inappropriate comments except swearing (bc I do, like alot)

♡♡ My masterlist • Anon asks • success stories (coming soon) ♡♡

♡ I do answer all asks, and will take things into consideration what y'all suggest me to, cus we need to keep learning no matter how old we are. But sometimes I won't answer them soon cus I'll be busy with the bitch of my medical school lol, but! I will answer them for sure. So no worries, you can proceed to ask me whatever.

59 notes · View notes

luv-gukkie · 11 months

Text

cherry | 𖦊 : seven

pairing: yandere! park jimin x f. reader, yandere! jung hoseok x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: you’re the cherry on top of everything. the little girl in front of your parents; the gooody two-shoes of your family, friends, and everyone who knows you. so when you’re staring at the two bright, red lines on the pregnancy test. you know you’re fucked, you really do. especially when there’s not only one man, but seven.

word count: +1.3k

tags/warnings: unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap it up guys), a small peek at hoseok liking praises, creampie, squirting, basically stalking/ spying, soft sex?, size difference, jimin cares for reader (too much…), living room sex, hoseok umm…knows stuff~

notes: sorry it took a bit too long :’(

tag list: @bananamochidaisy @mageprincess7 @darkuni63 @princess-sunshyn @redeyezbloodymouth @bxcndd @iloverubberduckiez-blog

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

"seo-jun, nice to see you again." jimin smiles at him, leaning forward in the chair. all seo-jun does is nod at his words before looking around the cafe, a questioning look on his face. "it's to blend in; it's loud enough to cover our conversation and too many people for somebody to notice us." seo-jun gives jimin a thumbs up before opening the menu, eyes widening at the prices for food and drinks. "eat whatever you want, i'll pay." he grins at the quiet man. after jimin orders what they both want to the waiter, he finally starts to talk about you. "so, tell me how is (y/n)? is she all right? has she been," he pauses at the thought of realizing he'll find out the truth, "um, seeing anyone?" seo-jun quickly takes out an ipad from his bag, opening up that file before handing the ipad to an impatient jimin. who looks anxious and sick at the thought of seeing pictures of you with someone else. it makes him wanna throw up but at the same time, he understands that if he wants to keep you to himself, he'll have to do whatever it takes. everything is normal; no sign of you with someone else or anything. you're just living your daily routine. jimin smiles at the pictures where he can see your face clearly, especially the one where you're smiling. seo-jun eyes him in curiosity, questions bundling in his head but he won't ask. jimin was never the type to do this. and he's known jimin for quite some time. so who are you, (y/n)? he wonders. noting the fact that jimin said they were fiancés, yet their situation seemed a bit too different for it to be like that. seo-jun watches the smile falter at one picture, "his name is nolan; he's in one of the same classes as her, he's 19, lives with a roommate in an apartment on-" jimin cuts him off, "yeah, i know him. i don't think i have to wo-", then a sudden memory comes flashing to him. how nolan stared at you all throughout the amusement park. "follow him." he says with a sweet smile that doesn't match with his eyes as the waiter places down their food.

"oh hobi, it my best friend's toothbrush. she stays over sometimes. we have the best sleepovers!" you cheer. hoseok face changes in a quick second,"aww, really? that's nice. so i'm taking she likes the color blue." you nod at his words, eyes switching back to the board game and pretending to think on how to gain another victory. "her name's olivia, right?" you feel your heart stop at the mention of her name coming out of hoseok's mouth. how does he know her? you've never mentioned her at all to hoseok. your body doesn't turn to face him, small sound of agreement to his question. "yeah, did i ever tell you about her?" you ask with a sweet tone that doesn't make hoseok suspect a single thing. "yeah, a while back though." he responds, lying to you. where does he know her from? you don't notice how hoseok walks right behind you, too deep in thought that it scares you when he kisses your ear. "how about we both take the victory for tonight?"

his question goes unanswered when he kisses you and lifts you up. your legs wrap around his waist as he takes you to the couch in your living room. your mind is still on the realization that you've never told hoseok about any of your personal things, not your friends or family. so how does he know olivia? your mind finally snaps when your underwear is being tugged off you, his hands caressing your legs as they slide off. "gosh, you're so pretty." his brown eyes stare down at you with that beautiful smile that, somehow, always makes your heart flutter. he kisses you on your forehead and then lips gently, before spreading your legs apart. hoseok grunts as he views your cunt, all wet for him. hoseok kisses your clit softly, before, without warning, furiously sucking on it. you moan at the feeling. your eyes roll to the back of your head after his tongue dips into your pussy. your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping his hair into a tight fist. hoseok continues to fuck your hole with his tongue, impatient to have your sweet essence down his throat. it has your back arching when he suddenly goes at a quicker pace.

