#(do what you want with it she just can't see that place. no one has to know it was hers.)

[xreader-writing]

Someone better | LN4 and FC43

Prologue

Sumarry: Lando is treating his girl badly, but thank God one Argentine is more than happy to do everything he doesn't do.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto X Driver!Reader | Lando Norris X Driver!Reader

WC:1.265

(WARNINGS:) Abusive relationship, manipulation, machismo, sexism, Lando is a complete idiot here, sorry! 😔

A/N: Since Y/n is Brazilian (And in Brazil we speak Portuguese and not Spanish) Franco and she will speak English to each other most of the time, okay?

How do you realize you're in an abusive relationship? When do you realize? Do you... Do you realize it?

Is it when it gets more violent? Or is it already extreme?

Lando isn't violent, but he is aggressive, that always confuses Y/n.

She's only 21, for God's sake, she got her place in F1 this year when she was called up to replace Checo for the entire 2024 season, yes, she signed with Redbull and is now partnered with Max Verstappen

When she started her relationship with Lando, it was very different, well, I think that's the problem with an abusive relationship, you only realize it when it's too late, and sometimes, unfortunately, you don't even realize it.

Lando was handsome, sweet, affectionate and fun, it was impossible not to fall in love with him, but...

Y/n thinks she can remember the first time he acted strangely.

It was when she was in P1 for the first time, Max was in P2 and Charles got P3, she remembers trying to greet Lando, but he walked right past her, making her feel completely embarrassed with so many cameras filming the event.

"He's just frustrated and tired." That's what she thought.

To make matters worse, Lando didn't go to celebrate with her, only God knows where that boy got himself into that night, but she doesn't want to think about it too much.

That was supposed to be her moment, but he managed to ruin everything.

"Enjoy your night, you deserve it so much." She remembers Chales saying that with his hand on her shoulder and a comforting smile.

After a few days he simply went back to normal without saying a single word about it, as if he hadn't broken her heart into little pieces.

The second time it was actually Max who noticed it, well, he adopted Y/n as his little sister, and he really loved her as if she were.

He was in the paddock when he arrived at the Redbull carriage and came face to face with Lando and Y/n in a distant corner.

It wasn't uncommon to see them in each other's garages, but Max frowned when he saw Y/n half-curdling while Lando spoke non-stop in an aggressive and low tone, only for her to hear.

Max got even more irritated when he saw Lando's expression change when he saw the cameras approaching.

He needed to have a little talk with Y/n.

Later that day, Max managed to catch Y/n alone and he couldn't miss the opportunity.

"Hey." He approaches smiling and she forces a smile.

"Hi Max."

"I wanted to ask you something, I don't want to be nosy or anything, but is everything okay?" Max notices that Y/n's hands are shaking so much that she can't open her can.

"It's okay, I just...fucking can." Max smiles weakly, takes the can from her hand and opens it in a second.

"You know he can't treat you like that, right?" Max says, giving the can back to her, who lowers her head a little uncomfortably.

"He's just kind of nervous and frustrated too."

Max laughs in disbelief upon hearing this.

"What kind of shitty excuse is that? He might have the worst day of his life, but he has to respect you." Y/n doesn't know what to do upon hearing Max say this.

"It's okay, Max, I...I like him." Max sighs and puts her hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"You'll always have me, okay? Even if you go to another team, whichever team you go to, you'll still have me, I promise." Those few words made Y/n's day 100% better.

The third time was a little more problematic, Y/n wasn't having a good day, and to make matters worse, the reporters seemed to sexualize her in every question, damn it.

"Why are you so glum?" Lando says, approaching her and taking her hand.

"I just don't understand why they have to sexualize me in every possible question." She says quietly and Lando scoffs.

"You're a woman and you're Latina, what do you expect them to do?" Y/n looks at her boyfriend confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Y/n, are you going to say you don't like this kind of attention? All this attention they give you?"

"You think I like being harassed? What's your problem?" Y/n lets go of his hand, and he's quick to pull her hand back, squeezing it a little tighter this time.

"Are you trying to put on a show for others now?" He says quietly, looking into Y/n's eyes, and she just wants to scream and run away.

But there are already too many lies and distorted stories about her out there, so she just turns her face away so she doesn't have to look at him, and forces a smile when Oscar and Charles approach to talk to them.

After that, Y/n thinks her mental health is hanging by a thread, the reporters make her seem like a gold digger, that she's only there to sleep with all the drivers, her boyfriend makes her feel ungrateful and crazy, and the haters won't stop trying to kill her once and for all.

But...

In the middle of all this, someone showed up...

Franco Colapinto

Franco and Y/n had known each other since the F2 days, they always laughed a lot and joked together, when Y/n went to F1, Franco cried with emotion with her.

But he knew how much she would be missed.

But now he's at Williams replacing Logan.

When he arrived at F1, he was all joy, Franco got to talk to his favorite drivers, and that was a dream come true, but when he turned around and saw Y/n drinking water and with a completely worried expression, he felt his legs a little wobbly.

"Holy shit, she's still beautiful."

Ele sempre a seguia na~~s redes sociais, mas vê-la tão de perto...

As if she could feel someone looking at her, Y/n turned and met Franco's eyes.

He smiled and waved and she waved back smiling with her mouth closed.

But he needed more, so unable to contain himself, he excused himself to the people around him and practically ran to Y/n.

"hola mi hermosa." Franco pulled her into a hug that she happily returned.

"I missed you so much." Y/n says and Franco smiles more.

When they let go of each other, Franco notices the dark circles under her eyes, and her smile that seems a little forced.

"Congratulations on your pole, it was more than deserved."

"Oh Franco, It's been months."

"Uau? Você me deixou ~~tão orgulhosa e feliz." S/n sorri e balança a cabeça.

"Thank you, it was a dream come true for sure, and I know I'll see you up there soon too." She smiles and Franco's heart races even faster, he had completely forgotten the power she had over him.

"Fuck, I forgot about that." Franco thinks.

Before Franco could say anything, Lando appears looking for Y/n.

"Come on Y/n, let's go have lunch." He takes Y/n's hand and looks Franco up and down.

"Hey, man." Lando lets go of Y/n's hand and offers it to Franco, who smiles as he shakes Lando's hand.

"See you around Franco." Y/n says smiling softly and Lando takes her hand pulling her with him.

Franco's smile fades as they walk away and he sighs self-consciously.

"Fuck, I forgot about that too!"

Taglist

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Some blogs I couldn't bookmark.

Please don't forget to reblog and tell me what you think. 😊

[honey-tongued-devil]

HEYY

i saw the vi x chubby user and as a chubby girl I NEED more of the girlies x chubby user. please 🙀

[Arcane preference (girlies)] with a chubby s/o

I made you wait so long for nothing, I’m sorry if it’s short, BUT I haven’t forgotten about you!

Jinx:

- Forget that thing called “personal space.”

- If you want to sleep with her, you’ll be the little spoon, and she’ll even throw herself on top of you. She loves feeling human warmth, and with a partner with more body mass, it’s not painful to stay in a long embrace because no (or almost no) bones are attacking her.

- She pinches your love handles and thighs, then bursts out laughing. It's done with tenderness, she loves it to bits, and it’s something extremely rare in Zaun.

- If you can't find anything your size, she'll sew it for you from leftover fabric, or by beating up a passerby to steal their clothes. Either way, you don’t have to worry.

- If you even try to say the words "lose weight," she’ll furrow her brow, deeply offended: you’re hers, and if you lose mass, she has less of you for herself, which means you’re trying to take something from her.

- Which means for the following week, she’ll do everything to make you eat more, terrified that you might lose weight.

Vi:

- What’s the point of being so strong if not to lift you into her arms effortlessly?

- She makes you stay on her back while doing push-ups, carries you to the bedroom, and holds you on her lap on the couch.

- She’s a fighter, not a coward. If she can’t lift you, it’s not that you weigh too much, but that she’s too weak. And within three days, she’ll make sure she fixes this shortcoming.

- But it never actually happens. Vi never misses an opportunity to show you how strong she is and how special you are.

- When you talk under the blankets, she often loses herself playing with your soft spots, almost as if she’s relaxing.

Caytlin:

- She sits on your lap, but if you want, you can sit on her without any issues.

- She loves your body to bits, and if you try to hide it, she might put on a little show just to take off your shirt and enjoy what you were hiding, like your belly.

- Clothes aren’t a problem; she’ll have them made so that they not only fit you but also highlight your best features.

- No jokes here—when you go out together, she wants the world to see how proud she is of her partner and how attractive they are. So, she takes care of your preparation herself, even stealing a kiss here and there, but letting you choose what you want to wear.

Mel:

- She has a personal tailor who makes coordinated outfits for every occasion. She can’t let you look bad, and she wouldn’t want to, so she personally ensures every detail reflects you.

- She knows what you like and dislike, so she can correct the sketches herself, so when the clothes arrive, they’ll be a complete surprise.

- When you're in public, she likes to sit on your lap, if the occasion is casual enough to allow it. Otherwise, she’ll leave subtle lipstick marks on you before leaving, just enough to discreetly remind people you’re with her.

- She likes being the little spoon, feeling protected and vulnerable at least in one place, even though, subconsciously, she changes position while she sleeps. But in any case, feeling your softness against her gives her comfort.

Sevika:

- Think you’re big? Be more humble.

- She lifts you like you’re a little bunny, carries you around on her shoulder, takes you to bed in her arms, and constantly pulls you onto her lap, always keeping one hand on your waist.

- She loves skin-to-skin contact, and she’s strong enough to lift you completely onto her shoulders, with your back against the wall, and hold you like that until her ‘hunger’ passes (or until you can’t take it anymore).

- She’s still terrified of hurting you, so she always keeps you on the side of her good arm, so she doesn’t damage your body with her prosthetic limb.

- When you’re resting, she pulls you completely up onto her, no matter how tall or heavy you are, constantly reminding you that she’s big and strong enough.

[diorcities]

snooze

jisung x you genre smut content friends with benefits, mention of mingi (hope you get why), cunnilingus, riding, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, nipple play, squirting, cum eating, wc 4k ── you always leave him and he plans to make you stay.

ever since you kissed him, he can’t get you out of his mind.

it had been useless, had it?

it didn't take long for jisung to figure it out. he knows perfectly well that he gets attached quickly, his friends always tease him about it.

much there was say jisung was very chill. he was fine with evasive looks just like fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. the short greetings at gatherings as well as soft sounds muffled against his lips.

jisung couldn't make his head to begin to describe you, and the closest he's come is a little charm at night.

he's been lost because of it. only you can make him fall in love, only if you say yes.

“oh, my god. you can't be serious.” nayeon, dressed like a cheetah, shouts making her way through the tide of people to you, her gaze lost behind you.

and it is both your gift and your curse to know what has her upset without having to look. a boy with fangs and light brown hair with blonde highlights dancing and making out a girl prettier than the previous one and uglier than the next he'll met. “it can't be that he got over you so quickly,” she says while glaring. and despite feeling upset just like your best friend, you can't help but feel this immense lack of something. because while mingi kisses her, he doesn't stop looking at you.

it's been a while since you two broke up. the normal thing would be to keep going, yet you're still in the same place, just without the same feelings except regret. “it's alright,” you hear yourself say, only it's not.

if it makes him feel good to kiss girls in front of you, then it's fine. either way, you're the worst traitor.

it was a bad idea to have come, but you're used to always making a mistake. big ones are just as much a part of you as are your bad decisions. “i'll go smoke a little. listen, if you see ghostface, tell him he owes me money.”

she winks at you, “sure thing, angel.”

you move out of his sight and it feels ridiculous to see himself following your trail with his eyes until you move outside. when he feels that you've ignored him for too long, he's the first to offer truce.

“you look like a dream.” he's been drinking for a while, so he knows he'd never, ever dare to talk to you. but he knows that a couple of beers and the bad influence of his friends must not mix up.

“why?” he wasn't sure if he preferred your obnoxious demeanor or your condescending eyes meeting him. “have you dreamed of me?”

he looks stupid, and you smile wide when a blush tint his cheeks. because yes, he has. despite all the grace and angelic energy that your eyes transmit, jisung is embarrassed that every time he thinks of you the first thing that appears in his dirty mind is those wet eyes trying to stay open while looking at him from under his body. legs wrapped loose around his waist and parted lips inciting him to taste them.

he swallows hard and without meaning to, his eyes feel like two wells. his mouth is dry or maybe he's craved your lips a bit too much. a tingling runs through his fingers and his fingertips buzz. you have no idea how much he wants you, or maybe you do, because you smile wider.

all your grace takes form in dreamy eyes before you kiss him. and kiss him. and kiss him. his emotions get tangled followed by your responsive heart. he can't beat it, the feelings.

it's killing him, and it would hurt him more to admit that he's used all his manipulative tactics; lies and deceit, pretty words, empty promises. but then he looks at you with his pretty pleading love-me eyes and you can't handle it anymore. he kisses the inside of your wrist as he looks at you from below and you almost hesitate.

because that's his curse, or perhaps it is yours. you always leave. you're an angel faced like yet you're full of haunting. with your condescending gaze, virtuous lips stretched in a smile; shiny eyes filled contempt, as if you regretted something that you both tried so hard to ignore so as not to feel guilty. when the truth is, jisung could hardly think of anything other than you.

and he plans to make you stay.

his hand intertwines with yours, and there it is again. a monstrous hesitation. every time this drags on, the more guilty you feel; for thinking of him when you were together.

jisung's kisses drift you to the surface. “is it because of him?” he pronounces, and you've been an idiot for thinking he wouldn't notice at some point. “mingi?” he asks, drawing your hand to his chest, and the gesture causes the devious swarm to disperse as you swallow.

you shake your head, and unexpectedly you chuckle lightly, “no.”

there's no one bound to you. you're not tethered to him anymore, yet it felt like you were betraying him. it seemed like you've made a big mistake a long time ago and now this monstrous thought of whether he will ever forgive you does not cease to haunt you.

you've never been good at keeping your emotions at bay, so guilt eclipses other feelings, it overshadows your heart, beating to the rhythm of his pulse under your palm, slowly moving towards his jawline.

these rendezvous were not going to end well, and even so... you always came back. to him. he smells fresh and manly. he smells familiar.

he likes to eat you out first. it is almost inevitable to do so, as if something were missing. as if he were obsessed. and yet he takes his tortuous time and start kissing your stomach, the soft taut skin of your hip bone, where his hands tuck underneath to place them over his shoulders. “think only of me.”

your full legs bury his head and your femininity is received by caresses. tongue roaming along your core, plump lips sucking you. the right angle makes you sigh, “yes.” your mouth opens in awe and your eyes flutter shut feeling that tingling forming in your guts. just where his hands hold you so you don't move. “yes...” he glances at you the moment he use his tongue to put pressure on the sweet bulge to see you squeeze your eyes and tilt your head back.

he hums, and your whole body shivers feeling the cocky smile on his lips around you, full of spit and arousal covering his face for constantly hitting his nose in your sweet spot. you dissolve into nothing, your blood becomes washy, and you arch violently as he ventures his tongue down your folds into your needy entrance. “a-ahg.”

something hot runs down your belly and explodes into pleasant waves when it tightens your grip and pulls you closer, diving deep to taste your silkiness, hissing when feels too good. “mmm... god.” your teeth grind and your eyes squeeze at the sound his mouth makes every time he rocks his tongue along your sensitive clit, roaming his lips and sucking you rhythmically.

“fuck, you taste divine.” his hot breath brushes against your femininity and the purr of his deep tone causes you to buzz synchronously, the core of your belly sinking and legs trembling at his voice. “so sweet, my girl.”

he shakes his head as he smiles against you, and you're losing your mind at the view of his pretty face enraptured in the aroma of your intimacy. eyes closed while he sucks you good and holds your legs apart from bellow your thighs, keeping you spread for him.

you twitch in delight and his eyes darken having you on full display, grabbing his hair and guiding his motion where you most need him. “oh, yes. there... there.” your back arches unconsciously as your shaking voice tells him where to lick, where to nibble, where to caress. “feels good, ji.”

you're so wet you can hear it every time he rubs your clit dexterously with tongue and teeth, your mind filling with a hazy sensation you can't help but tremble hard, “s-good,” you cry feeling sensitivity numb your hurting nipples once he cups them on his big hands. too much to keep quiet. too much to hold it all in. your shaky moans fill the room when a sharp sensation sink your belly and whip your breath away.

jisung hums thoughtfully in glee when you start pulsing around nothing. unshed tears fills your eyes as you succumb to pain from the pleasure that runs through you from head to toe, buzzing in your bloodstream and making you whine for a bit of friction.

you squirm and arch when he pulls away. and you gasp despite watching him take off his belt from his jeans while his eyes don't leave your pussy, throbbing for him.

he's left you so aroused it hurts, wet and willing, your eyes don't leave him while his are fixed on your ruined pussy, missing his mouth full of your silky excitement. jisung licks his lips in trance, undoing zipper to let out his painful, throbbing erection under his underwear. “want to take it?”

your mouth begins to tingle wildly and an impulse forces you to moan a yes. “all?” your eyes darken and it's almost immediately that your hands draw him to you when he leans just a little, as if he wants to play now to see who needs whom, as if not knowing perfectly well that it has always been you.

from the first time you met.

and deep inside him, having you under him guiding him inside of you, he thought it would give him some satisfaction, but the guilt spreads. of course he was terrified of how he felt about you, maybe you were too? were you terrified of what you might feel for him? what did you already feel?

“oh, fuck.” no matter how many times he buries himself in you, it always has the same effect; it always makes him want more. “you feel so good, fuck,” he breathes and takes a moment to feel you, all around him, squeezing him right.

your body feels light when he thrusts you twice, his breath hitting your cheek when he groans, “i can make you forget about him.” and makes your legs fail.

he feels so nicely thick. the mere friction of his cock inside makes a tremor run down your legs and an explosion of sensations in your lower belly, growing when he starts to penetrate you.

he holds over your stomach, he doesn't take it out completely before he puts it back in, the rhythm making you both sobble with pleasure. it's almost tortuous the way it's not enough, to having him fully, fingers massaging your swollen femininity as he hammers your pelvis with yours, sounding deliciously good.

you fall long after you need each other, ardently. despite being intertwined, despite being skin to skin, he's so far away from you, yet so close you can reach his chest, his sturdy forearm. you can reach his lips.

everything condenses, and you seem to be holding your breath. your stomach tenses and something furious flutters in your belly. rises hot through your bloodstream and you find it desperately luring closer to you, moaning “i'm close.”

the motion of his pounding change and become more violent and faster. “oh, god,” you whimper, feeling yourself collapsing. hands pushing on his stomach before he holds both wrists with one of his.

“be a nice girl for me.”

“ji, please.”

your head lolls back as you feel his cock pounding into you roughly. sharp thrusts eliciting sounds out of you. his big hands cupping your breasts as they bounce rhythmically every time he rocks his dick deep, not being able to fully put it out before coming back in. “fuck, you sound so good, angel. fuck.” he's blushed, mouth is part open and tongue slightly sticking out, in a deep state of ecstasy feeling you around him. “f-fuck.” he takes your leg and passes it over his shoulder, and you see the torturous grimace he makes when a shudder strike you so hard that you cry.

your hand covers your mouth when everything comes down. suddenly everything is overwhelming, rousing. your eyes see through your eyelashes to jisung staring at you, so deep in the intoxicating sensation of being full of you, and you being full of him too, you feel it.

you almost see the resemblance. in the brown hair, in the shape of their mouth kissing you. the way they tend to hold you the same way, frowning at you with saddened eyes from being close, drunk in you, but somehow greeny; as if he still possesses innocence to give you if you ask for it.

the feeling they're both in love with you.

yet so different. from the way they both end and begin, despite everything. if you close your eyes, you barely notice the similarity. if you close your eyes, you let yourself go and just feel.

bodies intertwined. mixed sighs. needy kisses. faster and faster, accelerating the pace of his thrusts, sinking hos fingers deeper into your skin until leaving his fingerprints tattooed, sinking into his neck when you feel the expected tingling of being close to the edge, undoing your inside and freeing a thousand wild sensations.

his cock is sweetly pressed into the swelling of your core when he starts to rub your clit with his eyes glued in your features contracting in a shattering pleasure. feeling all your body tensing and your teeth grinding into each other before the big o that explode your senses into a thousand pieces. dissolving around him in spasms that release waves and waves of liquid pleasure that wet his crotch and make him lose his mind.

you're still throbbing when he moans in your mouth as he kisses you, lips colliding with tiredness as you feel him move in and out, pacing the rhythm. your breath trembles from being so sensitive, yet you willingly spread your legs for him to bury deeper. “don't stop.”

your eyes water when he starts sucking your tit while roaming your sides. skin bristling as your fingers draw a line from his arm to the nape of his neck, combing his hair as he begins to penetrate you again. his hoarse voice making you shudder when you hear him moaning against your chest, fogging your skin.

“making me feel so good, angel.” your mouth parts open as he passes an arm under you and arches you toward him, tucking one of your breasts between his lips, using the new grip to make you go down full to his cock, sinking his teeth in the sweet skin of your tits.

he fucks you raw and your blood runs hot. moving you with ease to rest on your side as he align his cock and slide into your pillowy walls drenched in arousal, making you bite the pillow when he hits a different angle.

your intimacy burns sweetly, feeling the enticing sensation of his thickness filling you up every time he pounds into you with rough thrusts. his pelvis collide forcefully against the full skin of your thigh over his leg that your eyes cloud with tears of raw pleasure, buzzing inside.

the constant pounding of his length coated in your slick producing a squelching sound doesn't leave your mind as you come closer and closer to the edge. drowning out a hoarse groan as his warm hand lands on your belly and climbs up your chest to squeeze your breast before interlocking your fingers with his; then you remember the reason, and it makes you go numb from head to toe.

he feels the burning need to hold your hand when he's close.

your skin looks scarlet from the spanking caused by the hand that now holds you tightly while he accelerates the thrusts, getting audibly desperate. his breathing accompanies the sounds that slip from his open mouth as he tries to keep up, deep moans and elongated words leave his lips before he bites it once he sees you guiding his fingers down your clit as you touch yourself. your eyes fluttering and emitting a moan so exquisite that jisung explodes in spasms.

a sharp sensation expands through your body when he lets out the best sound you've ever heard, starting throbbing along with his cock just before he pulls out late and spills his seed on your entrance. you bite your lip feeling the warm cum between your fingers as you massage your sore core.

it's late at midnight when you pass your leg over his chest and gaze at him with crimson cheeks as he stare at the mess. and although his features seem tender to you, his eyes are darkened with pure perversity when he leans over you and make you go on top now.

“wanna stay a little longer?” he smiles lazily as he reaches for a condom, knowing he can't be trusted now. however, it's perhaps the evil and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that tell you that he already had it in mind.

do you seem like a dream now? something as tangible as it is real. or has it all been in his head, like all the times before?

his eyes half-closed with glee lethargy follow the path your lips do when going dangerously down to stimulate his cock with your mouth, and you finally fall into realization. “if you beg...”

between the two brothers, you should've dated jisung instead.

[spidybaby]

Seat 332

Summary: The seat he always reserved for you, it's now hers.

Warnings: cursing.

You hug Aurora as the two of you jump happy.

"I'm so happy." Aurora says, tearing up a little bit. "I'm sorry, I need a moment." She says, walking out of the room.

You turn to face Gavi. He has the biggest smile anyone could ever have. He opens his arms, walking over to you.

You carefully hug him, head between his neck and shoulder. "I'm so happy for you, Pablito." You say.

He tightens the hug, kissing your forehead. "I'm happy too." He says. "I can't wait to be on the field again."

Gavi got the green light to start training on the training camp, not like the others, but finally, he's able to run, to juggle the ball, to be out.

"And maybe I'll be able to play against Sevilla." He smiles, a smile that might hurt later. "I can't wait."

You separate from the hug, grabbing his cheeks. "I'm going to be there for you, I'll be the loudest on the stadium when I cheer your name." You smile at him.

He moves his hand and places it on the back of your neck, bringing you in for a kiss. You don't waste one second and return the action.

"I kinda like having my own cheerleader." He smirks. Giving you another peck.

You laugh at his tone, grabbing his hand, walking with him to the living room. His parents and Aurora have smiles and tears.

Finally, after so long and after everything Gavi went through, he was able to go back to the field and do what he loved the most, play.

"We are so happy, mijo." Belen says, hugging him. "You are going back to play."

His father joins the hug. They were telling him how happy they were about his return, even when it was just to training.

It was a big step for everybody. After the times when Pablo didn't want to see anyone and used to cry himself out of the frustration of being in bed while his friends played. Horribly but played. (Don't fight me on this, last season was bad)

His family was grateful for your support to Pablo. You have known him since school, and your support was very important to him and to them.

You and pablo were friends, even when you looked like the typical couple. You never officially become anything other than his friend, and tell people that you were fine like that.

"Let's go out to eat." Pablo Sr. says. "We need to celebrate this big moment."

Pablo pulls you to the front door, intertwining your hands. Pablo asked you what you are eating. Naming you different things off the menu.

"I want a piece of cake." He says, opening the door for you. "Want to share?" He asks, passing his arm around your shoulders.

You nod to him, giving him a kiss. You were careful with the picture and places. You know that since you two aren't labeled, you don't want to deal with the fans.

You were fine letting people think you were Aurora's friend. You were thankful to have some pictures with them from when you were kids.

Fans have seen that and thought nothing of it. So they didn't really care when you were with Aurora at the games.

"We are going to Sevilla this weekend." Pablo says. "Want to join us?"

You shake your head no. "I have a lot of work to do." You explain.

He rests his head on your shoulder. "I'm going to miss you." He says, sighing.

Gavi's parents ask you about college. They were happy that it was going well for you. You wanted to be a physiotherapist.

They wanted you to succeed. They have known you since you were a child, and when you went out of your way to help Pablo during his recovery. They got closer to you and got to know you better.

You became closer to him because you two met up at a common friend birthday party. You told him that you moved to Barcelona to study.

He contacted you over Instagram. You two began talking, and then he invited you to a game. You, as a cule, said yes immediately.

Since then, you got closer and started a small fling. You never cared that it was an in and out situation. He was an old friend and he liked you.

Pablo and you excuse yourselves. He has training in the morning, and you were going to help him with his therapy routine.

"Do you want me to help you with your exercise?" You ask, checking on him as he does what his physio instructed him.

He shakes his head no, trying to act tough and uninterested. "I'm almost done." He says.

You enjoy the show he's pulling. His face went from normal to a red one as he refused to ask for help. All that only to look cool for you.

You can't help but laugh at how his arms are shaking thanks to the effort he is putting into the exercise.

"Pablo, let me help you." You say, getting up and walking up to him. Grabbing the weight he's using. "Let's do it together." You say, kissing his temple.

You work out with him. Doing it slowly and helping him take the proper rest in between sets.

"You see?" You ask him. Leaving the weight on the floor. "A little help won't hurt you."

He chuckles, giving you a kiss. "Want to shower with me?" He asks, hiding his sweaty face on your neck.

You nod, grabbing his hand and walking upstairs with him.

yourusername

Liked by aurorapaezg, pablogavi and 12,374 others

yourusername ♥️💙

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aurorapaezg preciosa ♥️

yourusername te quiero 🤍

pablogavi 🙄🙄🙄

yourusername 🤨?

"Have you noticed that we are always placed in the same seats?" Aurora asks, walking with you around the now empty stadium.

"We do?" You ask, confused. "How do you know that?"

"I was checking the seating on the last few games. Don't ask me why cause I just did it out of boredom."

You turn, looking at where the seats are located. "Never noticed that. We can ask Pablo why is that."

"Ask me what?" Pablo says. He was behind you.

He grabs your arm, pulling you against his chest. You laugh at his roughness. "Pablo!" You say in between giggles.

"Pablo, careful." Aurora warns him.

Pablo shush Aurora, giving you a kiss. You feel him wrapping his arms around you. "What do you wanna ask me, guapa?" He whispers to you before returning to kissing you.

You separate. "I don't even remember anymore." You say, making him chuckle. "Ready to go?" You ask, making him nod.

You were taking them to the airport after the game. Even when he isn't ready to play, he wants you at the games.

He says that it's for you and his family to get used to him playing again. You love it when he includes you into his plans.

"Let's go, lovebirds." Aurora says, walking away from you. "We don't want to hit traffic."

You walk to the car, thanks to the wait in the stadium, there was not much traffic. You needed to pick something at Gavi's house before the airport.

"I'll be quick." Aurora says, running to the house.

Gavi was singing some song he had on the playlist of his recovery. He was focused on his phone.

You then remember what Aurora told you about the seats. You want to ask him, so you turn the music down.

"I just remembered what I wanted to ask you." You tell him, bomping his nose with your finger.

"A ver, dime."

"Aurora pointed out that we always sit in the same seats." You explain. "Why is that?" You ask.

He smiles, getting closer to you and giving you a small kiss. "I memorized where the seat was." He explains. His fingers combing your hair. "That way, when I scored, I know where to look. I know that you'll be there."

You can't help the big smile that you have. He was looking for you after every goal. After every asist, he knows where to look to find you.

"Seat 332" He says. "That's the one I always ask for."

You were about to say something, but Aurora joined the two of you in the car. She apologizes for the inconvenience of having to stop at Pablo's house for her makeup bag.

"Let's go!" She says happy. "I can't wait to be home."

You smile, happy that they got to go home. The rest of the drive consists of Pablo singing every song that plays and Aurora asking you to change the song because Pablo was ruing it.

When you got to the airport, Gavi helped his sister with the luggage. Telling her that he will carry them for her.

"I'll call you when I'm back." He says, putting his head inside the car. "A kiss goodbye?" He makes duck lips.

You giggle, giving him a kiss. "Have fun, bye."

pablogavi added to closefriends

You liked Gavi's story. Answering his dm. He let you know that he was still in Sevilla and that he was having fun.

You forgot to answer him. You were busy with some paperwork you were procrastinating. You needed to finish if you want to see him after he come back from Sevilla.

You tell him that you will be out of the radar for a few days, and when he comes back you will text him when you are free.

You spend your days working and going to uni. You had to study hard if you want to pass with a good grade.

Aurora told you that she gave your greetings to your abuelita and that she sent you something with Pablo.

You thank her and tell her that you'll talk to Pablo to get whatever she sent you. Going back to the books and the studying.

You spend more than you should without reporting you. Gavi went missing in action, too.

You didn't even notice, your phone was running in low battery from all the working and studying you are doing.

You were going back to your place, happy that you finally get to relax and to be free from all the books, all the papers and all the sleepless nights.

You find a very known car parked in front of your house. You get down of your own car, passing beside it like you didn't know.

"Hello, señorita." Gavi says, smiling with such pride. "I'm looking for someone. Maybe you can help me."

"Oh, hi Mister." You follow his act. "Can you describe this person to me?"

"She's pretty." He began, taking his glasses. "Very pretty. She's a very smart girl, with beautiful hair and a very pretty shiny eyes."

You blush with his words. You love it when Gavi talks about you like that. It makes you feel some type of way.

"I might know her." You answer shyly.

He laughs at your red cheeks. He exits his car, walking over to you and hugging you. "I missed you." He whispers in your ear. Leaving a kiss there.

