#and yeah I think the stuff with friends is hitting harder than I'd like to admit and I'm feeling shitty for not knowing what to fo

[brick-van-dyke]

Me: I'm gonna write when I get home

Also me: I'm feeling A Bit Sad so I'm gonna play Sims instead

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

-

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit. 

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it. 

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her. 

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

-

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.  

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too. 

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

-

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching. 

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night. 

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous. 

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day. 

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt. 

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real. 

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force. 

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. 

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up. 

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground. 

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

-

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

-

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope. 

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm. 

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.” 

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought. 

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply. 

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change. 

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.

[mariadotcom]

pennhurst - the start of going down (P. I)

hey guys, it's been a while since we last had some (or nay) interactions but life have been getting crazier by the second. i apologize since i left the blog untethered and filling with spiders and moths, but i'm (partially) back and hope you like this little romance, thrilling horror or something i've been working on on my free time. if not, dm me and i'll hear ya! xo maria

prompt: y/n is an immigrant from south america, she owns a bodyshop and there's where she meets sam and colby. as the friendship between them blossoms, other things arise as well, perhaps some of them should've remain buried. ghosts from the past, a difficult romance and a carrousel of ups and downs between them form a storm - but the living aren't the problem alone amidst this tempestuous story. WARNINGS: none, i guess. but strong language, NOT for minors, and i am a mess so god knows - and popular demand tells - when will i post the following chapter.

we promised we'd be back in full blast but not to exaggerate much and get ourselves - especially colby - hurt. since chemo ended, he's been more active and i, as friend who's been there through good and bad, think he deserves a time doing what he loves, performing his job oh so gracefully.

usually, i'm off-screen and i'm glad about it - helping the boys carring their stuff around and exploring places with friends on my days-off. this time around the only differencial would be colby's health on watch; sam was being careful and watching over him more than any of us would, despite that being expected. although something was off, i could feel it. the way colby would glare at people sometimes, with tears in his eyes. he'd be saying the most deep and thoughtful shit, but usually was hitting harder. "say what you feel to the ones you love, y/n" he'd say and i'd anwer "i love you, colby. it's never enough how much...". we met when they moved to Vegas at a bodyshop i own. they trusted their cars with me and we ended up bonding and becoming friends, colby was more standoffish at first but he came around once he learned that i was to be trusted - at least a bit.

the cancer news hit us all like a brick to the head, a cold rush of familiarity through my veins. it was all so new yet so similar. gladly, the treatment and the operation were enough, and he was never alone. not a single second. sam was alway there for him and so was i, whenever they chimed me in. anyways, on the welcome-back trip, sam thought a trip would do him good whereas i thought an exploration would serve better. combining both, for colby, was the greatest so that's what we did. sam chose the location through some people he met along the way of the chanel, i was so excited to finally know the spot i barely focused on colby and what was he saying.

"....then we could try to explore the place ourselves. what you think, y/n?" he said while scrolling through his phone. it wasn't sam and colby's first visit there, but it was mine and they wanted me to have a good time and full immersive experience. "huh?" i questioned "this whole thing is about YOU, colbert. you should be the one 'thinking' of something."

"yeah, yeah. i just want to make sure we all have fun, you know?" his pale blue eyes stared at me for a second and, as usual, i stared back. i couldn't get enough. "y/n?" he called.

"sure, colby. i'll do whatever you want me to..." i stated focusing on the pile of e-mails stacking in my inbox.

"isn't it time for you to take a vacation? some time off?" colby asked seeing how busy and overwhelmed i was. i sighned, he moved from one couch to another to sit closer. "c'mon you could stay some time with us, ditch the company for a few days..."

i cut him off before he could finish his line of thought "colby, you know i can't. the company is expanding.... i need to focus" i rolled my eyes and rested my head upon his shoulder. we watched as sam entered the room, sweaty shirt signaling he just came back from the gym "hello, lovebirds," he said jokinlgy "what are we discussing?"

"how y/n should get a few weeks of vacation" colby gently backed up, laying my head on the couch as he stood up to greet sam and the grocery bags i just now realize he had been holding for a while. "you're obviously in need of some of it, y/n. why don't we make this trip a bit longer so you can take AT LEAST a few days more to reset?" sam suggested.

"but i...." "you can't run no company if you're worn out, dude" sam cut me. "besides, it is YOURS. you're the boss! c'mon, we'd love to have you for a couple days more, right colby?"

"yeah, besides you still owe me a movie night!" colby stated. it's been months since i've been promising the movie night with thrilling and horror movies, just colby and i, to talk about how he has been feeling lately and other stuff. it's always a pleasure be around such a good friend. [wish we were a bit more than that].

"you know what, you two!" i started with and angry tone, eyes still closed, still laying on their couch. "you're right...." i cooled down. "i need to get some rest. i'll take 3 weeks off and nothing more but please, you both are in charge of me"

"couting now?" colby joked.

"no, robert, couting monday..."

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Friday afternoon after my last meeting, i was still rushing around, making sure every inch of the bodyshop was clean, organized, ready for monday morning's routine of receiving and fixing cars and guaranteeing excellence to costumers. my CEO (and godfather, altogether) made sure they'd be fine without me for a couple weeks and he'd only call in emergencies. i was hoping for little to none, but leaving for the first time in years was still frightening.

i saw the old toyota corolla make a corner, if there were a better picture than that, colby's glass were not really dark-stained so i could see through it. he was wearing, shockingly, a dark green shirt, black and green jacket and i could swear i saw someone on the backseat for a split second. knowing him, i'd be either surprised or scared the second i set foot in the car. gathering my stuff from my office quickly, i found my old devotion notebook. i remembered that work has been draining me so much i forgot i am too a sensitive religious person - but not the convetional one. the door was pushed and the fragrance that followed screamed his name, i didn't even had to turn around to recornize him but his words affirmed what i thought. "are we going?" colby questioned. "mhmm" i replied. "let me just check my e-mails one last time...."

"oh fuck no!" colby shouted, running around the table and taking the laptop from me. he then locked it inside a drawer and kept the keys. "i'll give it back to you in a week or two, when we're far away from this office." he said firmly.

after a moment of silence, he said "you deserve this...." "hey! we're traveling! it'll be fun! plus, your family can handle everything else."

"and we'll call if we can't." my godfather/uncle Victor entered the room, his arms crossing in front of him once he stopped beside colby. them both being tall made a shadow fawn over me, intimidating a little. "we will miss you, but you haven't stop since forever. get some rest, kiddo" my uncle Victor said. "and you make sure she stays alright! i'll need her back!" he warned colby.

"sure thing, sir! i'll bring her back in one piece in maybe 3 weeks." colby said gathering my stuff and pulling me to the car. "maybe? it's a definitely, gentleman." Victor said. we both giggled making our way to his car.

"every time i come around to pick you up, i feel like we're 16" colby joked as i looked around in the car. [who the fuck was inside]. he arched an eyebrown confused to as why was i snooping around. "yo, you good?" he asked. i shaked my head 'yes' but there was some sinking feeling something was off.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° the flight was scheduled to sunday morning, this way we'd be in pennsylvania by noon or so. it was still saturday morning when the first nightmare hit, it was still dark outside and the guest room in sam and colby's place felt degrees colder than usual. i guess it was so intense i screamed and sam woke me up, worried. colby followed him suit behind with flustered cheeks and heavy eyes.

"what's wrong?" sam asked, sitting in the bed beside me. his weight made the covers safer, calmer. my thoughts coming down from a high as soon as he pressed his warm hand on my forehead to see if i had a fever. "you're not hot or anything...." sam said and colby giggled.

"yeah she's definitely hot, jus not your type, bro." colby corrected and sam's cheeks brigthen up red, you could barely see through the soft and dim yellow light from the tiny lamp that stood beside the bed. "you know i don't mean that...." sam started. "you're... you're pretty hot you know. i'd rather say beautiful but..."

"romeo, i guess she just had a bad dream, right?" colby leaned on the doorframe. his white ripped tee a little too ripped and sam's soft grip on my face slowly became a light caress. "i guess i'll leave juliet to go back to sleep then." sam said giving me a concerned look. "okay?" i nodded.

"i'm sorry" i muttered, my voice coming back to me. "didn't mean to wake you up, guys" sam rolled his eyes and lightly pinched my cheeks. "stop being a dumbass..." he said getting up and making his way out. "i'll be in my room. if you need anything, CALL! don't scream. you scared the shit out of me" sam said as he made his way to his bedroom.

it was colby's turn to say something. do something. but instead, he just stood there, leaning against the door while i sat on the bed, still processing what was the nightmare about. only flashes flooding my memories, little by little. drowning my thoughts. "can i come in?" he finally asked after what felt like forever in silence. "mhmmm" i hummed.

different from sam, colby was more straight forward with whatever he wanted. this being said, it wasn't hard to agree that he, in fact, went under covers and laid beside me. "robert, what are you doing? are you insane?" i coiled beside him. my dressing wasn't very modest to welcome him in bed with me as i was using a big tee and panties. "as if i never laid next to another woman. get off yourself" he complained.

i sneakily grabbed my pajama shorts from my side of the bed and put them in under the blankets, by this time, colby had rolled over. his face turn to me but his eyes closed - perhaps privacy or just him trying to fall back asleep. i facepalmed breathing loudly trying to erase the feeling of uneasyness from my body after the terrible dream, but colby's hand on my tight and his firm grip startled me a bit. "c'mon, lay down. it's 2:30 in the morning... i'll stay here with you" he muffled in the pillows. "c'mooooooon" colby whined.

"i just...it was so vivid, you know.... these buildings, the feeling i got...." i started but my as soon as i did, my heart went racing. colby sat, his eyes barely opening, one arm around me and the other caressing my leg. "are you okay?" he asked, his hand moving upwards trying to soothe me. "sometimes reals can feel so real, right? but don't stress over it too much, i'll stay here." he said calmly. "maybe we can call sam and...."

"ugh you're such a whore, brock" i laughed as i laid in bed, him doing the same. "thanks, by the way..." he raised an eyebrown, eyes fast closed. "for the what?"

"for staying."

°°°°°°°°\/°°°°°°°°

the day went smoothly and sunday noon was approaching. pennsylvania sounded near althought a 6 hour flight separated the two states and increased in a rapid speed our hunger. i slept through most of it since the nightmares became a thing over the weekend - minus the screaming, thankfully - and sam became my personal caressing pillow. his soft words, as soft as his hands, lulled me to sleep seconds into the flight. colby was an aisle down to us and never stopped chatting with the pretty petite blonde girl sat next to him, when i finally woke, they seemed more acquainted then when the flight was getting ready to take off.