"hobi!" you moan out as you cum on his tongue. he slurps every drop, ignoring your tugs of his hair when you try to push him because of how sensitive you are. his chin is dripping wet, but all he does is kiss you while his hands push his boxers and pants down. his tongue fighting dominance with your own, until he finally wins. hoseok makes sure you feel his cock at your entrance. he rubs it along with your slit and teases your hole with his tip. he snickers when you whine at him, "please hobi!" but he doesn't listen. you've finally had enough for of his little teases. you push your hips downwards and your hand grabs his cock before lining it up with your entrance and forcing it in. the both of you moan in pleasure, "such a feisty girl." he chuckles at your movements. his hips start moving and hitting your own with a hard pace, you're for sure that you'll bruise. it's something that can't happen, not when you might see seokjin or taehyung or any of the men. "ow, hobi!" you cry out a painful moan that convinces him enough to slow down. "shit, i'm sorry." hoseok pecks your forehead, then lips before going to suck your collarbone. you immediately pull him up to kiss his lips. taking one of his hands to touch your clit while his cock pushes past your folds over and over. "fuck, you're so tight." he groans once your lips finally let him go. your saliva covers his lips, and vice versa. you're so close to releasing, hand squeezing hoseok's shoulder while the other scratches his back, leaving a trail of pink.

you're cumming when hoseok hits your g-spot repeatedly. you have such a tight grip on him, he can't stop the moans that leave his lips in a hurry. the cum on his dick only makes it easier for him to move in and out of your cunt. you whisper words of encouragement to him, sweet words of nothing, moaning right next to his ear. you suck on his neck and collarbone, leaving small spots of red surrounded by your lipstick. "gosh hobi," you pant and sob at overstimulation before continuing, "you look so handsome like this, covered with my lipstick; my marks." his eyes roll back at your dirty comment that makes his face heat. hoseok's cum floods your walls, twitching inside of you as he thrusts through his high. he connects both of your hands, not slipping out of you, before bringing you into a hug. "see, it's a win-win." he laughs when you smack his shoulder. "what are you doing over the weekend?" hoseok asks. "i'm going to visit my family. i miss them, more than usual." he coos at your statement, "aww, that's adorable. but i was, uh, kinda hoping i could take you out?" he suggests, but then shakes his head, "maybe sunday?" your mind goes back to namjoon; you were meeting him on saturday and going to visit them on sunday. "i'm gonna be with them the whole weekend, hobi! sorry." he nods at you, "it's all right."

you fall asleep no later in his arms. when it's all quiet and he's sure you're asleep, "i know you're lying to me; olivia's been staying with her family since monday, a place five hours from here. so who's been here, huh, my (y/n)?"

195 notes · View notes

thedvilsinthedetails · 6 months

Text

Heyyyy…

hey im still figuring out what i wanna be called but for now u can call me Jamie if u want I’m genderfluid as fuck [they/she/he or whatever idegafatp]

some typa aroace spectrum probs grayace & demiromantic also omniromantic - in general I have nothing figured out

so a simp w like a slight preference for men ig but kinda ace most of the time but sometimes very not

neurospicy bitch

minor but adults can follow/interact idc tbh

writing request status: OPEN FOR MICROFICS RN

I’m a rosekiller loverrr but also a multi shipper so u never know what ur gonna see ig [but probably Rosekiller, Wolfstar, Dorlene, Starchaser maybe some sunkiller if I’m in the mood etc] for the record just bc I don’t ship smth doesn’t mean I support hating it even as a joke [translation: prongsfoot is chill leave them be]

if u don’t like smth, just ignore it, if u send me hate I’ll reply w shitty jokes probs

my dream job is to be an actor [screen actor specifically]

Media I like:

Fav TV stuff: Challengers, Gravity Falls, Cruella, 10 things I hate about you, into the spiderverse

Fav author is @neil-gaiman also that man is my idol so I’ll probs reblog him a shit ton [do u think he’ll like…mind that I tagged him? Sorry if this bothered u Neil!!!] Music [uhhh changes all the time tbh but for rn]: The Neighbourhood, Olivia Rodrigo, Conan Gray [Kid Krow phase rn], Chappell Roan, Renée Rapp, Green day, Ricky Montgomery, NOAHFINNCE, MARINA and Hozier

Spider-Man. Fucking love Spider-Man.

