Hii❤️could You Do Something With Simon From Twd Where He Babysits Negan's Daughter She's About 5

"Mr. Mechanic" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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Summary (Smut): What was supposed to be a fun field trip for you and Bower's gang turned into standing on the side of the road when the car breaks down. What could possibly happen between you and Patrick on this simple little trip?

Warnings: Vulgar language, oral (male receiving)

A/N: I'm at my breaking point too, Patrick, don't worry. I don't know shit about cars.

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“God, it is so fucking hot. Like, my hypothetical balls are sweating.” You said, sitting on the trunk of Belch’s car while fanning yourself with your hand. 

You and the Bower’s gang were heading towards Buxton, Maine, on a simple field trip. There was a popular street fair happening that you mentioned to the group, and you somehow convinced them all to go.

After much begging, and accidentally giving Patrick a hard-on because of it, you were all able to go. Splitting the hotel bill was easy, since it was your idea, you and Henry decided to split it together.

With his father being the sheriff, it was rather easy to get a discount from him. All you guys needed to do was drive up there and check in.

 So here you five were, on the side of the road because Belch’s car broke down halfway through the trip.

“Fucking piece of shit car.” You heard Henry murmur to your left and you sighed. You were leaning back, kicking your feet off the edge before an idea came to you.

“Hey, Vic?” You stretch out his name in a sing-song way and tilt your head sweetly with a smile, watching him and Patrick look up from their spots on the street curb and squint at you.

“What?” Unfortunately, he doesn’t respond with the same energy.

“You should totally go get the map from the car and find restaurants near here.” Your smile never falls and you playfully bat your eyelashes at him.

Vic looks unimpressed with your supposed flirting skills, and he stands up and walks himself to the car, jumping in and pulling out the map. 

“Thank you, Vic.” You beamed and he let out a sound of acknowledgement. 

To your left, Henry was playing with his switchblade on the trunk with you, a very bored expression on his face. On the curb, Patrick was watching cars speed by and messing with his lighter between his fingers.

You watch his hands as they skillfully flick open the lid, spark a flame, spin it around his slender fingers, close it, and repeat.

It was entrancing. The way the flame would move with his fingers, the way it somehow never got caught on his rings.

You liked it when he played with his lighter because there was just something so hypnotizing about it. 

His fingers had a couple burn scars on them and some normal scars on his pale hands, a couple of calluses. What you liked most though, was how long they were. 

How he had such good control over them, how they seemed to know when to move and how to move. How they would drag against your jaw, down your neck, wrap around your throat. How they would grab at all the right places, how they would pull up your skirts with such ease, how they would pull down your underwear so roughly. How they would tease you, carefully work their way into you, and curl themselves at just the right spot-

“There’s an ice cream shop just up the road.” You jump out of your thoughts and notice how Patrick’s fingers stopped, his blue eyes staring straight into yours with raised brows. Clearing your throat, you look away and turn around to look at Vic.

“Where?”

–

Vic, Patrick, and you all went up to the shop, letting Henry and Belch handle the car. The ice cream place was cold, and it felt amazing to all three of you. After ordering, you guys settled down at a booth to enjoy the air conditioning a little longer. 

“How long d’you think it’s gonna take?” Patrick asked from your right, his left arm strewn across the back of the booth behind your head. 

“A long ass time,” Vic snorted across from you, crossing his arms. His head was leaned back and his eyes were closed. “Belch may love his car, but he doesn’t know shit about it.”

Patrick snickered and looked out the window, watching people pass by the place. You hummed in agreement and watched people walk into the store and order.

It was silent, and the three of you were enjoying it for a bit. That was, until, some old lady got her ice cream and said something to her husband while leaving.

“Poor boy, having to third-wheel a date must be so tough.” She shook her head and her husband nodded.

Vic’s head shot up from its resting position and he stared at them while they left before looking at you two. You covered your mouth to try to hold in your laugh, letting a few giggles escape. Patrick wasn’t, though, and he laid his head on the edge of the table and was shaking and hollering. 

“Yeah, no. We’re fucking leaving.”