"they kissed" sam filled me in, first thing when i woke. "wow, really?" "mhmm, colby's like that now" he said turning a page from a book he was reading. "yeah i guess he always had been, but it's more of a show off about it now" i replied adjusting my messy cruly hair. "i'm glad i'll always have you, never normal sam" joking, i said. he just elbowed me lightly, giving the most warm upside down smile.

"how are you?" i asked noticing he'd been refusing to look at the notifications on his phone. he just glared. "i mean, this number must belong to SOMEONE. won't you answer?" sam sighed. "it's kat. we.... i...." his words started to crample together but luckily the pilot interrupted him with the announcement of landing. both of us releasing the air inside our lungs we weren't aware we'd been holding. "hey... i know it must be hard. i'm always here to hear you.... and maybe crack joke about it though." i reaffirmed. sam held my hand and gave it a caring kiss, leaving it as a thank you note with everything he wanted to say but couldn't right now.

the plane landed, we got our bags. sam and colby rented a car and decided this could make a video: traveling with friends, living the now, doing what they like and going old fashion - no hardwire equipments, no electronics by the dozens, no mediatic pressure and no place for nothing but good times. it came late, but it didn't fail. colby surprised sam and i at the restaurant. we were peacefully eating like dinosaurs when a pair of hands gripped sam's shoulder tight - not enough to hurt him, but enough to have him startled. sam and colby's friend, nate, stood behind sam and i while we ate.

nate is a cool guy, very chill and funny. he's always down to whatever the boys propose him to, thus incouraging me to do the same. although we have a good time together, sometimes and only sometimes, i have a glipmse of myself and feel a little unconscious. the many women approaching them - being for fame, recognition, looks or whatever - are gorgeous, the kind of girl you'd see on tampon commercials or maybe a lame movie with only hot chicks using ridiculous clothes to perform complex tasks. i'm just normal and - for a while - it's good being average, but oh boy, how i wish i was....

"hey, gorgeous!" nate complimented me as he plopped on the empty chair beside me. "how have you been, girl?" he sassed. i rolled my eyes, smile growing wider. "i've been good, nataniel." i teased back.

"what's with you and names?" colby asked downing a bit of his drinks. he had a halfway fresh oranje juice glass that i insisted he'd take instead of whatever processed shit he'd prefer. "you see, COLBERT," i emphasized before continuing, earning everyone's smile "it's funnier that way. plus, i get to tease you all about fictional names that suit you fine" i gulped my juice myself.

"well, we should think about a nickname for you to call it your own, then" nate threw his arms around my chair and said, leaning over a bit. "maybe we should call you...." as soon as nate was forming a thought, sam's phone rang. it was the person responsible for our tour and stay, so we went quieter so sam could figure whatever out. we couldn't help ourselves to kick one another under the table and whisper sweet nothings to each other while making dramatically silly faces - or copy whatever sam was saying in a husk tone, just to ease up the mood. "yeah, sure. i guess it'll be a great idea!" sam said. "i guess we can share some rooms, there's no problem with it...." finally, we fell dead silent to hear what he was saying and when sam noticed, he put them on speaker.

"i'm sure you can all share, but wouldn't it be fun if you got separate rooms?!" the person on the other end asked with a malice in their voice. you could tell it was a sllightly older man and if it wasn't from previous experience, you barely couldn't differ the amount of cigarretes he'd smoken before. "i mean, it's a haunt tour but we have buildings able to accomodate you 3 perfectly nice, and the area is still new to renovations so you guys could do some recording if you'd like"

"actually, josh, we are in a group of 4 now. a friend decided to join us, is that an issue?" sam asked. "not at all, sam! we love to have you and any friend of yours as guests! is colby coming?" the man asked "surely he is!" colby answered affirming he was part of the group listening. "well, then it'll be awesome having you guys!" "it'll be awesome staying with you, josh! see you in a bit" sam hushed and ended the call.

"well, i hope you're in for a ride," sam said. "we have the place to ourselves and...." "yeah, but where is the place? WHAT is the place?" nate asked, finally tackling our doubts. "we're going to pennhurst asylum."

author's notes: thoughts? call the roaches and complain. (kidding, leave it here under NOTES or message me)

[skylermadness]

Constitution (Jawbone O'Shaughnessey TF/TG/PMC/AP)

(Original Date of Upload: June 22, 2022)

Yeah, I'm dedicating some uploads this week to the hot dads out there. I shall preface this by saying I love Jawbone very much and no amount of words can express how intense that love is. He's a werewolf, he's a dad, he's a school counselor, he's a dad, he's got a sick Irish accent, I can go on and on but if I did I'd hit the word limit of this description (if there even is a word limit, anyway). The general summarization of things is hot werewolf dad. Three words that I absolutely wish could be said more nowadays... This is also my first FtM TF in a while! I tried something a little new to this one too, based on a few personal headcanons and the fact that I want to try some new stuff in these TFs of mine! Also I hope someone gets the joke I made in the story title. If not, then I guess I'll just give ya the answer if you choose to ask-

   Ashleigh had never been the most hard on herself when it came to grades, but something about getting a C- on her most recent Introduction to Psychology test struck a nerve. There were perhaps a lot of reasons as to why she got such a low score. The trouble she was having focusing on classes these past few weeks, the sheer amount of information overload she seems to get when she does focus, the fact that cramming the night before had resulted in frustrated confusion over the material. She was trying her best, but it felt like her best wasn’t good enough.

   And that was only one brick in the wall that was her many problems.

   The past few weeks have been the arrival of many issues and hardships in her life. Finances were becoming harder to manage, mainly due to the fact that even one month’s rent at the dormitory was enough to slash a hole in her budget with very little hope of getting it back on just minimum wage alone. The balance between working at a nearby retail store and trying to keep up with college also wasn’t helping in that matter, with her focus being challenged even there.

   Her own identity was becoming something that was harder to understand. Especially when it comes to her own gender, as she’s been trying to grasp onto whether or not she was trans. Trying to test the waters on that was also impossible in her current situation, which was reinforcing a budding feeling of gender dysphoria.

  Many of her friends were already busy with their own lives. She was in no place for a relationship. Her mind was effectively a vortex of confusion and information that she felt unable to piece together.

   To say college was getting a little overwhelming to Ashleigh at this point would be an understatement.

   What was funny was, she thought she was ready. At first college wasn’t in the cards for her when she had first graduated high school with her being in a low income home, and the fact that applying to scholarships felt impossible to her due to their high standards. It took a little more than ten years for her to get in a spot of perceived readiness.

    Belief that she finally had the income to do so, a feeling that now was the time to move out of her parent’s home and into someplace else, a full grasp on who and what she was.

   That view of herself and the world was shattered in weeks.

   She probably could have caught onto that when she first applied. First seeing the amount rent cost at her college. The amount of time it took for her to even decide on a major she had wanted. Choosing a Psychology major had made her feel worse as the weeks went on, since she would find herself thinking on how she thought she could help people if she couldn’t even solve her own problems.

   It got to a point that after seeing that her grades had been falling, one of her professors had recommended she speak with the college’s guidance counselor. Although he seemed to have trouble remembering the counselor’s name. It resulted in her having trouble finding their office, except it seemed that no staff in the college could recall who the counselor was. Only the fact that there was one.

   Except there wasn’t???

   Just an empty office with a scrubbed name placard. 

   That was effectively Ashleigh’s breaking point.

   The next logical stop for her was to head to a bar nearest to her college and pour her woes to the bartender. Which is where Ashleigh finds herself now, downing a small pint of alcohol at a bar that was also within a nightclub. It was her fourth one and she was already tipsy. She had also just finished retelling her life’s story to the bartender, a bear of a man named Maurice.

   Ashleigh let out a little hiccup, then tipsily giggled. “Usually I wouldn’t turn to alcohol to run from all my problems, but damn is this some good booze…” 

   Maurice just hummed. “Migh’ have to cut ya’ off at sum poin’. Can’t have ya’ dyin’ of alc’hol poisonin’.”

   “It’s fine! My family’s been known for having good livers…” She drunkenly laughed again. 

   “Uh-huh.” Maurice said, unphased. He was used to that kind of response from the more… sadder patrons to his bar. It took a few moments of thought, but he found himself picking up another pint glass from beneath the counter. “Ah can safely say none of yer problems’ll be solved ‘ike this.”

   Ashleigh shook her head. “It still makes my head all fuzzy though… makes me forget how shit my life is.”

   “Ah wouldn’ say that,” Maurice tried to reassure her as he headed to the back of the bar. The back was lined with multiple kegs, most of which Ashleigh had assumed was filled with liquor. “This could jus’ be a ruff patch.”

   “It doesn’t feel like it…” Ashleigh said, folding her hands onto the table and placing her head in them. Everything felt like one hell of a trainwreck. Problem after problem, piling up and causing a storm in her head. The fact she didn’t really have any to talk to about it made it all the more worse. At least Maurice was willing to listen, although he didn’t provide much help besides the provision of booze. He’s probably paid to just sit around and listen, she thought to herself.

   Her eyes drifted over to the man himself, and Ashleigh watched as the man walked around the bar pouring various liquids from the kegs into the pint glass. She could hear him mumble something, but the music of the night club coupled with the low register of his voice made it incomprehensible to her. She did take note that the drink looked particularly… sparkly. 

   “Ah’ve been in th’s line of w’rk fer a while, bud. It nev’r lasts like that fer long. No matt’r how much ya think it does.”

   Ashleigh looked away for a moment. She couldn’t tell if it was the booze, or just her recently budding cynicism, but she found herself having a hard time believing that.

   She was pulled out her thoughts by Maurice walking up to her, sliding the drink he just made beside her arm. “Here, on th’ house.”

   Ashleigh lifted her head and looked around the bar skeptically. Come to think of it, she’s the only person here at the moment… Eh, whatever.

   She then took a look down at the pint. It wasn’t beer, liquor, wine, or any mixture that she could recall, although memory recall was a little muddled due to her current buzz. The drink was actually a soft, but sparkly, beige. It smelled kind of fruity too…

   “Ah call it th’ Reliever! It may help ya’ find what yer lookin’ fer.”

   Ashleigh raised a brow and smiled. “Are you sure you ain’t trying to roofie me?” she joked. Judging by the grimace on Maurice’s face, it wasn’t very funny. 

   “I happ’n to want to keep mah job.”

   “Right, sorry.”

   Ashleigh stared back down at the drink and shrugged. Taking hold of the glass, she downed the uncreatively named drink in one fell swoop. 

   “Hm. Tastes peachy. What’s in this?”

   Maurice only smirked. “Nothin’ ya’ could und’rstand, boy.”

   Something about being called ‘boy’ made Ashleigh feel something… warm.