One thing to note about me tho: obvi I love recommendations but I find starting literally any new forms of media really fucking daunting for no reason [this is everything: songs, movies, books etc]

e.g. I fucking love spider verse but I still haven’t watched movie 2, same w latest season of young royals, same with even like ONE song alone I find it rlly hard and really scary

so if u give me recommendations and I don’t get back to u about them for ages it’s not bc I forgot or i was ignoring u but bc I find it scary so pls be patient :)

also same w please don’t like assume I’m knowledgeable about like any of the music artists I named earlier bc tbh I don’t rlly listen to artists I listen to songs [im still a fan of a lot of music artists ofc but the artists I listen to ≠ the artists I’m a fan of]

HI! welcome to my crazy blog, I love making friends im not at all scary I promise :D

Btw my inbox is ALWAYS open for spam, ship ramblings [even if it’s not smth I ship], info dropping about ur hyperfixations, venting, questions etc. [the only thing is no illegal ships bc it will be ignored] also sorry pre warning im shit with the inbox chains [‘send this to ten people who…’] so often I won’t answer those sorry, anything else I will make sure to answer but the chains I sometimes just forget about sorryyy

Barty Crouch Jr & James Potter kinnie

got a FAT crush on Evan Rosier [he’s the loml he just doesn’t know it yet] and also a crush on Dorcas Meadowes

I write sometimes:

I fell for you like glitter on stage - rosekiller band au, this was a microfic series on tumblr that I posted on ao3 for convenience [words: 4548] [this is my fav thing I’ve ever written lol]

we are all just prisoners here of our own device - Jegulus, a oneshot on ao3 based on the song ‘hotel California’ by the eagles. [Words: 6162]

Oh where do we begin? The rubble or our sins? - ON HIATUS. Roman Empire Jegulus au with side Rosekiller, Wolfstar and Pandalily on ao3 [words: 6141] [currently I don’t want to write Jegulus - the hyperfixation hath faded]

also I’m in a marauders RP as Barty and u shld follow it bc we’re all super cool and funny and amazing and awesome and yeah @bartythebabygorljr

tags you’ll see on my page:

me and my old black biro > writing tag

Im in love with that Rosier boy > [this is a new one] me having a massive crush on Evan Rosier

the most boring soap opera > my life tag

I have an online diary called @miseryoforpheus if ur fascinated by my charming and irresistible personality

my Letterboxd: https://boxd.it/a4nOH

[The song at the bottom of my intro post changes all the time depending on how I’m feeling]

THIS BLOG SUPPORTS PALESTINE

THIS BLOG STANDS WITH UKRAINE

THIS BLOG THINKS JK ROWLING HAS A NEGATIVE QUANTITY OF BRAINCELLS

#intro post #new intro post bc my last one was kind of shitty #rosekiller #marauders #slytherin skittles #Spotify

64 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 month

Text

reading roundup: April 2024

oh my god you guys I've read SO MUCH this month!!! I got BIG into reread N.K. Jemisin's tremendous Broken Earth trilogy and it's been jaw-dropping, and I have been reading a HEAP of comics and manga a

on the extremely off chance there's anyone following me who doesn't think comics, manga, graphic novels, etc don't count as "real reading" lmao lol get out of here??? you're on the Reading 1000s of Pages of Old Batman Comics blog. go feel the whimsy of reading a whole graphic novel in one afternoon and maybe you'll calm down.

ANYWAY!!! what have we been reading?