–

You three walked back, Vic pouting and walking in front of you the whole time, and were all now sitting somewhere around the car eating your ice cream. Belch was in the front seat eating rocky road, and Henry was on the trunk again eating vanilla. Vic was laying across the back seats and eating strawberry, and you and Patrick were both on the curb, him eating mint chocolate chip and you eating chocolate chip cookie dough. 

The both of you watched as a van sped past you, and you barely got to see the logo on its side.

“MARGO’S JUNK CARS”

Your eyebrows furrowed as a memory of Patrick telling you something crossed your mind. You gasped and swiftly turned your head to look at him, your left hand grabbing his bicep. He was already looking at you, a confused look on his face.

“Patrick Hockstetter!” You hissed quietly at him, “You know how to fix junk cars!”

He licked his lips before the corners curled up. “Mhm hm.”

“So fix the fucking car!” Disbelievement crossed your eyes and you scoffed.

Months ago, you and him were getting high in your basement when you had wanted to play ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’ It was his turn, and he gave you your choices. 

–

“There’s something in the forest nobody knows about but me. I lost my virginity at 12, and when I have nothing to do in my day, I work on cars.”

“Hmm. This is hard.”

“Yup.”

“Woah, wait. You, mister, lost your virginity at 11.”

“I did, yeah.”

“You work on cars?”

“Shut up and give me the joint, would’ya?”

“...”

“That’s kind of hot…”

“Is it?”

"Mhm. So, what's in the forest?"

–

“It’s his car, not mine.” Patrick replied, finishing the last of his dessert. 

Sighing, you pick your spoon around at your own sweet treat. “If you fix his car, and if we get a private room at the hotel, I’ll give you a blowjob.”

Patrick snaps his head over to make eye contact with you, and you stick your tongue out, put your spoon on it, and suck off the ice cream while giving him the best doe eyes you possibly can.

He stares and licks his lips again, deciding if he wants to think with his head or his dick. 

His dick always wins, though.

Patrick set his ice cream cup down and took off his black flannel shirt. It was your turn to stare, more specifically at his arms. He had a white wife-beater underneath, and his arms flexed while he handed the flannel to you.

Patrick stood up and grabbed at the hair tie you gave him a while ago on his wrist and he put his hair up. You marveled at the veins that ran up his forearms and crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs.

He did though, in the corner of his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. Embarrassed, you looked away with a not-so-subtle blush on your face. 

Patrick started walking towards the hood of the car, and he slapped his hand on the driver's side door, startling Belch.

“Maybe if you’d pop the fucking trunk, you’d be able to see what’s wrong with it.”

–

After about 15 minutes of Henry complaining about how hot it is, Vic and you talking about what you hope to find at the street fair, and Patrick and Belch looking at the car, Patrick came to the conclusion that an oil change was needed, and that some random part needed to be changed.

You weren’t listening all that much to him though, focusing on Vic’s voice instead. You knew if you looked at Patrick, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes away from him. 

Him and Belch went to go find some convenience store nearby, and you, Vic, and Henry found some cards in the backseat and decided to play some blackjack. 

When they came back with the motor oil, a bucket, and a new part for the hood, you all watched as Patrick got under the car to remove the current oil. Belch got to work on the front with a wrench, and the other two guys went to chat with him about what needed to be fixed and whatnot.

You sat on the curb again, leaned back on your hands, legs crossed in front of you, biting your lip while Patrick laid under the car and waited for the bucket to fill. 

You watched his face as his eyes followed the oil, his eyebrows scrunched together, hands resting on his chest, one leg propped up and the other straight. He blinked, and then his eyes were trained on yours, only this time, you didn’t look away.

The two of you stared at each other, admiring each other shamelessly. Your eyes roamed over his arms, his tank top that was soaked through with sweat. Down his lean torso, following where his shirt was slightly lifted up to show off his dark happy trail, right before it stopped at his jeans.

In your right hand, your fingers fisted around the flannel he tossed at you earlier, and you rubbed your thighs together to relieve at least a small ounce of friction. Patrick simpered, his canines showing against his lips, and continued to focus on the oil change. 

When he was done, he stood up and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. Grease and dirt littered all over his face, which unfortunately only added to the problem between your legs. 

“Why the hell isn’t this tightening?” Belch bellowed, catching both of your attention. 