"I missed you too," you say to him. "Let's get inside. It's really hot." You wave air with your hand.

You grab his hand and open your door. You noticed he has something in his hands. You look at him with a doubtful expression.

"Your abu sends you this." He hands you the bag. "She mentioned to me that you need to open it and try it."

You thank him for bringing you what your grandma sent you. You even thank him for going to see her and spend time with her.

You spend the rest of the day with him, cuddle on the couch, and watch his favorite movies. He was telling you about his family reunion, his trips around Sevilla. Everything.

"What if we go out to eat?" He asks, kissing your hair. "I know I shouldn't break the diet, but I just want to go out with you."

You nod, kissing him and going to freshen up. You fix your hair and brush your teeth. Apply more lip oil and reapply perfume.

He drives to your favorite restaurant, he asks for a corner table, not wanting to he spotted or bother when he's with you.

You tell him about your last few days, how stressed you were, and why you didn't answer any of his texts.

He loves hearing you talk about your day, even when it was just a ramble of two things or about the same thing over and over but in different situations.

"Do you want dessert?" He asks.

You shake your head no. You want to even unbutton your jeans because of how full you feel. Even breathing makes you feel fuller.

"Then let me pay, and we are on our way." He says, calling the waitress to pay.

You two walk out of the restaurant. Gavi has a hoodie that he had in his car. He asks you if you want to walk around, you say yes.

"Mom says that when she's back, she will teach you how to make that cake you loved." He smiles, hugging you by the waist. "That way, when you learn how to make it, you can make it for me."

"I will make it for you whenever you want to." You kiss his cheek. "Stay with me tonight, yes?"

He nods, tightening the grip he has on you. You two pass a man selling single roses. Gavi bought one for you. Handing it to you and stealing a quick kiss.

yourusername has added to closefriends.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Alexa, your friend, asks you.

"I can't. Have something to do." You lie.

That thing you had to do was Pablo coming over to stay inside with you. He called you earlier and asked you to be home.

He was getting food for the two of you and wanted to see this new movie that he was too busy to see.

"Okay then." She shrugged. "If you change your mind, we are going to be at La Bodega. Text me." You nod, saying goodbye.

You drive home, listening to your shared playlist that Gavi created for you. That way, when you were together, the songs you liked were going to mix.

As soon as you get home, you clean the small mess you have in the living room. You take a shower to erase the sweat from the weather.

You decide to watch your show while you wait. Making time for Gavi to get out of whatever he's doing.

After a few episodes, you realize that Pablo was later than what he usually is. You check your phone to see if he texted you or something.

Nothing.

You sent him a text asking if he was okay. You want to make sure that it was just him being late, or maybe he got caught up doing something else.

After the first five minutes, you thought < maybe he's busy >

After ten, you started to worry. < what if during recovery, he hurt himself? >

After more than an hour, you decide to call him. The beeping of the line and the authorized voice of his voice mail made you even more worried.

You tried again. Nothing.

You calm yourself, maybe he got busy with something and couldn't come. Maybe he's in a meeting and you were interrupting.

You continue watching your show, trying to leave the worry away. He was fine. He has to be.

You get up and prepare yourself some instant Ramen. Your plans of waiting for Pablo are now long forgotten.

You didn't understand, but you didn't make it bigger. Two missed calls and a few unread texts were everything you did, and it was enough.

At one time, you turn your tv off. Walking to your room and getting into bed. You check your phone one last time, confirming that Pablo read your texts but didn't answer them.

He was going to explain himself later. It was all okay.

But... was it?

Pablo took not one day or maybe two. It took him five days before he showed up at your door.

You might think that after the texts, the missed calls, after you basically were dead worried about him.He was going to explain himself.

Thar he was going to give you the resume of what happened for him to be ignoring you like that.

But no, Pablo didn't do that.

He even asked you why you were blowing up his phone. HE was confused.

"Gavi, you told me you were coming and when you didn't. I got worried." You tell him, sitting next to him on the coach. "I even thought that maybe something happened to you during recovery."

He opens his eyes. "No, don't say that." He chuckles. "God, no."

"Then what happened?" You ask, hand on his cheek. "Tell me."

He thinks for a while, not sure what to tell you to calm you down.

"Aurora and Javi got into a fight." He says. "And I needed to be there for her. You understand that my sister was in distress and I wasn't going to leave her alone. I'm sorry I got busy, I really am."

You calm down, believing his dumb story. "No, you did the right thing." You say, caressing his skin. "I just got worried, that's all."

He pushed your head towards him. Giving you a kiss. "I'll make it up." He smiles, not worried Bout a single thing. "Now, why don't we watch that movie I told you about?" He asks, kissing you again.

You nod, letting the whole thing slide.

Oh boy, you were wrong for that.

After letting Pablo get away with that, he started to act differently. You blame it on him being stressed about the Sevilla game. Maybe he wanted to train extra hard and be prepared for anything.

You call him out for that. He apologized and invited you out. Insisting on going to dinner as a way for him to apologize.

He asked you to meet there since he was going straight up after training. He told you that the Mister decided for training to be in the evening.

You got yourself ready. Got your makeup on, your pretty hair well done. You got your nice perfume on.

All of that for him to be more than an hour late.

"Hey!" You say calling the waitress attention. "Can I get the check?"

She takes a look at your table, the empty bottle of soda, and your sad look was enough for her to feel bad.

"It's okay." She smiles. "It's on the house."

You thank her, already feeling too embarrassed to fight her for the check. You left some money for her, as a thank you.

You drive home, mad that you let this happen. You were expecting more from him, only to be let down by your own expectations.

You log into social media, trying to forget about your anger at him, only to find out a picture of him from only like thirty minutes ago.

gavirafan06

Liked by 763 others

gavirafan06 Gavi with a fan tonight.

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ferminxgavi wait is that the girl they are talking about on twitter?

gavirafan06 apparently they were out with his sister and his mom 🤔

masialover10 they say her user is @/antogmz but her account is private tho

He was out with someone else, and his mom and sister were with him.

You were waiting for him, and he didn't even have the decency of calling you and canceled the date.

You throw your phone to the bed. Went to the bathroom and did your skincare. You feel down, Gavi wasn't like that. Not with you.

You give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was a fan who was casually in the back or someone else.

You don't want to make assumptions. You want him to explain himself. Even when you already decided that he was innocent.

Aurora called you the next day. Asking you if you wanted to go out and have some lunch together. You agreed to meet her.

She asked you to pick her up, thing that you agree with, too. You got ready and drove to her brother's house.

You want to talk with Gavi, ask him why he didn't showed up, but you don't want to look pushy or like a bother.

You ring the doorbell. After a few seconds, you are greeted by Belen. She got happy to see you, hugging you and pulling you inside the house.

You make small talk with her, she mentioned how much she wants you to come over so you can learn those food recepies you always ask her.

"I promise that I'll make time to come sometime around this week." You say, waving goodbye at her.

Aurora and you walk out. She was happy to see you and be able to talk to you. You were happy too, she was an amazing friend to you.

"Are you coming tonight?" She asks casually.

You look at her, confused about what she's talking about.

"What's tonight?" You ask. "I've been busy, and I've been forgetting things, sorry." You say, pretending to understand what she meant.

"Pablo is hosting a barbecue. His friends from Sevilla are in town, and he wants to celebrate with them." She exolains to you. "You remember now?" She laughs.

You nod, smiling at her. You feel your stomach turning. Gavi got the friends you two have in common, invited them, and left you out.

"Aurora, can I ask you a question?" You ask her.

"You just did." She jokes, making you roll your eyes as you chuckle. "Go on, ask me."

"But, promise me you'll be honest with me." You say, frown in your face.

She stops eating to look at you with a serious face. "Of course. What is going on?"

You think the question a few moments. You don't know how to deliver it and make it sound like a doubt, and not like a desperate thing.

"Is Gavi seeing anyone?" You finally ask.

She starts coughing. Lifting her hand for you to give her a moment. "Sorry, I ate too quickly." She lies.

You hand her the glass of water, trying to help her pass the food. "You okay?"

She nods, gaining composure. "Sorry, yes. I am." She says, drinking water. "Why are you asking me that?" She asks back.

You shrug. "He's been kind of ghosting me." You explain. "And I don't want to hurt myself and think that maybe what we have is going to work and then find out that he is seeing someone else."

She softened the expression on her face. "Y/n." She sighs. "Pablo likes you more than he cares to confess." She says, grabbing your hand. "Believe me when I tell you that he only thinks about you."

You smile at her. Happy with her answer.

"He's been busy." She excuses him. "With all the training and him wanting to be as ready as possible for the match, I think he's been out of the blue."

You nod, understanding that he was worried about his comeback. Busy with his own life and trying to make it out as if.

"Well, I'm calmer now that you tell me that." You smile at her. "Thank you." You say, squishing her hand.

You go on with your day, the bright smile you have on your face was something nobody was taking away.

You drive Aurora home, asking her to tell her mom that yoh will be back to learn everything she wants to teach you.

You then drive back home. You need to finish some projects. You texted Gavi, letting him know that Aurora told you Bout the barbecue and asking if he needed anything.

He only texted that he would come over to talk.

You don't pay mind to that. Finishing with your homework and even using the free time to do some upcoming projects.

You don't notice the time passing by, until someone knocks on your door. You check the time. It was 5 pm.

"Hola," you smile at Gavi. Moving to the side to let him in. "Before you say anything, Aurora already told me that you've been busy and very tired and I totally understand why you forgot about dinner."

He frowns, not even understanding what you meant by that. "Okay." He says, shrugging. "Talking about Aurora, you told me she invited you over tonight?" He asks.

You nod happy. "She did. That's why I was asking if you needed me to bring something."

He scratches the back of his neck. Trying to find a way to say what he was about to say.

"Are you oka-" You were asking, until you got interrupted by him.

"You can't come." He says. The serious tone of his voice makes you shiver.

You frown. Looking at him not understanding.

"What?"

He sighs. "You are not invited." He says, looking annoyed. "Aurora wasn't supposed to invite you, and frankly, I don't want you there."

You feel the knife stabbing you in the heart. He didn't want you there. You stayed silent for a few minutes.

He's trying to read your blank expression, but he can't.

Your vision becomes blurry. "Oh." You whisper. "Okay."

He feels bad about hurting your feelings.

"Y/n, list-"

"You should go." You interrupt him. "It's getting late, and you'll have people over." You say, walking to the kitchen.

You don't want him to see you cry, but you can't help the sob that scapes your lips. That makes him feel even worse.

"Preciosa, listen." He tries one more time.

"No, Pablo." You turn around mad. "You need to leave." You say, stern tone. "Now!"

You clean your tears. You refuse to cry in front of him. You don't want to show him how much this situation is affecting you.

"Why are you so mad?" He asks, exasperated. "You act as if you are my fucking girlfriend." He shouts.

You pass from the sadness to anger in one sentence. Your fight mode activates.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Pablo." You say, trying to hide the angry sob that scapes your lips. "I'm sorry that I act as if I'm someone you treat me like. I'm sorry I'm crying because I genuinely thought that you cared about me, and now I'm realizing that you don't. "

He rolls his eyes. That only makes you feel so much fury.

"I do care about you." He says. "But fuck, I never told you we were a thing. You assumed things up, and now you are blaming me for it."

You let out a laugh. "I assumed?" You ask. "I assumed things up when you called me all those nicknames? Huh?" You start pointing out. "I assumed things up when you held my hand, kissed my lips, slept over in my bed? Huh?"

He's silent, knowing that there's no going back from here. "Liste-"

"No!" You shout. "Did I assumed things up when you were fucking me?" You ask, the bitter tone is evident. "I gave you everything, Pablo. And you can't even give me a decent excuse. Are you really blaming me?"

"Did I asked you to give me all that?" He asks.

That simple question makes you understand everything. Your energy got all down. You don't even want to keep talking.

"You are right." You nod. "You can leave now, message received."

He stops the hard frown that's on his face. He softens his look. What he just did was not what he wanted to happen.

He wanted for you to understand that he never wanted something serious, but he let it go for more than he should.

And even when he does like you, he can't be with you like he wants to. He needs to keep his distance, and you are making things more difficult than it should be.

"Go, please." You beg, trying to hold the tears. "Enjoy your party, and I hope you enjoy playing again."

You walk away from him. If he wanted to stand there, you weren't going to see it. You slam the door of your room.

You place a pillow on your face, yelling the frustration on it. Shutting the scream that your heart was letting out.

Gavi left, slamming the door on his way out. He cursed everything that was on his view radar. Blaming himself and his stupid boy mind. But not enough for him to turn around and do the right thing.

You cry into your pillow. You are hurt and confused about why he was acting like that.

He wasn't your Pablo, the one who brings you flowers just because.

He wasn't your Pablo, the one who takes you out on dates and walks after training because he misses you. Even when he saw you before training.

He wasn't your Pablo.

But not even Pablo was your Pablo.

You feel tired and falling asleep during the crying process.

When you woke up with a headache and puffy red eyes, you know it wasn't a dream. Gavi just told you that he doesn't see you the way you see him.

You got up, walked to your bathroom, and washed your face. You shrugged and decided to take a shower.

Your day began good, you even had some fun time with Aurora. Who would've thought that I was going to be the last time you did that.

You slowly do your night routine, trying to feel better. As if that's what you need. You order take out and decide to eat it while watching your show.

When you get tired, you open your Instagram. The first post is a story Gavi posted. You click on it and enter his profile, unfollowing him.

You think for a second. Angerly deciding that you were not only going to do that but also blocking him in the process.

You went then to your feed, refreshing it after a while. It didn't have anything good for you to engage.

You move to Twitter. The first thing you find is a tweet about this girl named Antonella. She apparently was Gavi's new fling.

You read through the tweets, finding out that she was the girl that the Instagram comments were talking about.

You read that someone mentioned her Instagram account. Deciding that it wasn't enough pain for one day, you went back to Instagram. Searching her.

You click her profile, noticing something very interesting. She follows you. You clicked on "follow back" requesting to follow her.

You don't have to wait that long after she accepts your follow request. You go straight to her posts, stalking her like a crazy fan.

You find something very interesting. Gavi liked and commented on her posts. But that didn't really surprised you.

It was Aurora's likes and comments on her page. Commenting like she knew her from all her life. You were closed to the two of them, and you can't remember anyone with that name or that looks.

You click on her story, only to find out why Gavi didn't want you at his barbecue.

antogmz has added to her story

You know Pablo a little too much to recognize him. And even if you have a little doubt about it, the background gives you all the answers.

He was at his house. He threw a party with all the friends you thought you two shared. But they aren't your friends if they know he's with someone else and decide to hide it from you.

You block your screen. Tired of going out of your way to make Gavi someone so on top of everything. You can't keep putting him before you. Not anymore.

What hurt you the most was that Aurora knew about it.

You can't blame her for siding with Gavi. She's his sister, so it was obvious that she was going to prioritize him over you.

But when you asked her if Pablo was seeing someone else, she denied it. Telling you that he likes you and that he only thinks about you.

She lied to you, giving you fake expectations.

You blink the tears away. You don't want to cry. You already feel dumb enough to keep humiliating yourself for him.

After a while, you open your phone again, you don't want to think about him. You start to see the insta stories of your friends.

That's when you see the one from Aurora.

aurorapaezg has added to her closefriends.

You see the tags on her story. It was everyone. The only one who wasn't invited was you. And you can't get mad, the sadness overpowering every feeling.

You tried to distract yourself, checking your feed again to see what's happening. Maybe finding a funny video or something. But no.

You click on that one picture even when you know it was going to hurt.

gavixpedri

Liked by 2,284 others

gavixpedri New picture of Gavi and his alleged girlfriend @antogmz in his Barcelona home.

There's rumors that she's going to be at the game against Sevilla. If that's true, then this will confirm their relationship.

Gavi and Anto have been linked up since a few weeks ago. People from Sevilla mentioned that he was seen with her on different occasions.

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gavilover9 I thought aurora's friend was his girlfriend

gavixpedri No 😭 she's only a friend after all

barcamessi10 this is the hardest launch I've ever experienced 😭😭😭 he was in recovery a few weeks ago and now he has a girlfriend

gavixpedri I knowwww 😔 we missed a lot of chapters. I stayed at the one where Y/n and him were allegedly a thing 😭

This was from the same night that he left you waiting on the restaurant. He was with her.

You try to stay as low profile as you could. Gavi tried to contact you over text and tried calling. You left all his messages go to voice mail and made sure to mark as read all his texts.

You were coming back from Uni when you found that particular car parked in front of your house. You take your keys out, walking without stopping.

You were about to walk inside your house when you felt an arm pulling you away from the door.

"Just give me five minutes." He begged.

"No!" You say, stern tone. "Let go off me." You order him.

"Four?"

"Let go off me, Pablo." You say again.

"Only one, please. I'm begging you." He beggs.

Those stupid puppy eyes he has are making the devils work. You can't say no to that, and he knows it.

"I'm counting, so you better start talking." You say, lifting your arm to see your watch.

He let go of your arm. "I'm fucking sorry I ever spoke to you in that way." He says, words coming out of his mouth as if he was rapping some Eminem song. "You are someone I find really important to me, and if I ever gave you the impression of liking you is because I really do. I just don't want to hurt you." He pauses to take a break.

You pull your arm down. "Ironic, cause you did hurt me." You say, trying not to sound so harsh.

"And I really regret everything. You are my friend and I shouldn't have played you like I did. I really want you back in my life. I just don't know how to work as a partner. That's why when you never asked me to label our relationship, I was fine with it because you were too."

"Did I ever tell you I was okay with that?" You ask, interrupting him.

He shakes his head no. "I'm sorry."

"Fine, apology accepted." You say. "Now, your time is over. Have a nice day, Pablo."

You were about to turn, but his hands stopped you. "I have this for you." He says, handing you a pass.

"What is this?" You ask confused, not taking it in your hands.

"It's a pass for tonight's match." He smiles. "I'm finally playing, and I want you there. You helped me in my recovery, and I can't thank you enough." He says, scratching the back of his neck. "I know I'm an asshole, I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But please, please, please come to the game." He says, begging again.

You look at the pass in his hand, not sure if you should take it or not.

"Please, at least take it and think about it." He says.

You nod, grabbing the pass from him. You then turn back and walk into your house. You close the door after you.

You look at the pass, it says your number and your seat. < Seat 332 >

Just like always.

You left the pass on your table. Not quite sure if you should go. What if his friends and family looked at you weirdly over you coming to his game?

You shake that idea out of your mind. Gavi's family loved you. Maybe not as his partner, but as the girl who helped him during his worse times.

And that was something nobody was taking from you. Ever.

You try to not think about the pass. You clean your house, you cooked lunch, you watch your show.

You even take a shower, something refreshing.

When you open your closet, you see the jersey. Mayne ut was a sign. Maybe you should go.

You take it as a sign for you to go. You changed into something appropriate for the game. You apply some light makeup and walk out to the stadium.

You were late, and you got into the stadium thanks to Gavi's pass. He asked beforehand for you to be allowed to get in, even if it was only a few minutes left of the game.

A security officer walks you to the vip section. You thank him for allowing you in, he just nodded and left.

You walk into the vip section. Standing over at the doors of the door that's dividing the seats from the lobby.

You noticed that Gavi was about to get subbed in. Everyone on the section was standing and clapping for him.

You can hear people chanting and screaming his name. Everyone was happy about it.

They were all too excited that people didn't really take a seat during the last eleven minutes of the game. That's all that Gavi played, including extra time.

People clapped at the fact that Barca won five to one. You can feel the tears in your eyes.

The longest eleven months of your life. At the same time, those months were short when it came to helping Pablo recover.

Pablo was looking over at the section you were in. People are still up, slowly seating down because it is the vip section. People don't just walk away.

Then the people that left are gone, and people are seated back. You were about to walk into your seat but you noticed something.

She was in your seat.

You look back at the field, finding his eyes on you. You move your eyes from him to the seat. Where she was waving her hand trying to get his attention.

You feel your vision getting blurry. Understanding that it wasn't your seat to take anymore.

It was hers.

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl 🤍

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Megumi felt his face darken hearing this. How the hell does this guy live even after all this? It was sick and wrong. However, he was worried about his plan to use her to get others here.

"....." She didn't move seeing him finally let her chin go, moving away as she tries struggling again to get free but the damn chains were tight around her wrists. After the two times he used rope, he used chains to stop her from getting out.

"Anyway...the body does provide a good substance for a soul. All I need to do is to use the remains of the soul, remnant and put it into an animatronic under my control. I never thought I had this kind of power before" Metal Zilla shrugs his arms as he picks up a pizza cutter from the table. "This place is great! The kids are a pain in the ass since I started working here." The man is wearing a long light brown trenchcoat with a hoodie, he has long sleeves. Daichi can't see his face thanks to the mask he's wearing. But his voice is so full of himself.

"......"

"But they do make great resources! Easy to take and easy to corrupt! But now I feel like I need to move on to the adults! But it's hard to get some but one. The good thing is...I'm going to use that shitty security guard! Zilla is good for something besides singing."

"*Muffled grunting while struggling again* Mfffmmm!!!"

"Anyway...I gotta get back to work!" He said. "I still have about 5 more bodies to work on before getting their souls out. But who knows? If you behave I Might let you out...just kidding! You are going to be good and lure your so called friends here. I'm sure you'll be happy to see them again." he smiled.

"So...what do you have to say about that?" he asked to look at her but Miko said nothing feeling him sigh. "Here, why don't you speak right and tell me?" he asked reaching to lower the gag as she gasps coughing.

"..Hmm?"

"I think your t..terrible! How could you! Your nothing but a creep and murderer to those poor kids! What did they even do to you!?" she shouted.

"EVERYTHING! THOSE BRATS DESERVED IT AND IF YOUR ANGRY ABOUT IT GET OVER IT!" he shouted. "I deserve to get what I want even if it means killing someone else!" he glares at her. "Even if it means torturing someone else.." he said showing the pizza cutter near her cheek. However, she looks quiet for him to sigh.

"You don't get it though..I'm doing this for a reason..now...I'm sure whoever sees this will be happy your safe....why not say something?" he asked but Miko looks up at the camera.

"Guys! If your seeing this; don't come down here! I'll be fine! Please, you don't want to come down here!" she said but he laughs finding her funny.

"Oh what a joke you are Miko-chan!" he snickered but as he leans in about to almost cut her cheek seeing the cutter cut her skin drawing blood. "Why not say more?" He teased.

However, she quickly knees him hard in the stomach hearing him groan henching over. She begins struggling more working on trying to get out before seeing Anaconda. He was trying to break the chains again.

"Anaconda!" she was looking to him hearing the other coughing before he growls getting mad. "!?...Anaconda, run! Get out of here and warn the others! Tell them not to come here!" she said seeing him not wanting to leave her.

"I'll be okay. Just go!" she said before she tires using her strength to break the chains only to see Anaconda rush out away as she sees the other growling to stand up.

"WHY YOU BITCH!" he shouted to hit Miko hard as she coughs wincing a bit. "Tch....I'll have to have them look for that thing. But in the meantime....*faces Miko angry*..since you wanna be a brat! I'll have to punish you again for it!" he said cutting her free but saw her trying to run only for him to pick her up over his shoulder.

"LET ME GO!! LET ME GO!!" she shouted kicking but he keeps carrying her away. "LET GOOOOO!!"

"Once I deal with you..it's back to work but lets work on that mouth of yours!" he shouted as she screams kicking before the door slams shut behind him leaving Miko's screams before they were fading away leaving silence.

The roars and the shouts are heard before it becomes silent as something is heard shut. A door. Muffled shouts are heard before laughter is heard, "With this, I can make a new animatronic! Thanks to those brats, I can collect enough agony to make more of these things! It's thanks to that stupid owner who wouldn't give up. Hell, they brought in some damn brats..." Said a figure. It sounded male.

Megumi didn't like that at all. What was he planning to do?! Make more of the animatoric but it sounds like he would make it more danger and disturbing where it might get even worse. He saw Miko struggling but she glares at him while still moving.

"Oh well...I just need to move and leave this dump. Not before bringing more brats in here!" He cackled. "I just need to use those dumb robots and a helper to bring them here."He said.

Someone came into view, he wore a grey Zilla mask, this one looked metal as it had yellow eyes. He looks at Miko, "Tell me...I wonder which of your friends will get here first. The girls, the boys, or that brother and sister! Who knows! It makes the game fun, doesn't it?"

"......" Miko still tries to struggle but he sighed to look at her.

"Now now, don't struggle. You'll hurt yourself like that. I can't let a fresh offering get ruined." he said only to hear more sickening crunch noises to see himself. Miko saw blood on him but also saw the animatronic show up but it was coated in blood along with holding a bloody axe.

Right away Miko's face pales a little. "Though, again, we just begun the game..I'm sure you'll have loads of fun..won't you? Besides, I still didn't forgive you for that kick earlier after you escaped twice. TWICE!" he shouted as he slams the axe above her head almost cutting her hands but missed.

"With your wrestling moves and all that punching and kicking. That hurt you know. BUT! I forgive you for it." he pouts to grip her chin forcing her to look at him.

"I mean after all....I had sooooooo fun making sure you didn't do it again." he said glaring at her but Miko kept looks at him seeing the bloody axe near by.

"So lets see if we can have more guests show up...but you'll be fine won't you.." he smiled petting Miko's head while she was still struggling hoping she can break free again.

"But lets see...maybe you can lead your friends here for me! You can be so helpful and I know I can get them trapped.." he giggled but Miko shook her head furiously not wanting that. He looks to her but he only glares seeing the mask up close that she stares into his glowing yellow eyes.

"Don't you fucking say no to me...you're lucky I didn't kill you.." he said as she was quiet. "Just because you got lucky, I'll be sure you don't...so unless you want me to cut that pretty little head of yours..behave." he warns.

[jetpackgeneratedcat]

It took literal months, but I finished it!!

Top left: linked universe logo

The jojo's lu logo is sooooo detailed. It is one of the things I love about Jojo's asethetic with linked universe. The detail she adds brings so much life and information about the world of Linked Universe. Great example is all the embroidery on the chain's clothing. Let's you know about civilization, that an item may be magical, etc. It is difficult to keep small details in watercolor, but I think I caught most of the main details in the painting.

Middle left: Soulful legend

This was the fourth of the images I did for the painting, and the first image I really started to get into the painting. I think legend is my favorite to paint because he makes composition so easy. The red tunic adds an easy focal point. I did learn from this that I do not like masking fluid and likely won't use it again. It added to many hard edges that I wasn't intending. Very happy with the sky!

Bottom left: Evening snack

In this image, I liked the idea that wind and sky don't know what Ramen is because their worlds don't have enough space to produce wheat. So sky and wind are super excited about this new food, while legend has no idea why they are so hyped for noodles. I also liked the idea that four found a green pepper in the ramen as a topping and is a hater (this is from a note that jojo left somewhere saying that the chain will eat anything but four in the Manga does not like green peppers, idk where this note is to link it though....). I didn't end up drawing the Ramen noodles as it was just getting too small of a scale for me to be comfortable drawing the thin lines for the noodles in.

Bottom right: Testudo

I am very hyped in the future when we see more collaborative fighting with the chain and them working together effectively. I absolutely love the scene in shifting shadows part 3 where lenged and hyrule work together with the beam and hookshot.

Middle: Legends storage

This is a reference to one of jojo's earliest works where the chain goes to legends storage for him to pick up some gear. I love that scene and I tried to put as many references as I could. The one thing I need to figure out is how I want twilight to look. I can't wrap my head around it. Need to sit down and just try out a bunch of different faces for him. My Pinterest inspo for twilight is all over the place. I want twilight to look different from time because when Malon was trying to guess who was the descendent, she did not consider twilight (she looked at wars and wind (so I typically draw time, wind, and wars looking similar). For my own personal headcannon, twilight and time are very similar in their manner (the way the walk, stand, etc) and personality (their stubbornness (as seen in sunset pt3)) but not necessarily in looks.

Middle right: Boat boys

The first image I did. I like how the water turned out, but I will not be using masking fluid for the same reasons I noted earlier. I did trace the boat (i think this is the reference [L240632 Hornet Class. J. Arthur Dixon Ltd. Beken and Son]). I do regret not doing anything creative with the boat, but I just wanted to get into painting and needed some confidence by working directly from a reference. I also forgot that legend might not be so keen to be on a boat again based on a comment jojo left in 2022 or something. I think she mentioned something in a discord event back then about legend not too willing to be on a boat again. But that doesn't really matter, I put that boy in a boat whether he likes it or not lol.

Top right: Winter storm

Second image I did for this painting. I did trace most of the horse because I do not care to learn horse anatomy (ref. [Winter Save By David Stoecklein]) Favorite part about this is the lighting on the rope from the lantern. I think it turn out well.

Top middle: Heavy armour

Third image I did for the painting and the one I realized I need to spend more time painting people in neutral or back lite lighting. But for my first time I think it is good. I really want to see what jojo does with the armour sets! I like the idea that war's armour is clean and pristine while wild's armour is rusted and beaten from the calamity. In this painting I played with adding pink to the golden armour and I liked it. In the middle picture of the collage (legends storage), you can see i added pink to time's armour.

That's everything! ❤️

[darkmagenugget]

Hiya! I'm Ashe! One of the main fronters of the DarkMage Nugget System, runner of of this account, and main artist! Fennec kitsune/shapeshifter as well. (She/Her) Welcome to the DarkMage Nugget Tumblr!

Creator of Hyper City (With extra lore from friends and Aqua) where a lot of my friends stories are taking place. You can find my commission info here and are open! I do character art, emotes, and more!

System Intros after the break!

Allow me to introduce the rest of the system.

Iris- (She/Her)

Iris is the host of the system. She has her own blog here ( @iristhedarkwitch - 18+ only). She is the witch of our system, and also the current host. Specializing in transformation spells fictionally, and energy manipulation in practice. One of my girlfriends as well. And Aqua's girlfriend too.

Aqua - (She/They)

Aqua is the writer of our system. Also has a blog of their own over here ( @nuggetofthesea ). She is an elf with (currently) 3 forms. A base, a sea, and a shadow form. She is the one responsible for most of the lore in Hyper City, and is usually the calmest of us and just loves hanging out by vibing in the room. Also girlfriend. Also dating Iris.

Chaos- (She/Her)

Chaos is a gremlin. Is always interested in things that are high-energy and fast paced. She plays games on stream on fridays at 4:00 PM Pacific. She is also the most direct of us (Though speaks a little rough) and able to put things bluntly and deal with scenarios we wouldn't be able to otherwise. She can by hyper, but cares greatly for everyone in the system. Usually spending time with Aria.

Mira - (She/They)

Mira is the organizer of the headspace. A crystal fairy who is able to duplicate herself up to up to 30 of her at once, she manages the entire headspace and the thoughts and memories of system members. Keeping the memory archive as a collective reference for us to go back to. They do tend to be able to handle multitasking better than the rest of us, but tends to stay out of the front unless she is needed (or wants to troll us, because when she enters the front we all see what she sees. All 30 of what she sees at once). She keeps everything organized.