   “Now ah’m afraid I gotta have to cut ya’ off.”

   Ashleigh slumped in her seat. “Alright, fine. Thanks for the new drink, I guess…”

   “On’y the best fer my cust’mers. Hope it does help ya’ in what yer lookin’ fer.”

   “I have a little trouble believing one fruit flavored drink is going to give me the answer to my problems, but I… appreciate it.”

   Maurice nodded and watched as Ashleigh got up from her seat and walked out the bar. He took note of her slightly disoriented walking and wondered if he should have offered to drive her home.

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

   The door to Ashleigh’s dorm creaked open, with the woman clumsily walking in after. Walking home while drunk is apparently not the best thing to do. Perhaps she should’ve taken that bartender’s offer to take her back here, but she felt perfectly content walking home by herself. It even allowed her to take a good look at the Moon, which she had found herself feeling oddly pulled towards during those ten minutes of walking.

   Ashleigh took a seat on the small, singular sofa that was on the side of her little apartment. It was nestled in the corner, beside her work area and window. The seat had given her the perfect look at the moon again, the celestial object now currently in waxing crescent phase. How she knew that she wasn’t sure.

   Ashleigh let out another hiccup. “Houh, still a little drunk…”

   She pressed her back up against the chair and closed her eyes, her only thoughts now being of that weird fruity drink, that bar, and that bartender. It did feel nice to vent all of her feelings out to him, even if he wasn’t very professionally trained. And admittedly he might be right about all of this bad stuff just being a ‘for the time being’ thing. Plus, now that she was relaxed and had the time to think about it, Maurice did look kind of hot. Well, in a scruffy middle-aged man kind of way. 

   Okay, weird to think about… she thought to herself. She did kind of envy him, though. Big, hairy guy; deep voice; slightly confusing accent. She… wanted all of that. Especially that hairiness. God, that man is quite the bear…

   She let out a small sigh. What time was it? It was probably pretty late. She should probably head to sleep.

   …although for some reason she felt really itchy now…

   It was miniscule at first with it being a slight discomfort in her hands, arms, and chest. It was something she would try and scratch, the woman shifting her body around the couch uncomfortably as she tried to reach every spot she could to relieve herself of this ordeal. It wasn't until she started feeling something coarse that she started to notice something was off.

   Taking a hand out from beneath her shirt, she found that it was hairier. Brown hairs were growing out of it at a rapid pace and quickly overtaking it in a thick, fluffy pelt. Curious, Ashleigh turned her hand around to see if a similar change was occurring on her palms. While fur was growing around her palms, the skin was also swelling; roughening and darkening into a paw pad. Alongside this came changes to her nails, the keratin lengthening and sharpening into pointed claws. She could even swear that her hand was subtly growing larger.

   Ashleigh raised a brow, a mix of intrigue and confusion forming on her face. She lifted up her other hand to check if it was any different, finding the exact same changes have come across it too. A large, wolfish paw instead of a small, human hand.

   "...cccool…" she slurred out drunkenly. Perhaps it was the fact the alcohol was still working through her system, but she didn't feel particularly worried about this. She rubbed a paw on her cheek, feeling the fluffy fur and rough pads brush up against her skin. It was great. Her body was still kind of itchy though…

   Placing her paw down, she rolled up a sleeve of her hoodie, along with the sleeve of the shirt beneath it, to try and scratch her arm again. This time she was being a little lighter so as to not scratch herself with her new claws. Her skin looked to already be growing out more hair, but it appeared that irritating it was causing the changes to pick up the pace.

   The patches of fur grew denser with each passing second, her skin now fading beneath the brown pelage. A feeling of power coursed through her muscles causing her arms to gain a little more muscle tone than they had before. It wasn’t an impressive amount, plus it was shrouded beneath all of her fur, but it was there. This was then accompanied by a brief lengthening of her arms.

   There was a feeling of contentment filling her as she watched everything unfold; a feeling that, for once, wasn't influenced by the booze from earlier. It was like something deep inside her was coming out, something that she so deeply wanted. 

   The fur growth eventually ran up her arms and beneath her rolled up sleeves, but judging by the slight tightness she felt in her shoulders (a byproduct of her thickening delts), alongside the feeling of warmth layering upon them, she knew where the changes were heading.

   She leaned forward and placed a paw beneath her shirt, proceeding to scratch away at her chest while feeling the brown fluff growing out of it. With her shoulders becoming larger, her frame had widened to match. While the fur trickled down her chest like a rushing waterfall, her torso flattened and her breasts shrunk away, and all that remained were some pectorals with a small layer of fat covering them. For a moment a horizontal scar visibly formed beneath each pec, but both got shrouded beneath the sea of fur just moments later.

   The intense itching began to dissipate as the pelt washed over her belly. Beneath it grew more small muscles, but those muscles quickly got drowned out by a medium sized gut. She found her hand slipping down towards it, unconsciously giving it a little rub and causing her tongue to fall out of her mouth for a moment.

   “This is… oddly appealing…” she whispered to herself. It took her a moment for her brain to register that her voice shifted at the end of that sentence, her voice now a little deeper and huskier. 

   The fur eventually flowed down to the lower half of her body. Her hips widened before a feeling of pressure started to fill at the base of her spine. Scooting up in the chair a little, something about her reaction felt almost instinctual. So much so that she lowered the back of her pants a little.

   “Forgot to wear the tail safe ones, huh…” she offhandedly mumbled to herself. Her voice was just getting deeper and deeper. Plus she could swear there was an accent getting in there…

   Slinking out from her rear came a tail; one that was big and fluffy with rich brown fur that had a lighter shade of it on the bottom. As her tail grew, her spine grew with it making her taller than she was before.

   Somehow knowing exactly how to maneuver it, she moved the tail to her lap before scooting back up to the back of the chair. Smiling, she softly stroked the long, furry extension of herself. It was already becoming evident that she was transforming into some sort of wolf creature. Fur, paws, weird enjoyment of having her tummy rubbed. The tail was just another addition to this experience, and Ashleigh was all for it. 

   She had to take into consideration other changes though. Her now flat chest, her deepening and clearly masculine voice, even in her mind she didn’t feel like a ‘her’. It was clear that this was some kind of sign, some kind of fulfillment of an internal wish.

   It’s about time he starts referring to himself as something he was comfortable with. 

   As revelations came to his mind, his legs and feet underwent their changes. Mirroring his arms, his legs got thicker in both fur and muscle while concurrently growing longer. He didn’t really shave them much before, but that would be a null thought now that they were completely covered in a pelt of wolf fur. The same happened to his feet, the two now becoming large paws like his hands. Claws, paw pads, everything. Although unlike the rest of his clothing, his shoes were getting particularly uncomfortable…

   He leaned his head back up against the sofa and closed his eyes. “Yer really gettin’ everything ya wanted…” An ear twitched as he instantly noticed that an accent had crept into his already deep voice. It was a little hard to tell, with it being deep in the guttural huskiness that werewolves had, but it was definitely an Irish accent. “I’m even gettin’ an accent too!”

   He smiled, although now his face was now starting to feel different. This was caused by a lengthening muzzle, his face now pushing out into a more animalistic shape. Nose melding with his snout; the skin of it becoming rough, black, and wet. Shorter brown hairs pricked out of his skin and ran all the way across his face, his eyebrows getting bushier in the process. Within his mouth his teeth sharpened and two of his canines poked out from beneath his upper lip. His ears twitched again as they lengthened to a point, soft fur rolling across the outside while even softer fur poked out from the inside. 

   Then came the changes in his hair. Previously a rusty auburn color; long, wavy locks shortened on scalp while longer bits of fur protruded from the edges of his head and the bottom of his neck. Growing out of his head from all sides was a long, fluffy mane, the red coloration of the hair fading beneath it to become a dark, chocolatey brown as it did so.

   The wolfman closed his eyes and drew in a breath, his vocal cords rumbling with a content growl. He felt at peace for the first time in weeks. That bartender was right, that drink did help him find what he was looking for. At least in one aspect, anyway.

   He eventually drifted off to sleep, smiling and unafraid of what would happen on the morrow. And in his sleep the world would shift around him…

   The small dorm room expanded; twisting and warping into a small, comfy home. The overall location switched to someplace near the edge of the campus.

   His clothes had also shifted. The hem of his hoodie lengthened, sleeves unfurling and settling over his arms. The material shifted from cotton to wool, the color dulling to a comforting gray as it did so. Buttons lined one of the ends of the split while the hood retracted and flattened into a nice shawl collar. Gone was a hoodie, now warped into a comfortable wool cardigan.

   The undershirt he wore beneath the hoodie altered alongside it. The sleeves shortened to make it a t-shirt, the color darkened to black. Emblazoning on the shirt was a simple hexagon with triangular eyes, four rectangles beneath it that emulated teeth, and a line that floated around the top four sides of the hexagon; triangles poking out of it to replicate ears.

   His pants were next with the portions below the knees magically tearing apart before stopping a little above his knee. The edges remained frayed, and the material shifted into a blue denim. A hole formed beneath the belt loop on the back, and the jeans appeared to phase through his tail in order to comfortably fit it in there. Once his tail was in, the changes to his pants were complete.

   His shoes underwent more subtle shifts, having only grown in size to alleviate the discomfort while the leather deepened in color to a dark red lined with white around the sides, soles, and straps.

   Deep in his sleep, the wolfman dreamed. Dreamed of a new life for himself, all of his goals fulfilled and him now helping others do the same. Dreamed of the perfect identity for himself. And dreamed of the happiest thoughts he could. With these dreams came a new name for himself…

   He was now Jawbone O’Shaughnessey, and these dreams would soon be revealed to be more than just mental conjurings…

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

   Jawbone woke up with a start, in part thanks to the alarm clock he didn’t remember setting. He walked over to it to shut it off, quickly finding out that his vision was a lot blurrier than he recalled. He instinctively pawed the top of the dresser his alarm clock was on for a few moments, then grasped onto something. 

   His glasses.

    “Heh, that’s new…”

   Placing his glasses on his muzzle, he began to think. Come to think of it, a lot was new…

   As he got up from the sofa he took a nice glance of the room he was in. Instead of a small dormitory room, it was a medium sized bedroom. It retained a fairly similar layout to his old dorm room, but with the new space came bookshelves lining the shelves (containing the many books he’s read over the years) and a few picture frames hanging from the walls (all of which had assorted images of him with students he remembered counseling).

   A warmth filled his chest while he stared at the various images. All of these were of him, and they were all of the people he’s… helped… 

   Faces, names, voices, memories, so much flashing in his head at the sight of these pictures. It filled Jawbone with a euphoria that feels like it’s been felt a thousand times before.

