Sweat, Treachery and Scorn (WAYHAUGHT)

🔪Stuck In My Memories🔪

Nicole was warm. Almost too warm. It was like she had a great, big, furry dog resting on top of her, except this dog's fur wasn't fur. It was smooth, silky skin that was covered in goose bumps, with even softer and better smelling hair that was lightly tickling the side of her neck. It was a weird sensation, because she could've sworn that she hadn't fallen asleep with some dog-human hybrid. There was just no way. Dogs weren't allowed in prison, much less ones that felt too human like to be any part canine and smelled so unbelievably good that it couldn't possibly be an animal. Not even an animal that had a bath recently. 

It was then that she remembered. Waverly. Of course. The thought made her grin that the younger woman hadn't decided to take her bed after Nicole had captured her own, but had decided to sleep with her. Well, not sleep in that sense, but either way the thought was heart warming. It was amazing that she hadn't pulled a muscle from how much she was smiling. 

Waverly's legs were intertwined with her own like strands of wool, her face snuggled tightly into the crook of her neck. Nicole closed her eyes in bliss as short puffs of warm air fanned against her neck, and she almost forgot that they were in prison. It felt like waking up in a beach house with the love of her life, the silk sheets wrapped around them as she held the brunette close, imagining the pearly white beaches shining like jewels in the sun, the turquoise waves lapping at the shore like a thirsty dog. 

But that wasn't true. That was just fantasy, like everything everyone in here ever dreamed of. She wasn't going to get out of here for another eight years or so, maybe more, and when Waverly finally did leave, she was going to forget everything that had ever happened in here, and everyone. She would track down her sister and they would continue their life of crime, until one day Waverly would meet some good looking woman or man and they'd settle down together in an isolated space away from all the chaos. Without her, because all Nicole was and all that she could ever be is a cellmate, stuck in here for eternity. 

But she had to focus. Wandering thoughts wouldn't help, because they would only push the adorable woman on top of her away. Like last time. That only brought new pain, and no one needed that. 

Nicole's breath hitched when one of the brunette's hands swiped over her abdomen, and it was then that she realised she wasn't wearing a shirt. The second thing she saw was the outline of the smaller woman's creation, an expanse of green and purple from what she glimpsed briefly. But the main image was obscured from view due to the artist herself reclining on top of her, snoring softly, a flicker of a smile on her perfect lips. 

"Good morning," Waverly whispered in a her ear, her tone one far too seductive for this early hour. She rubbed her eyes, before propping herself up on her elbows to gaze at the woman below her―all the while all Nicole could think was how perfect she looked in the morning―not realising that she hadn't returned the greeting until the other woman giggled above her. "Earth to Nicole. You in there, sleepyhead?" 

"Oh, umm," Nicole blushed at having been caught in a trance. "I'm here. We should probably shower or whatever. I'll see you for breakfast though, right?" 

Waverly beamed. "Of course." 

◭◭◭◭

Nicole sat on top of her bed, flipping through the pages of her mother's Vogue catalogue. Three days ago she had turned eight, but she had refused to take off the party hat she wore on her birthday. Her little legs were kicking against the air, one thumb stuck in her mouth as she eyed all of the clothes on display, gasping at the bright colours and waving her fingers around as she imagined the textures of the materials. 

Downstairs, her parents were screaming at one another again. They'd been getting into fights lately, but she had no idea why they were fighting in the first place. All she knew was that it made the dog pee himself every time―and that just seemed to infuriate her father even more, if that was possible―and no matter what she did to calm him down, he would just keep screaming and screaming until her mother would send her upstairs, away from all the commotion.