Aria - (She/Her)

Aria is a puppy. She's just a big strong puppy. She is the sweetest person in existence. She can't really communicate well verbally or over text. But can communicate through images, emotes, barking, and through me or Chaos. Would protect anyone physically if needed, but we try to not have that be needed. She is too sweet! If she shows up, give her headpats. She absolutely loves them. ^-^

Nova - (They/It/Fae)

A trickster fae that has found its way into our system. Rarely calls anyone by name, and speaking with a scottish Accent, they are playful and tricky. But likes to fly free. Bound to it's "Little Fox" (me) in terms of willing to listen her, but will chime in at any time it wants. So if I ever speak with a scottish accent, that's Nova.

And just some more examples of my character design work. These aren't part of the system (As far as I know) but are still characters I use often.

[starlostlix]

ARCANE S2 ACT 1 SPOILERS BELOW as I analyse the scene between Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn and Isha, what it means for them, and the link to Caitlyn's 3-point plan for the strike team.

I don't usually post about Arcane here but I need a place to talk about it without word limits so here we are. Also my comparison between MTP's telling of A scandal in Bohemia and the og will be done at some point I have just been very distracted.

So the scene I'm focusing on starts here when Isha runs up to where Jinx and Vi are fighting, lying between them a pointing a gun at Vi to protect Jinx.

Now Isha is a kid that has accidentally wandered into Jinx's life and gotten attached to her enough to wish to try and save her from danger - a new found family for Jinx alongside Sevika (who gives aunt vibes to me). But not just any kid is going to run into the line of fire like this. If we know anything about Isha now it's that she's brave - really brave - but also shouldn't have to be in this position.

Taking at look at her face, Isha's expressions seem to flick between anger and fear quite quickly. There's the facial muscles around her nose often flaring for that anger, but also a deep fear you can see too.

I think it's how she maintains focus on Jinx whilst the gun is turned away to Vi that's interesting. It's clear that she's afraid of what Vi is doing and is focused mostly on protecting Jinx - so that gun isn't something she necessarily wants to fire. She occasionally kept trying to press the trigger, but her hesitation isn't necessarily that she can't, but that she doesn't want to. She had ample time to take a very clear shot but she doesn't (this is interesting when we think about Caitlyn nearby who is desperate to take a shot even if it's not completely clear - Isha's motive is protection whereas Caitlyn's is revengeful action). And once she is unarmed all she can do is cling to Jinx. Perhaps both for her protection of Jinx or for Jinx to protect her. Like how a child would cling to a mother or father or even a bigger sister. Isha is supposed to play the role of a younger sibling to, in my eyes, mimic that of Vi and Powder that Jinx is desperate to protect.

I wanted to move on to Vi because I think her reactions/expressions are the most interesting. You get to see her face a lot, and once Isha has the gun to her face the main expression is one of fear. Not fear for her own safety, but a fear for Isha's safety, AND a fear of what she's been doing as an enforcer.

When Isha has the gun, all Vi can focus on is this mystery child - who she's never seen before might I add- suddenly appearing to protect Jinx. Even if Isha is scared she's still trying to protect her, trying to help even. Perhaps Vi sees herself here, a kid just trying to protect her loved ones from the enforcers that oppressed them. Perhaps she sees Powder, a kid throwing themselves in harms way just to try to help. Either way, she sees an innocent kid putting themselves in the line of fire to protect their loved ones. Except this time Vi is the dangerous one, rather than the protector role she used to fill.

When the gun is knocked away we see Vi again, frozen in place as she stares at Isha clinging to Jinx. This one feels so much more like a face of realisation - that Jinx still has loved ones left and that Vi has become the problem she swore to destroy. She's become the enforcer who enters Zaun to 'clear stuff up' with no regard for how it affects the people of Zaun. Instead of a protecter, she has become an aggressor.

If you will, remember Caitlyn's 3 goals - 'Locate Jinx, Dismantle Shimmer, and neutralise any agents still loyal to Silco'. I feel that this is where Vi realises that those goals only truly help the people of Piltover rather than anyone in Zaun.

1 - 'Locate Jinx' - this is basically corporate speak for Caitlyn wanting to k!ll Jinx. Originally, Vi was fine with this, seeing Jinx as a 'monster she created' and who 'taints the memory of her sister' Powder. But in doing so, she now realises that she will leave people behind who care for Jinx - Isha in particular. She's seen in her life so many kids left behind after enforcers killed their parents/families who then turn to rebellion (INCLUDING HERSELF AND POWDER!!) that she knows if she k!lls Jinx here with Isha as witness that the cycle will only continue - more kids who turn to violence as a result of trauma. If she were to go through with it she'd have become a direct parallel to those enforcers who killed her own parents, and she's already become a parallel to the ones who terrorised her and her family in her childhood with her activities in the Zaun strike team (especially with their usage of the Grey).

2 - 'Dismantle Shimmer' - whilst the removal of this drug is a good thing for pretty much anyone, the way the team go about it creates huge problems. The team are specifically shown to simply burn large quantities of the stuff (in the opening montage to 'Hellfire') - not only does this add more dangerous gasses to the underground areas (which they've already been releasing the Grey into), but it also creates issues for addicts. With access to it simply cut off, a decent portion of the population who are addicted to it will experience pretty dangerous withdrawal symptoms which could even lead to d3ath. With no system in place, addicts are left entirely on their own, so the destruction of Shimmer like this only helps those in Piltover remove a threat to them without actually helping the people. Meanwhile higher-ups in Piltover like Salo can use it recreationally (for his tattoos, even if frowned upon as implied by Mel's conversation with Lest).

3 - 'Neutralise any agents still loyal to Silco' - I'm pretty sure the Chembarons are considered Silco loyalists due to the Zaun strike team's attack on one of Margot's brothels in episode 2. The Chembarons, now down to 3 of them, were heralded as the only leadership of Zaun besides Silco. Their infighting has caused major issues in Zaun, but their elimination will not necessarily help Zaun in the long run. The removal of the Chembarons will leave a power vacuum, much like the one already left by Silco, that others will only step into over time. The removal of leadership in Zaun will only cause more issues as up-and-comers will try to fill the power vacuum and build their own forces, eventually becoming a new threat but not without a long period of chaos as people try to build resources to fill the vacuum. Piltover needs the removal of those with current power and forces to remove any possible threats of attack like the attack on the councillor memorial. It is, again, only for the benefit of Piltover.

Vi had seen becoming an Enforcer as the only way to bring down Jinx (reinforced by Caitlyn's insistence of doing things together and also partly by Maddie talking about what Caitlyn did to get her the job) AND as a way of protecting Caitlyn, but now I feel that she has been able to see the negative affect she's been having on the people of Zaun - her own people. I think this is why Vi switches into doing anything she can to protect Isha and Jinx, her protective side for Powder kicking back in specifically.

Looking back at Jinx, she was so ready to d!e at Vi's hands until Isha appears. Her expression here is the clearest look at her emotions we really see in the sequence - concern and fear. We know she's not afraid of dying or k!lling (especially when she said earlier before the fight that she's not remorseful of orphaning kids as she's 'done it to herself enough'), but she's so visibly afraid of Isha being hurt, and afraid that Vi would be the one to kill Isha. She's grown attached to Isha more than she'd like to admit, perhaps even seeing similarities to her and Powder (especially in their desire to help their family).

Once Isha's gun is shot away she clings to Jinx. Jinx at first is trying to claw her off - get her away from the danger, telling her to 'scram', referring to her simply by 'kid' so she leaves and doesn't get hurt. But when Vi is just sitting there looking rather than attacking she brings Isha in closer as a form of protection and looks at Vi. The way she looks at Vi. That's fear. She's afraid of her own sister again. She's afraid her sister will hurt an innocent kid, who's just trying to help, with a punch again. All her face says is 'Don't hurt this kid'.

And it's devastating. Devastating for both Jinx and Vi. Jinx sees her sister as a threat, whereas Vi begins to see a bit of Powder in Jinx again. She sees herself about to repeat a mistake that previously cost her everything - leaving a child alone with no support. This is also part of what turns Vi to protect Jinx and Isha from Caitlyn.

Last but not least, Caitlyn.

Caitlyn's effect on this scene can sometimes be forgotten (I almost didn't include her in this analysis at all) but it's actually bigger than one may think. I mentioned before how her desperation to k!ll Jinx causes her to shoot even when her shot is not clear (and how it contrasts Isha's reluctance to shoot even with a clear shot), but there's also so much more. For one, she shoots at the gun Isha is holding almost without a second thought. She tries to shoot Jinx whilst Isha is clinging on to her almost without a second thought. She shoots Vi's gauntlets when she tries to stop her. She frankly is unhinged at this point, tunnel vision on killing Jinx with no regard for anyone else in this situation, not just Isha but Vi also.

Grief is a strange thing. It can create many reactions from people depending on their situation. In Caitlyn's case, her grief has morphed into a desire for revenge and a thirst for violence, strengthening her pre-established prejudices towards Zaunites that she was so adamant in reversing in season 1. In her grief there is one constant - blame for Jinx - that morphs into further prejudices towards Zaunites as a whole to justify her actions in her own mind. She similarly justified her tunnel vision in this fight with the idea that 'she wasn't going to miss' despite missing her shot multiple times already (specifically when she shoots to k!ll Jinx and only hits her middle finger).

Her actions here are what happens when grief takes control and her usual logic and reasoning is not able to intervene as much as usual. Her insistence on not harming innocents (seen early in episode one), her understanding of how Zaunites were treated unfairly (s1 episode 7) - it's all overshadowed by her grief. However, her grief doesn't excuse her actions - she's still making decisions based on her own internalised prejudices that with her grief are projected outwards and drive her actions.

This has all culminated here, where her tunnel vision has led to her hurting Vi and almost caused her to hurt an innocent child. She's this looming threat to the scene, her hextech rifle being probably the most powerful weapon here - and it's in the hands of someone who is vengeful and seemingly trigger-happy and in a position of power she was not ready for. If Vi was a big danger in Jinx and Isha's eyes at first, there's a bigger danger in Caitlyn, one that even Vi notices. And she's only going to get worse next arc.

[There could be more to say but I think this is a great place to end it! I may make more arcane posts as s2 releases but i'll have to see, I just really wanted to talk about this scene in particular it's just so interesting.]

[dark-dragon-8]

A Supernatural × Batman crossover where the Batfam are actual cryptids and the brothers are sent to hunt them, only to find out that these guys are pretty much immortal, god like beings whose only weaknesses are each other, the sun and some weird sentient manifestation of their home city that they seem to care about, and most of them already grew out of the second one, since, apparently, the sun only affects them when they're newborns/newly transformed/changed.

The whole reason they ended up in Gotham in the first place was because of some online rumors saying that there is a demon cult in the city, as well as Blüdhaven [it's true, partially, the Bat clan has had several cults and/or religions painting them as godly beings/saviours of Gotham throughout the years, still do (imagine the colonies from F'ing Demon Bats, only this time the cryptid part of them is actually real)] along with shrines for human sacrifices.

At first they thought the locals sold themselves to a Pagan God in exchange for their safety, that the shrines and "holy grounds" spread throughout the city were for blood and human sacrifices and the creatures were feeding on the souls of their followers or something.

Turns out, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes there were bloody sacrifices at the shrines, but most of the time those were just grieving kids bringing their dead pets to silence's holy grounds for them to be healed, or taken care of, by the spirit and have their souls at peace. But, again, that was rare, and only occurred at the holy grounds themselves rather than the shrines people attended to daily.

Majority of those shrines were filled with books, art supplies, music boxes with ballerinas and, sometimes, you could even find a few trinkets and computer parts, as well as the occasional plates and plastic boxes filled with home cooked meals, sometimes they even put pots and kettles filled to the brim with savory goods and nice tea. Nobody ever touched the food, not even the poor and desperate, when asked why all the brothers received were looks of horror and hushed whispers about how "The bats don't like thieves" and "They'll stop coming by the shrine, maybe even destroy it if we do that"

Dean didn't like it, neither did Sam, they didn't like how the locals, people who barely even bat an eye when they see a dead body on their way to work, get so scared and terrified as soon as they hear of something that might displease the Bats. They tried asking around, trying to figure out what is it that makes them so scared of their dearly beloved deities, after all, they talk about them like such a wonder, like they're the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, one of them is named Mercy and was revered for its compassion and understanding of those around them.

They only got their answer when investigating a place called Crime Alley. They locals were all the same, if not even more reserved than their city's counterparts, but there was one person, a young girl who couldn't be older than ten that said she'll be willing to answer their questions in return for some money and stories from their time as hunters. They were reluctant at first, but seeing as they haven't had much of an option, they agreed.

"So, Masey" Dean started

"Missy" she corrected

"Right, sorry, Missy, you said that you could tell us what's up regarding those demons"

"Deities" she said sternly, the man simply nodded "And yes, I can do that, but you'll have to do something for me first"

"And what would that be?"

"You said you were a hunter, right?" He nodded "And you also said you have some money. So I want you to give me two hundred dollars, cash, and a written story containing at least three of your adventures with your partner. You can't use big fonts, lie or omit any details from the story, it needs to be one hundred percent real and legible and needs to be at least fifty pages, understood?"

Dean was confused, confused and worried. Why would this child need a story about them hunting monsters? And why did she need it to be so long and accurate? Was she trying to sell them out to the Bats or something? Why was this so important?

A million questions flooded his head and looking at Sammy, he could tell the feeling was very much mutual.

"Um Missy" it was Sam talking to her this time "Why would you want a story of us hunting like that? We could tell you about our time together on the field, if you want, but why do you need that written so meticulously?"

The little girl shook her head before he even finished speaking "No, no, I need it written"

"How so?"

"For Passion, of course"

"Passion?"

"Yeah, Passion, the component watching over Crime Alley, it loves reading stories but only when they're worth it. It doesn't like when people give them stories only to please it or for it to give them undeserved attention. It needs to be good and interesting, a story about two hunters will definitely do that"

The two hunters met each other's eyes, both their expressions filled with worry, apprehension and suspicion.

"And why all the other rules? Why does have to be so long and accurate?"

The girl tilted her head, looking at them as though they've said something stupid "Because you're introducing yourself, maybe"

"I can't just tell you guys all there is to know about the Bat without at least one of the components acknowledging you guys and giving me permission to share that information with outsiders"

"And what makes you think it won't just kill us as soon as it realizes what we do for a living?" They might've been desperate, but that doesn't mean they're going to give an essay about their weaknesses and hunting methods to a freaky, probably homicidal spirit on a silver platter

"Because they like people like you, people who put their lives on the line in order to help those around them. Also" she leveled her gaze with Dean's, which was pretty impressive considering she barely reached his hip "Had it wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been able to take two steps inside Crime Alley without having a heart attack, or your head magically disappearing"

The two brothers tensed, the taller's eyes rapidly scanning their surroundings, hands fishing out a weird cellular device, probably an EMF reader or maybe a bottle of holy water, as the shorter failed to keep up his confident facade in front of the (probably) ten year old (because Dean isn't going to be spooked by a kid that hasn't even reached the double digits yet, he's 𝘯𝘰𝘵)

The little girl laughed, completely ignoring their - very justified!!! - panic "Relax, would ya? Passion doesn't kill people unless they feel like it's necessary"

They didn't seem to be very relaxed, she didn't care, she just told them to meet her again on the border of Crime Alley and its neighbor city in a week, before leaving.

Two hours later, Carrie Kelley was skipping into the main living room of Wayne Manor, where several of her siblings played video games and with their father reading the newspaper on the side, the perfect illusion of a normal, happy, completely human family.

She walked up to Bruce, sitting on the arm of his sofa as the last of her illusion magic slipped away

"Did you do it?"

"I offered them the deal, still not sure if they'll end up actually agreeing to it"

"Mn. You did well"

The young teen preened under the praise, thanking her father before going off to boast and scheme with the rest of her siblings, they were up planning contingencies and devising plans until Sundown.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I NEED MORE BURNED CHEESE CONTENT, could you please feed this poor hungry soul some burning cheese kids? Imagine the SUPER protective burn during Golden's pregnancy, or, or helping her with the children's dough (and already planning the next children)

The kids will be here soon, I promise :( they're at school right now, Spice and Golden have to go pick them up. It won't be too long. (I have something important to do irl and that takes priority. I'm hoping I have time at the end of this week to sit down and try to draw them. Everything else is ready, their characters sheets are done, got their whole lives on lock lol. All that's missing is to put them on paper. I only have about half a gram of artistic talent so I'll really be pushing myself here... but I want you all to see them really badly, so I'm happy to do it haha)

I don't have to imagine anything, I'm already there with you, buddy :') I hc them as already married by the time the kids come along, and yeah... Spice is SUPER overprotective lol. Very, very gentle and doting, but fiercely protective and downright hostile towards literally everyone else as a consequence of that protectiveness. He won't leave her side unless absolutely necessary, and he'll be snapping at whoever forced him to leave her and then rushing back to her as soon as he can. (She feels kind of claustrophobic at times, because he literally becomes her shadow during those 9 months lol.) But really, he's at her beck and call from beginning to end. She's craving something? He gets it for her. She's sore? Hugs and massages and nice baths. She's tired? He carries her to bed and doesn't allow anyone to bother her for any reason for the whole rest of the day. She can't sleep? He's up with her all night, talking to her and soothing her and doing whatever he can to lull her back to sleep because she needs all the rest she can get. He's Peak Husband during this time lol.

(He's just... beyond happy. I also hc this as being after Spice has redeemed himself and been accepted back into society, but still not having 100% let go of his dark past (which he never truly will, you can never fully forget something like that, unfortunately). So really, he takes this as one of the greatest rewards for his change of heart that he's ever gotten, and as a sign that he really has become better. The day Golden came to him and told him she was pregnant was the best day of his whole, entire life. He fell to his knees and cried when she told him. Not only has he managed to forsake his destructive nature and instead create something, but he's engaged in the most profound act of creation there is: he helped create a life. And he created this precious life with the woman he loves, who helped kickstart his journey to redemption in the first place. It just shows how far he's come, you know? From a cruel tyrant to a beloved king to two peoples... from a bloodthirsty psychopath destined to live and die alone to a much more even-tempered man who has atoned for his sins and learned to be a good friend and person again, as well as became a beloved husband and father... still a force for destruction, but now in a positive way, not a negative one. It's been a very long road, but it really feels like he reached the end, and this victory is sweeter than any he's had before.)

...And same thing if they're cookies, honestly lol. Peak Husband. Burning Sweetheart Cookie here, jumping for joy when Golden tells him she wants a child. He goes hunting for a Witch Oven of his own accord, going to quite literally every corner of the earth until he finds one, then they go to it and he's just like a kid on Christmas Day lol. They're making the batter together and he's just grinning that big, pointy grin he's got, beaming like the sun. How much of his dough should they mix in? How much of hers? What will happen, what sort of child will they create? Golden thinks he's so cute lol. He won't even sit still while the kid is baking in the oven; if he's not pacing back and forth in anticipation, he's picking Golden up and swinging her around and smothering her with kisses, and going on and on and on about how great the kid will be and how they'll be a fine warrior just like him and Golden. He's yanking the oven door open as soon as that timer goes off and they both hear crying... she has to tell him to slow down so they can both take the baby out together (he was so excited that he was just going to do it by himself lol)

TL;DR: The woobification of Burning Spice Cookie on this blog is complete, he is now Burning Sweetheart Cookie, reformed villain who loves his bird wife and their babies with all of his spicy heart

And to feed you a bit of extra content (and to keep everyone on the edge of their seats), I shall feed you a bit of information about the kiddies:

There are two of them, a son and a daughter. The son is the older one by a few years

I did research and took inspiration from both Egyptian and Hindu mythology for their design and some of their personality traits (I will explain this in detail soon. I actually really enjoyed learning about these religions, even if for a ridiculous reason, and I look forward to rambling about all the little bits and pieces of myths I cobbled together to make these two lol)

Each one resembles a parent quite a bit (but I will not specify which child looks like which parent yet)

One of them has wings like Golden Cheese does

Something really bad happens to the son in the future

Here are their soulstone descriptions, because yes, I really did go above and beyond creating these little guys lol

"This stone holds a piece of [REDACTED]'s soul. It feels warm and light, like a rare, refreshing breeze on a desert morning... But is that a single grain of self-doubt, nestled deep within its core?"

"This stone holds a piece of [REDACTED]'s soul. Though it burns very hot and bright, and feels difficult to handle at first, the kindness and unyielding strength resonating from within are nevertheless unmistakable."

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Nov. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

​​Hey again guys! Sorry if it's been a bit since the last devlog. With how much I've been up to, it sure feels like it!

Let's get right into it. For starters, the 3rd rival battle of Act 2 is complete! I'll likely be showing a gameplay preview of it sometime soon. This is the first song to use the new framework that I'll be using for all the other stages going forward, which also means I've had to spend the past couple weeks getting the previous songs working with this new system too... Did you know that in the demo builds, if I wanted to change something about the gameplay, I'd have to manually go back and change it for EACH individual song one by one? Well now, imagine all the songs had like a peace treaty to just share one good, clean, and organized system that I can easily tweak and add to as I please. So development is gonna be smoother than ever from here! This is how most games are SUPPOSED to work, but I was a liiittle too stupid to figure out how to do this until recently!

While I was moving Cream Cheese Icing over to this new system, I took the opportunity to make the chart a bit more beginner-friendly! For example, the first line went from this...

To just this!

As you can see, it has less notes, therefore it is less scary for new players. Believe it or not, I actually never intended for Cream Cheese Icing to be so difficult for new players in the first place! Naturally, being too good at my own game can make gauging the difficulty curve a bit tricky at times, but I think I'm figuring it out!​

You may have also noticed that the characters have new UI icons too! I felt like the old ones were too flat and boring, so I did a new take on them, aiming for more dynamic shapes and angles, not to mention how my art style's just kinda grown a bit in general since I last drew the icons. I also ended up leaving out the circles behind them. I was a little worried I was gonna run out of unique colors for all of them at some point, plus SOME of these guys can have really big hair and/or hats that pretty much just cover up the whole circle anyway. (hi rensa)

Speaking of artwork, here's a little look at some of the updated animation I've done for Stir & Mix! (Try to imagine it in not highly-compressed-gif-form. I promise it looks better in-game!)

When working on Stir & Mix related stuff, I can't help but feel a bit of a sense of dread knowing how people may react to it... Honestly, sometimes I kinda wish it never got as popular as it did in 2022. But hey, doing my own thing regardless of what's expected of me is the most Scratchin' Melodii thing I could do!

Speaking of which, Mia learned a ton of new stuff while doing the VOCALOID tuning for the last rival battle we worked on, so we might revisit Stir & Mix's vocals again at some point before release to give it even more style! (By the way, Mia and 2cada are the same person! Sorry if I refer to both names interchangeably! She's been the one doing all the VOCALOID tuning and vocal mixing for the game since 2023.)

Well, I think that's all for now! Here's another friendly reminder that there will NOT be anymore demos of the game. Any new content will be saved for the full game's release. I know I've said it before, but I probably won't stop saying it until people stop getting confused about it LOL. Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you. - LJ

[hyenafu]

I know this might seem like a bit of a random question, but what are some criticisms of Slightly Damned you can't stand, and what are some you think are at least somewhat valid? I only ask because I do have a few problems with the comic (not really gonna go into here because I don't want to come off as too critical obviously) but I feel like some of the more noteworthy ones have been too long established to just change it altogether, and the best one can do is make something better from its foundation (which I must say, you've done a really good job at ^^)

The complaints that I think are the most unfair are by bigots who think my comic is only getting more inclusive because I'm pandering to wokeness or whatever. These people are also the most likely to misgender me and have no idea what they're talking about. They just can't stand the bare minimum of gay and are often hypocritical, using fallacies as the basis of their arguments. It's tempting to want to argue back, but when has that ever worked on the internet? I think the most valid complaint is that the pacing of the comic is too slow. Sure. Not much I can do about that one. My comic alone doesn't pay all my bills. If I focus exclusively on work, I get depressed, so I have to goof off sometimes. I'm just one person. I don't have a team. I'm doing the best I can already. Another valid complaint is that people don't like my blend of humor and drama. Sometimes readers find it inappropriate or jarring. It's valid because I recognize it as a difference of opinion and understand why they feel that way. But I don't care. I like my weird mix of goofy faces and drama. I sometimes make jokes during periods of great stress in real life. I love all the wacky faces and over-the-top cartoon action among dire circumstances in comics like One Piece and Usagi Yojimbo. Like, it's just my style, man I don't seek out unsolicited advice about my comic. Some people may think that's snobbish of me, but the truth is, very little of what you find that way is actually valuable.

"And as to those critics, she said that she’s managed to do something that might make us all better off- she doesn’t read the comment sections. In perhaps the most roundabout poignant part of the talk, she likened receiving feedback about her work as being like consuming food. She would take a pie from someone she knew and trusted but compared taking unsolicited barbs from strangers as “licking a handle on the subway.” She used to pay very close attention to that kind of critique because she felt that it somehow would make her a better creator but ultimately decided that it was only toxic." - I HAVE SEEN OLIVIA JAIMES, THE CARTOONIST BEHIND THE NEW NANCY, by Rocko Jerome (2018)

Besides the outright hateful sentiments, a lot of unsolicited criticism can be categorized as "I don't like this story because it didn't do what I wanted it to do." Which is fine. I do the same thing when I try to process stories and talk to my friends about them.

But I don't get in the author's face to tell them I think they did a bad job. At the end of the day, no matter how crap I think someone's story might be, I'm not psychic. I don't really know if they did exactly what they set out to do. For example, people have never stopped giving me crap about the death of certain characters. But their whining has only made my convictions stronger. I don't like when other stories don't take deaths seriously, with a real sense of permanence and grief that is not easily solved. To someone else, seeing that character be alive might have solved all sorts of problems they had-- but that's not my story. I've had someone tell me that the focus on Buwaro and Kieri's mushy romance is too distracting to the main story. I don't think that person knew that a large part of why I started making this comic in the first place was as a vehicle for my OTP. I also want to make said vehicle entertaining and worthwhile. If I didn't succeed for that person, that's fine. But don't tell me that half the reason I made the comic is distracting from it. What do they know about what I want? What do you really know about what the author wanted to achieve? That isn't to say that my comic is immune to scrutiny. Of course it has problems; every story has problems, depending on your perspective and the basis by which it's getting judged. I've solicited and received thoughtful criticism and helpful advice from teachers, my advisor, my friends, and from reading/watching tutorials. Some I agreed with, others I chose to ignore. Sometimes it just took a while for me to come around. I hope I never stop learning and improving. Like you said, I have to keep working with the foundation I already set. But I don't feel trapped by it; my creativity is being challenged in new ways. I have a lot of playing pieces and now I get to see what kinds of connections I can make between them with my older, more experienced (both good and bad) mind. Since Slightly Damned is a story serialized over a long period of time, a certain amount of it is made up as I go along. I do have plans and goals, of course, but I'm also discovering this world alongside my readers.

[what-eats-owls]

It matters how you do it

I finished Dragon Age: The Veilguard and had some big feelings about it. Spoilers for basically everything under the cut, and frankly, it won't make sense unless you've finished the game anyway.

First of all: I had a blast with this game. I didn't find Act 1 slow, I did find Act 2 a bit of a whack-a-mole, and then Act 3 kicks you in the kidney (complementary) while insisting it's for your own good.

I've seen some recurring complaints: that it lacks depth/edge/darkness, that it abandons previous lore, that the previous choices don't matter. I don't entirely disagree. To me, it felt like a massive Dragon Age 4 game that pivoted to a different, tighter game after complaints about bloat in Inquisition. The key is that when editing down, there's such a thing as trying to trim the fat and taking a chunk of the roast with it.

I enjoy the concept of Lucanis's character, and the voice actor sold the hell out of him, but the storyline felt like being taken to a museum and allowed to see one (1) beautiful unfinished sculpture. Why did Spite, specifically, work? We know the spirit of Justice became Vengeance by abomination, we knew Solas was Wisdom before he became Pride, so what was Spite before, and why wasn't that tied to Lucanis's own personal arc? (Doubly so if you romance him!)

Similarly, Harding was a delight, and her greenhouse was such a lovely little haven. I would have loved to see more explanation of the connection between plants and the titans, and how Harding's own personal struggles with rage connected to that of the titans. She has every reason to be angry and scared, and the game tells us she pushed that away—but we don't actually see her toxic positivity manifest to that degree, until she abruptly has an angry clone.

On the flip side, I loved the other five character quests, and I felt they had solid, poignant arcs that delivered. I also adored their interactions with the codex—if anything, I wanted to see more of that type of interaction on the screen. You have to fill in a lot of the character work for Rook yourself; Rook has all these interesting potential backgrounds, but I think starting the game playing through those, a la Origins, would have gone miles towards establishing more personal stakes up front and made for a stronger start.

So that's all my nitpicking. But let's talk about the bigger theme: It matters how you do it.

In the first Fade conversation with Solas, he gets so mad when Rook refuses to let him DARVO them about the consequences of his botched ritual. This makes way more sense when you understand he's literally imprisoned by his own regrets, and he needs Rook to have that same kind of regret in order to take his place. His entire arc is about rationalizing binary choices and shitty actions that hurt others in the name of a hypothetical greater good that he wants.

Solas can't engineer every binary choice Rook's forced into, but he uses Varric to maximize Rook's regret. He is trying to quite literally mold Rook into him, and the game is great at presenting this both as a coldblooded manipulation and a broken plea for validation—if you let it. You don't have to give Solas a moment of consideration; you don't have to take time to view his memories, or kill his demons, or listen to those scraps of Mythal still holding onto the good in him. You don't have to do any of it.

But you can. And in the end, it matters.

It matters because for every companion, you can encourage them to either be more nurturing/compassionate or destructive/closed off versions of themselves, and that is frequently tied to continuing or breaking from a cycle. (The exception is either Neve or, presumably, Lucanis, who are forced into the Hardened version depending on which city you save.) These aren't presented as morally opposing choices, just who you want them to be. You can see how the Grey Wardens fucked up bad with griffons and decide they have a better place. You can help Emmrich face his fear by finding deeper meaning in life instead of indefinitely postponing death. You can help them do things differently.

So when you get to the final choice in the game, you may have two options: physically force Solas into saving the Veil, or trick him into it. The kind of binary choice Solas has molded you into making by pelting you with cruelty and manipulation.

Or, if you've taken the time, you can get him to understand he's wrong. You bring out the people who saw the best in him and speak to what he's had to endure, even as you're showing him there's another way. You reach him not as Pride, but as Wisdom. And he goes willingly.

Ultimately, I think DA2 and Inquisition grappled with big questions of oppression and violence, faith and authority. It makes sense for those games to delve into harder, uglier subject matter, and ask you to make binary calls.

But my read of Veilguard is that, at its core, it's about how those decisions are meant to trap you in regret at best, and numb you to rationalizing cruelty at worst. It's why the companion who loses their home city becomes colder, more isolated, in response—more like Solas.

That's why it offers you a third way at the very end, but only if you've worked for it. A better way is possible, yet it has to be more than words. You have to understand where the pain comes from, what maintains and is being maintained by the current cycle. Then, and only then, can you break it.

I can't wait to play it again.