   “I guess those weren’t just dreams, then...”

   The rest of the morning was spent preparing himself for the day and checking out what else seemed to change. Jawbone was a little surprised to find that he wasn’t in his dorms anymore, and was instead in a fully paid for house! Along with that, all of his credentials seemed to have changed to fit his new reality, and judging by his new memories he was now employed as the guidance counselor at his old college. Things had truly changed for the better!

   However, he was truly able to settle into his identity at college. The students smiled as he walked past them, greeting him and giving him high-fives. He was seen as one of the most chill, kindest, helpful people in the college by-far. People entered his office to ask for help in both academic, social, and personal matters, and Jawbone seemed to have the right answer for everything.

   There were times he was alone in his office waiting for a student to walk in, the man given a small moment's time to look around and think about the life he was now in. He’d pull up foreign memories, strange and crazy tales from his past, sifting through his mind to better grasp who he was now. This is his life after all, he’d like to know everything it had to offer. 

   The day would go on as all days would go. Helping students; chilling in his office; doing some miscellaneous paperwork. Every so often he’d stare at the nameplate on his desk and drift into happy thoughts, a feeling of reassurance of who he is settling further within him. He even started to feel like this had always been his life even if that wasn’t exactly the case. But semantics were pointless in the end because this is his life!

   Eventually everything for the day would be said and done, and Jawbone would get off work with a smile. Another day fulfilled for the carewolf! 

   At first he had thought about driving back home and finishing up what paperwork he had left, but a thought had entered his mind while he turned the ignition.

   After a minute of driving through the city streets, Jawbone’s ears perked up as he heard the music of his destination. The Oreum Sirius Nightclub: the exact place he had been the day before.

   He winced as he stepped into the doors of the place. The music was a little too loud for his werewolf ears, but he would get used to it like he did back at the Black Pit. Plus his real goal was far enough from the club portion that it wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance.

   His eyes drifted to the man tending to the bar. The burly guy cleaning a shot glass while looking out at the club’s crowd, awaiting a customer. The one and only Maurice.

   Jawbone walked up to the bar, a coy smile on his muzzle, and let out a low growl to grab the bartender’s attention. “Yer quite the bear of a man, aren’t’cha?”

   Maurice seemed a little startled about the appearance of a werewolf (something was telling Jawbone that lycanthropy wasn’t very common around these parts), but quickly regained composure in order to respond. “Flatt’ry ain’t gonna get ya’ anything free.”

   “I think I already got somethin’ free yesterday…”

   The sight of the bartender’s eyes was enough to prove to Jawbone that he got the guy. 

   “Wait- yer- woah…”

   Jawbone’s smile widened even more at that reaction. The wolfman stared into Maurice’s eyes, causing the bartender to blush a little.

   “I don’t know what you gave me, but it did exactly what you said it would!”

   Maurice just nodded, although Jawbone could hear the man mutter something along the lines of ‘usually they never stay in this world’ under his breath. Jawbone chose not to question it though.

   Jawbone placed an arm on the table and leaned over to Maurice. “How ‘bout I buy us both a drink, and we can get to know each other a little bit more…”

   Maurice’s enter face flushed, the man beginning to stammer. “R-right! Ah-Ah’ll get us a menu soo we can… ord’r somethin’.”

   This was going to be one hell of a night!

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guy: Have you ever watched Edward Scissorhands?

And have you read the IDW Sonic Comics?

I have seen Edward Scissorhands, but not recently. I would fail a pop quiz, but I know the general premise and plot. As for the IDW Sonic Comics, I am aware of them, and the Metal Virus Saga was a big enough thing that I have a few reviews and summaries of it in my Watch Later on Youtube because everyone was talking about it. But no, I've never actually read any of the Sonic Comics. The closest I've gotten to reading them independently was reading some of the pages from that notorious comic by Ken Penders where Sonic wasn't allowed to be properly devastated that his children got erased from existence, same comic that is also notorious for being the jumping off point for Ken Penders' Lara Su Chronicles comic that took a bajillion years and a giant middle finger to Sega to get published. And I only read the pages that were shown in a devastating roast of Ken's material in a sort of "this is why you need to 'Kill Your Darlings'" type post on Tumblr because, like, on the one hand I 100% understand the appeal of exploring what domestic life is like for the cast once they're able to actually grow up and have lives. But when the overarching plot is badly explained timey wimey nonsense that comes out of nowhere, isn't allowed to have a proper emotional impact anywhere that it should, and gets resolved in a handful of too-short and yet way-too-long issues, yeah. A story like that isn't going to do any of its elements well.

I've heard good things about the Sonic comics, and even the ones Ken Penders got his mitts on have some good in them. You can tell the Echidnas were Ken's Special Little Guys, and honestly, as a Knuckles fan, I 100% understand. I've just never actually had the time to dedicate to reading them. Hence why video summaries are my current go-to for whenever I do have the time. It's amazing but a bit bittersweet that there's so much art out there and so many stories, but I'll probably never get to all of the stuff I want to get to. There's just too much cool stuff for one human being to experience. Homestuck was a massive thing, and I have quite a few friends who were into all of it. And I tried picking it up once. But it's such a massive undertaking that I might just have to settle for a synopsis if the interest ever hits me again. Hell, One Piece is a massive big deal now, with the Live Action version on Netflix roping a lot of first time viewers in, and I think the main appeal is how much it truncates. You definitely miss out on the finer details and elements of story-telling with the live action version, but for a manga with chapters and episodes in the THOUSANDS, I 100% understand why the Live Action series or even the movie arcs are a much more appealing way to get into the behemoth of One Piece than reading or watching the whole thing. I was into One Piece back before it was "cool" here in the states and even I'm so massively behind on One Piece because it started becoming more important to save up and not spend money buying the physical manga, so I stopped reading, and the availability of the anime was locked behind crunchyroll or funimation's own service for a long time, so it became harder to watch too. Because back when I was watching it, it was a 4Kids Dub that was free on over the air broadcast. So I'm only able to catch up on anything now because it became such a massive success that it's easy to get to the stuff I need now.

That said, the Sonic Comic dub you sent my way with the Halloween story was cute. A little simplistic story-wise, but, hey, there's only so complex you can get with a Halloween Story. Especially in a comic that targets all ages. So if you're asking because you want to hit me up with some stuff, I can try to keep up. No promises. But I'd be willing to take a look at a few of the good IDW Sonic Comics if you've got some to recommend.

[xerith-42]

blazeron anon :3 i'm getting really excited and desperate (i swear i have a life outside of this im just autistic) so can i pretty please have a blurb to stave off my hunger :3

I'm so sorry it's been so long (real life has been kicking my ass), I promise I'm not trying to starve you I'm just insane about them.

Little blurb for you under the cut, as a treat

"Hello?" His voice was quieter than usual, making Aaron turn on speaker phone. That let him get a closer listen to the background noise of wherever Blaze was. Was that… a tv show? Video game maybe? "Aaron?"

"H-hey!" Aaron's voice came out with a slight crack. Heat traveled from his chest up his neck and to his cheeks. "Hey, uhh, what's going on?"

"Not much." Blaze shifted, likely changing wherever his phone was sitting. "What's up with you?"

"Oh. I uh…" Aaron swallowed, suddenly feeling clammy. His mouth was dry and his fingers started to tire of their endless movement, as if using the last of the energy he had to keep him together had taken a toll on them. "I'm just having a rough night." There was a shout in the background of Blaze's audio, which he could hear Blaze curse under his breath about. "B-But if you're busy--"

"I'm not," Blaze interrupted, his voice more confident than usual. "Just hanging out with the same losers I spend every Friday night with. I'd much rather talk to you." Aaron's heart beat louder and his cheeks flushed but this time it wasn't because of shame or worry, it was because of… flattery? Sincerity? Something about how simply Blaze said it made Aaron's brain start swirling in a completely different direction, one he had to rein himself in from. Blaze didn't mean it like that. It's just because they haven't talked in a while.

"Are you sure? I don't want to--" There was some shuffling, followed by silence, followed by the sound of a door sliding shut. There was more shuffling, some stuff being placed on a table, before Blaze spoke again.

"There. We have some privacy now."

"Where are you?"

"Hanging out at my buddy Dave's house. He and one of his friends get together to smoke weed and play video games every Friday instead of doing anything productive."

"That's not what you do every night anyways?" Blaze laughed a little, the sound of something being pushed making Aaron guess he was getting comfortable on whatever outdoor porch he was on. He decided to do the same, grabbing his blanket and getting comfortable as Blaze answered.

"Not every night. If I know I get Friday night, then I have to be productive in the days before it. Gives me some routine."

"Classes aren't enough for that?"

"Most of my classes are online."

"Why?"

"I don't really do well sitting still for that long." Aaron faintly thought back to his first semester. He did have a harder time focusing than in high school, but he always attributed that to his paranoia. He didn't think it was an issue with the classes themselves. "Only one I go to in person consistently is my biology class."

"I thought you wanted to take intro botany?"

"Yeah, but you have to have taken the bio class to get into botany."

"That's dumb."

"That's what I said!" There was a pause, and Aaron once more took the chance to get even more comfortable, this time turning his pillow over and grabbing another one he liked to hold when he slept. For now he held it to his chest, legs curled in and face snuggled into his pillow, where his phone was on the other end of it. He heard Blaze blowing out smoke, followed by coughing.

"What are you smoking?"

"Weed?"

"I mean like, what are you smoking out of?"

"Just my travel hitter. It's a tiny pipe with barely enough to pack a solid hit in."

"Do you like smoking it?"

"Not really, but it's what I've got here."

"If we were gonna smoke together, what would you start with?" Blaze paused, coughing a few more times as he thought.

"Probably my bong, but I'd pack it with weak stuff. And I wouldn't let you take too hard of rips."

"You think I can't handle my smoke?"

"Yeah, actually. I don't think you've ever smoke anything in your life." Aaron chuckled a little.

"You're right about that."

[sburbian-sage]

Ugh, I knew I should have just waited to send that, rather than trying to rush it off before fighting the ohgodwhat...

It did actually break my computer, but I have spares of course. Anyway, I'm really sorry that I upset you, let me try and explain myself...

Firstly, you know that old adage, "never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity"? Well... that's what was going on with the Dream thing. I didn't re-read the Dream section of the SBURB Glitch FAQ before sending, and the ONE Dream player I've ever met didn't have transparent clothes.

Still, I really do believe it's something that's been mostly version drifted away (which I REFUSE to budge on being real). I've not seen the memes! I think the memes you speak of are dead memes, buried in 7-year-old threads! And in my defense, Dream as an aspect has been getting rarer and rarer (or so I've heard) (which I also attribute to version drift).