“Lemme take a look.” Patrick winked at you before going to check it out, and you rolled your eyes playfully, standing up to follow him.

“Well, maybe if you’d twist it in the right direction, it’d fucking tighten.” He sneered, putting his arm on the edge of the hood while tightening the new mechanic piece.

Belch clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, and all of you watched Patrick work. Well, they were watching the new piece get put in, you were watching the way his biceps flexed and the way his veins popped behind the skin of his hands.

“Try the engine.” Patrick stepped back and popped the hood down, wiping his forehead once again with the back of the hand holding the wrench.

Belch did what he said, and they all cheered when the engine started. The five of you all got back into the car, Henry in the passenger seat, Vic to the left of Patrick, and Patrick to your left. 

Belch was talking to Henry about how long it’d take to ride back up the same road, what would happen if you went different streets, and you were about 70% positive that you all were supposed to be listening to him.

You couldn’t though, your mind only paying attention to the warmth of Patrick’s thigh against yours, and the way his hand was placed on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on the inside. 

Leaning into your ear, “This better be the best goddamn head I’ve ever had,” he purred and leaned back. You chewed on your bottom lip and lightly nodded, to which he responded with a tight squeeze on your soft flesh.

“Yes, Mr. Mechanic.”

–

Patrick slammed you against the hotel door, lips attacking yours instantly. You gasped and your hands immediately found his shoulders, your fingernails digging into them. 

His hands guided themselves over your body, up and down your waist, groping your breasts, and then finally resting on your ass. 

His lips were chapped and rough, an opposite to your soft and plush ones. Your lipgloss transferred to him though, slightly softening his lips just a bit.

He bit at your lip and shoved his tongue in your mouth, letting it roam around your mouth. You reciprocated and sucked on it, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. 

Your hands flew to the bun in his hair and you took it out, tossing the hair tie away from the two of you. You grabbed at it and pulled, harder than you probably intended. 

Patrick pulled away and looked at you, a predatory gaze in his eyes. Your mouth was slightly open with saliva on your bottom lip and your cheeks were burning up, your heart racing. 

You were a mess, and he loved it. 

He pecked your lips and started walking towards the bed, leaving you breathless against the door. You watched him take off his shirt, revealing a plethora of tattoos he gained over the years of highschool. He sat down on the side of the hotel bed and spread his legs, an obvious bulge in his jeans. 

You stood at the door and waited for him to tell you what to do. His eyes never left yours when he undid his belt with one hand and threw it behind him.

“Come ‘ere.” Patrick leaned back and you quickly walked over to him, kneeling in front of him without him even needing to ask. 

The grin on his face was large, and it grew when you reached for his groin and pulled him out of his pants and boxers. He sighed when he felt your soft smooth hands touch the base, a complete contrast to when his calloused ones do. 

The tip was red and leaking, and you brought your face closer to it, kissing just below it. Patrick’s hand rested on the top of your head, and he watched with amused eyes as you focused so hard on making him feel good. You did promise, afterall.

Your warm tongue slipped out and ran up the underside to collect what was building on his head, and then back down to trace over the vein underneath. His eyes closed tightly and his head tossed back, shivering with anticipation. 

He felt your warm lips wrap around the head and suck before pulling away to kiss down back to the base. His hips bucked upwards to show his impatience, and you ran your tongue back upwards along the vein, and sucked on the tip again. 

You didn’t pull away this time, though, knowing that he’d only push you down further. So you opted to suck on it and to languidly stroke the rest of his dick.

Patrick’s eyes stared into yours, taking note of the way your eyes would get glossier when he would push you further down his cock until he hit the back of your throat. Your hands came to tightly grip his thighs and you gagged, tears finally falling.

“Atta girl.” He hissed when your throat squeezed around his length, trying to get rid of the intruder that was making you choke. “Doing such a good job, dollface.”

You whined against him, the vibrations causing him the lurch forward. He cursed, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and roughly pulling you up and down his cock.

“If I’d known you be so good at this, I would’ve, shit, I would’ve fucked up Belch’s car months ago.” He panted, frantically matching the thrusts of his hips with his grip on you. 