P.S. Utterly obsessed with the Trevisan fish merchant.

[mogamuncher]

“You're on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path, is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin, is a knight. You are here to slay him. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.”

Please accept my meager shitty art as we come back for part three of the "Moga fuses her hyperfixations together" saga! Aka: Slay the Knight AU!

Here's what I think Emilia and Subaru would look like, in true STP fashion I imagine both would never be referred to by name, instead being The Knight and The Frozen Bond (hah, get it?)

I made Emilia a little scary (and kinda Satella-esque), but that's mainly because from what we see in The Princess and The Dragon route, The Long Quiet is just actually fucking scary, so having Emilia be similarly intimidating would be fun.

Though I do think her personality would remain the same in this au, mainly because she's nice enough that she would naturally play mediator to the the voices, but malleable enough that she could just end up going with their whims when pushed enough.

Now for Subaru, I actually wanted to give him a definitive outfit that would kinda function like the Princess's dress, something that is a constant in every design but changed to fit the theme, the recognizable trait that showcases that no matter how fucked up these forms get they're still the same person

That's kinda why the little cape is there, it's supposed to be a significant design choice that can be warped with future forms

For the official lore, I like to think that it's still actually very similar:

The Frozen Bond, the manifestation/god of stasis, consistency, the chilling frozen in time allure of stagnation

While Subaru would be something like The Returning Cycle, the manifestation/god if constant change, perspective and identities splitting depending on choices, the constant cycle of time

Together they'd make the cycle of life and death, in a sense, and since Echidna in canon was trying to find a way to reach immortality, it is only fitting that she would split them apart and attempt to pit them against the other, as to goad Emilia into killing Subaru, this ending the concept of change, making it so that there is no means of which others can die.

But that's what I have for the moment, now, let's talk about some more ideas I have for the IF Barus

The Prisoner, my beloved

I rewatched someone playing her route and it dawned on me when The Shifting Mound described her as a vessel, but she's oddly a lot like Slothbaru

The idea of someone cautious to the point of stagnation, content to let the world pass her and remain in inaction, I mean, that's literally what Sloth is shown to be in the og series. That's also inherently what Slothbaru did when he took Rem's hand and ran away, leaving everyone else to die, but gaining a happy life for himself

Prisoner is like an Slothbaru that can't take Rem's hand, content to let the world pass him by for the sake of self preservation, but stuck in one place without the chance of running away, he can only wait and see because he's inherently passive, as he thinks he has no other choice

The Adversary, however, is the funniest one I think

Someone mentioned in the last post in the tags that Adversary is kinda Smolbaru coded, so I went back to read the arena fights in arc 7 and y'know what? They're correct, they're absolutely right, The Adversary is very much just Smolbaru

Which is funny, because The Adversary is supposed to be bigger and stronger than usual, though maybe it's either just that his personality is Smolbaru and his appearance is still intimidating, or we go all in and have Smolbaru just absolutely kick Emilia's ass with his bare hands in this one

Either way, I love it, also this is the route where Priscilla (Voice of the Proud) would show up, so having an Arc 7 Baru here would be a nice touch

Ok so I'm about to sound unhinged, but the Grey's

What if they were Natsumi.

Now, look, I have no evidence to back me up on this, I'm going off from pure vibes alone, but like what if

Honestly, it would be fun to have most of the Deadbarus be in some way or another Natsumi coded, though that would be fused with the Baru that lead to their routes in the first place (like Arc 1 Baru for the Burned Grey and Slothbaru for the Drowned Grey)

I mean, look at The Wraith and The Spectre

Imagine if the Spectre was more akin to Natsumi in her purest form, since the Spectre is actually surprisingly chill and nice about this whole thing, and then if you attempt to leave him there, you get the Wraith

A withered rotten version of Natsumi, falling apart at the seams and determined to hitch a ride and finally leave

In more confirmed Barus; Wrathbaru as The Witch and The Thorn, Greedbaru as Happily Ever After and Arc 1-2 Baru as The Damsel, The Nightmare would be Gluttonybaru and A Moment Of Clarity would still be Gluttonybaru but with more Louis/Rui elements

Again, I accept suggestions, and tell me if you want me to make more art for this AU, maybe I can draw more Barus and also the voices, who knows?

[secondhand-lions]

looks @ u like this

using this as an excuse to talk about sirenity because they're easily one of my Guys Of All Time and iiiiii don't get to talk about them a whole lot

- is an excellent musician (virtuoso! but primarily anything with strings!) and artist! he also has synaesthesia (which, like their dyslexia, was less severe before The Benny Incident) and perfect pitch and they're an uncannily good mimic.

- fully knows and understands RobCo Termlink code and can, therefore, talk with the vast majority of robots/androids/computers in the wasteland

- there is not nearly enough time to go into their sex life. they've been around. very casual about sex and relationships to the point where it circles back around to become an intense soul-rending need for People and Connection and then it circles back around AGAIN to being very casual. two things can be true at once

- met and talked with benny -> "well. goddamn that's a lot to think about" -> met with House -> "even more to think about. shit." -> Courier Walking Instinct kicks in -> muscle memory takes them back to Primm -> Johnson Nash knows enough about them to recognize the Walk To Think state they're in, accepts that this is a short meeting -> Sirenity keeps going, still on muscle memory to the entrance to the Divide -> thats the thing that snaps them out of their sorta half-dissociative state -> "fuck i'm hungry" -> back to Primm for Ruby's casserole -> turns around, sees the ruined drive-in -> "y'know what? yeah. a movie sounds good right now." -> OWB (during which their mental state is surprisingly good! a creeping dread of familiarity at the sight of the painted old world flags and the descriptions of the other visitors, but yknow! that's fine! then they have a breakdown upon hearing Ulysses' voice again.)

- indeterminate amount of time and gameplay -> Dead Money -> stick around in the mojave for a bit before finally relenting and admitting that they have to back out and recover from the Cloud for a bit ("i have to go clear my lungs") -> Honest Hearts

- casual friendly situationship/QPR with Arcade, kinda a cool older cousin/sister figure to Veronica, good friends with Cass and Raul, visits Lily as much as they can. i'm not really sure of where they stand with Boone. they very badly want to tell him "i think you can be proud of the work you put into something without being proud of what the thing was or did or became" but like... Boone wants an ending, a neat little all-loose-ends-are-tied finish, and Sirenity is living proof that that sort of thing doesn't just Happen. they never were good at delivering endings, anyway.

- post-game otp is sirenity/ulysses but it's open because they both know that they can't always provide what the other needs/wants and love is more of a verb than a feeling anyway

- good friends with the Khans, Followers, and Kings!

- was genuinely really hoping that Benny would stick around after their conversation. not even mad about getting shot or jumped by his bodyguards.

- uhhhhmmmm OH YEAH Mobius was. such a refreshing presence for them. even if they do have to stand weird to keep eachother out of their blindspots. "crazy fuckers missing an eye who experience more visual inputs than should be there" solidarity. she helps with his messed up sensors :]

- honestly i think Sirenity's VERY very postgame jaunt to the Commonwealth is. just straight up in their canon now.

- scars from the Big Mt Spine Removal and Subsequent Un-Removal look like train tracks :) because i think it's cool

- whenever someone gets incredulous about how much stuff and people and places they know of or about or just straight up know their reply is "i have Lived a Life"

- that post about aragorn son of arathorn being sad(lonely) BECAUSE he knows so many people, not despite knowing so many people or knowing so many people despite being sad(lonely)? yeah that applies here. always missing someone. pulls them in so many different directions and yet! and yet! they wander down a new path. courier walking instinct.

- oh yeah they definitely have something set up so the Followers can use the resources of Big MT. that's probably their most regular delivery

- ANOTHER THING! pre-benny incident, the NCR had put a bounty on one of the Khans (haven't thought of a specific person) and Sirenity just. took the wanted poster and moseyed on over to their camp to warn them ("you...? why would you do this?" - "well, if someone i cared about had a hit put out on them, i'd sure as shit want to know about it") and that's how they meet Jessup and McMurphy

- and then DURING the Benny Incident, during the "maybe the Khans don't look the people they kill in the eye-" line, Sirenity shoots Jessup a Look that says "you work with this guy???"

- needless to say they were. very blasé about mortal danger. still is. if there's a multi-perspective story they're really going to try and find the other perspective(s)

yayyyyy okay i think that's it!

Nobody including me posts about their ocs enough so please please please reblog reply or whatever with some oc tidbits!

[lambilegs]

does it happen in a season? (part four: SUMMER - i)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

soundtrack: oh girl - the chi-lites; kiss of life - sade, roommates - malcolm todd; real love baby - father john misty; come inside of my heart - iv of spades; let's stay together - al green; into you - fabolous ft. tamia

(contains: 33K words 😋, NOT the last part of this story (summer chapter is super long so splitting it into two/potentially three parts), college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, content warning for: internalized shame over kink, religious jokes as per usual, internalized homophobia, religious trauma, depictions of historical homophobia + towards lesbians, policing lesbians in the feminist movement for being attracted to women (the argument in which this takes place is very woman-centred just because this story is set in the nineties -- it's not at all meant to indicate that people who don't consider themselves women aren't included in feminism and/or can't be considered lesbians. you guys are one thousand percent part of this movement and are one thousand percent part of the lesbian community (if you identify as such ofc)!!), brief ruminations on reader's body hair,sexual content w/ reader's body referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "tits," "breasts," "clit," both reader and lee receiving oral + fingering)

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SUMMER. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

when you wake up in the morning, you can see the golden rays of light flashing under your doorframe. your bedroom has no window, for last year in august, you had told lee on the phone to take it – truly, it had been an offer of kindness to secure a semi-good relationship with your future roommate. in all honesty, you would’ve preferred the room with the window, but had been too anxious to voice that then. but, at least lee has it. you wonder what she thinks of when she wakes up in the morning and has the light streaming into her room, the branches of the tree that curve into her view fluttering with spring’s greenery.

lee. your face breaks into a wide grin, flutters immediately erupting in your stomach. you plant your hands on your face, nearly squealing in pure, unadulterated glee. you and lee kissed last night. you and lee fucking harker kissed last night. if you shut your eyes hard enough, you can reimagine the sensation of her lips on yours. it’s real, you know it is, but such an occurrence had existed in the sole seclusion of your fantasies for so long, so actually acknowledging it, with the security of it being a fact, feels so foreign, so odd, so unbelievable. you cannot believe it. it feels too good to be true – that she actually returns your feelings, that she actually wants to kiss you. but, it is true, and the knowledge of that is immensely heavy on your mind, yet far away and distant, all at once. it feels like the impossible, because you’re so accustomed to it being so, but every miniscule touch from the night before is so seared into your skin that you can’t deny just how real it is. it’s confusing.

it takes a few paces back and forth in your room, as well as deep breaths and some sloshing of mouthwash, before you summon the courage to head out. she’s in the kitchen, as she usually is, doing her round of studying. it’s nearly desperate how badly you want to lurch forward and kiss her again. every fibre of your body is wailing for it, crying out to touch her again.

“hey,” you greet, wanting to break the distance between you two as soon as possible, both the physical kind and her lack of knowledge over your presence.

her eyes dart up to you, then immediately glance away. “hey.”

a little part of you aches at the quiet, strained greeting. is this how it’s going to be? just as before? or worse, even more far apart? you feel your chest tighten. what if it was just one kiss? what if she’s changed her mind? what if she never even liked you – and a kiss was all she was curious about?

you stand in the threshold to the kitchen, your mind overrun with the tornado of thoughts, relentless in their harsh, biting winds and muddling sentiments. the idea that she doesn’t actually feel the same way has the bliss you had woken up with washed away with a burn akin to acid. how could just a mere action, a mere word of hers, have you so confused and anguished? had you always been like this? or perhaps it’s just the kiss. a kiss makes things more confusing, it blurs the lines, it tosses in new feelings and foreign dynamics into the mix. the unsurety it leads to makes every action, every word, count more than usual, because, suddenly, she’s something different than a friend. she’s some puzzle you need to sort through all over again – just like before, she’s a stranger to you in this new dynamic. 

you can tell she takes note of your lack of movement, for her eyes tentatively lift to you, scanning your frozen position. “what?” 

you shake your head, already feeling the rush of emotions stealing away your ability to speak. “nothing.” 

she nods, going back to her papers. you could nearly scream. is that it? your eyes rove along her. her knuckles are white with how tightly she’s gripping the pen, and her jaw is clenched. she’s bothered by something. is it your hesitation? or is it just you?

you wordlessly turn around and head back into your room, selfishly hoping she feels at least a bit guilty when she hears the door loudly shut.

your eyes land on the pile of laundry on your bed. might as well do something useful if you’re going to prolong breakfast.

you’re a quarter of the way through the pile, neatly folding your socks into pairs, when a quiet knock comes to your door. you stiffen, patting your hair down and double checking yourself in the mirror. you rearrange your sitting position, taking in a long breath to steady your voice, then say, “yeah?”

the door creaks open, lee’s eyes trained onto you. one hand is carefully gripping the door’s handle, while another holds one of your mugs. you gulp hard at the sight, feeling your stomach flip at the sweet gesture. god, she’s so good. it makes it all the more difficult to remain petty and distant.

“hey.” 

you glance at her before forcing your focus back on your laundry. “hi.” 

“I thought I should try that again.”

you can’t hold back the laughter that her words arouse. “and why is that?”

“because…” she steps forward, carefully placing the mug on your nighttable. “we, um, kissed last night.” the words are tense and quiet, and you can imagine she feels some level of awkwardness from acknowledging it, now that the thrill and heat of the night has faded away.

you feel your face burn at the admission. her saying it is like a slap in the face – it’s so real, so true, and her admitting it makes it even more of a fact. it’s something not just remembered by you – another person knows it, and has experienced it, and it’s a fact that co-exists between the two of you. it’s real, there’s no way it can be part of some fantasy. you already knew this, but lee stating the kiss so plainly makes it even more drilled into your mind. 

“yeah,” you mutter, eyes pinpointed to the pile of socks at your ankle. “do you, um, regret it?” the question fills you with dread. her confirming that she does would send you into a world of heartache, and it would ruin everything the two of you have, you know it would. but, you can’t just float in blissful ignorance. maybe that worked for your feelings and not knowing if she returned them, but a kiss is real and grounded. you can’t just ignore the implications and feelings involved, especially when it’s bound to impact your guys’ friendship.

“no,” she immediately answers. her voice lowers. “do you?”

“no.” eyes still downcast, you shrug. “I had wanted to do, you know, it, for a while.”

a shaky inhale is your only response, and from this angle, you can see how her hand thrums against her thigh. “okay.” 

“do you not want it to happen again?”

“no.” she pauses, before quietly saying, “I’d like for it to happen again.”

“why?” you whisper. 

“what… what do you mean?”

you feel your mouth twist at your next words, eyes beginning to grow sensitive with the burn veiling them. “I… did you just want to kiss me because you were curious or something?” saying the words you just want to kiss me feel surreal. you, kiss, me. to say those words and know it means the two of you, and a moment of shared intimacy, feels like some reality floating above you, just out of reach from being fully realized.

“no.” 

you finally look up at her, shoulders sagging in exasperation. she looks away as soon as your eyes rest upon her. “then?”

“I…” she shuts her eyes close for a second, then turns back to you with a gaze so direct it makes you feel ensnared. “I like you.”

you feel almost detached from your body, the confession making you afloat. “really?”

she nods. “yeah. I do.” after a pause, she adds, “as more than a friend, I mean.”

your chest swells with the sweetest sort of anxiety, stunned into silence for a few moments before finally pushing yourself to speak. “I was scared you didn’t,” you confess, your voice hushed, eyes welling up more. “that you had changed your mind, or that maybe had wanted to kiss me for some other reason.” you want to tell her these things. she’s still the friend who you can talk to about anything, who you know will listen to your pain, and imprint it onto her mind because it means something to her, then do her best to comfort you, even if she may struggle. you don’t want to lose that – the act of confiding, the friendship.

“that’s not the case.”

“well, I know that now,” you shakily laugh, ducking your head down. “I just meant before.”

“yeah. sorry.” 

her voice sounds quiet, a bit embarrassed. it makes you still. you had been focusing so much on your side of things, of the assurance you wanted her to provide for you, that you neglected just how anxious she must be feeling right now. you know how difficult connection can be for her sometimes, and you know as the person who asked for the kiss, there’s a unique kind of doubt she must be feeling herself. and yet, you’ve made no move to comfort her, to give her a sense of certainty. even before, you were upset with what felt like a curt greeting, but you, too, had only given her a single word of acknowledgment. perhaps she had just followed suit out of fear of what was going through your head. 

you force your eyes to tear away from the laundry. “don’t apologize.”

“no, I should. I shouldn’t have let you leave just now, I shouldn’t have left it like that. when you said it was nothing. I–I wanted to ask more. I just, I didn’t know if I should. I wasn’t sure how to act.”

“I know. it’s okay.” you swallow hard, trying to ignore how pathetic your next words might come off as. if you two are going to be honest, might as well go all in. “I just felt a bit rejected, is all.”

she shakes her head. “you’re not. rejected, I mean. I want this.”

“I do too.”

you two lock eyes, her dark ones swimming in something, you’re not sure. with a quiet sigh, her shoulders relax, and the contours of her face, which had been tightened in tension, now soften. her lips part, before shutting, and she reaches up, one hand pressing against your face. your face heats up under her touch, your stomach a mess of sensations. but, her touch feels so good, so right, almost as though that hand of hers had been crafted to lay upon your cheek since the beginning of time. 

“is this okay?” she whispers.

“more than okay.”

a small smile tilts her lips up. 

“sit?” you gently ask, nodding to your bed. 

lee looks down, eyebrows drawing in. she’s been in your bedroom before, but it’s mostly been during brief exchanges, like her asking you to pick something up from the grocery store you work at, or letting you know she’s leaving the apartment. but, it’s rare that she’s actually lingered and taken up space in your room. the way a friend would, the way a lover would.

after a moment, she seats herself on the edge, folding her hands in her lap, eyes wandering along your bedroom. she’s clearly uncomfortable in this position, and you ache to kiss the worry away. you freeze at the thought. right. you can actually do that now. 

you suck in a breath, slowly rising to your feet, picking up your folded socks. you really just need some excuse to move around under the weight her silent gaze, and something to do as you mentally formulate how to go about another kiss. you two had shared three last night. one, on the bathroom counter, the second again on the counter after a brief laugh exchanged, then the third, a tender press of lips before heading through the door and out of your alcove of privacy. you two had sat next to each other for the night, with long gazes and secret smiles passed between like love notes. amaya and maria had come over after, and eventually, you were too exhausted to wait for them to leave, heading to sleep, partially empty at the lack of kisses.

when you stand back up, lee is eyeing her hands, which wind about one another. you smile. she looks right like this – sitting on your bed, being a part of your bedroom. this is a part of your guys’ apartment that’s home for you, that’s just yours, and her being inside of it makes you feel that she, too, is part of this private sphere reserved just for you. that she, too, is home, and comfort, and a peaceful escape from the world. it feels right for her to take up space here – because she’s not just doing that, she’s simply fitting into a part of your life that she always provided the same needs for, just in her own way.

you walk over to her slowly, feeling suddenly like a predator stalking its poor prey. especially when her eyes widen at your proximity, alert and curious. 

you rub your fingers together before cautiously raising a hand to her hair, tucking the strands of it behind her ear. her eyes flutter shut at the movement, and pleasure burns in your stomach. did your touch have such an impact on her? the notion stirs up your sense of confidence, and you mutter, “don’t be a stranger. it’s just my room.”

she hums in response, eyes opening to you. “I’m just not used to it.”

“you should get used to it.” 

“why?” 

“because, we’re… you know.” you fumble with the words. you guys aren’t officially girlfriends or anything. at least not yet, despite how bad you’d like to be. but, maybe it’s for the best right now. for the idea of becoming official, and having that label hanging over both your heads, makes your stomach tighten with a knot. it feels too soon, with too little to be certain of. but, you know that’s not all it is. even if you had every answer fulfilled about yours guys’ current state, it’s really just one future outcome that lurks in a dark corner of your brain and that stirs the most fear within. “romantic.” 

“so, because of that, I’ll be in your bedroom more?”

you glare at her, very much noting the teasing lilt in her tone. “shut up.”

she nods, her lips still upturned. “okay.” 

“and, just, well… can I kiss you?”

her smile widens, lines near her eyes deepening. the sight of it makes you nearly bury yourself in your hands. has she always looked at you like this? “yeah.”

you suck in a deep breath. god, how had she managed the nerves of taking the initiative like this last night? you’re struggling with it, and you guys have already kissed – you can’t imagine how nerve-wracking it must’ve been for her. 

you lower your torso down, tentatively grabbing her shoulders, her automatic flex nearly making you pant in anticipation. god, she feels so firm and steady. you two lock eyes, hers searching yours patiently. you remain like that for a second, feeling terribly awkward and pressured under her gaze. suddenly, it’s like you’re a teenager having their first kiss.

she gives you a small tilt of her head, eyes skimming over your lips. “it’s okay.”

her small assurance steadies you a bit. she’d never judge you. she wants this too. with those thoughts ringing in your mind, you move closer, planting your lips on hers. the position makes you too uncomfortable to properly make out with her, but for a few seconds, your lips press to and explore hers, softly moving against one another. the wet insides of her mouth mold to yours, making it damp. something in you feels feral at the sensation – her saliva, something that was a part of her mouth, part of her, is now inside of your mouth, and will exist deep in you, for you to own and have infused within.

you two part with a small, wet sound, and you throb at it. 

her cheeks are dusted with a pink flush, her breathing a bit laboured, and she stares at you with those shining, dark eyes. 

“I, um…” you start, trying to ignore the heated desire bursting through you. “I’ll keep folding.”

she gulps. “okay. should I, uh, leave?”

“don’t.” you sit back onto your bed, crossing your legs. “if you can, please, yeah – stay.”

“okay. I’ll stay.”

“good.” 

she smiles at you, and you busy yourself with laundry, hoping she doesn’t notice the way your hands shake slightly.

—

lee doesn’t know how to go about this new position you two have landed yourselves in. the last thing she had expected last year was to end up… romantically involved with her roommate. it feels both natural and unsettling. the friendship between you two has helped in easing the moments of awkward transitioning, but still, she can’t help but feel intimidated at the new territory you two now find yourselves in. she knows romance adds a whole new set of expectations, questions and dynamics that don’t exist in a friendship. especially considering the roommate situation, it plagues her mind with a whirl of questions. like, should she ask you out on a date? over the years, she’s learned that there’s a very organized process to dating, as useless as she finds it. it’s no longer a shared kiss, then automatically going steady. now, two people could go on dates, kiss, and even have sex, but being actually officially together, or exclusively with each other, is an entirely separate dynamic to partake in. she supposes it’s not the most surprising thing in the world – in dating and sex, there have always been these sorts of rituals and practices, even amongst animals. but, this particular one does it make especially harder to know what to expect in her case.

you’ve exchanged a few kisses, but she knows that doesn’t mean she’s your girlfriend. but, she’d like you to be. perhaps it’s just a possessive streak in her, but she wants you to be hers, and she herself has no interest in dating others. but, perhaps you do. maybe you want to explore your options before entering into any sort of commitment with her. but, it didn’t seem like you’re interested in anyone else, based on how enthusiastic you’ve been about spending time with her. but, perhaps her wishful thinking is clouding her judgement. maybe you’d prefer to spend time in this sort of limbo the two of you currently inhabit before entering into a relationship, whether it be due to wanting to explore, or wanting to see what it’s like to be romantic with her. if it’s for the latter reason, though, what does that entail? you already kiss a lot more than you ever did as friends. should you two be going on dates? she reflects on all the outings you two have already gone on together – would dates just be those replicated, but with the title of a “date”? or should she be asking you to attend outings different from those? like the typical fancy restaurant. she winces at the idea. she really does not want to go to a fancy restaurant. 

lee rubs her forehead, eyes pressing shut. she’s supposed to be studying, not consumed by her relationship status with you. besides, all this private, internal musing isn’t going to solve her dilemma. what will help is to just talk to you. she knows this. but, part of her feels a bit uncertain at the idea of doing so. she’s scared what she’ll discover if she has this conversation with you. if you are seeing other people, she doesn’t know how she’ll feel about that. well, actually she does. she knows it’ll hurt her, and that a selfish, private part of her will wish you two could only see each other. but, asking you to not do so feels like an overstep. if maria was there, she’d tell lee that it’s fair of lee to ask that, and if you both can’t agree on how to go about dating, perhaps you’re simply not meant to be. lee sighs at the thought. maria’s practical – it’s precisely why lee and her get along so well, and can depend on one another to be a voice of reason when feelings are involved. but, the idea of ending this with you makes lee shift in her seat, the notion a distasteful one.

she knows the sort of complications in dating, as with any part of life, are just a testament to a variety of experience and preference amongst people – it’s the only explanation. but, jesus, does it make things harder to figure out. all the labels, and nuanced decisions and potential actions – it adds a level of social complexity and organized process to something people always say should be purely about feeling. but, lee’s set in that regard. she already knows what she feels. she likes you – plain and simple. and you like her, too. but, she knows romance carries an inherent social aspect to it, in its presentation, identification and process. exactly the kind of stuff she struggles with. 

she wishes she could just be one of those people who feel relaxed through the process of dating. she never was. in high school, when her friend first initiated a kiss with her in the privacy of the school’s change room, she spent days racking her brain over how to act, what to do, what to say. similarly enough, in her first year of university, she was only lucky enough to have been with someone who had been a lot more decisive than her in figuring out how they ought to navigate dating. she feels the sting of disappointment at realizing how little she’s changed since then. still, she fears and struggles with how to go about things with someone now. 

setting her pen down, she leans back into the chair, head lolling back. her eyes scan over the yellow ceiling of the library, the tops of the wooden pillars. even touching you is something to adapt to. it doesn’t come naturally to her. the urge? yes, of course that comes naturally – in fact, it slams into her, full-force, without warning most of the time. thoughts of kissing you, being the one to comfort you after a long day, to more vivid mental images that flash through her head in a split second and send her eyes squeezing shut. 

it’s not that she’s unaccustomed to it, necessarily. to this day, her mom is more than affectionate. always stroking lee’s hair, staring at her with eyes lee cannot bear to meet, rubbing her back with smooth circles. she’s one of the only people lee hugs in greeting without being coaxed into it. it’s gotten more intense since lee moved out. now, when lee visits, she’s sure that her mom would have her stationed at her side at every given moment of the day if lee wasn’t so adept at silently escaping to the confines of the bedroom.

when she was a child, it was just part of everyday life. she was used to her mom’s affection, and even back then, she was keenly aware that it was something her mom did for comfort. after all, lee herself wasn’t drawn to hugs or cuddles, but anyone could see her mom was. and lee loved her mom, so she welcomed the touches. it was that simple. in a way, it brought her a bit of comfort too. their world was a very lonely one, but in those moments, where lee’s sense of loneliness was blurred by tiredness, and her small body was wrapped in her mom’s arms and a blanket, she felt that surely, her and her mom could stand a chance in this world, even if it was just the two of them. and things would be okay, even if she had no one else. the older she got, the harder it became to convince herself of that sentiment, no matter how hard her mom tried to hold her.

maybe it’s because of that loneliness that it was hard for her to accept touch. she had always been so used to it being just her and her mom, and with how much of an outcast she was, or at least felt like, growing up, maybe she just settled into a lack of affection from others. maybe she just got accustomed to the distance that still causes an internal division within her to this day, and the lack of connection resulting from this. and so, because of that, anything newly affectionate feels strange. but, then again, even after having befriended maria and amaya, there still continued a strain she felt with compliments, touches, the whole lot of it. she just isn’t certain what the ratio is between simply being empty of it, and used to that, versus having a genuine discomfort with it.

she blinks at the desk, then stands up to exit the library, leaving her work there. there’s a phone booth in the pod just outside the library, and thumbing a quarter from her pocket, she sucks in a deep breath before slipping it in. with memorized confidence, she punches in the number, and waits as the dial rings.

the call finally gets picked up. “yes, who is it?” 

“hi, mom.”

“lee?” 

a spring of irritation flutters in her. she doesn’t know what’s been wrong with her mom these past few years. just that something happened, and since then, her mom has slowly been losing herself. she’s more lost, more hazy, and more often than not, lee feels like she’s talking to a shell of the woman who raised her. she knows it’s not her mom’s fault, but she wishes she knew what happened. but, her mom still thinks she’s a child, still thinks she needs protection.

“yeah, it’s me.” she pauses. she wants her mom to know how much she cares – not just because of the guilt she’s starting to feel over her momentary frustration, but because she knows through everything, her mom has never faltered in caring for her. but, it’s hard. hard to tell her mom these things when for years, lee has been driven away and trying to seek a life beyond their home. “are you okay, mom?”

“yeah, I’m okay. just came back from the grocery store.”

lee nods. good. that’s good. she actually left the house. “what’d you get?”

“some oatmeal, porridge – things that are easy to make. I got the cereal you like. for when you visit next.”

lee’s mouth twists. visiting, right. she needs to do that soon. it’s nearing to june, and she hasn’t seen her mom since winter break. almost half a year. the realization makes her purse her lips. it had been so long. too long. “thanks. I’ll visit soon. I promise.”

“yeah.” she doesn’t know if her mom’s voice is hushed in relief or doubt, and she’s not sure if she wants to discover the answer. “how are classes?”

“good. finals are coming up, so things will be busy soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll do good, babygirl.”

lee’s eyes close, the words stabbing her with a mixture of anguish, comfort and longing. she misses her mom so much. “I’ll try.”

“and that’s as good as passing.”

her lips curve into a small smile. “I’m not sure about that.”

“I am. even when you were a kid, you’d be more strict about how your projects look than I was.”

lee huffs out a small laugh. it’s true. she was always so exact about the details of anything she knew was getting assessed. not much different from now. “in your defense, you were tired. from work and all.”

“lots of stuff was on my mind.”

lots of stuff is always on lee’s mind, too. her and her mom aren’t so different. “I understand.”

“you always have, lee.”

guilt pierces her. her mom would never know just how much lee doesn’t understand, how much she wishes was different. there’s no way to say that, though, so she just hums in response. 

when the silence lingers for too long, lee says, “I’ll call you later, mom, okay?”

“okay.” 

if things were different, maybe they’d be the kind of mother and daughter who say I love you before hanging up. but, they aren’t. they haven’t been for a while. and so, they say their goodbyes and hang up.