Anyway, I wasn't trying to say that your writing is "obsolete", I'm saying parts of it might be for most modern sessions. And if we assume that you fell out of sync recently, or over a period of time, and not early on- which you seems likely as many of the asks you've gotten make reference to things I'd say have long since version-drifted into obscurity- then many of your postings were probably helpful at the time.

All I'm saying is that in more recent asks, you seem to be operating on a slightly outdated understanding, not that your entire blog was always worthless, or that nothing your saying has any application at all to the game as it is...

Finally, I'll say that it's a bit hard to notice when a post is a submission, vs just one you made. I have to scroll down past the actual post and check in the notes section to see that... at least, the way I was reading them. Check out the difference between these posts depending on the link you use:

https://www.tumblr.com/sburbian-sage/163102151042/please-tell-us-more-about-cuter-carapaces-this-is

https://sburbian-sage.tumblr.com/post/163102151042/please-tell-us-more-about-cuter-carapaces-this-is

I had been using the bottom link, which doesn't display the "submitted by" in the actual post.

You keeping a stockpile of multiple computers because they explode at the drop of a hat instantly disproves any spurious SBOOB accusations I've made. The only other thing I'll be apologizing for is me laughing at the "I saw a Dream player once and their clothes weren't transparent" line, because it's extremely funny. I wonder why your friend instantly went to get their outfit changed when they realized how little it leaves to the imagination. Unless you ascended at the same time, in which case I will be laughing harder (and conceding that yeah maybe there was some weird stuff going on there).

But either way, I think we're at an unsquarable circle. This is the first time I'm being accused of being massively out of sync, it's only coming from one source, and your accounts are massively out of whack with what I know and am keeping up with. I know this sounds like a "no u", but I think the only one version drifted in the room right now is you. This is at least vaguely similar to a Time player messaging you from the future, to the past, and acting like you know what the fuck he's talking about. I could be outdated, but I think with my current understanding that you might be forward-dated.

In any case, I acknowledge the "your advice is still good if working off of slightly off information" line, and will resolve to hit the books some more. And in turn, I apologize for accusing you of being a phantom from the internet come to rob me of my mental faculties and ability to relate to reality. I was originally going to post the image of the anime girl saying "let's agree to disagree" while she imagines the other person being hit by a car, but I'm not going to post it anymore, because I don't want you to be hit by a car. Also because I can't find it, but that's beside the point.

[darthnell]

20 Questions for Writers

Oh This looks fun.. ty for the tag @wordspin-shares !!

How many works do you have on AO3? As of right now, 19 !

What is your total AO3 word count? Well.. you see.. 501,371. ..Huh I the chap I just posted cracked the 500k count ! Congrats to me ig !

What fandoms do you write for? The Hunger Games ! I have some Star Wars fics on my AO3 from years ago, but 96.2% of those words are THG so. hjvbdhvhbddfbh

What are your top five fics by kudos? Sighs really heavily. So I pretty much only write OC stuff for THG, which means that the 3.8% of Star Wars fics are taking 3/5 spots on the top 5 kudos ranking. F in the chat. So starting at the most, we've got: Lessons Unlearned (SW), Is That Really Me? (SW), True Vengeance (THG), Widow's Bite (THG), and Take My Hand (SW). None of those SW fics are over 2k while True Vengeance is probably going to hit 300k by the time it's over... Really interesting to see the statistics of what it looks like to write in a larger fandom vs a smaller fandom tbh :0

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Absolutely !! I love reading what people think about my writing. It's neat to see what sticks out to them and how they feel about my characters or plots or everything really ! :D It makes my day to see them <3 Also I love chatting about my writing and the thought processes behind it, so if you every get an essay in response to a comment u left on my fic, uh.. sorrie... bdjfvbhdb

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hm.. Maybe Reparation Clause or True Vengeance? Granted, I haven't written the ending of TrV yet but given that I've killed off all of Ven's arena friends uhh.. yeah. The Bridges We Burn could also possibly fall under this category... Turns out there is no shortage of angst when you write for the child death pageant fandom jdvvbhdf

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Now that's a harder question, rip. I do generally try to end my Victor Exchange fics on happier notes (Destined to Fall, Desiderium, The Bridges We Burn). I think Widow's Bite and No Sleep for the Wicked also end on more positive notes..? I wouldn't exactly call it Happy though.. (maybe some of my Star Wars fics would qualify, but I do not feel like talking about them LMAO)

Do you get hate on your fic? No, I'm perfect (insert sunglasses emoji here) /j I don't think I've ever gotten straight-up hate comments on my fics before though. I've gotten some criticisms (one person wasn't happy about the fact that the Games continue after the events of True Vengeance, according to the other fics on my profile hvfhvbf), but nothing that's ever put me down about my writing. ...Do affectionate death threats count as hate? (my friends are Goofy bhjdfbvhd)

Do you write smut? If I do, you'll never know BHVF. Ok for real though, it's not really my jam as a writer. Worth trying probably to step out of my comfort zone, but definitely not something I'd ever post. Sorry guys.

Do you write crossovers? Nah.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Afaik, no. Not in terms of straight-up ripping the text. I think I've had some ideas borrowed, but like. Who give a fuck LOL. As my one friend likes to say often, there are no new ideas in THG (in terms of things like arenas, quell twists, tribute concepts). What makes something unique is having different authors writing and interpreting said concepts !

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I've thought about translating one of mine into French myself as a way of practice.. Never got around to it though, alas.

Have you ever co-written a fic? Ooh, so Technically, no... BUT. I do create tribute characters for SYOT (Submit Your Own Tribute) fics, which is more of a collaboration than co-writing. I also have three fics I've written for the Victor Exchange event in the SYOT Verses discord server where the pov victor characters were created by another author and I wrote their stories (and I received a fic for the victor character I created!) So again, not Reeeally co-writing, but. Collaboration !!! Uhh I was really into Barriss/Ahsoka in high school. FinnRey starwar is also<3

What's your all-time favorite ship? Scratches head uhhhhh.. all time favorite..? If my ocs count, I will say Maritrix (Venatrix and Mariposa) and also Oberon and Dagmara. Otherwise, uhhhhh..... I will be real, it has been a Long time since I've cared about any specific ships to the level where I need to read or write fanfiction about them LOL. I was really into Barriss/Ahsoka back in high school. Also FinnRey starwar<3

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

What are your writing strengths? Ooh I love writing dialogue, and also fight scenes!! Description is fun too c: But yeah, I have been called the fight scene queen by a friend once so I think that counts as a strength LOL.

What are your writing weaknesses? I have no weaknesses I'm perfect (sunglasses emoji). /J bvhjfvfbh.. I'm Slow. I get hung up sometimes on structure/style things while writing and it makes the process take a bit longer. I think also sometimes I tend to meander a bit... I could use a lesson in conciseness jvhhbfv.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? It seems like good practice !! Like I said, I had wanted to translate one of my fics into French as practice.. Not sure if that's what this question is asking, or more of like. A bilingual character or something..? Idk ! I think if it's something that you want to get better at, it would also be wise to get concrit from a native speaker on how natural it sounds.

First fandom you wrote for? Warriorcats ! :3c

Favorite fic you've ever written? I /gen enjoy most of my writing.. I know not all people do and I'm not trying to brag or anything, I just. I pander to myself LMAO. But my Favorite TM has gotta be True Vengeance ;-; It's the longest thing I've ever written (and probably will be for a while), and I've spent every day for the past ~3 years thinking about it, so. That is telling hbvdhbf.

Tagging: @illegalcryptid @emeraldflower25 @rivalhughs @ladyqueerfoot @justafunctionalmess @conschintz and general tag for anyone who wants to answer !!

[sidekick-hero]

I'd like some sentences from "Take your time (I wanna cross some lines)"

So, this is sitting in my inbox since forever. The steddie bigbang ate me alive as did work and all my beloved writing projects took a back seat. Now, sitting at home on sick leave with covid, I'm hoping to get back into writing and I thought I started with answering all the lovely asks I got for my WIPs.

Have the first few sentences of "Take your time" and thank you for asking friend 💜

“I have no idea where you get your weed but damn, this shit hits so much harder than the stuff I always manage to score," Steve says, face pinched as he blows out the smoke, the smell of it filling the small room, before handing it back to Eddie. They're sitting side by side on the bed, both holding beers, bodies already going lax against the mattress. "You know I don't kiss and tell." Steve snorts a laugh. "Since when? Just last week you got lost on a ten minute spiel about that guy giving you head during your lunch break dude." Eddie’s eyes cut a sideways glance at Steve, lips already curling in a shiteating grin. “Yeah but we didn’t kiss, so my point still stands,” Eddie retorts, wiggling his eyebrows at Steve and they both burst out into high laughter, Steve’s body tipping sideways into Eddie’s so they’re leaning on each other. When their laughter subsides neither of them moves away, bodies too heavy with the weed and booze in their system. They’ve been friends for years and have found themselves in much more compromising positions. Friendly cuddling while high doesn’t even make the top ten, Eddie thinks lazily.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Do they get embarrassed easily when it comes to nsfw things? Or are they shameless?

What kind of things are they into?

Are they a virgin? When did they lose their virginity? If they haven’t, do you think they ever will? Are they waiting for someone special, or do they just not care?

Some Like It...Mild || Accepting

Beth imagines that given Kit is a therapist, questions asked of friends like this would be far down on her list of interesting things. But then again, she can only imagine the rumours Kit's heard over the last years; the ones about her and Andy, the ones about her being a tease, a tart, a nun. And rather than taking them to heart or becoming part of the gossip mill, the other woman decides to tackle them head on, with an open honesty that have nothing to do with the cocktails and the Grey's Anatomy binge watch from the beginning. The first question is really quite an innocent one, and she has to smile. Soft-ball pitch, she appreciates that. "I t'ink it all depends on da context, yeah? I have…curiosity. All kinds of movies, shows, books…all of it…make it seem so easy, so natural. I lissen t' my braddah's stories. I seem people a' work always turnin' up wit' someone new, talkin' about da kine… Tender an' stuff." Clearly, she means Tinder. "But I jus'…don' get it? I mean I can tell when someone is conventionally or uniquely good lookin' based on societal culture an' norms. I know how alla parts fit togeddah. But I sometimes have questions an' mebbe dat seems shameless but how I'm suppose to find out if I don' aks questions, right? So I guess…dat's somet'ing you're gonna hafta judge for yaself. But da more detail, easier it is to make me blush." The next is harder and it shows on her face with furrowed brows and her lips twisted to the side. "Patience…in understandin' I don' have da same drive as mebbe someone else. Kindness and gentility. Test biting, of course. Someone who understan' what dey like, an' not afraid t' tell me. Dancing." Beth doesn't really require much, she isn't high maintenance, and she's a blank slate in many ways. And yet…it's still hard to fit other people's requirements. The third question and its little question chicks are the hardest, the ones that bring the most colour to her face, and Beth downs two vodka jello-shots along with the rest of her espresso martini. "I am, yeah. Mos'ly because…I haven't really…" What? Fallen in love? How many women don't hold that up as concrete criteria? That she hasn't felt the desire? She has but it was fleeting and not enough to act on. The truth is that she hasn't really met anyone who have wanted her. For the night? Sure. Shake a stick with interns and attendings and you'll break it for all the hits but Beth isn't interested in that. She wants…needs…something more. "I mean I'd like t' t'ink dat it'll happen some day, don't we all? But I don' really care enough to pursue it, an' I no can say I really believe dat dere's someone out dere for me." She shrugs. "Wha' about you? What made you do it, dat first time? Did ya evah regret bein' wi' someone aftawards? Did you feel same-same desire after havin' children? Is dere somet'ing you're hoping to find wi' my braddah?"