You gagged again, and dug your fingernails so hard into his pants that you might have ripped them open. That seemed to be Patrick’s breaking point, though, and he faltered his movements before pulling you until your lips were wrapped around the head again. You sucked as hard as you could, and with a loud moan, he came. 

You swallowed as it coated your tongue and went down your sore throat, and continued to suckle it until every drop was gone and he went soft.  You finally pulled away and you wiped your mouth with your hand, the room silent and only filled with the sound of you two catching your breath.

“You, you fucked up the car?” You croaked out, your voice raspy and grated. Your hands rested on your own thighs, still kneeling in front of him. Your eyes caught his while he was putting himself away, and he snickered at how ruined you were.

“How the hell do you think I knew exactly what parts to get?” He huffed out, shrugging his shoulders and laying back on the bed. “I thought I’d get something out of going on this trip, so why not use your mouth for something good for once?”

You stared at the bed in front of you and leaned against his knee, closing your eyes. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“You love it.”

Heyyyyy!

Hey guys! I know it’s definitely been longer than a hot minute, granted I’ve been sick with Mono and another virus on top of it. I haven’t been able to write much, and I’m terribly sorry for it! Just a of reminder in case you are wondering where your story/oneshot may be:

I write in bulk! If you requested a story, or something that may have multiple parts, it will be posted separately than my other stories, and will be posted with multiple parts at the same time. It will be written, it just might take a bit longer!

Thanks for understanding <333

Hello me again could you do something with negan where he is just so soft with his gf after she has a bad dream. Or something like that

And he just rocks her to sleep in his arms and brush his fingers through her hair

A/N: Tried my best to make it sweet, hope you like it!

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Thunder echoed against the sanctuary walls as lightning guided her way down the halls. She was having rough sleep for days, the same damn dream haunted her when she closed her eyes.

She’d run, run, and run, but she’d never go anywhere. Someone would hold her still at the end, and then whatever was chasing her would kill her.

She didn’t know what to do, or who to go to for nightmares. She thought about going to Eugene to see if he’d make her some kind of pill, but the idea of explaining to him why she couldn’t sleep made her cringe.

It seemed childish to be kept awake for something so stupid, so she held back. But now, after having the same outcome for five restless nights, she decided to do something about it.

It wasn’t the greatest idea, and it was her last resort, but she needed some kind of comfort.

Hearing the soft padding of her own feet made her a bit anxious, even though she shouldn’t be. After the world went to shit, she found the sanctuary and took refuge there for a bit.

But since Negan liked her so much, she stayed. He asked her to be one of his wives, and after weeks of arguments and screaming matches, they both compromised on her being his girlfriend instead. 

Now here she was, standing outside of Negan’s bedroom door in her pajamas, playing with her fingers. She had no reason to be nervous, they were dating for fucks sake.

But a small feeling inside of her felt scared he might judge her. She was embarrassed to be scared of what was in her head, but she didn’t know what else to do.

She softly knocked twice on the door, waiting for a response. All she got was a few grumbles and rustling before the door swung open.

“This better be fucking good-” Negan opened the door and tilted his head when he saw his girlfriend, “The hell are you doin’ up? ‘Thought you went to bed two fucking hours ago.”

“Can I come in please?” She mumbled, not daring to meet his eyes. 

A couple seconds of silence overcame the both of them before Negan opened the rest of the door and nodded for her entrance. She walked in and took in the room around her, and Negan closed the door and leaned against it in front of her. 

“What’s up with you?” He crossed his arms and watched her bite her lip and look at the ground.

“I don’t wanna talk about it…Can we just.. chill out?” She finally looked at him, tears forming in her bright eyes. Negan stared at her before taking pity and making his way to his bed. She stood there until he spoke up.

“You gonna get in or what?” He lifted the blanket to make room for her and she smiled, getting comfortable next to him. 

He sighed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table, darkness enveloping them both. She curled up into his chest and listened to him breathe, counting his heartbeats over and over.

“Do I get to know what’s got you so stuck in this dumpster fire or what?” Negan's voice rumbled out his throat, and he placed his hand on the low of her back, rubbing his thumb in circles on it.

“Had a bad dream.” She mumbled, burying her face deeper into him. It was now that she noticed he had no shirt on and only wore his sweatpants. 