–

as the days roll along, you become increasingly apparent of the end of the school year looming over your head. soon, you’ll be done. and what then? you still don’t know with full certainty what you’ll do post-graduation. and that fact was easy to ignore in the flurry of classes and lectures. but, finals are coming, which leaves you with many solitary hours of studying, where you have nothing but some music and leaves upon leaves of paper scrawled with your handwriting to look through. and in those hours, it becomes all too easy to get frustrated with your mind that doesn’t seem to be absorbing anything, and your body that can’t withstand anymore hours of being awake late into the night. and with that frustration comes disappointment at your lack of progress, and anger that you can’t handle more. and this only spins into more worries about how you’ll cope with the real world, the one with a real, grownup job. and that leads to the question of: fuck, what will I even do?

it feels like everyone else in the world knows what they’re up to except for you. you know it’s not true, but, still, it feels that way when you hear all your friends talking about their plans for post-graduation, whether it be travelling, working, doing their master’s or even just taking a year off from life. hell, you’re so unsure about what you want you don’t even know if a year off is what you’d like. that’s how lost you are. 

it makes you feel small and infantilized. like everyone else is leaving their footsteps on a pathway, while all you can do is just trace the marks with your fingers, only wishing you could trod along behind them.

the whirlwind of thoughts catch you in a storm of stomach piercing anxiety and the tight grip of stress, which skyrockets the further you stray from focusing on your notes. the stress causes you to become distracted, and the distraction furthers your stress. it’s an endless cycle.

you lay your head on the desk in your room, eyes closing, wrapping you in darkness. you wish you could skip to the moment where your life is set into motion, a job secured and certainty of your place in life achieved.

a knock shatters your musings. you raise your head up. “yeah?”

lee tentatively opens the door, eyes latched onto you. for a moment, your train of thoughts cracks in the center, the opening gapping for nothing but lee’s soft eyes and quiet approach. “hey,” she says.

“hi.”

she lingers in the doorway. “you’ve been in here for a while.”

you shakily laugh, trying to ignore the burning of your eyes. “yeah, just – long night, you know?”

she leans on the doorframe, eyes sliding to the pile of notes on your desk. “can I… help at all?”

you don’t see how she could. it’s too much content to ask her to look over and help you make any sort of guide for. besides, you feel like you’re on that fine edge of tipping into complete, all-consuming panic, and you need to handle that alone. “no, no, it’s okay. but, thank you.”

she nods. her eyes skim over your room, and you aren’t sure if it’s genuine observation or simply not wanting to meet your eyes. “I can make coffee.”

you can’t bear to reject another offer that’s as sweet as the one she’s making. “that’d be great. thanks.”

she turns to leave before freezing. you cock your head, waiting.

“you should lie down for a bit. take a break.”

“I don’t know…” it sounds tempting, so tempting, your small bed carrying more allure than it has all semester. but, you know once you get in, it’ll be hard to resist getting back up.

she licks her lips, eyes flickering to your unmade bed before meeting yours again. “just for a bit.”

and apparently, you’re all too susceptible to her quiet persuasion. “okay.”

ten minutes later, you’re curled into your bed, fingers toying with your plush blanket.  lee carefully sets the mug on your nighttable, muttering, “careful. it’s hot.”

a smile curls onto your lips, something stirring in your stomach at the kind gesture. now that you two are, well, more than friends, these moments of domesticity have another layer of intimacy that didn’t exist before. it makes your head go hazy and soft with dreams of a future together. one where you two live together post-graduation, maybe share a bedroom that has photos from this past year taped to a wall. “thank you.”

she nods, and you feel yourself heat up at the way a small grin teases at her lips when her eyes linger on you. you barely get to relish under the attention before she swivels around to leave.

“wait!”

lee turns and blinks at you. “what?” 

now that you actually have to say what you want, you feel like a coward. because, in all honesty, what you want most is for her to lie with you and hold you in those strong, steady arms. but, for all the kissing the two of you have done, you’ve barely managed a cuddle. never have, in fact.

you pick at a thread, avoiding her face, forcing the words out only for the reason that if it leads to what you want, you know it’ll be so good. “do you… I don’t know, do you wanna lie with me?”

she gulps, and you watch the way her neck tenses, a muscle in it visibly pulsing. there’s something about lee’s body that makes you want to touch spots you never even thought you could want to touch. the bare, smooth skin behind her ear that gets revealed when she ties her hair back. the muscles and bones lining her neck. the parts of her chest that get revealed with those open-collar shirts. her fingertips, her sharp nose. those lashes that fan as she watches you with clear hesitation. you want to kiss them all. 

“are you sure?”

“mhm.” you try to hold her gaze despite how much you want to hide beneath the weight of it. “if you want to too.”

“I do.” 

your cheeks ache with the wide grin that splits over your face. 

“you look satisfied,” she muses, lifting her wrist to remove her watch. god, that’s so attractive. you hate her so much for how effortlessly appealing she is, wondering if other girls look at her the way you do. the thought leaves you with a stinging jab of jealousy.

“I suppose I am.” you shuffle to the side of your bed pressed into the wall, leaving a small gap for her to lie upon.

she slips off her belt too, nimble fingers undoing the latch then dragging it from the hooks on her slacks. you lick your lips at the sight. god, you wish the two of you were having sex. it’d be so easy then to grab her by the belt, slowly tug her forward, kiss her stomach through that shirt, and ask her to give you an hour of nothing but pleasure and distraction. the efficiency at which she rids herself of these uncomfortable accessories has you nearly high with arousal, the gestures so quick, focused and sensual in a way totally unique to her. it’s so effortless, so smooth, and carries a connotation that makes you want to shy away. all the other ways she’d use those swift fingers on you…

she walks over with a slight grin, and you wonder if she can read your mind. then again, you don’t think she realizes just how attractive she is.

gingerly, she seats herself on the edge, looking at you past her shoulder. her fingers fiddle with the material of her pants for a few seconds before slowly raising to your face. you feel yourself freeze with nerves when her fingertips skim along your cheek, tracing over your pimples, marks and bumps. she does it with such lightness, and her dark eyes rove over your face. you feel as though she’s drinking you in.

“you’re warm,” she mumbles, her smile widening.

“shut up,” you mutter, giggling despite the words. “you’re just cool to the touch, so I automatically feel warm.”

“oh? is that your theory?”

“yes, and it’s the correct one.”

“I see. so, definitely not a blush.”

you roll your eyes, stomach still fluttering with how her fingers explore your face. “definitely not. don’t get so ahead of yourself.”

“mm, I won’t.” her hand smooths into your hair, and your eyes nearly rest at the sensation of her fingers getting tangled in it, her palm rubbing at your scalp. “good thing I have you to keep me in check.”

you snort. “and you’re the future agent, too – you should have more objectivity than me. you ought to be embarrassed.”

“I suppose it’s time for a career change, then,” she chuckles, nails lightly scraping against your head. 

“not too late to change your degree, either – haven’t graduated just yet.”

“I’ll think about it.” 

the banter and soothing touches have you feeling more emboldened, and you whine out, “lie down, lee.”

her smile stretches wider, and she clears her throat, eyes darting between you and the empty space she’s seated upon. her hand slowly slides from your hair, and she shuffles on the mattress from side to side, wobbling oh-so awkwardly, before tentatively lowering to her back. laying on your side, you watch her stretch her legs out, shifting stiffly. she folds her hands over her stomach, and blinks hard at the ceiling.

you burst into laughter at her clear discomfort. “okay, well, now it just looks like I’m holding you hostage.”

she rolls her eyes. “it’s been… a long time since I did this.”

immediately, your stomach is whirring with equal parts curiosity and jealousy. “oh? with who?”

she peaks at you from the corner of her eye. “do I want to answer this?”

you pout, poking her arm. “come on, please, tell me.”

she sighs, glancing away. “I last dated someone in my first year of university.”

you hum, cupping your face as you stare at her. her eyes are avoidant of your gaze, and her fingers are twindling about. “do you not want to talk about it?”

“not really.”

you bite your lip, feeling an ache of worry drop down to your stomach. but, you don’t want to push. the last thing you want is to drive her away. not when you just started having her. “oh, okay.”

lips pursed, her eyes move to your hand, which lies limp near her hip. “but, you want to know, don’t you?”

guiltily, you shrug. 

she inhales a sharp breath. “we didn’t date for long. just close to a year. we ended things due to incompatibilities.” 

you cock your head at her.

“you know, things like our future. she planned to travel for years after university, I wanted to work here and eventually go to virginia. it slowly became apparent that we had too many differences, and not enough similarities to make up for it.”

“I’m sorry.” you feel your lips pinch into a frown. poor lee. you know she feels things deeply, so you can imagine the pain she must’ve felt to have suffered through such a slow downfall of a relationship. as well as the anxiety from how uncertain a breakup of that nature is. your hand twitches, and before you can let yourself resist, you give into the urge, your fingers stroking through those messy bangs on her forehead. she flinches in surprise, then relaxes a moment later, gaze shifting to you. in silence, you continue aimlessly playing with her hair – running your fingers through it, peeling strands from her sweaty forehead, rearranging them. and she stares at you through it, allowing your gentle touches to proceed.

“it’s okay.” her fingers wrap around your wrist, and you shiver when she presses her mouth to your palm, a soft kiss gifted to you. “it was a long time ago.”

“then, why did you not wanna talk about it?” 

“I don’t know, it just always felt like a… weak reason to explain a breakup.” she tears her eyes from you. “I should have been more aware of those kinds of things before getting together with her.”

“it’s understandable, though,” you softly say, hands straying to the layers of hair framing her cheeks. “sometimes, you don’t want to realize or figure things out like that – or don’t remember to – when you like someone a lot and, like, you know, are eager to get together.”

she nods. “yeah.”

so, she did like that girl a lot, then. especially to have acted in such an impulsive, and therefore, un-lee, sort of way. you can’t help but itch to ask if she likes you that much, but you know how goddamn desperate and possessive that’d sound. so, you keep your lips pursed shut.

“was the plan to just lie beside each other in the literal sense?” she inquires after another minute of you fiddling with her hair.

her question eases your worries a bit, sending you into a bout of laughter. “no, I thought we could… I don’t know, cuddle.”

“cuddle,” she repeats, her tone so serious and thoughtful. “okay. how do you want to do it?”

“uh…” your eyes search her face in question. “in the most literal sense?”

“no, I mean, what position?”

a joke immediately flies to the tip of your tongue. “I don’t know, how about doggy?”

her eyes widen, head reeling back. after your words seem to settle in, she snickers softly, cheeks evidently growing pink. “forget I asked.”

giggling, you siddle closer to her. “no, no, please, c’mon, I promise I’ll be good.”

she raises an eyebrow at you, then tentatively raises her arm up, leaning back to give you room. you nearly swoon at the sight of her doing so. 

you press your chest against her side, pausing before laying your head upon her shoulder, in the slope between it and her neck. when you feel nothing but air against your back, you turn back to find her arm hovering above you. “lee, you can lay your arm down.”

she clears her throat, then follows through, arm tight around your shoulders. yours hangs upon her stomach and you could nearly shudder in pleasure. her body feels so solid under your touch, and, best of all, so real. hard, lithe and strong, she’s solidified under your touch, transformed from your imagination into a work of art, marble and hard. she’s actually here, in your arms, stomach rising and falling with steady breaths. she’s here, she’s real, and you’re actually touching her. 

and you can’t get enough. you’re embarrassed to do more, take more, but you push yourself on, anyways, knowing if you both resist taking these steps, you’ll never enter into the steady stream of easy, effortless touches that two partners are supposed to share. and so, you press your face into the firm softness of her neck, breathing her in. 

–

lee’s fingers skim along your back in light, feather touches. she tilts her head to yours, chin rubbing against your hair. it feels good to hold you in this way. new and unfamiliar, yes – she had to force herself to remain still and not stiffen up when you first circled your arm around her. but, now, she’s melted into the touch, feeling boneless. each caress of yours is like a whisper of assurance. she tries to not think too hard about her touches and just give into them naturally, her hand moving on instinct to rub along your back. it only furthers her confidence to see the small reactions that indicate your pleasure at her movements, such as curling deeper into her, humming at the back of your throat or sighing. these little telltale signs of your relaxation help her in giving into the natural movements of her body, and after just a few more minutes, her hand is mindlessly playing with your sleeve, rubbing the soft fabric of your t-shirt. the other one is soon met with yours and you two twirl your fingers together, a small act that has her smiling, her body feeling embarrassingly fuzzy at the sight of your hand slipped into hers, warm palm rubbing intimately against her own. she wants to memorize what your hand feels like.

at one point, your hand stills in hers. before she can ask what’s wrong, you abruptly ask, “wait, virginia? why are you going there after university?”

she blinks at the sudden inquiry, faintly amused at whatever trajectory paved the way for you to arrive at that point. but, her answer is quick, for it’s been imprinted into her brain since she finally settled on her plans months ago. “quantico, virginia. the academy for fbi training. I have to work a bit before I go, but it’s the plan.”

your head lifts, eyes wide. “so, you’ve decided, then? to do the special agent route?”

she nods. she’s known since she was twenty that she wanted to go into law enforcement, and being a special agent was the idea that always lingered at the forefront of her mind. it was the choice that felt most appealing, but she had wanted to look into all of her options before deciding on it with finality this year. and it feels right, so right. she wants to assist with crimes of a great weight, and put her analytical skills to use and do something worthwhile in the world.

she hopes you think she’s up to the task.

you lean over and press a kiss to her cheek, eyes bright and pretty. she has to look away, feeling her face heat up. but, there’s no escape to your affection, for you follow her, pressing your nose into her cheek and whispering, “congrats, lee.”

she clears her throat. she doesn’t understand what there is to congratulate her for. she simply arrived at a decision. but, still, she finds herself unable to protest when the congratulatory moment means she gets to bask under your attention.

and bask she does, for you continue dotting her cheek with kisses. she knows you must feel the heat of her skin, and as embarrassing as it is, she can’t find it in herself to coax you away. it feels too nice, and the small kisses have her wanting to both lean away and pull you in for more.

when you stop, much to her unspoken disappointment, you bury your head in her neck again, voice slightly muffed. “how long will you be in virginia for?”

“close to half a year.” she already dreads the social aspect of it. she feels as though she only just started getting comfortable with university, and again, she’ll be thrown into an entirely new place, setting and crowd. she’s prepared to devote herself to her studies and training, for that she’s eager and ready for. but, she knows it’ll be a hard adjustment. especially after this year. especially after you. her breaths become heavier. what would happen to you both? to ask you to come with her feels like too much, considering how far into the future the move is. and she doesn’t want you to feel obligated or tied down to anything. but, she could still try to figure out where your plans linger.

“and you – do you know where you want to go… after graduation?”

she feels your chest heave against her side and the way you shift slightly. something about the question seems to make you on edge. her fingers continue to skim between your shoulder blades, hoping her touch can give you as much comfort as yours gives her. 

“I… I don’t know. it’s really stressing me out, honestly. I have no idea what I wanna do after graduation. the thought of graduating makes me feel like I’m losing some sort of security blanket or something.”

she nods. she had suspected as much. you never made explicit mentions of your post-graduation plans, and she had known a possibility could be that you simply didn’t have anything to relay. “that’s okay, though. not everyone knows yet.”

“yeah, but, I want to, though. I feel like i’m looking down into some dark hole, just closer and closer to falling in. in a way, I envy you, lee. you have a plan, something you’re working towards. right now, the only goal I have is to graduate. after that, I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. where to go.”

“hm,” she hums, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. the action comes so naturally, constructed of purely raw instinct, and it almost shakes her just how normal this feels. after a mere two weeks. “maybe I can help you look for jobs. or places.” she lingers on those last words, part of her hopeful you’ll ask to up the lease and stay here. with her.

you shift again. “I don’t know. it overwhelms me to think of it right now. maybe after exams, though?”

her wishful thinking deflates. she needs to stop getting her hopes up like this. you guys just started… whatever it is the two of you have. it’s too soon, too ridiculous, to be asking you to extend the lease with her now, then move with her to virginia. not due to the notion itself of living together. if it were anyone else, yes, the idea of living together would bear a lot of anxiety. but, you two have been living together for months now. to lengthen that doesn’t feel all that surprising to her. but, she knows living together isn’t what would be a big thing to ask – it’d be doing so with no reason other than to remain together. as for virginia – is two weeks enough time to wish for a future? it doesn’t feel like just two weeks. two weeks of romance, sure. but, her time with you has exceeded nine months, and they’ve been nine months of feeling her tight restraints unfurl and her reservations shatter into pieces. nine months of achieving a domestic comfort that she’s not ready to let go of once the year-long lease is up. she knows choosing to live separately doesn’t entail ending things, but the change of it carries an uncomfortable weight.

“we can look into it whenever you want,” she mutters. “but, it’s okay that you don’t know. I think lots of people don’t.”

“yeah, but I wish I wasn’t one of them,” you nearly whine against her neck.

she snorts, feeling rather endeared. “I know. but, it’s okay to be. you have time.” her voice lowers. “that doesn’t change once graduation comes.”

when you say nothing, she lightly nudges you. “okay?” 

“okay,” you mumble, pressing a peck to her neck. she feels herself clench at the cold, wet feeling. it’s been on her mind more and more. having sex with you, that is. some nights, it feels nearly unbearable to know you’re merely across the hall, the warmth of your body so close. she’s not sure if you’re fully aware of it, but sometimes, she feels the way your hips tense under her hands, how your breath hitches, and the vibrations of your moans. those little reactions worm their way into her thoughts at the randomest of moments, tightly gripping her mind and consuming her with blasts of images of how you’d moan with her hands groping different parts of you. she swallows hard, hoping you don’t notice the way her body re-adjusts on your bed. it’s so hard to manage sometimes. she wants to worship you with her mouth, her hands, any part of hers, so long as you wish it. she wants to memorize your body so well that she could bring you pleasure without even looking.

the feeling only increases by a tenfold one afternoon, when the two of you are walking down the street to the video store. it’s an unseasonably hot day at the start of june, and lee’s sweating through the t-shirt she’s wearing, the material sticky and uncomfortable around her. she hates the heat. the dampness of her skin, the way her upper lip tastes salty when she licks her lips, the itch in the crook of her arm. it’s a lot of sensations at once, and she doesn’t handle that so well. it’s only made more intense from the noises of students yelling and gathering upon the street. most of them are divided into groups, chatting on steps and curbs, sharing soda from the grocery store or running along the sidewalk. 

her eyes scan along the surroundings, taking in all the people. she’s never been one to join in on this kind of energized activity. whether it be the dance floor of a party, the rageful debate in a classroom, or even the chase games on the playground. she’s always been content to linger on the sidelines, watching the activity, knowing it’d be too stressful and overbearing for her to join, but finding it interesting to observe from afar.

she hears a sharp scream, and her eyes immediately dart up in concern, gaze relaxing when she realizes it’s just a girl screaming as some guy begins to twist open the fire hydrant.

lee’s mouth lowers to your ear. “I don’t think he’s allowed to do it.”

“oh, lee,” you coo with a roll of your eyes, gently smacking a hand to her stomach. “don’t be so stern.”

her lips purse. “I’m not. I just mean he might get himself in trouble.”

you shrug, smirking at her. “we’re near the end of the school year. everyone’s excited.”

she hums, mouth still pinched in concern. if the fire hydrant gets opened, someone might complain and call the police on the group of students, which will only arouse a lot of unwanted chaos and panic. 

there’s no way to stop it, though – a fact that only becomes more apparent when the water begins gushing out of the hydrant. the guy who opened it cups the stream to direct it at the girl who had screamed, her voice raising in pitch when she’s hit with the water. 

“watching other girls get wet?”

heat crawls up her neck at your words, the innuendo far from being missed. she avoids your eyes, the sexual implication too embarrassing for her to handle. especially considering all she wants to do is pull you in and tell you you’re the only one wants in that state. she wishes she could – it’s an odd urge, a rare one, but she wants to flirt with you, and watch you get flustered. but, she loses the courage, and keeps her mouth shut, lest for the mumbled, “no. I was just observing.”

“will you observe if I go in?”

she blinks at the question. “in the water?”

“yeah.” 

when her eyes flick to you, you’re smiling, eyes twinkling in that way they do when you tease her. she sighs, looking away. “maybe.”

it’s a lie, of course. she’d watch you for an eternity if she could. washing the dishes, flipping through cue cards, soaking in sweat, eyes filled with the stickiness of sleep, picking at your lips that have grown crisp in the winter – you make every sight worth devoting her attention to. 

it’s a sentiment that’s brutally interrupted when you grab her hand, urging her to follow you into the blasts of water. 

she immediately tugs back. “I didn’t say I want to go in.”

“oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun. didn’t you like doing this kind of stuff as a kid?”

she falters. she never did this kind of stuff as a child. “I don’t know.”

“please, lee, c’mon,” you plead softly, grip tightening on her hand and pulling her close to the small crowd of students that have started to run through the water. 

she knows it’ll be a lot to handle, the stimulation and noise, but the idea feels a bit more bearable with the thought of you being at her side. that, and with some preventative measures, of course. “fine. but, then, we’re getting food, the video, and going right back home, okay?”

“okay, grandpa,” you giggle, beginning to yank her forward, sneakers scratching against the pavement as you run headfirst into the water.

as soon as it hits her, goosebumps flare over her skin, coating her in texture as the cold, seering pressure of the water immediately soaks the two of you. the guys controlling the water seem to be glad you two joined, immediately directing the water over the two of you. lee feels nothing, thinks about nothing, other than the cold iciness of the water bursting along every inch of skin. her jeans become heavy with it, her mouth tastes salty, and in midst of the previous burning heat, it’s almost an escape, getting lost in nothing but the coldness, the pressure, people’s laughter and your hand in hers. 

when the spray of the water is directed elsewhere, she sucks in a deep breath, taking a moment to process what just happened. she feels her bangs plastered to her forehead, and her ponytail hangs lower with the weight of the water. still, your hand remains in hers, squeezing assuredly. no one bats an eyes. she supposes it’s a lucky part to being a girl – no one raises an eyebrow at any affection she could share with you, so long as it’s confined behind the lines that mark affection from unadulterated lust. 

she firmly grasps your hand, coaxing you closer so you can hear her. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathlessly laugh, turning to her.

she swallows hard at the sight of you. the glaring sunshine casts a gold beam along your face, and with the shine of the water, you’re nearly glittering. for a few moments, she finds herself barely managing words at the sight of how… radiant you look. it’s such a dramatic and heavy word, but the only one she can think of to describe you.

a voice in her whispers to tell you. she knows she should. it’s what partners do, it’s normal. and she wants you to know how fond she is of you. expressing it is hard, but she could at least try for you. and maybe with time, she’ll adjust, as she always has in the past with her other partners.

her eyes flick over your face before she leans in, whispering, “you look beautiful.”

any hesitation she might have felt is immediately swept away at the sight of your wide smile. 

“thanks,” you say, teeth shining at her. 

she wants to kiss you, so bad. but, she can’t. not for a lack of want. but, both past relationships she had had were lacking in such public displays. the first time, it was due to a mutual agreement. the second time, it was just her. now, in her third time, she isn’t sure what to do. she doesn’t know what you want or how you desire people to perceive the two of you in public. but, even if she did, she’s not sure if she’s ready for it. she’s never done it before. while it’s terrifying to imagine all these people casting their gazes upon the two of you, exposing you both to their judgement, another part of her, a strong part of her, wants to embrace you, and show everyone you’re hers. not that you even are in the most technical sense.

she’s only ripped away from these thoughts when you turn to her in the pizza place you’re standing in line for together. “you want mushrooms, right?”

she nods, then freezes at the sight of your bra, which is totally exposed under the sheer transparency of your soaked white shirt. 

“lee,” you drawl out with a laugh. “are you checking me out?”

her eyes immediately latch onto the chalkboard behind the counter, desperately hoping she’s convincing in her act. “no.” 

“uh huh. totally believe you.”

“good.” she pauses, blinking hard. “because it’s true.”

“oh, so,” you mutter, stepping closer to her, staring at her through your lashes. her abdomen stirs with a warm, molten sort of sensation at the gaze. “you won’t kiss me or touch me once we get back?”

she clears her throat, gaze flicking around, her stomach tightening in nervousness at your bold words. “um, no.”

thirty minutes later, she practically tosses the box of pizza onto the counter, shoving your back against the front door, pressing her mouth to yours. one hand is tightly encircled on your waist, while the other is cupping your jaw, massaging the muscle so your mouth hangs open. she immediately seizes the opportunity, excitement bubbling in her, and her tongue snakes into your mouth. the warmth of it is a refuge in the chills still surging through her body from the water. she eagerly loses herself in it, swirling her tongue around yours. 

✩

you pull your head back, and before she can question what’s wrong, you push her in the direction of the couch. she gracelessly tumbles into the cushions of it, immediately feeling a pierce of discomfort at knowing the seat is getting wet from her clothes. but, she urges herself to ignore the mental protest, barely managing to swallow down a moan when you climb into her lap. you stare down at her with a wisp of a smile, eyes gentle, and she finds herself unable to meet them with the tenderness contained in your attention.

“you can touch me, lee.”

her fingers tighten into the couch’s fabric. “where?” 

you press a hot, moist kiss to her cheek. “anywhere.” 

she grits her teeth at the answer, but protest is the last thing on her mind. “are you sure?”

you pepper kisses back to the corner of her mouth. “yes.” 

the breath she draws in is a shuddering one. “okay.”

her hands hesitantly cup the crease of your legs where your shins are pressed into your thighs from how your legs are folded. her eyes flutter shut at the warmth of the spot, palm smoothing over your skin as it roves higher up your thigh. the prick of your hair tickles against her skin, and her fingers curl, digging into the plush of your thighs. she bites her lip at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel those thighs in all kinds of ways. under her tongue, lapping at the innermost spot. around her head, as her tongue licks up those folds she’s thought of so many times, usually against her will. 

she nips at your bottom lip lightly, and grunts when your hips buck forward. the layers of heavy, wet fabric dim any friction it could give her, but knowing you felt pleasured enough to move in such a way sends a wave of satisfaction rolling through her.

“did you like that?” she murmurs against your lips, not giving you a moment to respond before gently biting on your bottom lip again.

you whimper. your hips flail again and her hands fly to grip them, squeezing into the soft flesh. “do that more,” she rasps.

your face morphs into a quizzical stare. “I… do what?”

she swallows. “move like that again. if it’s okay.”

you moan, and the noise shoots straight down to her center. “it’s more than okay.”

your hips start moving again, and lee’s head hangs back, her breaths becoming shallow as she watches you grind your hips back and forth, clutching onto her shoulders. you’re clearly enjoying the pressure it’s giving you, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as sighs drift through it. lee just sits, settling into the couch and watching the way you move. your bra is still visible to her, and your nipples poke out. she feels a desperation overtake her at the sight, wanting nothing more than to rip these layers off and have you ride her dildo like that while she puts her mouth on you. 

her hands clutch your hips harder, pulling you forward and away on her lap, helping you ride it. you cry out at the newfound pace, palms flat against her stomach as you let her control your movements. “fuck, lee, feels so good.”

“keep going,” she encourages, nails digging into your skin. an animalistic part of her hopes she leaves shapes of crescents in your skin. she wants to mark you up, show everyone you’re all hers. she doesn’t even know if you are, but amongst all the hazy pleasure, she doesn’t care. in this moment you are, and she wants something to show for it.

✩

the phone suddenly rings, the blaring noise making her jerk under you. you also start, your back tilting a bit too much for her liking, and she quickly presses her palms into the small of it. “are you okay?” she asks, her heart thumping.

you nod, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. “yeah, I’m okay.” the hand that was on her stomach is fisting into her shirt, and lee can’t help but want it there forever.

her eyes dart between you and the phone. it could be her mom. it could be an emergency. she pats your thigh, lips pressing into a tight smile. “um, I need to…”

“yeah, yeah,” you breathlessly say, gingerly climbing off of her and sitting on the couch. she immediately feels the coldness of her damp clothes at the lack of you, and with an embarrassing amount of longing, she walks to the phone and answers it.

“hello?” 

“lee?” 

she clears her throat, an irrational part of her wondering if her mom could sense what she was doing. she tries to adjust her voice accordingly. “yeah?” 

“are you okay?”

“yes, mom, I’m fine.” her voice takes on a heightened edge of exasperation, realizing what the call was about. it was like protocol at this point – every few weeks, especially during finals season, when lee tended to forget about calls, her mom would call her to check in. lee knows it’s not a bad gesture. but, she also knows the calls come from a deep lack of trust for the outside world, a lack that has held lee back for years and has added to the layers of tension between them. it’s a lack that sometimes, truthfully, irritates her. and right now, it and its resulting call have interrupted her time with you.

she speaks to her mom for a few minutes, and she knows she sounds more urgent than usual, fingers itching to end the call. when her mom asks that usual question, she tries not to glance at you.

finally, she ends the call. and is immediately hit with a wave of guilt for how she spoke. it’s not like she gets to talk to her mom often.

she sighs, then turns back to you.

–

lee pads over and carefully sits on the couch. this time, it’s in the center cushion, right next to you. your face breaks into a smile and yoy shift closer, tossing a leg over hers and draping yourself over her. her arm easily comes to rest on your back, a smooth, effortless gesture that has your stomach whirring.

“was everything okay?” you ask, dotting kisses along her jaw.

a soft grunt comes from the back of her throat, and you bite back a smirk. “yeah. she was just checking in.”

“you sounded impatient on the phone.”

she hesitates, glancing down at you. “I was.”

“I know, but you know, we have all the time in the world. you only have so many minutes on the phone with her,” you gently remind her, pressing another soothing kiss to melt away any burn your words may carry. you know she has things tough with her mom, and you’re still not exactly sure how at fault her mom is, though, of course, a part of you is burning with curiosity. but, you also know lee loves her mom. it’s evident to anyone, and hidden in the pockets of her kind gestures that she reserves to privacy. she calls her mom daily, sometimes even more than once, forces herself to visit despite not liking it back home, and some of the first smiles and laughs you ever saw of hers were solely when she was talking to her mom. there’s a soft underbelly there, lingering beneath the harsh trauma and experiences she’s been through.

you pull away, hoping your words didn’t upset her or seem overbearing. but, she’s only staring down at your hand, which rests on her thigh, eyebrows slightly scrunched in focus. after a moment, she nods with pursed lips. “I know. I’ll do better next time.”

you kiss her cheek, laying your head back on her shoulder. “she seems to dote on you.”

lee’s chin rests on top of your head. “yeah, she does.” the words are hushed, as though she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“and you adore her too, don’t you?”

she stiffens under your arms, her blinks becoming faster. her gaze shifts to you, and you hold it, raising a hand and smoothing your thumb over brown the spots on her face. after a moment, she says, voice low, “yeah. I do.”

you hum and lay on her chest. for some reason, it feels nice. to know how loving of a daughter she is. in a way, it makes you admire her even more.

“and you?” she murmurs. “do you… um, adore yours?” she says adore softly, as though embarrassed to be using so tender a word.

“sometimes.” you fiddle with her t-shirt, feeling unbalanced in answering the question from how much you lean both ways. “sometimes, I look at them, and I see myself in them, and I get why we’re related, how we’re related. and in moments like that, or when we bond or joke, I feel like I could almost call them my friend. but, then, they do something harsh or unfair, and I feel… like, bombarded with the reminder that they’re my parents. and sometimes, it makes me feel stupid, because I feel like a kid again, so small and frustrated.”

“it’s not stupid,” she immediately says. “even I feel… like a kid sometimes with my mom. I think a part of us maybe just reverts back with them.”

“why do you think so?”

you feel her stomach heave beneath your hand. “maybe because since they’re our parents, we always see them as, I don’t know, someone to take care of us. and so we always seek that from them.”

you roll your fist into her shirt. “yeah, maybe.”

she’s silent for a few seconds, then mumbles, “you don’t deserve the harsh parts.”

you rub your head against her, aching from the caring words. “thank you.” after a moment, you ask, “but, it was okay on the phone?”