[sooptea]

Extra bonus (not so) mini tangent: money edition

I also hate the concept of "you should only be spending money on bare essentials of what you need don't spent $50 on stuff that isn't necessary". Because it's like, do you not understand that buying the absolute bare minimum will leave you empty in a very specific way. It becomes depressing, you do not feel fulfilled when you live your life like that.

Money doesn't buy you happiness is a phrase used that once you hit a certain threshold of expendable money, material goods are not going to help you feel content. It doesn't mean you're not supposed to buy fun things. If you fill your home with things that make you happy, you will be happier than if you had nothing. Buying a mug that brings you joy every time you see it in your cabinet is better than buying a $2 white mug that gets the job done. Filling your wall with fanart or other visuals that make you happy will make you feel better than leaving it empty.

Not having the money to buy what you want causes people to get depressed. Living paycheck to paycheck only getting what you absolutely need drives you into a type of despair that I really hope most of you don't have to experience, and I'm sorry if you HAVE had to deal with that or if that's what you're experiencing now.

This also doesn't just apply to material goods. People should have money to do things outside of their home. You SHOULD be able to get out of the house and go to a museum or a concert or a movie or just ANYTHING that doesn't include you being home 24/7. People shouldn't have to think "I'd love to go hang out at my friend's place but I don't know if I can afford the gas money" people shouldn't be thinking "oh I'd love to go to this free event but I couldn't afford to eat out if I went there" it shouldn't be "I'd love to learn something new but I can't afford the class".

I know I make more money than I used to because I no longer have to limit myself to a budget of 1 dollar a day or less for my meal breaks and if I spent more I had to make it stretch multiple days. I used to buy a bag of pepperoni rolls for 5 bucks and I'd make it stretch for at least three days and I hate how expensive it was even if it was more filling. I gave myself SO much shit when I had to stop buying 60 cent microwave noodles because the sodium was giving me KIDNEY PAIN from eating them near daily. I can buy better groceries now but I still live paycheck to paycheck and I have to be extremely mindful of what I'm buying when. I had a lot of things going on at this point in my life's, but only having enough money for food made it 100 times harder to be motivated into waking up tomorrow.

I can buy fun things now, and I can occasionally go do fun things, but there are people who can't do that. And I don't know about you guys, but I still don't make enough money to actually have meaningful savings. Because every time I have a little extra money something new falls apart. Shoes have holes, clothes are torn, furniture broke, always something. And if I went 30 days without a job I'd be in a extremely bad situation. I am closer to going back to that situation than I am being middle class.

Raising minimum wage isn't enough and it won't be enough, unless we hold the market better accountable and have more public resources available, there will always be people barely surviving in this world. And barely surviving means they are not thriving. When people talk the bare minimum needed to survive they do not take in consideration what a person needs to thrive. They don't care about the humane side, the part that feels joy and sadness, they only care about what keeps you alive from the time you wake up to the time you go to sleep.

People who say you shouldn't be spending money on things that make you happy don't understand just how much depression can destroy you. Happiness IS necessary, it's a bare minimum for quality of life. And yeah happiness looks different for everyone, but telling people to stop buying fun stuff so they can afford necessities in life isn't fixing the god dam problem.

[sirchubbybunny]

It's still "early" and I don't think I'm going to go to bed yet. But I'm having a thinking out loud moment again, which could be from me being out of it for much of the day.

I'm thinking about my relationships to other people and how two years ago, one of my goals in life was to leave the US and possibly move to Iceland or Japan to get away from all the conflict going on here. Any place is better than here, I thought. It was mostly just big pipe dream type of stuff, not something I saw realistically happening even though I took the idea of taking my Japanese language proficiency tests quite seriously at the time.

Now, I'm here back where I started. I'll sometimes find myself thinking about how I want to go backpacking across other countries with some friends and see the world with them. I can see myself taking them with me to Japan or Iceland for a few weeks as a part of a collective bucket list thing. But moving there? No, not at all anymore. Yeah, having a bit of a wake up call to some of the negative things is part of it; especially the natural disasters. But, no. Something more hit me harder in a profound way that solidified to me that I've never be able to commit to it.

It's not leaving the little things about my hometown behind, like the music and art scene or the locales. It's the irreplaceable friendships I've made since the pandemic started and the idea of being half way around the world from them is honestly terrifying. Yeah, we could still stay in touch online, but with the sheer physical distance, I might as well be on Mars. But the thing is, if they ever wanted me to go on a huge trip with them - I would without a second thought. I'd overcome my fear of flying and my social anxiety (no thanks to all the gun violence here in the States) to be by their side. I think I could honestly be swayed to possibly moving to another state or distant place with them if they popped the question.

Would it be difficult? Yeah.

Would it be scary? Absolutely.

Would I be potentially shooting myself in the foot? 100%, full stop.

I was telling my mutuals this recently. I have made a name for myself to some extent here in my hometown. I'm not "famous" or anything like some of my acquaintances and old school friends who are established filmmakers, musicians, artists, public speakers and event planners. But, I'm recognized at local art events, been in the paper, and stuff like that. I have so many connections and resources (especially in a medical sense). In a way, I'd be a fool to take a massive gamble and throw a lot of that away to take a chance like moving to another place to start over.

And yet, I feel like if things ever change for me, I think it's something I'd do or heavily consider. As long as I have good friends by my side, there's nothing I can't do and I think the ones I have here in my area would be supportive. I suppose I just think about all of that and the people who came into the picture over the last three years and how much they've changed my life for the better. I'm not the same person I was back then and I don't want to imagine where I'd be if it wasn't for them. We've been a source of support and comfort for each other.

We helped one another through so many sleepless nights and trudge through countless storms, the ones that devour the sun and black out the sky. With what feels like superficial effort to those on the outside, they always found a way to pull me from it and I've done that for them as well. I said something like this the other day about how I've just been stuck in this fog for a while, completely burned out on all my art and ambitions, and feeling utterly defeated with the top surgery consultation getting cancelled. One friend swooped in and gave me the warmest, tightest, affirming hug and it was hard to not want to cry and that words will never encapsulate how eternally grateful and thankful I am for her being so loving and supportive of me. I think about stuff like that a lot and how reciprocal it is, and that I'm always in her corner like she is for me.

I don't know. I guess all of this is to say that even though I don't see myself going anywhere anytime soon realistically, I'd put so much on the line to just travel or go on huge adventures with someone like her; especially when it comes to wanting to cut ties with toxic people in our lives as a means to move on and heal from our trauma - even when it comes to those I've "patched" things up with. It's hard at times to think about them, be around them, or just think about certain things without it bringing up old memories. Yet, with these friends who I've made, it's not like that at all. They aren't the people who hurt me, my trauma, or the negativity in my head. ... and I can see myself starting over with them if they asked me if I wanted to.

Maybe I should go to bed... I'm going to have too much racing around if I keep at it.

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Fighting Insomnia

Hihi! Another Bucky fic! Something a bit shorter than the last, and more of a comfort/fluff fic than anything else :) good feels

first of a back-to-back bucky posts! the next, coming in a couple of days, will be longer and possibly my last fic for the next week or so as I'm going to be super busy the next couple of weeks, sorry!

Enjoy!

My Masterlist, I have another, longer Bucky fic up there right now, as well as some other stuff you might like!

x gender neutral reader, no use of y/n. slight undertones of hurt/comfort, mostly fluff. pre-established platonic relationship, friends to lovers. Lightly proofread.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: reader experiences insomnia, self doubt/insecurities, a brief, undetailed mention of nightmares.

Summary: Reader can't sleep and goes to work out at the gym in the middle of the night. Bucky finds them, fluff and comfort ensues.

I groaned, propping myself up on my forearms and looking at the clock on my bedside table. 4am.

"Fuck." I muttered, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I gripped the sheets tightly in balled up fists and I was hit with a wave of dizziness. I was drugged up on sleeping pills, but they still hadn't worked a bit.

Whenever I did manage to doze off, I was startled awake by the brief flash of a nightmare behind my eyelids.

Sleep would not come to me tonight, just as it hadn't been the past couple of nights either.

Once I managed to stand up, I threw on a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and ditched my sweatpants for a pair of leggings.

I stumbled out into the hall, cursing under my breath as I ran into a wall. I desperately hoped no one else was up at this hour. No one at the tower needed to know about my insomnia, it was insignificant compared to the magnitude of some of the others' problems. I had been managing it just fine on my own, I told myself as I trudged into the training area.

I planned on just throwing a few punches, not finding the need to wrap my hands. But soon, my sweatshirt was shed on a nearby bench and my knuckles were raw as I mercilessly took out my frustrations on the punching bag; my self doubt, my inability to sleep like a normal person, how I had fucked up on the last mission, how utterly useless I was.

Tears were welling in my eyes as I punched harder and harder, ignoring the throbbing pain in my hands as my hits grew more desperate. My chest heaved with the unshed tears.

"Why're you up so late?" I froze, backing away from the bag. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my wrist, attempting to make it appear as though I were wiping sweat from my brow.

I attempted a weak grin.

"Early." I corrected. "Woke up and decided I'd start my day early."

"Don't bullshit me. This isn't the first time I've seen you out and about in the middle of the night." His words were stern but his voice was soft.

"What are you up then?" I retorted.

"Not the point." The corners of his lips quirked upwards in a small smile, as he leaned against the doorframe. "I asked first."

I sighed in defeat. "Couldn't sleep." I muttered under my breath.

"That makes it two nights in a row then, yeah?" He asked.

I recoiled. "What?"

"I heard you up last night." He said softly. "You need rest."