“Wanna explain it to me?” Negan hummed, putting his chin on her head. She shook her head and he sighed, kissing her forehead.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He reached his hand up and ran it through her soft hair, carefully making sure it didn’t get caught in his fingers. “We’ve got a long ass day tomorrow.”

It only took a couple of minutes for Negan to hear his girlfriend’s soft snores as she laid on his chest, and he smiled slightly.

Whatever was keeping her awake obviously left her mind the minute she settled down, and now they both listened to each other’s breathing, comfortable in the presence of one another.

"Cheating" BEN_Drowned Oneshot

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“Oh, come on! You’re totally cheating!” Y/N shouts, roughly standing up and pointing at the screen that said she lost with her controller. BEN only grinned and exited out of Super Mario Kart, returning to the menu screen.

“Nuh uh! You just suck at gaming.” He stuck his tongue out at her and yelped when she threw a pillow at him. “Woah, chill out!”

“I’m gonna beat your ass!” Y/N tossed her controller onto the couch cushion and tackled him, rolling them both off the couch.

He held onto her hands and screeched, trying to push her off of him. He failed miserably, though, granted her wrath was much stronger than what his twiggy arms could handle.

BEN kept screaming for help as she threatened him repeatedly, and looked over at the stairs as Jeff ran down them.

“Help! Please! Oh my fucking God, help me!” He yelled over at Jeff, and the rugged man only snickered and took a picture of them. 

“Nah, I’ve got shit to do. Funny as fuck, though.” Jeff shoved his phone back into his hoodie pocket and went into the kitchen, no doubt grabbing a beer. 

BEN continued to shout until he kicked her knee and she fell off of him, and he took his chance to run behind the couch. He and her played an odd game of ‘Ring Around the Rosie’ with it, and she looked for any opening she could to get to him. 

“Just admit you cheated!” She shouted, and threw another pillow at him.

“Just admit you suck ass at Super Mario Kart!” BEN shouted back, and Y/N stopped chasing him around the couch and stared at him. He also froze, unsure of what she was doing.

“Oh, fuck!”

Y/N climbed over the couch and jumped onto him, tackling him down again. They both rolled around and continued to fight, her threatening him and him taunting her. 

Jeff stood in the kitchen and watched at a distance, sipping his beer.

“They’re really going at it, huh?”

“Fuck!” Jeff jumped and spilled his beer, and looked over to where Clockwork had randomly appeared next to him, and she laughed lightly as he grabbed a towel and cursed her out.

"Inseparable" Part Three

As she laid back down in bed with Patrick she tried to fall asleep. Yet to no avail, she couldn't. Patrick woke up later on in the morning, slinging onto her like a wild tick; a very unlikely thing for him to do.

She eventually got him to calm down and managed to get him to latch off, after some swearing and somewhat empty threats. Still questioning everything that happened, she pressed him even further about his dream and why he was acting like he was.

While he explained his dream, Y/N only got more confused. None of it made sense to her at all. Flying leeches? Some red and white clown? A blue fridge? He was frustrated when she said she couldn’t understand, and she told Patrick that it was only a dream after she got him to calm down again.

Y/N tried her best to get him to believe her, and soon the room fell silent, save for the heavy breathing and occasional sniffles. She felt he was leaving something out, something important. Wanting to find out, she offered to go on a walk to get some fresh air.

They walked along their usual path and talked about Y/N's week to clear the tension, and it seemed to work. Patrick was easier and his normal ass-hatted self, but still rather jumpy.

They were joking around about how some kid Brandon had actually pissed his pants when Henry said “I’m gonna beat you like how your mom beat my dick last night,” when Patrick had stopped and kneeled to re-tie his shoe.

Y/N had looked over the playground while waiting and saw something floating by the swing set. Frowning, she squinted her eyes to try to see it better. It was the red balloon from earlier.

“‘Trick, look!” She tapped Patrick’s shoulder and whispered. He looked over to where she was pointing, but as soon as he did, it disappeared.

He uttered a ‘huh’ dumbly and watched the empty swing go back and forth, and his skin got colder each time it did. Y/N sighed and pouted a bit, “Never mind.”