“it was the same as usual.”

that wasn’t an okay, something you take note of. for all you know, each call could carry something terrible and she’s just accustomed to it – and that’s why she doesn’t call it okay. her calls sound like any other stiff parent-child conversation to you, but still, you’re not sure why that is. just how bad things could be for her. yeah, during the visit to the cherry blossoms, and that night she came back from her mom’s after halloween weekend, she did confide in you about some stuff. but, you feel far from having the entire picture.

you’re about to inquire after it when she tentatively says, “maybe we should talk about what was happening before.”

you swallow hard at her words, slightly surprised at her having been the one to initiate conversation about it. even more apparent is the way you’re throbbing at the reminder of what was happening before her mom had called. god, she held onto you with such a hard, tight grip, dragging you relentlessly. it makes your mind wander to how brutal and unfaltering she’d be in other ways.

you want to ask more about her mom, but refrain. you two have ample opportunity to go back to it in the future, but rare is the opportunity that you both naturally enter into a talk like this. 

shifting, you prop yourself up, extending an arm out so it stretches along the couch and behind her head. “yeah.” 

she remains silent.

you laugh, leaning a hand over to stroke her hair. “okay, so should I start?”

she glances at you wryly. “sorry.”

you smile, then pause, taking a courage-filled breath before saying. “I… I want to, you know? I want to do it.”

“it?” 

you raise an incredulous eyebrow at her.

she shrugs. “I just wanna be sure.”

“fine.” you sigh deeply, then say, trying to ignore the many pauses in between your words, “I want to, you know, have sex.”

her throat bobs, eyes straying to your leg. “I do too.”

it’s almost silly how much you internally brighten at the words. it was pretty obvious from her handsy touches that she definitely wanted something, but to hear her confirm it feels so much more affirming than solely picking up hints that are drawn from touches in the heat of a moment. 

“do you want to wait?” you don’t why, it’s probably due to lee’s reserved nature, but part of you feels like she’d be the type of person to want to take things slow.

which is why you’re so surprised when she mumbles, “not really.”

“oh?” you giggle, teasingly running a finger through her hair, which is still thick and damp with water. 

she edges her face away, gently grabbing your wrist. “it’s not that surprising.”

“it kind of is! you seemed like a, you know, take-it-slow kind of girl.”

she raises an eyebrow. “is this another ex-catholic joke of yours?”

“no!” you guffaw, shoulders shaking. “I just, I don’t know, I thought you take your time with that stuff.”

she shrugs. “with people I just met, I do. but, we’ve known each other for a while. I already trust you.”

it’s said with such confidence, as though it’s the most natural conclusion in the world. unbeknownst to her, her words have made you feel ascended. “really?”

“yes.” 

“okay.” you giggle nervously, fingers going back to her hair, if only to have something to do to distract yourself as you speak. “so, then… we’ll do it?”

“if you want to.”

“I do. do you?”

she nods wordlessly, fingers tapping without rhythm against her knee.

your tone softens. “hey, look at me.”

she does and you feel like her eyes could swallow you whole. something about those dark, wide, brown eyes have you feeling like her gaze is sharp enough to open you and see all the thoughts and words you keep hidden out of fear of driving her away. 

you try to hold her gaze, which is so unwavering it makes you feel uneasy. but, not in a way that’s linked to fear. but, rather in a way that makes you feel like the axis of the earth is slightly tilted, like the balance of your body is tossed away, because some sort of world-shattering phenomenon is occurring right before your eyes. you draw in a breath. “it’s just me, okay?”

she shakes her head. “the fact that it’s you is what makes me scared. I want to do right by you.”

“you will just by being there, lee.”

she tilts her head, eyes skeptical.

“it’s true,” you reiterate. “whether or not we click immediately, or take time to adjust, I’ll enjoy it just because it’s you.”

she looks away, eyes flittering about the room. “okay.”

“are you getting shy on me?” you shift closer, the hand in her hair moving to cup the back of her neck. goosebumps immediately rise against the touch of your palm, and you smile.

“no.” the word is said slightly wavering.

you lean your face in, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek. “uh huh, you know, that’s the same tone you used when you said you didn’t want to touch me. back at the pizza place.”

her head leans away from you. “it wasn’t.”

“it was,” you whisper, and when she turns back to you for what’s probably going to be another quiet protest, you press a shushing kiss to her mouth. immediately, she returns it, her lips caressing yours as one arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer. it’s a bit ridiculous, considering how much kissing the two of you have already done, but the gesture makes you giddy in knowing she wants you near. maybe wants it so bad that she brings you closer without even thinking of it.

when you part, she pants against your lips, “so, if we both want to, when should we?”

“what do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continues, pulling away, her eyebrows knitted, “maybe we should arrange it for a day when we’re both off from work and have no class.”

you burst into laughter. “‘arrange it’? wow, sexy.”

she rolls her eyes. “you know what I mean. we’re both busy, and–”

“let’s do it when it feels natural,” you laugh. “what if we’re not in the mood on the so-called arranged day?”

her tone is flat, pragmatic. “then, we schedule it for another day.”

“no. lee, it’s sex, not a business meeting.”

she looks away with a huff. “it is technically a meeting. of sorts.” 

“one where we’re both naked. I don’t know how well that bodes with formality.”

at your teasing tone, she narrows her eyes. “you know, you’re really just extending the time it’ll take for you to find out.”

“as though you could resist me for long.” there’s a certain power you feel in expressing the words, because you know it’s true. you know if perfectly reserved lee harker can’t even keep her word to not touch you because she wants her hands on you that badly, then you can rest assure that she wants you. the surety in which you feel that in this moment is almost unnerving.

but, she doesn’t respond to your teasing. she just sits in silence.

your previous confidence wanes from the emergence of insecurity and worry, your stomach turning in a sickening motion. “sorry, was that too much?”

“what?” her eyes dart up to you, then widen. “no, it wasn’t. I just – I want to ask you something.”

you grip a bit harder at the couch now. “okay?” 

“are you, you know, seeing or involved with anyone else?”

your head immediately jerks back at the question. it was the last thing you had expected her to ask, the mere idea of you being with anyone else so unbelievable that it feels like it exists in a reality far beyond the one you’re experiencing with lee. “what, no! of course not. why would you even think that?”

she doesn’t meet your gaze. “I… sorry, I just– we never confirmed what we are. and I know it’s a common practice to, you know… date other people before becoming official.”

you cross your legs on the couch. “not for everyone. not for me. is that – do you want that?” the question makes something sink into your stomach. 

she shakes her head. “no, I don’t.”

you sigh in relief. “good. thank god.”

lee’s lip quirks up, just barely. “did you not like the idea of me seeing someone else?”

you gently push her head into a loll, glaring at her amusement. “don’t be so smug.”

“I’m not.”

“then, what’s that smile on your face for?”

she shrugs. her eyes linger on your face before looking away. “cute.” 

your face immediately warms at the compliment. you’re not used to this side of her yet. the side that allows for quiet compliments, sweet mumblings and initiated touches. it still makes you feel windswept, as though her tenderness is a gust knocking you off your feet and into a never ending wormhole of affection. “stop it.”

“it’s just the truth.” her tone is passive as usual, and it makes you even more flustered in a way. she doesn’t say the praise, and state the so-called truth of it, with any embellishment. she says it naturally, with raw honesty. it makes you all the more acutely aware of the fact that she truly thinks of you that way.

you’re still trying to come up with a response when she says, “so, if we’re not official, but we’re only seeing each other… what makes us different than girlfriends?” her voice is low with hesitation, but she eyes you carefully.

you gulp. she’s right, of course she is. you guys aren’t that different from girlfriends at all. you spend so much time together, you kiss, you cuddle, and if your outings just had the label of dates, then you two would be going on dates constantly. but, the idea of actually having the label of girlfriends makes you feel tense in the stomach, as though you’re intentionally tightening your muscles.

“I… I don’t know,” you weakly say.

she purses her lips in contemplation. “I mean, the only thing I can think of is that we haven’t gone through the… procedure of going on dates leading up to an agreement of being girlfriends. but, it feels like we already do that.” she pauses. “unless dates should be different than what we usually do.” 

fondness strikes at your heart like a bell. “maybe the only difference is that dates are called ‘dates’?” you’re glad for the momentary shift in conversation from the word “girlfriend.”

“maybe. then, is that the only thing stopping us from being girlfriends?” she swallows hard. “just beginning to call the time we spend together ‘dates’?”

you say nothing, a slightly nauseating feeling churning in your stomach. you hate it. isn’t this what you’ve been wanting for months now? for her to be yours, only yours, to be the one she can rely on, or call when scared, and bored, and happy? you’ve been wanting, wanting and wanting, and now, you’re dangling on the border of having, and you just want to run away from that edge, feeling like stepping over will lead to a steep, dark drop. 

“what is it?” she gently asks. you look up to find her staring intently.

when you say nothing, eyes downcast, you watch the hand in her lap twitch, lift and lower back once, then finally reach out, tangling your hand in hers. 

she says nothing. she simply waits. it kills you that she has it in her to wait, just for your sake, in what feels like a deeply momentous event.

“I-I’m not ready,” you whisper. “to be your girlfriend yet.”

her hand suddenly tightens. you can’t bear to look at her. 

“okay.” 

you slip your hand from hers, and stumble into a standing position. “I’m going to shower.”

all she gives you is a nod.

–

lee’s actually thankful for finals this week. because at least it gives her a distraction from you and how things have been at home. 

it’s not like she’s angry at you for having said no to her, well, in hindsight, not-so-subtle suggestion. but, her mind and stomach are an uncomfortable mix of emotions. if there’s anyone she’s angry at, it’s mostly herself. she wishes she hadn’t been so lacking in subtlety. maybe now, you feel awkward with her because you suspect she’s trying to push you into an official relationship. she shuts her eyes, embarrassment creeping through her. what if she’s now come off as forceful, or too much?

she’s not sure as to your reasons for saying no. she knows you not being ready is the obvious answer, but she’s not exactly sure why you’re not ready. perhaps it’s too soon? you two had your first kiss a month ago, and while that feels like a long time to her, perhaps it might not be to you. perhaps you want to spend more time in this vague, in-between state before adding a label. but, why should a label mean so much? why should it carry such a weight?

you two already act like a couple, so why does the addition of the title girlfriend matter so much? it’s just a word. ten letters, two syllables – she doesn’t know why society places such a weight in its connotations. a prickly, gnawing sense of frustration itches at her. she doesn’t get it. maybe she’s the one lacking some important piece of knowledge regarding the dating scene. but, it makes no sense to her. you’re content to act like her girlfriend, but to actually be called it is too much? she feels a twinge of guilt at her own emotions. she knows she can’t force you to feel ready, and even if she did possess such an ability, she’d never want to wield it on you. she wants you to choose this, choose her. but, to not be chosen leaves her feeling with a kind of insecurity she hadn’t anticipated.

because does your hesitation have to do with her? has she been too distant and unclear in her emotions? have her reservations made you question her ability to be a sufficient partner? 

she wants to rattle her head and rid herself of these thoughts. she should be studying, and instead, her mind is flooding with why, why, why about you, herself, both of you together. she knows logically, her own guesses will never match to the reality of what you feel, and can only take her so far. but, she’s filled with fear over approaching this with you. your answers might be more difficult to bear, and she’s not sure she can handle a shocking or painful revelation.

she progresses through the week fine. long, tired hours of studying keep her up late into the night, tucked into the living room where her desk is and flipping through pages. it’s easy for her to get swept up like this, especially if she enjoys the content. as a child, her time and effort for school ranged based on the class, with her most liked classes being those she could pour over for hours, and the ones she wasn’t drawn to, like math, being the kind she pointedly avoided. the latter would lead to a lot of late afternoons spent with homework sheets discarded to the side of her desk, her small hands devoting hours to drawing or peeling through picture books. it was easy to discreetly engage in such rituals with how often she was alone at home. her mother hadn’t even discovered her decline of grades until weeks after lee’s teacher had first notified her to return her calls. in the whirlwind of hours at the local hospital, lee’s mom had easily missed and neglected the crumpled up note next to the phone. 

as a child, lee hadn’t minded the solitude that much. it would usually only last a few hours after school, and she liked the time to herself. similar to her feelings as an adult, she didn’t enjoy the process of conversing with others. even on the days her mom had her babysat, lee preferred to walk the grounds of their home by her lonesome, or watch television. just anything to be alone and have ample silence for imagining herself in the latest film she had seen. and most of the time, whether someone was watching her or she was alone, she didn’t even miss her mom that much. sometimes, yes, but she had adjusted to the isolated existence fast, and it just became second nature to associate home with an empty space.

the only times she had really felt a craving for her mom were on the days her mom was at work for longer than usual. those hours of solitude melted into loneliness, and she would become acutely aware of just how silent the house felt. she would often grow unsettled and anxious in those lonely evenings, the long shadows of the trees creeping through the windows and the branches looking like spindly fingers chasing after her. in those evenings, she missed her mom. some days now, she still felt like that. 

but, things were different in how she proceeded with those feelings. she’s sure her mom would still try and comfort her to the best of her ability if lee ever came to her. but, lee hadn’t been vulnerable with her for a long time. not since her mom had started to push her farther and farther from their home, both with the slow decrease of space and the insistence and paranoia.

lee has always wondered what her own home will look like in the future. the idea of it becoming her mom’s home is one that part of her still fears. so many people turn into their parents, replicate their habits. though, at the same time, she doesn’t even know if such a fear has any real value. to her, it feels like the mess of her mom’s home has embedded such a need in her for space and organization that it’d be impossible to repeat her mom’s mistakes. but, still, the irrational fear lingers.

for the longest time, she envisioned any future home of hers to possess only her, the sole owner and guest. a romantic relationship, a family – they’ve never been huge concerns of hers. she’s usually been content to consume her time with her academics and working towards her goal. the only time in her life where she was truly attached to the idea of dating was when she had first realized her attraction to girls in high school. at that time, she ached for, and couldn’t think of anything but, the touch of a girl, the love of one. she just wanted to experience it, at least once. and she did, and it was just as intense as she had anticipated it’d be. but, after high school, she had become determined to do well in her studies, mostly content with the singular romantic experience she had had. she had experienced love once, and that was satisfactory, since at least she knew, then, what it was like. well, satisfactory most of the time. not always.

now, though, she can’t get a certain image out of her head when she thinks of what a future home would look like. it’s a shadow by her side, and its figure holds an all too familiar shape. 

she gets through the week. it’s difficult, and filled with hours of exhaustion and stress, but she gives it her all, the pressure of this being her last semester placing a heavy weight on her conscience. she wants to prove that her education, her completion of these four years, were worthwhile. she wants to prove it to herself, and to her mother, that she left oregon for a worthy reason. 

she wants you to see this, too. it feels new, the way you now linger at the edge of her subconscious in ways you didn’t used to. now, when she does something, she hopes you’ll approve. when she sees something she finds interesting, she wishes she had a way to send you a picture of it. she wishes for you and wants you in all these quiet, secretive ways. you’ve made a space for yourself in the corner of her mind that had been empty of contact for years before.

you’ve also had a large amount of work too, she knows. you have two exams, one group project that you’ve been complaining about the entire semester, and a graded class debate on friday morning that you invited her to weeks ago. she’s barely seen you this week. though she knows it’s because you’ve been cramming in your bedroom, part of her is gnawed with the deep fear that you’re avoiding her. that she did too much, and is now driving you away. she wishes you would just talk to her. even on the day you confessed to not feeling ready to be her girlfriend, you left her there, showered, then remained in your bedroom for the rest of the night. the next morning, you two drank coffee together, and you struck up conversation with her as usual, albeit more stiff than usual. and before you left, you had pressed a soft kiss to her lips. 

and just like that, the week had proceeded in a series of short-lived conversations, mostly about classes, and brief touches. she’s tantalizingly close to the end of her entire college career, and she can’t even feel relieved. 

all of this leads to the uncharacteristic decision to break the silence of her study session with amaya and maria, who each showcase some variety of a flinch at the sound of lee’s voice. she’s not one to open up like this, so it takes a few pauses for her to quietly reveal what’s been happening.

when she does, she can’t help but hesitantly glance towards maria. though both of them had been pleasantly surprised weeks ago when lee had revealed your guys’ shift in dynamic, maria still had her qualms with the situation. lee worries that this will only increase her sense of doubt. 

thankfully, such a thing does not happen. instead, which actually might be worse, what happens is that maria begins to question you as a person.

“like, are you really sure you wanna be with someone who spends a week not even talking to you about this stuff? stuff that’s important.”

lee fidgets with the ripped strings of paper sticking out from her notebook’s spirals. she didn’t intend for this to happen. she doesn’t want her friends looking down on you, or doubting you. she knows you, she knows you’re kind and considerate. but, she also knows that’s not enough to provide you guys with a lasting relationship. you’ve always been able to talk to her, why are you being so different now?

when the silence lapses for too long, amaya clears her throat, dark eyes flickering between the two of them. “okay, listen, I think one screw up is allowed before we get the pitchforks.” she turns to lee with a gentle smile. “I like you two together, okay? and you guys have a solid friendship going on, even beneath all the mushy stuff. use that to your advantage. talk, and make it clear you don’t like this way of handling things.”

maria ducks her head down, mumbling, “I think that should’ve already been self-explanatory, but okay.”

lee’s jaw tenses. while she’s slightly annoyed with maria, she can’t say she blames her, which somehow, exasperates her even more. she’d also have some reservations towards a person if they were to treat maria or amaya like this. she knows it’s not right of you to do this to her. and it causes a hot pool of frustration to drip into her stomach, because she wants everything to feel right. and everything did feel right up until this point. 

and she misses you.

–

you’re tip-toeing around the apartment, carefully placing your plate in the sink then slipping on your sneakers with slow, focused precision. once this is done, you grab your backpack and wrap your fingers around the doorknob. 

“where are you going?”

you fucking leap, lee’s voice scares you out of your flesh and bone that bad. “lee, jesus christ, announce yourself!”

“in our own apartment?”

you roll your eyes, though you can’t bite back the smile the words our apartment ignites. it makes you feel like the two of you are living together – actually living together, by choice and with the desire for it to be permanent.

her eyes scan you. “anyways, I’m just here because I thought you wanted me to come for your debate.”

your shoulders deflate at the revelation. it’s not that you don’t want her to come. of course you do – this entire week, you’ve been dousing yourself in buckets of self-pity over the fact that your own stupid behaviour will probably entail her not showing up. and that’s not even the worst of it. you’ve felt like complete shit all week, avoiding her after dropping such an abrupt, harsh confirmation of not being ready to be her girlfriend yet. well, maybe it wasn’t so harsh, but to you, it feels like the worst possible thing you could’ve said at that moment. maybe you’d be less torn about it if you had actually sat down and explained your mindset to her. but, instead, you had scurried away like an idiot, leaving her alone with what was probably an anxious toss and turn of thoughts. and then, what did you do all week? avoid her. you had been overcome with piles upon piles of work, and to say you had been overwhelmed would be an understatement. the idea of talking to her about why you had rejected her advances only accentuated your stress, and you had neither the time nor emotional management necessary for such a talk amidst the finals of your last semester. and you were scared to explain yourself and potentially face disappointment or rejection. and so, you had opted for avoiding her.

you wince. you should’ve fucking told her all of this, all of the reasons for avoiding her like the plague. you should’ve immediately confided in her rather than draw this shit out for a week. you were devastated weeks ago when she had given you a distant greeting the morning after your kiss, and that had lasted just five minutes. she’s been receiving your distance for a week now – you can’t bear to think of how it’s made her feel.

that’s why her coming along to your class now does nothing to quell your worries, and only unfurls a very heavy bout of agony. because you know you don’t deserve this from her today – this support, this encouragement. not after how astrayed you’ve been all week.

you want to throw yourself at her feet, beg for forgiveness. but, you can’t, you’re already running late from all of this staring.

“you don’t have to, lee.”

her jaw twitches.

“no, no,” you rush to explain, stomach plummeting. “please, no, I just mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean, you don’t have to just because of obligation or your promise. I’ll understand if you, you know, would prefer not to.” you’ll be heartbroken too, but you haven’t earned the right to be heartbroken.

“I’ll come.”

you shakily sigh, nodding. “okay.” you want to hold her hand to the subway station, you want to pull her by that devastatingly handsome short-sleeved button up and kiss her thank you. but, you can’t. and not just because of the time constraint. 

the subway ride is quiet, intercepted by weak attempts at conversation, like asking her how her exams went. she quietly answers, without detail. it feels like it’s fall again. 

however, the throbbing, burning heat of summer smacks you right across the face during the last portion of your debate.

it started civil enough. it’s not the most formal debate, despite its inclusion of an introduction and conclusion, and the professor is mostly using it as a way to assess students’ digestion of the course content, as well as their ability to apply it. she’s spent the past three days inviting two groups, each made up of ten people, into her classroom at different assigned time slots. for each group of opposing teams, she’s given them a question, and for two hours, the debate was to take place, the last twenty minutes being free reign discussion. it was all calm and everyone offered research-based, backed up answers to the question of if all sexual attraction towards women is inherently objectifying.

that is until sandra, a girl designated to the side of “Yes” directs a sharp, pointed look in your direction, saying, “this is exactly why lesbians should have their own sub-feminist group. the mainstream feminism movement doesn’t want anything to do with more talk and involvement of sex.”

immediately, someone in the seat behind you jumps in. “that’s so archaic, though! we’re not in the seventies anymore, we need to accept lesbians in the movement.”

“besides,” you add, not before shooting the person a thankful smile, “we can’t just ignore sex as an entire concept. it exists, and we can’t just not address it, whether it be heterosexual or lesbian sex. and also, it’s not fair to inherently tie lesbianism to sex in a way heterosexuality isn’t.” your stomach begins to stir, prickling with annoyance at her words. she can’t choose the side she’s advocating for, sure, but there’s no need to bring up lesbianism in such a… pointed way.

“well, that’s what it is, isn’t it?” sandra scoffs, and you shift in your seat. it no longer feels like this is just an objective, detached form of arguing on her end. you glance warily at lee, who meets your gaze from the corner of her eye, lips pursed. “lesbianism includes the sexualization of women – women who might be part of the feminist movement. why should we put those women in the uncomfortable position of having their own peers within the movement sexualizing them?”

“you do realize lesbians aren’t dogs or some shit, right?” you snap.

your professor calls out your name in the tone of a warning, and you suck in a deep breath. under the table, you feel a hand press against your knee. it’s lee. with a gentle squeeze from her, some of your embarrassment simmers down. you steady your voice, then proceed. “lesbians aren’t just lusting over every woman they see. and even then, you cannot compare the attraction lesbians feel to that of men who have, well, been men their entire lives and have grown up with the social conditions and expectations surrounding men’s attraction to women.”

“how? sexual attraction is sexual attraction, and anyone who is attracted to women is influenced by a culture that objectifies women.”

you grind your teeth together, your stomach beginning to churn harder as the anger within you builds. “yes, but lesbians have had their own experiences with gender that differ from those of cisgender men. so, the sense of entitlement and allowance that cisgender men feel in objectifying women isn’t there for lesbians.”

“cisgender?” sandra’s eyebrows knit together, and even her expression of confusion manages to possess a shadow of condescension. as though you’re the stupid one for having used a word she doesn’t understand. 

“dana defosse, university of minnesota? it’s a word meant to describe the opposite of ‘transgender.’ that is, someone who is assigned a certain gender at birth and continues to identify as it for their entire life.” you force a sticky sweet tone to your voice, desperately hoping she feels at least a twinge of stupidity at your explanation. next to you, you hear a quiet huff from lee, and your mouth nearly twitches. 

her eyes flick away. “fine.” you sigh, hoping this is a sign of relenting, but nope, she carries on a millisecond later. “but, this doesn’t change my mind. especially with the involvement of bdsm, and more lesbians who dress, like, you know… men, it feels like there’s just a mimicry happening of heterosexuality, as well as aggressive sexual behaviours being incorporated, both of which mean more objectification of women.”

her second point is accompanied with a glance at lee, whose fingers flex against your knee. she’s evidently nervous, or at the very least, uneasy. a sense of protectiveness spikes in you. how dare she put lee, sweet fucking lee, on the spot like this in front of all of these people? how dare she do it at all? your voice begins to waver. “‘masculinity’ and ‘man’ isn’t the same thing. masculinity on a person who isn’t a man doesn’t mean some kind of, like, pretending or copying is happening. even the concept of masculinity itself is subjective and dependent on culture – it barely exists as an objective concept. like… it’s just clothes and behaviours, why do we need to define it by gender and police who can and can't do it? why can't a woman do something just because it fits into what western society deems as 'masculine'? isn’t that against our values as feminists?”

strands of hair move as she cocks her head. “yes, and so is the objectification of women.”

you release a scoff that nearly squeaks with exasperation. “I’m not objectifying women just by being gay.”

she splutters. “I-I’m not saying you do. but, your chances of doing so are higher, and just – that’s why. that’s why there should be a separation between lesbian feminists and straight ones.”

“the chances are not higher!” you gasp out, flattening your palms on your desk. “yes, there’s romantic and sexual attraction, but my experiences with my own gender has earned me the ability to not objectify women in the way a cisgender, straight man is taught to.”

behind sandra, a guy laughs and tosses his arms up. “can you just stop acting like because you’re gay, your attraction is holier than a man’s or some shit?”

“I’m not saying it is–” you try to interject, your body beginning to slowly rise with a harsh dance of anxiety, embarrassment and anger. did you really come off as thinking yourself superior? was everyone judging you right now? the uncertainty begins to trickle in.

“yes, you are,” he continues, laughing. it makes you feel ridiculous in front of all these people, but also indignant that he even forced his way in in the first place. “attraction is attraction, wanting to fuck someone is wanting to fuck someone. it’s not different.”

“thank you!” sandra says, her voice high with an annoyingly relieved tone.

you fumble, now feeling the weight of the class’ eyes on you. when it was one on one, that was one thing, but now with the addition of someone new trying to prove you wrong, you’re overcome with a flood of inadequacy. and the longer the silence drifts into and expands within the classroom, like an infected wart, the more you feel your face heat up in humiliation. your mind feels like it can’t be grasped, your thoughts emptied of what else to say.

“okay, well, let’s call it a day,” the professor says, standing from where she sat perched on her desk. she claps her hands together. “great work students.”

you feel shame at your lack of a rebuttal. were the other people in the class, the people who felt defended by your sentiments, disappointed in you? were they pitying you? embarrassed for you? were people really thinking you sounded as haughty and superior as that guy framed you as? as the stinging, hot stab of anxiety and flusteredness rips through you, you whisper to lee, “I-I need to get out of here.”

without waiting for her response, you shakily grab for your backpack, and rush out of the classroom, beelining to the bathroom.

overwhelmed with emotions, you brace your hands on the sink, crying silently. the heat of the debate, the isolation of feeling two people jump to fight you back, the knowledge you ended the debate with nothing to say to defend yourself or the other queer people in your class – it suddenly takes its toll on you, and you feel your body get heavier with it, begging for release. the tears slip down your face, and you quietly gasp out through them.

moments later, the door creaks open with hesitation, ending with the soft click of the lock. you know it can’t be just any regular student walking in for a bathroom break.

lee quietly approaches you, her bangs swept messily along her forehead, chest rising more than usual. she drops her backpack to the ground, watching you carefully as you stare back with tear-soaked cheeks.

“why didn’t you defend me?” is the first thing you say. it’s stupid, it’s childish, but in the throb of your anger and humiliation, you want to lash out and release it some more.

she blinks at you. “it’s a class debate. I didn’t think I could. I didn’t know if you’d want me to.” she looks away. “sorry.” 

what is wrong with you? your body floods with hatred over what you just said. as if you have any right to make demands with how you’ve behaved with her this week. “no, no, I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, lee. I’m just stressed and upset from the whole thing. and I just wish it could’ve been stopped earlier. but, it’s not your fault.”

“no. I should have said something. you were being treated badly. even if it was under the… guise of an academic discussion. the setting or circumstance shouldn’t have mattered.” silence hangs for a moment, the only noise her fingers tapping against her thigh. “I’m sorry.”

you gulp. “it’s okay.”

“I’ll do better.” her voice lowers. “it did make me angry. I don’t want you thinking it didn’t.” her dark eyes rise to you.

you flinch. you only now realize she’s never seen you cry like this. not truly. it’s only been moments of tears during a movie or a song, but never full on sobbing like this, let alone for something that happened to you. you want to look away, the uncertainty of what she feels about you in this state gnawing at the edge of your mind. but, more than that is your desire to let her see you in this way. totally exposed and a complete mess. you want her to know and witness this side of you, and you want her to understand it, and with that, understand you fully. most of all, you want to bask in her acceptance and comfort.

you’re left wondering if she’ll give you that for a few moments, the both of you quiet. but, then, her lips press together and she walks over, stopping when she’s behind you, chest brushing along your back. she wraps her arm around your waist, hugging you to her, and dips her chin down, resting it atop your shoulder. “are you okay?” she murmurs.

you cry harder at her concern, one hand reaching up to wipe the tears away. you don’t deserve this. this gentle, tender treatment from her. but, god, it feels so good to receive it. in spite of the tears, your stomach flips at the feeling of her strong, firm arm pressing into you. and her warm words, deepend by gentleness and the lowering in volume, make your shoulders feel weightless. the care in the gesture makes you soften to water, and you want to melt away into the fabric of her shirt, the touch of her hands.

“I… you’re not upset with me? over this week?” you ask, voice shuddering through the quiet sobs.

her arm tightens around you, thumb beginning to stroke your stomach over the fabric of your shirt. “I’m… confused. and I was a bit frustrated. I didn’t know what was happening.” she sighs. “sorry.” 

“no!” your voice raises, though its edges are still raspy with tears. “please, don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s been horrible. I’m sorry.” the memory of how you’ve avoided her this week when she was left in the dark and probably needed your support most (for more than one reason), adds layer upon layer of guilt to your heart. you look into your guys’ shared reflection, her eyes downcast. what worsens everything is the knowledge that you had done something to truly frustrate her this week. being on the receiving end of any negative emotion of hers makes you feel crumbled to the ground. “lee, I-I’m so sorry.”

she nods. “we can talk about it later. right now, I just–”

“no.” your voice is so, so shaky, but you push forward. “please. you deserve an apology.”

her eyes tentatively raise to yours, meeting you in the reflection. she tucks her chin deeper into the slope of your neck. “I know.”

you awkwardly shuffle to turn around, her arm continuing to wrap around your body as you do so. you hesitate, then raise your hands to her shoulders, which tense momentarily. god, how long had it been since you touched her like this? it’s only been a few days, but it feels like an eternity. “I’m so sorry, lee. I’m sorry that I said what I said with no explanation, no comfort, and just avoided you all week.” you pause in to suck a deep breath, throat dry. “I was just overwhelmed with work, and knew I couldn’t handle a conversation like this, and I was scared of what you’d think of me when I explained myself. but, I should’ve told you all that. I should’ve explained myself right away. rather than avoid you. I-I’m sorry.” recalling everything you did, vocalizing it without any mincing, makes your gut twist with shame at how you behaved. you, the person who is supposed to not hurt her.

she can’t even meet your eyes, dark brown orbs pinned to your shoulder as her eyebrows furrow, clearly mulling over your words. her lips part, close, and then they open to say, “I wish you had just talked to me.”