"Obviously if you're hearing me moving about in the middle of the night, then you're up too. What gives?" Then I added, "Hypocrite.".

"This is about you right now. What's wrong? Why aren't you sleeping?"

I hesitated, debating if I should tell him the truth or not. "I..It's just insomnia. It's nothing really, usually sleeping pills work like a charm they just haven't been for a couple of days-" I rambled out in defense.

He cut me short. "Why didn't you tell me sweetheart?"

"Look I know you have your own problems with that, I don't need to add onto them. Mine aren't that serious anyway it's just a bit of lost sleep here and there. Nothing as bad as yours."

He pushed himself off of the wall, lazily walking over to me.

"You're losing sleep over it, I think that's pretty important." He continued. “That’s why you messed up on the mission yesterday, right?”

He had caught me and my resolve weakened. “..Yeah, I guess so. I was just being reckless too.” I admitted tugging my sweatshirt on and wincing as the sleeves brushed across my raw knuckles.

“Thought so. Let me see.” He said softly.

“They’re fine.” I said, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “Just a bit bruised. I didn’t even think to wrap them.” He gave me a disappointed look, seeing right through the lie. I sighed, giving in and holding my hands out to him. My feet had suddenly become the most interesting thing on the planet.

His hands were soft and warm as he turned my hands over in his, wincing when his thumb brushed across my bleeding knuckles. “We need to clean this up, yeah? C’mon.” He tugged gently on my wrist and I allowed him to lead me out of the room and down the hall. I hesitated when he walked right past my door. “James?”

“We’re going to my room. I know you’re not going to sleep in yours.” He answered. I didn’t argue, knowing he was right but not quite agreeing. I’d rather lay awake all night on my bed than crash on his sofa, not that it was all that uncomfortable but it wasn’t very comfy for sleeping.

He opened the door to his room, leading me straight to the bathroom. I squeezed my eyes shut as he flipped the light switch on, my head pounding with the sudden light. His arm left the small of my back for a brief second as he shuffled things around in the medicine cabinet, pulling out a roll of bandages. I grimaced. “It’s fine Bucky.” I mumbled, backing out.

“Oh no you don’t. That looks like it must hurt like hell.” He reached for my hand, remembering at the last second and settling for resting a warm hand on my shoulder instead.

"Just let me do this for you okay?" He spoke softly.

"Fine." I mumbled, allowing him to once again take my hand in his larger one. He gently tugged me over to the sink, turning on the cool side of the tap as he held my hand under the faucet.

I hissed when the cold water hit my knuckles, trying to pull my hand back. "I know doll, I know." He murmured. He rubbed comforting circles on the back of my wrist with his thumb. As the pain subsided, I let out a sigh of relief as I flexed my hand a bit, testing it out. It already felt better.

He cut the bandage with his teeth as he held my hand between the both of his. He wrapped the bandage around my hand and proceeded to repeat it all over again with my other.

As he was bandaging my other hand, I mumbled out a 'thank you', glancing up at him appreciatively. His eyes rose up to meet mine and he smiled at me. "Let's get you some sleep now." His hand once again found its way to the small of my back, guiding me out of the bathroom. He turned towards his bed, and I made a move to break off to go to the sofa. He steered me towards the bed instead and I gave him a look. tilting my head slightly in confusion.

A goofy smile made its way onto his face as he turned to face me and mumbled, "You're adorable when you do that."

I was serious. "I'm not taking your bed from you Bucky."

"'Course you're not sweetheart." I finally got the hint as he pulled his t-shirt off, leaving him in his sweats. I suddenly realized what he was hinting at.

"This isn't..I'm not overstepping or anything am I?" I had always been unsure where I stood with Bucky, especially the past couple of months. Lines had been crossed and blurred to an almost unreadable point.

I, of course, knew how I felt about him and I had always been cautious of showing that, not wanting to ruin what we had between us. I was content with just being friends as long as I got to have him around me, I didn't think I could take it if I destroyed our friendship by admitting my, at least in my opinion, unnecessary and most likely unrequited feelings.

"If you're fine with it, I'm fine with it." He laid back, patting the spot next to him. I nodded slightly and then gasped in surprise as he unexpectedly pulled me down onto the mattress beside him laughing.

I flailed around for a moment, trying to get my bearings before settling down. I let out a shaky breath as I realized I could feel the heat radiating off of him.

My breathing had just evened out when I felt him sling an arm over my waist and my breath hitched. I felt him hesitate. "You okay with this?" He asked uncertainly.

"No. No I mean, yeah as long as you are-" I was cut off as he pulled me against his chest, tucking me into him and chuckling. I could feel the rumble of his laughter against his chest. My breath caught in my throat.

"Are you comfortable?" His voice was soft.

"Yeah." I let out a soft sigh, allowing myself to relax into him. I had no idea what this meant to him, but I would enjoy the closeness while I could.

"Good." He mumbled, pressing his face into my hair. I closed my eyes in contentment, letting out a soft hum. "I love you, you know."

My eyes opened. "You mean it?"

He chuckled softly. "Of course I do. Wouldn't do this for anyone else."

"Bucky this whole time-" He cut me off, reaching his hand up from around my waist to brush his thumb softly across my lips.

"Shhh. I know. I didn't want to ruin anything either, but at this point I figured, hoped at least, that the feelings were there."

Gaining confidence both from his confession and my now languid state, I tucked myself further into his chest as I let out another hum. He sighed. I felt him press a kiss to my hair, his lips curling up into a smile. "I take it I guessed right?" I could hear the smile in his voice.

"You did." I mumbled, eyes drifting shut.

"Goodnight doll."

"G'night Bucky."

[tennessoui]

you said you miss ta au,,,,consider this ask an excuse to share more ideas for them 🤲🏾

Let's see, let's see....

(1.5k)

"Do you understand my problem with you? Professor?" Quinlan Vos adds the honorific as a mocking afterthought, not at all the way his best friend does.

Obi-Wan says professor like he's caressing every syllable with his tongue, like every letter stands for something else, like it's a pet name and a proposition all at once.

And the worst part is, out of the pair of best friends, only one of them knows he's doing it.

And that man is sitting across the tiny cafe table from him right now, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface.

"I...can wager a guess," Anakin shifts in his seat. There is no reason at all for him to feel guilty. They'd waited.

For the most part. A bit of casual bar groping aside, a bit of throwing Obi-Wan up on his dinner table aside. They'd waited for Anakin's class to finish, for Obi-Wan to be released from his TAing obligations for that one particular module.

Now it's January, exam grades have been posted, and the second semester has begun. Anakin isn't even a professor at the same university anymore, Professor Plo Koon coming back from paternity leave with a laptop of baby pictures of his new daughter, Ahsoka, and an intent to retake the reins of his classes.

No, now Anakin is just kicking around in this tiny town. Ostensibly on a term-long break to work on his research paper.

Actually so he can spend as much time with his lips on Obi-Wan Kenobi's skin as he can before he has to leave.

And perhaps take Obi-Wan with him when he goes, providing that he's finished his Master's by then.

He thinks probably that's the reason behind Vos' absolute antipathy towards him. Both of them will get to keep Obi-Wan, of course, but only one of them will get to live with him. Will get to see him daily, like they've both gotten used to doing.

Actually, there isn't really much of a reason for Anakin to like Vos, now that he thinks about it. Except for the fact that it's apparently very important to Obi-Wan.

"You can, can you?" Vos taps harder at the table in front of him. "Good. You're probably half right."

Anakin stares.

"I've got multiple problems. See, my friend, Obi, he never lies to me. Not about the important stuff. I ask him how much he slept, what he had for breakfast, that sort of shit--maybe he'll lie. Ask him to go out for a run with me, and the man develops a debilitating headache in the span of a question. Bit of a liar, give you that, but no one knows him better than I do. Now he's lyin' constantly. Since Halloween. Told me he didn't know you at all, that's the only reason I ever let him go over."

"I'd say he's probably old enough to decide who he chooses to talk to at a bar," Anakin says stiffly, hand clenching into a fist on his knee. "Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, I'd say maybe so, but the kid does stupid shit with a few shots of tequila in him. Shit like hit on his professor when his friend doesn't know any better than to keep him away. But then the worst bit, right? Professor hits on him right back."

Anakin controls the urge to flinch. "Vos--" he starts to say and then takes a measured breath. It's...not completely frowned upon, what happened between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin, after all, was not Obi-Wan's point of contact for his dissertation, as he was filling in for Professor Koon. Obi-Wan worked alongside him, but he was never--beholden to him as student to teacher. The circumstances are more sketchy than Anakin wishes they could be, but it's not like Obi-Wan is a fresh-faced undergraduate.

But if Vos, who clearly knows more about when their relationship began than anyone else, were to take it to the Dean, there's a chance there could be consequences. For Anakin, but maybe even for Obi-Wan. Anakin doesn't like that thought at all.

"Quinlan," he starts again in a much more non confrontational voice, "I understand the hesitation here, I do, I know how it looks. But we waited until exams were graded and over. Both of us wanted to keep this as above bar as possible, alright? Because I care about Obi-Wan. I want him to be happy. And he's happy with me, you know he is, you've seen him since we've gotten together. Fine, maybe he was lying to you more in the fall than he ever did, but you can't pretend he's not happier now."

Quinlan crosses his arms and leans back in his chair to look at him. "And when you leave? Professor? What's he going to be like then?"

Anakin blinks at him and then looks down at the table between them. "I think I'd rather wait to discuss that first with Obi-Wan himself," he says carefully.

"Bullshit," Quinlan declares. "You're gonna leave, you two will try but it won't work out, will it? Three divorces under your belt, you can't tell me you think you've found The One in a ginger nerd whose favorite smell is daises."

"I do," is all Anakin says, words tearing themselves from his chest even as he tries to keep them in. But it's true. He does. It's Obi-Wan. It's always going to be Obi-Wan.

"I don't believe it," Vos tells him pointblank. "And I don't think Obi-Wan ever will either."

Anakin doesn't need Vos to tell him this. Sometimes Obi-Wan holds him back like he's scared Anakin's going to slip away in the middle of the night, and there's something almost desperate in the way he kisses him goodbye, every time.

"I'd spend the rest of my life proving it to him," he says in an undertone. "Given even the slightest hint from him he wants me to try."

He looks up and holds Quinlan's gaze, tries to fit how much he loves Obi-Wan into the wideness, wetness of his eyes. It's important that Quinlan approves, he knows enough about Obi-Wan to know that. That's why he accepted the other man's demand that he meet him for (cold, untouched) coffee thirty minutes from the university town.