Patrick looked up at her and studied her face as she kicked at the gravel on the pathway, his eyebrows furrowing. He didn’t like the way Y/N made him feel sometimes. How it felt like he had tapeworms in his stomach anytime she’d accidentally touch him, or why he always felt like he had to keep the gang away from her so they didn’t do anything stupid.

Or how every single time she’d cry about her day, he’d get a little jealous of whoever made her cry. Sure he felt bad for her, or as much as he could anyway. But her tears should be for him to see, and him only. Just for him. 

He knew what those feelings meant. The last one, at least. He excused it, though. Blamed it on puberty, and he’d get rid of it by finding some town slut to ride his dick.

But the other feelings? He hated those. Sometimes he’d think about killing her so they’d stop. He couldn’t bring himself to, though. Patrick kind of liked Y/N, and not in the way he wanted.

"fuckass picture" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: apparently eraserhead patrols the neighborhood near your hideout?? 😨

Warnings: Vulgar language, mention of smoking

A/N: somebody needs to fucking sedate me. one-sided eraserdust has my heart idc.

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"Inseparable" Part Four

Nobody questioned Patrick’s return when they saw him, especially considering he’d disappeared like that before. The next day consisted of skipping their weekend detention and hanging around in the junkyard that Y/N's cousin owned, and getting high while playing golf there.

When she got home though, she immediately thought of Nicole and how she had acted weird on their last call. Why did Nicole get awkward when she mentioned the clown? Y/N flopped on her bed as a headache started up, and she sat up to take off her dirty boots and socks.

She let her hair down from her ponytail to try to get some of the head pressure relieved, and stood up to walk to her dresser where she took off all her jewelry and placed it there.

Her mind still raced with her thoughts as she changed into her sleepwear which was just short shorts and one of Patrick’s band shirts that she stole.

Placing her hands on her hips, she clicked her tongue and made her way to her nightstand where her phone was.

Y/N dialed Nicole’s number three times, and each time she got no answer. She looked at her clock and it was only 11pm, meaning she was probably with some boy.

Y/N looked at the rug on her floor while she thought of what to do for the rest of the night. Then she had what she thought was an amazing idea. 

Hey, you should deffo do a BEN one. So like a one-shot with Y/N and BEN playing video games but he’s like glitching the game so she looses, and he’s super smug about it.

-your favorite ever ♥️

Ohhhh, for sure babes. I'll make it the best you've ever read.

It'll take a hot minute, tho. School and all that jizzy jazz. ❤️

Hi,

I hope you're doing well!

I wanted to ask you which character from the movie "It" is your favorite and why. I’m really interested to know what you like about that character.

Looking forward to your response!

Your reader 🫶

Hi, I'm doing great! I hope you are too, it's been kind of rough this summer 😭 I've had a surgery, so I haven't been able to update the story much, and I'm so sorry! But to answer your question,

my favorite It character is definitely Pennywise. I really like how much the movies and the book portrayed him as a God-like entity, and he's very well written. Just enough to make you confused, but enough to make you want to know so much more. He's always been my favorite, and I've never like an It character more than him, even though I write so much about Patrick lol.

I do enjoy writing for Patrick, he's very fun to write and I feel like I can write him much better than any other character, but Pennywise will always have a special place for me.

Thanks for asking!

"Love Me Dead- Ludo" Part One

“You’re very tense.” 

The clock ticks, it’s echo bouncing off the beige walls of the plain, boring room. The couch I sit upon is a sad brown, fitting into the rest of the sad theme.

The window sill has plants on it though, very green and happy plants, a complete contrast to the rest of the snowy atmosphere outside.

“I’ve always been tense,” I say, looking away from the window and at the woman in front of me. She smiles a pitiful smile, sympathy she obviously can’t hide flashes through her green eyes. 

“Not always. In your file it says you used to be a very calm and relaxed-”

“It also says I used to have brown hair. How times change,” I smile tightly back at her, sighing as I realize my mistake. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so snippy. I’m just tired and I want to go home.”

She looks at her watch, also sighing as she shuts her notepad and sets it on the coffee table between us. She runs a hand through her hair, clearing her throat as she leans her arms on her knees. 