“I know. I should’ve.”

her throat moves as she swallows. “please, don’t do that. I don’t want secrets with you.”

your head bobs so hard your head aches. “I promise, never again.” you reach up, cupping her face, thumb tracing over the pimple that’s recently sprouted near her lip. you hadn’t even noticed it, it’s been so long since you’ve explored her face like this. 

your thoughts on her face shatter into fragments when she finally looks up, and her eyes are coated in a sheen layer of liquid.

“oh, lee,” you whisper, regret twisting and yanking at you in the most painful of ways. “I’m so sorry.” 

she says nothing, her eyes simply flickering over your face. when she blinks, a stray tear falls. 

you immediately pull her in, mouth pressing against the drop, mumbling, “I’m so sorry.” you wrap your arms around her neck, tugging her into a hug. her other arm lifts to wrap around your waist, clutching on tightly. “baby, I’m so sorry.”

she makes a small noise against your neck, and you wonder if it’s a sob until starting with the realization of what you just called her. your face warms. it just came out, without you even processing it. the tenderness and protection jolting through because of her tears, the guilt and longing of knowing it’s because of you, because of the absence you drew out that instilled such a want in you – all of it makes you want to be the softest you can be with her. “sorry, I–”

“it’s okay,” she whispers.

you say nothing, reaching up to stroke the hair of her long, brown ponytail, the strands silky smooth. when you feel a cold wetness on your neck, where her face is buried against, your fingers tighten against her shoulders, pressing her in closer. sweet lee. sensitive lee.

you decide to tell her. “sweet girl,” you whisper against her head, rubbing her back in what you hope is a soothing motion for her. the guilt tears at you, the embarrassment at your avoidance claws at you, but what rips through all those feelings, what lathers a soothing balm on them, is your desire to tend to her, be there for her.

the desire for it nearly rips you apart.

–

lee feels embarrassed at being so doted upon, but she can’t tear herself from it. it feels too good to be under your hand’s gentle caresses, your lips sweet presses. it’s been an hour since your class, and still, her face is shoved deep into that spot on your neck, your legs entwined in her bed. you’re on your back, while she lays on her side, leg tossed over yours and arm slung around your waist. your hand continues to comb through her hair, soft words and kisses falling against her forehead as you sweep past her bangs and dote on her. she nearly shivers at the affection. she always thought she could live without this, do without it – but, now that you’ve given it to her, with such unadulterated and relentless pouring, she doesn’t think she can ever be taken away from it. the more you give to her, the more she craves. maybe she’s always craved it – this touch, this attention. maybe she just did a good job at ignoring the lack of it until this point. either way, she’s content to lay here, surrounded by the musky scent of your sweat.

“are you okay?” she can’t help but feel guilty for the conversation of what happened in your debate having shifted to what happened this past week. 

“what do you mean?”

“because of the… class discussion.”

she feels you shift under her arm. “I am now. I was just embarrassed before for having ended it with nothing to say. I just felt so, like, confused? I just couldn’t think of anything – there was too much pressure from two people joining against me, everyone watching. I felt like such an idiot.”

lee sighs softly, trailing her fingertips along your shoulder. “you’re not. an idiot, I mean. I understand that feeling. it’s hard to… think on the spot with all that attention.” she sighs. she never would’ve been able to do it herself. if it were her, she probably would’ve frozen on the spot from all the watchful gazes. anything she would’ve been able to offer would have been the result of extensive prior practice. “you did good. really good. I was – still am – really impressed.” 

“yeah?” 

“yeah.” 

you pat down her head with a soft smile, and lee’s eyes skip away. after a moment, you say, “I also was worried. like, am I really objectifying girls? am I really sounding like I have some superiority complex to say I don’t?”

lee immediately shakes her head, eyebrows furrowing in concern. she doesn’t want you thinking such a thing. for months, she’s been admiring you for how open and unapologetic you are regarding your sexual orientation, and the idea of your confidence waning because of today heightens her regret for not having spoken up. “no. everything you said was fair. how we view and treat women is influenced by, you know, social expectations. and our own experiences. there’s clearly a leniency, and almost expectation, towards – what was the term? – cisgender men’s objectification of women. a leniency that we aren't given. that’s more than apparent.” she looks up at you, hoping you know just how true her words are. “you were right. and objectification has some willingness involved in the act of doing it. it’s knowing you’re taking away someone’s humanity and only caring about… your own self-fulfillment. it’s harder to do that when you’ve dealt with it yourself in the past, and know what it feels like. as well as when society doesn’t give you tolerance for doing it.”

you seem hesitant, your eyes flicking away, mouth twisting in deep thought. “you’re not just saying it for my sake?”

“no. I’d tell you if I thought you were wrong.” and it’s true. lee’s never been one to lie, let alone be good at it. even if she’s afraid to, she’s more than okay with being truthful. she doesn’t understand why she’d hide her own opinions when someone is asking her a question to evidently seek out her thoughts.

this seems to ease you, for she feels you soften under her arm. a small smile creeps onto your face, and lee relaxes at the sight of it. “thank you.”

she simply hums and presses her face back to your neck. it’s nothing, really. she likes being there for you, and doing something to actually help when you need it. she usually gravitates towards doing a silent gesture, one that can easily be missed, or melt into the background. but, she knows you. you need words right now, clearcut assurance. and she’ll give it to you. she’d talk for hours if it meant you got comforted by it.

“listen, let’s talk about… the other thing. why I said I’m not ready last week.”

lee freezes. she inhales a deep breath. take one, take another, then another. her mind is whirling with the possibilities of what you’ll say – is it her? is she the problem?

your voice is hushed. she can sense the worry you, too, must be feeling. “can we – can, like, I talk to you like my friend? not as my future girlfriend.”

lee’s stomach surges with hope at the use of ‘future girlfriend.’ she tries to pointedly ignore it, focusing on your request instead. she isn’t sure what acting like your friend entails. she never stopped being your friend, she still is. there’s just another thing added to it. her head raises from the warm cushion of your neck, the slope containing a sanctuary. “so, should I move…?”

you laugh. “no, no. we can be friends who cuddle.”

“we were never friends who cuddled.”

“well, then, let’s play pretend.”

lee smiles softly, then shuffles into a sitting position, rising to brace her back against the wall her bed is pushed to, crossing her legs.

still on your back, you whine, “hey, I said let’s cuddle!”

she brushes her fingers through your hair. “I want to see you when we talk about this.” she doesn’t trust herself to figure out the subliminal meanings of your words based on auditory signals alone. she wants to be able to see your face and body, and detect if you need her. as overly observant as that sounds.

you look away, pouting. “makes things a bit more nerve-wracking for me.”

“should I not…?”

“no, no!” your eyes flash to hers, widened. “please, no, stay.”

she rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips tilting up. you could be so confusing sometimes.

“okay, I’ll just – I guess I’ll just dive right in.” you suck in a deep breath, and it might as well have been an inhale stolen from lee’s throat, for she feels herself still completely. “it’s just– I’m scared, lee. not to be your girlfriend – I want to be your girlfriend. but, I’m scared of us… breaking up.” at the two words, lee fidgets, picking at her pants. the thought of you two ending what you have, in any capacity, with any label, floods her with an immediate pull of resistance. “I’m scared of us spending months, years, together, then all of it ending in, like, heartbreak. I’m terrified of it, lee.”

she pauses, the gears in her mind spinning as she digests your words. she understands that fear. the mere mention of a breakup has her feeling thrown from balance, and you two have only been… involved for a month. but, she doesn’t understand why it would cause you to resist being her girlfriend when you two have already been romantic. “if we ended things right now, though, wouldn’t it already hurt? wouldn’t it already be a breakup – or at least feel like one? how would being my girlfriend change that?”

“I know.” you sigh, hands twisting together. “I know it makes no sense. if we left things tomorrow morning, I’d be a fucking mess. it’d be horrible. but, I don’t know, the words, the labels, it makes it feel like a bigger deal to me. if we’re girlfriends, rather than in some weird, middle sort of space, there are these expectations from ourselves and others to stay together. and I feel like those expectations make ending things feel all the more terrible. do you get what I mean?”

her hand continues stroking your hair. while she knows the labels hold weight in society, and therefore, possess meaning in people’s minds, she doesn’t feel they’re so important that they will be one of the main contributors towards your pain. “I get it. but, I don’t agree. at least not for me. I think what’d make a breakup hard is what we have. other people’s expectations resulting from our labels can cause embarrassment during a breakup, maybe, but I don’t think it’ll cause a lot of pain. I think the only time expectations will cause us pain is when it comes to things we also would’ve wanted for the future. and those things we’ll want regardless, even if we aren’t girlfriends.”

“yeah.” for a long moment, you’re silent, and lee’s fingers fidget faster in your hair, anticipation swimming in her. “I guess another thing is, I don’t know, being called a ‘girlfriend’ makes me feel like things are more serious, more structured, so I’m scared that because of that, a breakup will feel more severe, more horrible.”

“I’m not going to say that that word is just a word. I mean, it is, technically. but, I know it gives us structure, a way to identify ourselves to each other and other people.” she sighs, shaking her head. “but, I don’t think it’s what’ll cause the most pain. if we were girlfriends, but totally estranged, a breakup wouldn’t feel as… painful as us not being girlfriends, but, well, close. close like we are now.”

for lee, your experience isn’t one she’s accustomed to. whenever she’s dated someone, she’s always been so certain of her choice that calling them her significant other never felt daunting. perhaps this was due to how particular she was with selecting a romantic partner, as well as the fact that any pursuits she made were committed to with the utmost patience, since to move slowly was her preference and she’s never been one to feel romantic notions quickly. 

maybe there was a desperation to it, as well. the fact that connection came so rarely to her that once it was in sight, she grasped at it with single-minded loyalty and strength. maybe her lack of connection is what fuelled her ability to commit, what pushed her to throw herself all the way in before someone could leave her. the notion is one that makes her slightly nauseated.

when you’re quiet, furrowed eyebrows directed at the wall, she gulps. she’s not always the best when it comes to giving comfort – it only feels easier with you because of how long the two of you have known each other. but, that doesn’t mean she’s confident in doing so. not many people have relied on her for comfort in her life. and not many times has she felt sure in her ability to match up to the task. but, with you, she feels like she can rely on her instincts a bit more – instincts that only exist because she knows you and what helps you. and she knows what you want is honesty. 

“I…” she hesitates, wondering if you’d prefer the silence. when you turn to her, eyes blinking, she musters up the courage to say what she wants. “being close to you is what’ll hurt me if we break up, not being called your girlfriend. and the only thing you can do to prevent yourself from getting hurt is eliminating our closeness. not avoiding being called my girlfriend. I’m not telling you what to do – I just mean this is what makes sense of the situation.”

“but, I don’t want that.”

her lips curl at your immediate interjection, trying to avoid the stinging fear within. “I don’t either.”

your voice cracks. “I’m just scared.”

lee’s thumb strokes your forehead. “I know. if something happens, we’ll handle it together, okay? I just…” she peels a strand of hair away, feeling the heaviness of her upcoming vulnerability bear down on her. “I’d rather try and things end, then not try at all and never know.”

you suddenly reach for the hand in your hair, lacing your fingers and hers together. “me too.” your grip squeezes her. “and you were right. about everything. being called girlfriends won’t account for even half of the pain of a breakup. and I don’t want to end this with you, being like this. and it’s not fair to keep it, but not do something we both want.”

lee is silent. she doesn’t know what to say. while part of her is relieved that you don’t seem to intent on ending things after the choice she’s posed, she can’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable in the turn this seems to be taking. “I don’t want to only do it because you’re scared of this ending.”

she jerks back when you suddenly shoot up from your lying position, shuffling closer to her, your hands cupping her neck. at the touch, she shivers slightly, trying to stiffen her body so it isn’t obvious. she wraps a loose arm around your waist, pulling you in, wanting you close. you play with the hairs on her neck, gaze unfaltering. “I do want to be your girlfriend. I’ve wanted it for months, lee. I want to call you that, I want you to call me it. I’m only scared of the whole breakup thing. that’s it.”

relief pours through her, and she sighs softly. when you keep watching her with those wide, attentive eyes, she clears her throat, head ducking down. she can’t handle it sometimes – how it feels like you cradle her in your eyes. “do you feel scared still?”

“a bit,” you admit gently. “but, I don’t want it to hold me back. not anymore.” you tug on her hand. “it’s okay, though, if I’m a bit scared at first? I’ll be happy, of course I will, but I’m not sure I’ll just immediately feel less scared right off the bat.”

“and you don’t need to.” she doesn’t expect that your anxieties will vanish overnight, even if your thinking and mindset have shifted. she knows that’s not how it works for her, someone who often takes days before her anxiety wanes over something that has happened. she never expected it to be different for you. “we can handle it together.”

“but, lee, know that I am sure of you. I am so sure, lee. I just – every relationship, every connection, has ended in some form of heartbreak. even when I initiated the end, it still fucking hurt. and I’m scared of going through that with you. especially because with you, it’ll hurt all the more, because I just – I… I like you so much, lee.” 

when you finish, you draw in a breath that’s clearly trembling. lee wonders how much courage it took for you to say all this. while she feels a twinge of jealousy over the mention of your past partners, she can’t help but feel some of her nerves wash away under the assurance of your feelings. while she knows that neither of you would be together unless liking one another was involved, your bold, honest declaration of it has her feeling unnerved. she’s not used to this – being on the receiving end of such unabashed affection and want, and she feels a tad pathetic at just how easily she crumbles under the sheer force of it. she’s sure you don’t realize it, but your words, your care, your touches – they have this invisible hold on her, as though there are strings linking her body to all of them, and only you have the power to weave it to your will.

“but, we might not break up,” she quietly mumbles, feeling her neck heat up at the words. it’s honest, too honest, and she’s afraid it’ll push you away, but she wants to share the way you do. she wants to bring you some of the hope you’re trying to present to her. “we might… have a future.”

she doesn’t have a moment to glance up at you before she feels the familiar plush softness of your mouth on hers. her breath hitches in her throat, shoulders stiff. after the surprise trickles away, her lips melt to yours and she presses in, mind fuzzy to the gentle pushes and openings of your mouth. 

when you part away, an embarrassingly loud groan rumbling in her throat, you tip your forehead onto hers. “you’re right. I want that too.”

joy floods her body at the confession, a swift sensation of lightness overtaking her. she had been so tense and rigid and tight with the anxiety, the fear, the terror at what this conversation might turn into, at the possibility of losing you. to be met with kisses and confessions and promises makes her feel wrapped up in a blanket of safety, like the kind her mother used to crochet for her. it seems like this will be okay, like you guys will be okay.

“lee?” 

“mm?��� 

“will you, um, be my girlfriend?”

her eyes screw shut, her breath shuddering. for a second, she just repeats your words in her head, processing them. as ridiculous of a request as it sounds, she almost wants to leave the room momentarily to linger on your question by herself. despite knowing you’re being genuine, disbelief and shock hang in her head over your words. she didn’t think you’d propose such a request in this very conversation, that you value her words so much that they can inspire enough courage in you to ask the words you had been avoiding all week. the words that she herself needs a moment to digest and swallow down, and let them settle and soak into her mind. she can’t look at you just yet. it’d be too much to.

but, finally, she does. your breaths are short and panting, clearly indicating your nervousness. and you’re staring at her with shining, wide eyes, eyebrows raised. you’re waiting, and with how carefully you’re eyeing her, she suspects you’d wait however long it takes.

it’s almost unbelievable that you’d even ask her rather than just declare it. she knows you’re doing it to be respectful through the act of offering it to, but not forcing, her. but, she feels a quiet amusement in the irony of you asking her, and awaiting her answer, when all her mind is whirring with is how badly she wants you. 

she nods. there’s only one possible answer, a singular correct one. any alternative, any minimization, would be pure and utter dishonesty. and that’s not who she is. nor who she would ever want to be. she wants to seize this moment with you, and take it and relish in it. “yes.”

a loud exhale sweeps past your lips, cheeks curving and dimpling as a wide smile takes over. lee feels her chest stir at the sight. you look pretty. after a shaky laugh leaves your mouth, you suddenly lunge at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. she starts at the sudden movement, then curves her arms around you, rubbing your back. she feels warm inside.

“thank god,” you mutter.

she laughs, too. but, not out of relief. well, partially from relief. the other part is drawn out of complete amusement over your reaction. she can’t imagine how you could’ve thought she’d possibly give any other answer.

“you’re crazy,” she mutters, dotting a soft kiss to your head.

and she adores you.

—

when the sky dusks and coats lee’s bedroom in a blue, dim glow, she reaches one arm over to switch on her bedside lamp. music is softly playing, one arm of hers is wrapped around you, and you feel like you could live in this moment forever. 

her stomach slowly rises with a yawn, the noise deeper than her usual speaking level. the sound of it makes you smile. “tired?” 

“mm. a bit.”

you rub at the material of her button-up. a question hangs on the tip of your tongue. for you don’t want to leave her, not like this, not after having been able to finally hold her after a week of barely doing so. not when her kind words and soft assurances gave you the courage to ask her to be yours. not when the knowledge of her actually being yours is still fresh on your mind, sending butterflies into your stomach. of course, with it, there’s the slightest bit of anxiety, and deep, lurking thoughts, but you try to ignore them, hoping with time, they’ll fade away. for now, you want to focus on the good parts. the excitement you feel at being able to finally call her your girlfriend, the daydreams of the future whirling through your mind of introducing her as your girlfriend to others, and calling her that in your most tender moments. you can’t believe she’s yours. not just in title or reference, but in every way that matters most. the connection, the touch, the want, the comfort. you feel like you could race through your neighbourhood with the overbearing lightness you feel.

“can I… I mean, would you be okay with me sleeping here tonight?”

she blinks up at the ceiling. “with me?”

you nearly joke, but hold your tongue, desperate for her answer. “yeah.”

“yeah, sure.”

“really?” 

she nods, face utterly neutral. “yeah. don’t… girlfriends do that?”

you sag against her with a glare. “yes, but I don’t want you doing it just because we’re girlfriends! I want you to want it too.”

“if it were up to me, we’d sleep together every night.” after a second, she blinks hard and clears her throat. “in the literal sense, I mean.”

you rub your cheek on her shoulder with a laugh, affection blooming through you at her words, the petals stroking your stomach and delivering a fluttery feeling. “no, no, please, keep going.”

she hums. “I’d rather not.”

“you’re so boring.”

her eyes, black in the faint light of the room, lower to you. “I’m on the brink of rescinding the offer.”

you snort. “sure you are. you just admitted you’d like for me to spend every night here, remember?”

“yeah, and you have the ability to make me change my mind in under two minutes. impressive, hm?”

the teasing lilt in her voice is crystal clear and you smack her stomach gently. “you’re so mean to me.”

“I think you like it.”

the words, said flatly, make you nearly bury your face in her chest and scream. the quiet surety of them, the mental image they evoke of lee being even meaner in all kinds of ways, have you antsy with sudden arousal. “no, I don’t.”

she hums, ignoring your protest.

“it’s true, I don’t,” you whine, the earnestness of your words broken with a light trill of laughter.

“so, I guess you’ll retire to your own room tonight? since I’ll probably be so mean to you.”

you tug on her shirt with a small groan. it’s an empty threat, of course it is, but your drowsiness has made you more clingy than usual, wanting nothing more than an unwavering, unfaltering amount of doting and attention. “no, it means you should make it up to me by letting me stay here all night.”

“I guess I could manage that. if it’s to make you feel better.”

“oh? so, that’s the only reason you’ll tolerate me for the night?”

a small, amused huff leaves her. “yeah, I’m struggling to pick out another reason.”

“very nice.” with a small groan, you writhe out of her arms, sitting up and tossing one leg over her body to reach the floor and remove yourself from her bed.

in a quick flash, lee’s hand is grasping onto yours tightly. “where are you going?”

her tone is soft with protest and you grin, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss her stupid. “to get my pajamas.”

“oh. okay.” she continues to hold onto your hand and when you raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly glancing to where she’s still gripping on, she lifts your locked hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. “I do want you to sleep here. you know that, right?” her voice is lowered with trepidation.

“I do.” you lift her hand, pecking it right back. she looks down after the contact, nodding. “give me a sec,” you say.

in the privacy of your bedroom, your face aches with the huge grin that splits on it. excitement is swiftly spreading through your body, plunging your stomach into a sensation of tinglest. it almost feels like you’re a kid again, eager at the prospect of spending the night in a new bedroom that isn’t yours. she’s just across the hall, but it feels like you’re preparing for the most exciting sleepover of your life. except instead of taking magazine quizzes and playing truth or dare, you’ll be cuddled up with your girlfriend. your girlfriend. you could die.

if it were someone else, you might be picky about the pajamas you’ll wear upon re-entering her bedroom. but, lee has seen you in every pair you own numerous times. still, you want to look good for her. tonight bears a huge milestone, and she’s yours. you check yourself in the mirror, wincing at the dry skin peeling around your nose and your cracked lips. god, had she felt the dryness when you kissed her? you quickly apply some vaseline on both parts, rubbing it in until you’re satisfied.

you change into your pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. you look down at your unshaven legs. it’s not the first time she’s seen them, but now, your mind is overtaken with thoughts about if she finds it unappealing. you know that you shouldn’t care. even if she did, hypothetically, find it unattractive, you shouldn’t remove the hair just for her. you’re under no obligation to alter your appearance for lee, no matter how much you may like her. besides, if she preferred hairlessness in the first place for some aesthetic reason, what does that say about her? there’s no reason for you to do anything about it right now, especially in the comfort of your own home. it’s natural, it’s normal. with that, and the reminder that lee has already seen your legs in this state before, you take a deep breath and head into her bedroom.

when you enter, you can hear the faint noise of her in the bathroom. at the foot of her bed, you’re struck with an exploding mixture of nerves and what feels like a neverending thrill. you’re actually going to sink into her bed instead of yours tonight. you’re going to sleep wrapped up in her, and wake up to the sight of her long lashes. you’re going to spend the night with her. 

not knowing what to do with yourself, you set the book you brought onto her nightstand, then crawl into her bed. you tentatively pull the sheet over your legs, bracing your back against her headboard. 

you tap your fingers along the back of your hands, eyeing her room. as usual, it’s clean, meticulously so. empty walls spare for two artworks of flowers, both of which are in neutral tones. the surface of her dresser is filled with no trinkets, just the necessities of a hairbrush, hair ties, what seems to be a jewelry box, one plant. your gaze strays to the first drawer. you swallow hard.

it’s not like you’re unaware that sex could be a possibility for tonight. and as much as the thought of it makes your stomach itch with nervousness, you can’t help but feel desire stir between your legs at the thought. you’re ready for it, you know you are. you trust lee as much as she said she trusted you, if not even more. you know she’ll be a patient and kind lover. and while your mind is silently swarmed with the nasty buzz of thoughts like how good you’ll be, if you’ll match to her past partners, or she’ll find your body attractive, your desire for her triumphs it all. 

when the door to the bathroom creaks open, you scramble to grab your book, flipping it open and forcing your eyes to it so fast you feel a wave of light-headedness. 

she steps in. “hi.” 

god, you hate her so much. she’s clad in nothing but a white tank top and boxer shorts, her wet hair laid flat along her back. she looks so good you almost want to look away. almost. if only the desire to soak her up in your eyes, and let the memory of her become drilled into your mind forever, wasn’t so strong.

“hey.” god, that sounded squeaky. you clear your throat.

she give you a small, tight-lipped smile. just a formality. she walks to her dresser, carefully placing her hoops in the small, white dish. the sight makes you suck in a breath. those fingers of hers are tantalizingly close to that top drawer and the toy within. if she just moved them a few inches down, she could take it out, strap it on, and lower herself onto you. you wonder if she’s used it since you discovered it. if so, did she think of you?

she turns to you, footsteps quiet as she approaches. it doesn’t feel the same as it did just twenty minutes ago. before, you guys were at the peak of your reconciliation, tender and clingy, needing each other. now, a shower and change of clothes later, the tide has calmed, and all that’s left over are the remaining embers in the quiet, low intimacy of the night. the music still playing, the crickets chirping through the sheer mesh of lee’s open window, the street lights painting the corner of her room in a pale light.

carefully, lee seats herself on the edge of her bed, hands fisted in the white sheets. “are you comfortable?”

“yeah.” your eyes scan the back facing you, white fabric transparent and damp under her soaked hair. “are you?”

“not really.” her eyes dart to you. “not because of you. I’m just not used to this.”

you swallow a shaky breath, trying to calm the onslaught of worry at hearing of her anxiety. it’s okay. it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, or your relationship with her, or anything. she just needs time. it’s okay. “okay, um, would you prefer we do it another day?”

“no.” eyes lingering on the ground, she silently reaches for your hand. “I want to.”

you grip onto her like a lifeline, feeling immensely fragile under the newness of this all, wanting nothing but the haven of her arms around you. “okay.”

after braiding her hair, she shifts into the bed, curling on her side as she lies down. her bare legs lifted, you can see the thin skimming of brown hair. despite your little pep talk earlier, you can’t resist the ease that settles into you at the sight. you sidle down next to her, feeling suddenly shy and exposed. she’ll be dealing with all of your secret, unconscious habits tonight. you know you two have slept in this bed together before, but for an entire night? it feels different. “pass me my book?”

she reaches over for it, and you nearly whimper at the sight of her slightly toned arm flexing as she stretches her arm out to retrieve it. yeah, a book would be good. you need some fucking distraction. 

while you flip through the pages, lee digs into her backpack, pulling out a notebook and beginning to scan her eyes over the pages. unable to resist the urge, you take a peak at her notebook, eyes roving over her scrawled jot notes, red pen used to underline and star certain words. the notes are about social factors in the criminal justice system. you read along with her, taking in the information.

“enjoying it?”

you jolt back at her voice. “oh! I– maybe,” you laugh.

a small, barely present smile brushes her face. “it’s for my exam on monday.”

she brings the notebook closer, shifting it more in your direction.

you kiss her shoulder with a smile.

another half hour passes of her studying, with you skimming her notes. when she closes it silently and slips it back into her backpack, what follows is her turning off the music. 

you frown as Sade’s voice suddenly zaps into silence. “hey! I liked that song.”

her legs tuck into the sheets, turning to face you. you turn bashful under her intent gaze locked onto you, the intimate position earning you knuckles that brush against hers. “we can listen to it tomorrow.”

you roll your eyes. “this better be an oath.”

she chuckles. “sounds a tad biblical, but okay.”

“yeah, so right up your alley.”

she snorts. “yes. as I lie in bed. with my girlfriend. the picture of piety.”

she’s so funny. you have a funny girlfriend. god, that’s a nice thought. you try to ignore all the others that linger beneath the surface of that one. wanting them to be forgotten. desiring more of her laughter, her jokes, you teasingly shuffle closer, saying, “hey, we’re not doing anything that’d count as a transgression. to anyone else, we’d just seem like two friends.”

“friends?” 

“mhm, friends.”

her lips curled up, she slides a hand to your hip. you flinch at the touch, the firmness of her palm exhilarating. “still friends?”

you somehow manage to keep your voice steady. “oh, yeah. you could just be a friend helping me with… a hip massage.”

her fingers press into your hip, pushing small circles. “that’s considerate.” her hand raises to your face, brushing a thumb on your skin. “now?” 

goosebumps trail down your spine. “yeah, you’re just my friend who’s telling me how pretty I am.”

her thumb strokes along your bottom lip, dark eyes latching onto the movement. fuck, it’s taking everything in you to steady your breaths and not gasp out loud. she glances up at you, eyebrow raised. 

“now, it’s about how pretty my lips are.”

her smile widens, orbs flicking between yours and your parted lips once, twice, before she leans in, kissing you. 

✩

a quiet, squelching noise rings in the quiet of the room as she parts from you. her pink, smooth lips hang right above yours, hot breath hitting your skin as she whispers, “now?”

your thighs rub together, deeply aching in between them. aching so, so bad. “yeah, because now, you’re just teaching me how to kiss. you know, for boys,” you laugh, the irony of it not at all lost on you.

she scoffs quietly, shaking her head. the motion slows to a stop, and her eyes widen by the most miniscule amount. “I suppose I should be thorough, then.”

her words make your nose puff with a loud exhale. how is she so good at this? “yeah, I guess you should.”

“mm.” her lips meet yours again, and you immediately open for her, mouth dancing and moving easily with hers. her thumb presses deeper into your cheek and it encourages you to open wider, her tongue snaking in to rub against yours. the pink, wet muscle is rough and warm and she’s gentle in her licks, the tip of it rubbing against the center of yours. between your soft, wanton whimpers, and the wet, slippery noises of your tongues swirling together, drool dripping from her mouth to yours, your pussy is throbbing. 

lee pulls back, lips wrapping around your tongue and beginning to suck gently on it. the slight sting of it has you gasping, but she keeps going, her head bobbing as she entraps your tongue between the tightness of her mouth. the pushing and pulling causes saliva to slide down your chin, the sensation tickling your skin. lee releases your tongue, panting with shallow, short breaths, eyes drinking you in. when she spots the wet sheen of your chin, she ducks down, lapping at it. the unexpected sensation has a weak, strangled whine exiting your throat, the noise only rising in volume when she begins to suck at the spot. 

your hips jerk forward, mind flooding with thoughts of how good her mouth is, how good she sucks, how good her tongue feels. one of her large hands dig into your back, muttering against your skin, “this doesn’t feel that platonic anymore.”

“fuck,” you whine as her lips begin to press velvety kisses down the lane of your neck. “y-you’re just… a really nice friend.” 

her front presses against yours suddenly, pushing you to your back. the easy, effortless movement has you shuddering at her strength. her knees close around your legs, pinning you in place. you’re cornered, surrounded by nothing but the firm cushion of her body, and it feels so good. she’s staring down at you, the plain scent of her soap surrounding you, lashes fanning beautifully as she takes in the sight of you. you grow shy under her gaze, but will yourself to keep looking. because she’s staring at you like you’re a puzzle for her to put together, like you’re something to solve, piece together. something to work with, work on.

she leans down, her wet, stray hairs tickling your neck as she continues kissing. “and you’re nice, too. for letting me do this.”

“well, I’m just consider– ah!” you moan loudly when her lips tighten around a patch of skin, beginning to suck hard. the spot stings and aches, but the pain-pleasure mix of it sends arousal through you.

lee lets go not a moment later, eyes shooting up to you. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” you reply, breaths heaving. “more than okay. it–it feels good, lee.”

“yeah?” 

“yeah.” 

she gulps hard, eyes still warily scanning your face. 

“hey, hey,” you quietly whisper, cupping her face. “I’ll tell you if there’s anything I don’t like, okay? but, this all feels good. really good.”

she nods.

“and you tell me too, okay?”