Earthdivers Vol. 1: Kill Columbus (Stephen Graham Jones, Davide Gianfelice, Joana Lafuente, 2023) - Stephen Graham Jones is one of my all-time favorite authors, and I was super excited to check out his first comic series. Earthdivers takes place in the wasteland of the 22nd century, where four Native survivors have hatched a plan to try to stop the disasters that are killing the world: use a time-travelling cave to send one of their number back in time to kill Columbus before he can launch the colonization of North America. it's a one-way trip, and the time traveler will have to be ruthless to achieve their goal. beyond the attention-grabbing hook of killing Columbus, this story dives (you see what I did there) deep into an exploration of what it means to sacrifice everything for a cause and find the will to be ruthless in pursuit of the greater good. I'm not 100% sure I tracked all of the twisting threads of time travel in this first volume, but the hook is compelling and Gianfelice's art is beautiful, so I'm really looking forward to seeing the series progress!

Spoiler Alert (Olivia Dade, 2020) - at this point I've written 8000+ words about this book on my patreon and it's becoming difficult to figure out what else to say or how to say it briefly. this book ties itself up in knots with its contrivances and makes both of its protagonists look dumb in the process. I don't like either of these people but - spoiler alert! - I still think April can and should do better. Olivia Dade please call me I just want to talk.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 1-3 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Yen Press, 2017) - I don't need to explain Dungeon Meshi. surely you've seen the gifs of Dungeon Meshi. all that matters is that I fucking love Dungeon Meshi, this shit rules and it's going to be so hard to hold off on reading Volume 4 while I try to prioritize some other books first. this world is great, the characters are a delight and a joy, and the way that Kui is so fascinated by the food and biology and exploration of adventurer fantasy tropes in her world makes my brain go wheeeeeeeeee!!! I'm having so much fun.

The Fifth Season (N.K. Jemisin, 2015) - historically I've very seldom reread books, but I'm starting to think that I need to change my stance on that. revisiting the Fifth Season years after I first read it, with the time to really enjoy it and also the maturity and perspective to actually appreciate what Jemisin is cooking, has enhanced the experience immeasurably. a thing that really struck me this time was how artfully Jemisin depicts the way orogenes are conditioned and groomed from the jump to be subservient and scared and willing to settle for life at the margins of society; it's not something that I could totally understand the nuances of when I read this book fresh out of my first year of college. this novel and its sequels are so brilliantly devastating, I cannot say enough great things about them.

My Pancreas Broke, But My Life Got Better (Nagata Kabi, trans. Jocelyne Allen 2022) - I did it, I'm officially caught up on all of Nagata's works that have been translated into English! and man, I'm still worried about her. the experience of reading My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness hasn't quite been replicated for me; I think that was a once in a lifetime event, although I've certainly found a lot that I relate to in Nagata's subsequent struggles to sort of out anxiety, independence, art, and figuring out what kind of relationships she event wants to have in her life. at this point I feel like I'm just reading the illustrated life updates from a friend I haven't seen in a long time who stresses me out because her life is a mess. which is still interesting! but god I hope something good happens to this woman soon.

The Obelisk Gate (N.K. Jemisin, 2016) - The Fifth Season is a book about the end of the world and of one woman's personal apocalypses that happened prior to that. its sequel, the Obelisk Gate, is a book that's extremely preoccupied with the tedium of figuring out how to run a halfway-functioning society in the midst of the apocalypse, which is genuinely fascinating stuff. and it's also a book about the fear and desperation and sheer levels of exhaustion that might drive someone to decide that, fuck it, maybe the world should end and we should be done with all of this, actually. it's also a book about devotion and dependence and destruction and devouring people you love in a VERY literal way, which it must be said is pretty sexy. the stuff that pops off between Essun and Hoa in this book makes me think of Octavia Butler in the best way; I think she would have adored them. I'm so excited to get to the final book and see how this all pays off, because the first time I read it I barely understood a single goddamn thing that was happening.

I Hate This Place Vol. 1-2 (Kyle Starks, Artyom Toplin, Lee Loughridge, 2022-2023) - a short and spooky comic series that wraps up in two tight little volumes. I have some gripes with the pacing, but it makes for a fun afternoon read. a mid-tier streaming service is going to adapt this into a live action series within a couple of years, mark my worms. personally I'm fancasting Mackenzie Davis as Gabby and Samira Wiley as Trudy.

#bookblr #reading updates

29 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

sistersarabrown

I HEART STREET ART with SISTER SARABROWN

reb3lcrew

𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅

teamlychee

TEAM LYCHEE

wiseeaglegoatee

Untitled

crazycritters13

Critters!!✰