“I know this is tough, and I know what he did to you, and I know you want to get better, but this takes time. You can’t rush healing. I’m sending you home, and I won’t add this appointment to your bill,” She shushes my protests, raising her hand and making a ‘quit it’ motion, “You need to go home and sleep. You can’t rush this process.”

My keys clank against the trinket bowl as I shrug off my winter jacket, a soft bell following suit with soft, padded thuds. I grin, taking off my boots and shaking the snow out of my dirty blonde hair. My cat, Winston, meows loudly as I crouch down to pet him. 

“You hungry, little dude?” I look at the time on my phone, it reading 5:39 pm. He meows again, butting his head on my leg as I snort and stand up. “Of course you are.”

I walk to my kitchen, setting my phone on the counter as I open the drawer I dedicated to Winston the day I bought my apartment. I pull out wet food for him, opening it and setting it on the ground next to his water bowl.

I lean against the counter and watch him shove his white little face into the bowl to inhale his food.

Shaking my head and laughing a bit, I stop when I notice my phone vibrating. Picking it up and unlocking it, I let out a huh as I open my messages and see my sister texting me.

Donna: I js got a date with the hottest mf I have ever seen

Donna: like smoking hot

Me: someone is actually interested in you? thats a first

Donna: ok ouch

Donna: but yes 

Donna: oh and mom decided shes going to stay at your place for the weeknd

Donna: so get ready to clean

I immediately hit the call button as I read her messages.

“She’s doing what now?” I yell into the phone, wincing as I see Winston puff his tail up and look at me.

“Why would you not tell me this before today? Friday is in three days, and my place is a freaking pigsty. Three days is not enough time to clean, Madonna.” I tell her and start looking around my kitchen, noticing everything I know my mom will criticize the minute she walks into my apartment.

“Uh, probably because I just found out today, and don’t call me Madonna. She called me right before I landed the date with McDreamy,” She states and sighs, and I hear her throw herself on what I assume is her bed. 

“Besides, your place is never a pigsty. It’s always so clean, I could literally eat off your bathroom floor. Speaking of eat, you should also probably cook something, ‘cause we both know she ain’t eatin’ anywhere else.” The southern accent at the last part of her sentence was absolutely awful, but I understood it enough.

“Right, right, of course,” I sigh, hearing a thunk come from my bedroom as I watch Winston race towards the door.

Remembering the fact that I left my window open in my room, I assume a bird managed to fly its way into there, and that that was probably why Winston seemed so interested in it. “So, what’s McDreamy's name? I don’t think you’ve told me yet.” 

I change the subject as I start to walk towards my room to get the poor bird out of there before Winston tortures it. As I turn to go down the hallway, I stop when I notice the bedroom light is on. 

“Oh! His name is Badri, and he owns his own company. ‘Jules Jewels’, or whatever. Anyway, he lives in-” 

The blood rushing through my ears is loud enough to block her voice out, and the fast beat in my chest definitely does not help.

Thousands of True Crime documentary scenes play through my head where my current situation is the beginning scene of a vicious murder. 

I try to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it refuses to leave. I chew on my lip as I slowly walk backwards back into the kitchen, clearing my throat as I walk towards my knife block on my counter. “Sorry, could you repeat that again? You, um, cut out for a second.”

“Mhm! I said that Badri’s sister was getting married next fall, and that she invited us to come to the wedding.” I hum in response, taking out a chef’s knife and taking off the safety cover. 

“I’m sorry Donna, but I’m gonna have to call you back. Kensley’s texting me about when our next therapy session will be.” I lie to her, grasping the knife in my hand tightly. 

“Oh, that’s okay! I’ll call you later to tell you more, love you, bye!” She says right before I hang up on her, and I put my phone in the back pocket of my jeans.

I go over to my sink, turning on the faucet to hopefully drown out my footsteps and any creaking the floor might do as I walk down the hallway to my bedroom. 

I grasp the knife even tighter, furrowing my eyebrows as I hear Winston purr with a deep chuckle and a pop following after. I take a deep breath in, and open the door as quickly as I can.

I drop the knife at the person in front of me, and Winston darts out of the room, startled from the loud noise. 

“Go–good evening to yo–u too, sweets.”