“I will,” she promises, landing a small kiss to your chin. you try not to let your mind race to the way she was devouring it just minutes before. she pauses. “are we about to have sex?”

god, your body is raging for more touch, more kisses, more licking. but, you focus on her question, knowing she needs this clarity right now. and it gives you a moment to linger on her question beyond all the heat. do you want sex with her right now? you mull on it for a long moment. it may not be the most ideal time – she still has a final to prepare for this weekend, you didn’t get to eat lots of fruit in the hours leading up to it like you had mentally planned weeks ago, you’re wearing underwear that’s pure comfort, no aesthetic. you still have your anxieties lingering, creeping along the edge of your subconscious. but, you can’t say no. you want her so badly, in this tight, small bed, during this warm night. the only thing that prevails upon every worry, every doubt, is the sheer, pointed knowledge that this moment you’ve dreamt of for months is right at your fingertips. and to let it go feels like the stupidest choice you could make.

“I want to,” you whisper, combing through those soaked locks. “do you?”

“I do.”

“even if you need to study for tomorrow?”

she laughs. “I’ve managed with less sleep before.”

her words have a pierce of jealousy cutting into you, and before you can decide against it, you ask, “you mean with other girls?”

“I mean when studying.”

“oh.” you look away, the sight of her plain wall suddenly very appealing. god, if there was a spectrum to how cool a girlfriend could be, you’d be sitting right on one end, legs dangling over it. 

her lips return to the base of your neck. “did you really think I could think about any other people right now?” 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, arching up to meet her attentive mouth. 

“well, I know.” she sinks her teeth into the soft, sensitive flesh of your neck. you cry out at the sensation, the prickling edges of her teeth pinching your skin. “don’t think that way.”

she pulls back, licking a long stripe along the marks, maintaining eye contact the entire time. jesus. of all fucking times she decides to do that, this is when she chooses to?

lee pauses at the edge of your t-shirt, head tilting up to you. “can I take this off?”

you bite your lip at her bluntness. “yeah, you can.” your mind whirs with questions – what will she think of this part of you? will she find you attractive? will she compare you to her past sexual partners? you try to shake away the thoughts, but they keep slamming into you, and you can’t bear to look at her, scared of the insecurity potentially showing on your face.

does it make a difference, though? for lee immediately hovers her face over yours, murmuring, “are you okay?”

“I’m just scared. of if you’ll like me, if you’ll, I don’t know, like me as much as the other people you’ve been with.”

lee’s eyebrows slightly draw in together, as though your words perplex her. it sends a wave of embarrassment rolling through you. “I already have an idea of what you look like. you know, just based on the outline of your clothes.” she clears her throat, eyes sliding away. “and… I’m attracted you. I’ll definitely like what you look like. as for the other people, you, what we have – it’s all different. there would never be comparison. you’re the one I like right now, not them. you’re my focus.”

you’re my focus. the possessiveness of the words, the way they highlight, and lavish, attention on you, and only you, the firm, hard, proud declaration of them – they make you feel like hers. they make you feel anchored in her surety, even if your own is wavering. she wants you. she wants this. why would you deny the both of you? especially when you know in time, this’ll get easier. it has to, just like the talking, just like the flirting, just like the kissing. it’ll get easier. but, you’ll never reach that point unless you trust her, and yourself, right now.

you nod, face hot from what she said. “okay. do it.”

“are you sure?”

“I am.”

she slides her hands under your back, palms bracing to help you sit up. you push your hands onto the mattress, helping her guide you. when you’re half sat-up, her fingers slide to the edge of the shirt, slowly raising it up. your vision is partially blocked when the opening gets caught on your nose, and you hear a quiet laugh from her, which only ignites one in yourself.

when it’s fully off, your vision exposed, you immediately smile at the sight of lee pointedly turned from you, clearly giving you a moment to collect yourself. her hands are wrapped in the fabric of your shirt, neatly folding it up.

when she’s done tucking it into the edge of her bed, you chuckle. “you can look.”

with a sharp, heavy breath, she does, her eyes immediately lowering to your breasts. they rove along with a hungry, direct gaze. with every bit of skin her gaze traces along, the more desired you feel, especially when more telltale signs of her desire emerge through. like the bob of her throat, the flare of her nostrils, the wringing of her hands together. it releases a burst of confidence through you.

you reach down for her hand, raising it to one. “go on. touch.” 

her breaths get heavier, and with a small nod, her long fingers grip firmly at your tit. the feeling of her tight grasp, the warmth of palm rubbing at your sensitive nipple, the sight of her fingertips sinking into the plush skin – it immediately has you jutting your chest out to her. “fuck.” 

her left hand wastes no time in squeezing the other one. she pushes her palm in and out with slow, patient rubs, fingers curling in to massage. the flat plane of skin of her palm continues to squeeze against your nipples, which are slowly beginning to perk up under the pressure, and the feeling of it has you squirming. “lee, please, I…”

eyes still on your chest, she mumbles, “what?”

“your mouth, please.”

her head immediately ducks down, lips rounding along one and lightly toying with it. the faint, teasing pressure of it makes you ache and you weave your fingers into her hair, keeping her in place, needing more. almost as though she can sense it, she tightens her lips, heightening the suction tugging at your nipple. she keeps her lips like that for minutes, switching between the two as her lips kiss and suck at the perked buds of them. at one point, she unexpectedly sticks her tongue out, laving it over one, getting it cold and wet in the air of the room. she licks and licks like a woman starved, as though you’re her last meal, only pausing to slightly lean back and let the tip of her pink muscle flick and dart around the shape of it. and when her mouth focuses on a single nipple, her fingers toy with the second, gently rolling it between her thumb and index finger. when her tongue flicks, her thumb follows suit, until both are hard, aching and dripping with her spit. 

your hips begin to buck, pussy pushing and grinding into her bed. the harder she sucks, the more depraved your movements become, until you’re practically bouncing on the surface of her bed.

lee’s nails suddenly dig into your back, and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse. “can I go lower?”

“please.” as if you could stand any other option. 

she lines hard, moist kisses down the soft skin of your tummy, pausing to lick along the waistband of your pajama shorts. with long, nimble fingers she tugs it down, kissing along your thighs as she does. her lips skim along the thick hairs of your shin, one last kiss delivered to your ankle as she drops the fabric to the floor. her arms hook around your thighs, spreading you out.

for a few extremely long seconds, she just stares. 

your hips shift, swallowing down the worry. “is everything okay?”

“mm.” a corner of her mouth tips up, and you nearly hump the air at the sight of it. it’s a smirk. a fucking smirk. months ago, the idea of such an expression on her face felt like a mere fantasy. and now, you’re bearing witness to the most arousing expression to have ever graced this earth, all while she’s tantalizingly close to your pussy. “you’re wet already.” the flat of her tongue languidly strokes your inner thigh. “it’s cute.”

before you can protest her words, feeling yourself leak even more at them, her fingers slide into the edges of your underwear. she pauses. “is this okay?”

does she even need to ask? your mind is focused solely on feeling her mouth on you. “yeah. please.”

she remains still, eyes flicking about. 

“lee?” 

“I want to make you feel good.”

you run a hand through her hair, encouraging her to look up. “and you will. I know you will. even if you need a bit of direction, I’ll give it, and it’ll be great.”

she nods, her breaths measured and deep. you know she’s trying to calm herself, and you quietly continue rubbing her temple, giving her that moment.

finally, she raises her head, kissing your wrist. “I’m good.” 

you stroke her cheek once more before releasing the tender caress of her skin. a quiet exhale slides past her lips, then she begins to drag your underwear down. 

fully naked, you feel your pussy pulsing and gushing even more. her burning gaze blazes past your skin, lighting you aflame and tingling all over, wanting her tongue and fingers to ease where you’re most swollen and dripping with arousal. 

without realizing, your hips begin to bounce up and down, anticipation seizing at your body and teasing at it with its ghosting fingers. 

she sinks her face into your curls, one deep inhale tickling your folds before she presses in deeper, beginning to lick at you. a loud moan immediately erupts from you, pussy sensitive and sopping as she flattens her tongue and laps at your crinkled folds, relentless in its strokes against you. she pauses every few moments to wrap her lips around the folds, sucking them lightly into her mouth, as the tip of her rough muscle continues exploring them. the light ache of it sends your hips pouncing up, hands flying to her hair to keep her in place. 

she toys like this for a while, lavishing attention to every spot but your clit. she sticks her tongue into your hole, sliding it in and out, moaning softly when you clench down. two of her fingers spread you out, and her mouth slides against each of your pussy lips. she even presses her entire face in, mindlessly kissing at your cunt as her nose rocks achingly close to your swollen, stiff bud. but, you can’t find it in yourself to beg for more, for every touch has you wailing and experiencing different sorts of pleasure with each new spot her mouth makes contact with.

finally, she licks a long trail to your clit, stilling her mouth so that her tongue can encircle the bud, rubbing at the hood and coaxing for more of you to peak out. when she pulls away for a moment too long, you cock your head in confusion. you jerk hard when she suddenly spits down on your pussy, coating it in saliva then diving back down. your resulting moans are obscene, bordering on pornographic with how loud and drawn out they are. and you can tell lee is enjoying it, her eyes fluttering shut at every noise, sometimes even returning with her own gasps and groans, which send you tightening. to finally see her like this is surreal – licking up your most intimate spot, moaning just from your noises, eyes shutting from pleasuring you. your mind is clouded with a thin layer of astonishment that finally, finally, you’re living this moment with her, sharing this desire with her. it feels like a miracle, something to engrave in your mind forever.

especially when the ache intensifies by a tenfold when she begins to wrap her lips around your clit and suck it slowly into her mouth. low, wet noises mix between your pussy and her mouth, her lingering kisses and pulls sending a deep, burning pleasure through you. she lets go, fingers spreading you open again, then leans in to begin to swipe the tip of her tongue on the nub, pink muscle darting in and out of her lips as she focuses on the motion, eyes screwed shut. the slippery pressure of it has the throbbing of your clit rising even more, and your hips begin to swivel, grinding against her face.

she laughs softly against your pussy, sucking sharply before whispering, “excited?”

“shut up,” you hiss, the bite to your words shattered when you begin whining at the feeling of her lips tightening.

lee ignores the words, raising her hand up. two fingers lingering along the plush of your lips. she parts from you momentarily to say, “suck.”

it’s almost embarrassing how immediate your mouth is to opening for her, lips entrapping her fingers and tongue moistening them.

when she seems satisfied enough, her fingers drag down to your pussy, toying with the edges of your hole. mouth still on your clit, she looks up at you, and with your nod, begins to push a finger in. 

you nearly sob at the feeling of it, her long digit not enough to make you full, but stretching you nonetheless. it rubs deliciously against your walls, and the sensation mixed with the toying of your clit has you needing to come. 

your hips start flailing, the sheer need gripping at you and sending you into a state of pure want, desiring and craving for nothing more than for lee to bring you over that edge. “lee, lee, please, I need–”

“I know,” she mumbles, and slides a second finger in, fastening the pace of her pumps in and out of you. 

you toss your head up, back arching as your hips push harder into her face, keening as her mouth sloppily, harshly tugs your clit into her mouth over and over again, her tongue pressing relentlessly against it everytime. “fuck, yes, yes, like that.”

she keeps going, fingers jamming in and out of you with careful, hard strokes, and after a minute or two of it, you can’t hold back, a loud cry filling the room as your spasm all over her fingers, latching onto and gripping them hard. lee keeps fucking you through it and your orgasm only washes over you stronger with the way she moans into your cunt, her ministrations the producing loud, dripping noises.

you pant, chest rising and falling. as the heated, burning sensation of your orgasm simmers down, you glance down to lee, nearly whimpering at the sight of her tenderly nuzzling her face against your thigh.

“come here,” you whisper.

her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, immediately flicking up to you. at your words, she slowly crawls back up, a small noise jolting from her throat when you tug her down for a hard, impassioned kiss. you wrap your legs around her hips, wanting her as close as possible. you’ve felt close to her, linked to her, so many times in the past, but this feels different. this is a tangible, physical connection, one between your bodies and the learning of it, the memorizing of it. it’s something that’s seared into your skin – the way she touched you, held you, brought you to your peak. she’s imprinted on your body, and you never want her off. 

“that was amazing,” you mumble against her lips. 

you feel her mouth curve up. “really?” 

“so fucking amazing, lee.” ‘amazing’ doesn’t feel like enough to cover the experience. it was probably both one of the most grounding things you ever felt, yet also was detached from reality in the immense, mind-consuming pleasure it threw you into. it had the safety, comfort and laughter of being with lee, but also the surging arousal, excitement and desperation of being with lee in this way. and, then, there’s the mere fact that it was her – and with her, everything was on the cusp of being heavenly. 

“I’m glad.” she pecks your cheek. then, does it again. and again. you giggle, sensing how needy she must be. 

“let me make you feel good,” you mutter, nipping at the shell of her ear.

she inhales sharply. “but… you should rest.”

the response sparks an idea in your head. with a smirk, you say, “who says I can’t do both?”

– 

lee can’t stand it. your tongue on her center, prodding and licking deep, curling into her hole. the vibrations of your moans against her. you’re so loud, so vocal, and lee is just barely hanging onto a thread of self-control everytime she hears one of your noises, no matter how small. the breathiness, the softness, the way your eyes squeeze shut and mouth hangs open. she’d do anything just to secure a lifetime of those noises from you.

but, your noises aren’t the only thing on her mind. not when your tongue is plunging into her hole, licking up the wetness that’s soaking her through. she feels the texture of it against her walls with how deep you go, and the feeling of it has her leaning her forehead against the wall, needing something, anything, hard and flat to anchor herself on while you play with her from underneath. your arms are lazily wrapped around her thighs, fingernails lightly scratching at her knees, just another sensation to add to the ones already turning her mind into a malleable, hazy enclosement of thoughts that turn to nothing other than you. 

her tank top is still on, boxers discarded somewhere on the floor after you had practically thrown them off when urging her to climb onto your face. she’s never done this kind of position before, and maybe it was for the best, for her thighs are trembling in the effort to keep herself upright, legs buckling under the ceaseless movements of your tongue deep inside her. but, with you, it’s not so embarrassing. it’s you, and those two words are enough to help ease anxieties of how you might be perceiving her. 

especially when you’re taking every opportunity to vocalize exactly how you feel about her. sweet mumblings of, “god, you taste good,” and, “I love how you move,” keep tracing along her drenched lips, and each compliment sends her gasping against the wall, which usually incites a soft laugh from you. your amusement makes her wonder if your praise is being partially said for the sake of teasing her and coaxing all these exposing reactions from her. but, she can rest assure that even if that’s the case, they’re not at all disingenuous. because they usually wind up being accompanied by a harsher suck, a deeper lick, or a heartier devour of her. devour, that’s the word.

when she starts approaching her orgasm, she grows self-conscious of if it’s too fast, if you’d prefer her pleasure slows down so you can take your time. but, then, you press your fingers in deeper, tongue drawing tight circles around her clit, and she trembles with a loud, heaving gasp, nails digging painfully into her headboard as she comes. it almost scares her sometimes, to have such little control over her body in times like these, no choice but to let it lean into pure instinct and desire. but, with how good it feels, her walls pulsing and your wet mouth licking relentlessly, she finds that she’d gladly give up control over and over again if it means she gets to have you like this. 

when the two of you kiss, the taste of your shared juices makes her chase the sanctity of your mouth. it unnerves her how much she wants you. already, she wants to kiss back down to your pussy and relish in the taste of you again. she wants to feel the tight grip of your thighs over her ears and untie her hair so you can fist and pull at it. it’s addicting, the feeling of you like this, body writhing and so reactive for her. she wants to discover every little spot that gets you wet, every hidden crevice that makes you shiver. she wants to study you like an artwork, worship you like religion, and taste you like it’s survival. 

lee wants to do so much more. but, when she’s sucking on your nipple again, nearly coming undone from how each of you are grinding on the other’s thigh, she looks up to find your eyes fluttering close, watery and faded.

with one last kiss, she releases the perked bud. “tired?” 

you pout, cocking your head at her. “maybe. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“that doesn’t sound like a ‘maybe,’” she mumbles, reaching up to kiss your cheek. 

it’s an innocent touch, but still, it pulls a moan out of you, and she grits her teeth together, wanting nothing more than to open her drawer, put that harness on and pump into you when you’re on your stomach, pliant and ready to be filled. she tries to redirect her thoughts. you’re tired. so, sleep. you two should sleep. it’s a disappointing thought, but she supposes she ought to reign in some sense, and get enough rest for tomorrow. however, the only part of her that seems to acknowledge this is her brain, for every other inch of her body is craving for more of you. 

✩

“let’s sleep, then,” she mutters, looking down to you. your eyes are heavy and dewy with sleep, lips swollen from the harsh kisses you two had exchanged through the night, hair a lot messier than when she had first found you in her bed tonight. you look beautiful. she feels the tightness of possessiveness in her stomach. you’re beautiful, and you’re all hers. the last thing she had expected when she woke up this morning was to both become your girlfriend and have you like this. the word girlfriend in reference to you still feels a bit unreal. but, then, she looks at you, remembers your sweet question, and she’s flooded with pride. you’re all hers. 

“okay.” your teeth flash at her in the moonlit night, and she wants to kiss along the row of them. if she were a bit braver, a bit more honest, she’d tell you that your smile was the brightest beam of light in this room. even more than the white orb hanging in the sky tonight. but, under your expectant eyes, she crumbles, looking away. she wants to say these things to you. so bad. but, it feels like right when she’s on the brink of doing so, the sheer openness of the words, and their almost-present accuracy in depicting how she feels for you, spike her nervousness. nervousness about how she’ll say it, how it’ll make you feel. 

but, she wants to try harder for you. 

when it’s her turn to head to the bathroom to clean up, she feels bashful to stand up half-naked in front of you. it’s not that she’s insecure over her body – in fact, she’s quite content, if not neutral, with how she looks. but, she’s rarely ever this exposed to anyone’s eyes but her own, and the shameless way in which you stare at her makes her both eager and wanting to run away and escape your gaze.

in the bathroom, she braces her back on the door and finally releases a heavy whoosh of breath. she needed this, a moment alone. eyes closed, she recalls and goes over how the night went with you. her mind immediately begins to split and dissect how she did. she knows you said you enjoyed it, and based on that and your body’s responses, you seemed to have, but she wonders if she could’ve done anything more. anything differently.

✩

when she’s cuddled into you, new boxer shorts on (since her original ones were too damp, a fact which she tried to hide from you before your eyes had suddenly opened and you discovered her carefully opening her drawer for another one), she poses this very question.

you snort, looking down at her. “are you already forgetting how hard I came?”

she feels her face heat up, mouth pressing tightly. no, of course she didn’t forget. if anything, the mental image and physical sensation of it are two memories stamped into her mind. that’s how much she focused on it. “no.” 

“it was great, lee. amazing. seriously, you know how to fuck.”

she pushes her face deeper into your neck, the compliment doing nothing to make her feel more comfortable. “just… answer me. is there anything more I can do?”

“no, no, baby, I don’t think so.”

lee’s feels like her entire body stutters at the casual toss of baby. this is the second time you’ve done it today, and she feels like a third time might make her implode. how do you do it? call her these things with such ease, as though you’ve been doing it forever? she wishes she could transition into these things the way you do. 

“although…” 

she tenses up, mind spinning with one question: what did I do wrong?

“you know, maybe we should talk about kink. like, particulars of what we’re into. not because the sex is lacking or anything, but just, you know, things to try.”

lee relaxes at the words, content to know she hadn’t dissatisfied you. but, they also release another stream of worry in her. through her years at university, due to reading and ample time for fantasy, her tastes have diverted somewhat from what would be considered normal, acceptable sex. not that she doesn’t enjoy that. she’s still rearing from your previous activities, the image of your face during orgasm tucked into a corner of her mind through all her ruminations. but, she has her preferences and likes – ones that stray a bit more from the norm, ones that despite amaya’s insistence, she hasn’t even admitted to her, even though amaya herself has gotten more into s and m since her last boyfriend. 

but, she was content to keep these things to herself, having spent a long while ashamed of them and only now more accepting. in her first year of university, when she first started mentally exploring, she was fresh out of high school, recently departed from her hometown, still barely able to utter the word “lesbian.” the nature of her sexual desires had only deepened her sense of secrecy, as well as provided more bite to the gnawing worry that she really was sinning, and truly was inherently depraved. after all, she was already experiencing the lopsided attraction of liking girls – what did it say about her that she was now imagining being aggressive with them? did it prove the church right, that her attraction really could never reflect pure love, or was there something wrong with her specifically? the first option seemed impossible after what she had experienced in high school with her first relationship. the second option – well, that had haunted her for months.

✩

it was only when she read more on the topic of this sexual subculture, both in theory and relation to other lesbians, did her anxiety ease and she felt herself becoming more open to her own deep-seeded desires. however, this did nothing to tame her shyness in actually admitting said desires. she wants to, especially because she knows if she does, she might actually be able to explore some of these things with you, a notion that makes her throb in want. but, she can’t help but fear the chance of bringing something up and having you look at her in shock, or worse, repulsion.

 it seems she doesn’t need to linger on that possibility, though, and can put it aside for now, for right as she’s about to reply, she hears your soft snores. with a soft huff of amusement, she curls deeper into you. your snores get a bit loud at times, but to her, it’s a lucky tradeoff if it means she gets to rest her head on your shoulder for the night. the last time you two had slept in her bed like this, it was far apart with no touch, no skin-on-skin, just a lot of desire stirring within her from when she had momentarily woken to your parted lips, your shiny drool. being able to now feel the steady lulls of your breathing feels almost miraculous after having wanted it for so long.

the last time she was held like this at night, it was during winter break, when her mom had laid in her bed one late afternoon, falling asleep next to lee. lee had continued reading, eyes wandering to her mom’s face, the creases of it flattened and softened under winter’s light and the deep sleep. lee couldn’t bear to wake her – she knew how much her mom struggled to sleep these days.

after some more careful watching, she had given into the childish want in her, and laid next to her mom under the setting sun. when she was a kid, they used to do this all the time. despite her general discomfort with touch, there was always the exception for her mom. it rang true then, and present-wise, became even more evident when lee woke up at midnight, and found her mom’s arm wrapped around her, fingers pressing into lee’s shoulder. lee couldn’t bear to wake or leave her then either. 

maybe that’s what her life is crafted of. never being able to fully leave anything.

when she wakes up in the morning, bright, yellow light streaming in through the long window, she’s immediately met with the sight of your back, shirt stretched up as you hunch over your legs, sitting up. 

almost on instinct, her palm rests on the exposed skin, trailing up. 

you flinch in surprise, before tossing your head over your shoulder to shoot her a mischievous quirk of your lips. she clears her throat at the sight of it. your hair is mused, your eyes wet with splotches from sleep, your lips cracked and dry. and she feels reverent. she gets to see you like this now – in your first moments of regaining consciousness, half-asleep and groggy, and it feels like the most precious sight. if there is a god out there, at least she has something to thank him for. this private moment, reserved only for her.

“you know,” she mutters, hand disappearing under the fabric of your shirt, “I used to think of this.”

“think of what?”

your voice is raspier than usual, and lee tries not to imagine how you’d sound groaning her name. “feeling your back.” she thinks of that day at the cherry blossom trees, when she had been fumbling thinking of what to say and how she could break the awkwardness that her words at derek’s party had set into motion. she had felt so uncomfortable, yet so softened at realizing that you, too, had missed her. at least enough to invite her out for an excursion. 

“oh? so, you’ve been checking me out this entire time?”

she feels her face warm. the truth is, she has. but, she’d rather not admit that to you and undergo the weeks of teasing it’ll ensue. and so, she continues silently lining her nails along your back, smiling faintly when she feels goosebumps rise under the pads of her fingers. she wants to plant her lips on every one of them.

“don’t think you’re going to get let off this easy,” you laugh, back still turned to her. “now, you have to answer.”

“I’d rather take a vow of silence.”

“please, like you even need a vow in order to prompt you into hours of silence.”

her smile widens at your slight dig. it surprises her, how easily you can state something about her. it comforts her. “you’re right. maybe you should take one.”

you guffaw loudly, landing a smack to her knee. “jackass. you know you’d miss me.”

she’d probably sacrifice her left limb for it. but, instead, she mutters, “I don’t know. could do with some quiet.”

you glare at her. “well, maybe you should date someone more your speed then.” with an indignant toss of your head, you stand from the bed, beginning to step away. 

lee’s hand immediately latches onto your wrist, and with a yank, you’re thrown right onto the bed next to her. her other arm winds around your waist, pulling you in. “come on, don’t do that.”

“you said you want quiet!”

though your mouth is upturned, she detects the faint whine in your voice, and falters, hoping she didn’t go too far. “I don’t want that. I was only kidding.”

you pout, pressing your body to hers. “really?” 

she leans her forehead against yours. “yeah.”

her answer seems to do some good, for you grin softly, kissing her nose. when you do nothing but continue staring, she clears her throat. “what is it?”

“wait here.”

lee doesn’t have a moment to reply before you’re tossing your legs over her bed and running to your bedroom at the end of the hall. she rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling, before a sudden memory blinks inside her mind. 

when you dash back into her room, slightly breathless, your eyes dart to her. “what are you doing?”

she hits the play button. “you wanted to play this song last night.” it’s not just for you. as soon as you had protested her turning off the song last night, she had mentally taken note of it in order to ensure she listened to it today. just like with the Radiohead tape, she wants to know what you like and which songs hold meaning for you.

“it’s called Kiss of Life. very romantic,” you teasingly coo.

she turns away, sitting back on the bed. “suitable, then.” even to say something as upfront as that has her voice lowering in hesitation. 

you giggle, and her eyes lower to your hand, which is clutching the camera she had gotten you for christmas. she always feels a burst of pride at seeing you with it. it was a used one, but had still costed enough that she avoided buying coffee and taking the subway in the three weeks leading up to the purchase. just so it didn’t create too big of a dent in her careful budget. not that she’d ever tell you that, though. she had, and still is, more than happy to just see your eagerness at using it.

you notice her gaze, and raise the camera. “here, I brought it to take some pictures of you.”

“why?” it’s not like she was exactly presentable, nor were you guys in any sort of special landscape, just her bedroom.

“because, I don’t know, you look so comfortable.”

she nods at the camera. “that’ll probably change once you direct that at me.” she was never good at being the center of attention, and photography demanded just that. even last time you had photographed her, at the cherry blossoms, she had only felt slightly more at ease because she was turned away, and smoking – something to occupy herself with.

you laugh. “yes, but you also just, you know, look so relaxed. and to photograph you in this state, a state others don’t see you in – it feels, I don’t know, intimate.”

in spite of the discomfort, she can’t help but feel her mouth twitch. she lingers on your hopeful face, then sighs, reaching over for her box of cigarettes. “fine.” 

“ugh, lee, you’ll stink up the room!”

“the window’s open.” she leans back on her headboard, lifting one leg to rest on her bed. “and I need something to do.”

your desire to capture her seems to outweigh your concern of the scent, for her words make you roll your eyes and mutter out, “fine.”

and so, you do. just as last time, lee doesn’t stare at you as you bend in all sorts of angles to photograph her. she rests her eyes on her sheets, her walls, anything that can take some of her focus away from what you’re doing. she takes drag after drag, rays of hot sunlight hitting her leg as the jazzy tones of the song play. 

when you seem satisfied, ready to place the camera on the desk, she cocks her head. is that it? did you only want pictures of her? “what about you?”

“no, no,” you respond, shaking your head with a smile. “I feel too awkward.”

she hums, pushing her cigarette into the ashtray, wanting to respect your comfortability. but, then, she lingers on it. if she had a photo of you, she could paste it on her wall. or carry it in her wallet. and have something to remember this moment, and last night, permanently. “can I take one?”

“why?” 

she hesitates, the honesty of the confession holding her back for a moment. “I want to have something of you.”

this makes your eyes crinkle, and you hand the camera to her. “okay.” 

it takes a few minutes of you showing her how to use it, and she finds herself fascinated by all the gears and mechanics. she wonders if you still have the pamphlet with the guide so she can look through it later. 

when you seat yourself on her bed, she reaches out to brush your hair back before leaning back, squinting through the viewfinder and snapping a photo. the knowledge that once these get developed, she’ll have a photo of you, fills her with an unexpected bout of eagerness, and she wants more.

“can I, um, take another one?”

you laugh loudly. “okay.”

“here, do something else.”

“like what?”

she shrugs, looking around her room. there’s barely any space for you to use to pose around, nor does she have any dolls or stuffed animals you can hold. but, she does have her window.

“stand in front of the window.” her fingers itch in anticipation. she used to do this all the time as a child. somewhere in her home is a pile of polaroids containing the random objects and sightings she used to snap photos of. “the lighting will look good.”

“you seem pretty adept at this,” you drawl, following her request and leaning your body into the corner by her window. 

she sits on her bed, raising the camera and leaning back slightly to get both you and the window. “I used to photograph as a child.”

“really? of what?”

“dolls I had, trinkets my mom kept, things outside, sometimes even strangers.”

you tilt your head onto the wall with a corner of your lip tucked up. “I’m sure you made many people feel either a boost of confidence or a total lack of it.”

she quietly laughs. she wasn’t aware at that time of the social cues and nuances of privacy contained in photographing someone. for her, it had been as simple as seeing something interesting, and photographing it. that’s it. 

though, photographing you isn’t just about how interesting you look. being older means being more aware of just how much photography serves in reminding her of a different time, and how much it does to encapsulate a moment in a single image. so, to photograph you right now feels like something she needs to handle with care. these photos will, years from now, be the only tangible thing she has of this first morning with you. most of all, they possess your form in it, and that’s enough reason to be attentive in her actions. 

“you should pick it back up, lee.”

she hums. she hasn’t thought of it lately. once she got into high school, she started doing it less and less, focusing more on her academics and slowly letting her creative hobbies wane. every now and then, she had returned to it, but in the last year, drawing and photography were practices that had almost completely vanished from her life. she misses it. it had always given her, at least for a few hours, a sense of direction and purpose, and in doing so, steadied her mind and thoughts. but, whenever she now thinks of picking it back up, it feels like there’s always something more productive she can be doing. she also feels partially afraid of potentially trying and realizing she’s lost her touch.

but, doing this with you definitely rewards her with some motivation. she feels that same single-minded focus she did as a child, her attention completely pinpointed in capturing your face just right under the sun. while waiting for her to adjust, you turn to stare out the window. the golden light casts on you just right, and she immediately presses down on the button.

at the noise of it, you turn back to her, eyebrows drawn in petulantly. “hey, I wasn’t looking!”

she shrugs, setting down the camera. “candid.” you looked beautiful too, but that she keeps to herself.

though, as she glances at you, she thinks that maybe she shouldn’t. you’re still pouting at her, slowly walking over to her. 

when you reach her, palm cupping her cheek, she gulps before murmuring, “you’re beautiful.”

you squirm a bit, then crawl into her lap, straddling her. she immediately grips your thighs, holding you steady. at this angle, desire is pooling between her legs, mind flooded with images from the night before. 

your arms wind about her neck. “and you’re sweet.”

“no. just honest.”

and a bit too close to being fully enamoured with you. but, that she definitely keeps to herself.