Finally, amazingly, Quinlan drops his eyes. "Fine," he says. "You...fine. But Anakin Skywalker, if you have anything less than pure intentions towards Obi-Wan, I swear on my life---"

"Alright, I get it, I get it," Anakin holds his hands up, tactfully avoiding saying that he thinks Obi-Wan would be rather distressed if Anakin only had pure intentions towards him.

But...something about this seems too easy for how much he's agonized over it. "Are you really...is that...it?" He asks, sitting up in his chair. Is an honest conversation really all it takes to win Vos' approval.

Then Quinlan smirks at him and winks. "Not on your life. You know how much I've had to hear about your dick and muscles and tattoos in the last few months, Professor? Please."

Anakin furrows his eyebrows. "Then..."

"My mother was dying!" Vos cries as he leaps to his feet. "Dying, Adrian!"

The coffee shop goes absolutely quiet around them. Anakin thinks maybe he's dying.

"I'm sorry, alright! I'm sorry I wasn't around to be a warm body in your bed, but I thought we loved each other! I thought you understood! You told me you were pulling late nights in the office to help cover her medical bills, but I got them today, Adrian! Overdue! All of them! I trusted you!"

"Vos," Anakin gets out between gritted teeth. "This is really uncalled for--"

"Uncalled for! Uncalled for! My mother is dead, my husband has been cheating on me. Oh! You think I didn't realize you had a ginger skank on the side? What else could you be doing in the office that late except fucking your secretary! The fucking nerve of you! I loved you! You promised me always!"

He breaks off with such a contrived sob that Anakin thinks everyone has to know this is a scene, this is bad acting at its absolute worst. But everyone is quiet and everyone looks a bit angry. Anakin shrinks down in his seat.

"Well, fuck you!" Quinlan yells, picking up his coffee and throwing its cold contents over Anakin. Anakin splutters and closes his eyes just in time. "And you can have this back as well, you dirty cheating bastard!"

Something hard connects with Anakin's forehead and he catches it on instinct. One of Quinlan's rings.

Anakin just stares at it for a second. By the time he manages to realize this is real and it did just happen to him, Quinlan is flouncing out the door of thee coffee shop.

No one offers Anakin any napkins.

He stands to grab some from the condiment bar, and when he gets back to his seat he sees that his phone has lit up with a text message from Obi <3<3<3.

Why did Quinlan just text me to make sure you give him back one of his rings?

[kingdaddydaichi]

Scent ⁘ Kakashi Hatake x f!reader ⁘ NSFW

( Source )

Got another one for y'all for my husband's birthday...💙👑💍

MINORS 👏🏼 DO 👏🏼 NOT 👏🏼 INTERACT 👏🏼

A/N: Kakashi's sensitive sense of smell and your arousal. This is some raw, primal, feral, filthy Kakashi. If you're looking for soft, sweet, sensitive Kakashi, keep scrolling please, negl.

Warnings: scent kink, drunk sex, lots of sexual bodily fluids (m & f), face fucking, slight dubcon, squirting, facial

Word Count: 1.8k

Asuma and Kurenai are hosting one of their infamous dinner parties at their home. These things always end up the same way. Lots of friends come over, eat, then proceed to drink bottle after bottle of sake while playing drinking games until the music starts blasting and everyone loses several brain cells and have a great time making complete fools of themselves. They truly are the absolute best parties.

Kakashi doesn't frequent these parties, but you do seeing as how Kurenai is your sister from another mister. She knows about your long-time crush on Kakashi and winks at you when she sees the two of you hanging out together, talking, laughing.

His fingers brush across your arms or back every chance they can. You know exactly what you're doing when you lean forward with your arm crossed under your bosom. And Kakashi knows exactly what you're doing too. Sure enough, you're getting turned on just by talking to him and exchanging flirty looks, words, and touches.

You excuse yourself to go to the restroom, adding a little extra sway to your hips knowing he's watching you walk away. It's not the first time he has smelled the scent of your arousal, but his inhibitions have been doused in alcohol and he decides to make his move.

When you open the door to leave the bathroom, Kakashi just so happens to be waiting on the other side. You smile and twirl your hair, feeling yourself getting wetter. Your inhibitions are down as well, the alcohol giving you the courage to taunt him a little.

"Wow Kakashi, if I didn't know better I'd think that you followed me back here". He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths through his nose. "Kakashi, are you okay?"

He opens his eyes, his pupils blown wide, and stalks closer to you. You step backwards into the bathroom and he closes the door behind you.

"I can smell you".

"Oh?" You remember his ultra-sensitive sense of smell and begin to panic a little. Oh god, do I smell bad?

He takes another intentional whiff of you, your scent now more concentrated due to proximity and close quarters, never mind the fact that you're steadily getting more and more turned on by him.

"Mm...you smell..." He takes another deep breath. "...amazing".

"Really? I'm not wearing perfume or anything-"

"It's not that. Better than that. It's your scent".

"W-what do you mean?"

You watch as his lusty gaze dips from your eyes to your center. "I can smell your arousal".

Your mouth opens and you take a step back. "Y-you can?"

The edge of the double vanity is now directly behind you, so when he pushes himself against you, there's nowhere else to go. You're surprised to feel him so hard already, looking down to see the material of his pants being pushed out by his erection. Hell, you can even see the outline of the head of his cock, his bigger than average size making itself apparent.

"What are you gonna do, Kakashi?"

He smooths his hands along your thighs and hips, pushing your short skirt up before picking you up and setting you on the edge of the counter. The cool granite contrasts with your bare heat since you're not wearing any panties. The excitement, the fear, and the need for him all mix together in an exhilarating juxtaposition of desire. You hadn't been expecting this at all, but you don't want him to stop. Now that it's happening you're too curious to see what he's going to do next. How far will he go?

He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, and you open your mouth to suck it in. You close your eyes and swirl your tongue around his digit before he pulls it out slowly and places it against your weeping slit, dragging it back and forth over your clit, pulling a moan from your parted lips. He looks you dead in the eye, pulls his mask down, and it's his turn to bring his thumb to his lips, swirling his tongue around it before sucking on it. "Mm fuck, you taste good too".

God, he's beautiful. Your gaze dips from his slate grey and red eyes down to his pretty lips, which are punctuated by a soft beauty mark just below the left corner of his mouth. You wouldn't have thought it possible, but now you want him more than ever. You squirm against the counter, smearing your slick on it as you seek relief from the hard surface pressing against your opening. At the same time, Kakashi's been grinding his cock against the cabinet below, seeking some relief of his own.

He pulls his shirt over his head before reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He unbuttons and unzips his pants before pushing the waistband of his boxer briefs down enough for his large cock to spring free, slapping the skin just below his navel, leaving a string of precum in its wake along his silver happy trail.

He breathes in deeply again, the combination of your scent and flavor making him crazy. He pulls you to the edge of the counter until you think you might fall off, but he catches you. He pushes his thick cock against your wet little cunt, pushing himself inside of you inch by delectable inch until he is fully sheathed within you.

He holds himself there as a long, throaty moan escapes your open lips, your walls already clenching down around him. You arch your back, jutting your tits out as Kakashi pulls the tiny straps of your camisole off your shoulders. He pushes the fabric down until it's bunched up around your waist along with your skirt, your tits now free to be licked and sucked on by his hot mouth with his cock still buried deep inside of you. You push your fingers into his thick hair to pull him closer and throw your head back when he flicks his tongue over one of your hard, wet nipples.

"Hold on to me", he says in his low silky voice. You obey, clutching his shoulders as he hooks his arms behind your knees. He pulls you off the counter and begins gliding his slick cock in and out of you, using the momentum of his hips and the bounce of your ass to boost the impact of his thrusts.

"Oh god, Kakashi...your dick..."

"Yeah, what about it?", he asks before licking your exposed throat.

"Nnnhhh feels so good, gonna make me cum already. So soon!"

He can indeed feel your walls closing in tighter around him as he pumps his hips even faster, digging his fingertips deep enough into your butt cheeks to leave bruises. You adjust your hold on him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to keep from slipping as if he wouldn't catch you anyway.

"Yeah? 'S that right? You gonna cum all over my cock?" He breathes right up against your ear.

Your pussy clenches tighter at his words. You want him to fuck you harder and you tell him as much. He's now slamming his cock into you, his breath quickening.

"Mmhmmm gonna cream all over your fat cock, 'kashi!"

Your scent becomes more and more intoxicating to him the closer you approach orgasm. His legs start to shake, but the adrenaline and testosterone coursing through his body ensure that he's able to keep pistoning his cock in and out of you at speed.

"Ahh fuck, your pussy smells so fucking good. Can't wait to taste it after you cream all over me".

Hearing those words in his deep voice does you in. Every muscle in your body seizes up as you cry out. "Ka-ka-shiiiii!"

He pushes you up against a wall and pounds into you mercilessly, your back pitching up and down the wall with every powerful rut of his hips.

"Cum for me, (y/n)! Yeah, cum all over this fucking cock, right fucking now!"

"Hahhhh that's it, 'kashi! Yeah, slam your cock into my sweet little pussy hahhh! Cumming...cumming...FUCK!"

You explode all around him, spraying your liquid everywhere.

His eyes widen when you squirt all around him and he loses all composure, bucking his hips wildly. "Oh fucking shit! Fucking yes! Oh fuck that pretty cunt of yours is coming apart around my fat cock...oh god, (y/n), I'm gonna fill you up with my fucking nut! Shit, here I cum! Here I fucking cum!"

He's still reaming you with his meaty cock when his seed starts dripping out from your opening, too much of it to hold inside. He sets you back down on the counter and you fall back, unable to even hold yourself up, while he dives face first into your cunt. He wants it all. Your cream mixed with his cum. God it is so fucking hot his dick doesn't even get soft. He wears you out with his mouth until you're ready to cum again, squirting all over his face.

Your body goes limp on the granite, every muscle including the ones in your eyelids completely spent. You can feel him pull your bottom back down to the edge of the counter before burying his hard cock deep inside you again, thrusting with wild abandon, using your body like a fuck doll as your eyes roll back in your head. You're all but unconscious as he pounds into you, wet skin clapping hard against wet skin. Pretty soon he's on edge again.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna fill you up with my cum again, (y/n)".

He looks down to see your body moving in time with his thrusts, tits bouncing, body sliding up and down over the now slippery surface. Kakashi is fucking you raw in a pool of your slick and his semen.

"Ahh come here, I wanna cum all over your face".

He pulls you down, catching you just before your knees hit the hard tile. He stuffs his cock in your mouth and fucks your face while you try to push back on his trembling thighs. But it's no match for his strength as he uses your hair to guide your mouth along his cock. You gag and choke, saliva pouring out of your mouth, but that only seems to egg him on more.

"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah! You look so pretty when I fuck your face like this. Shit!"

He continues throwing his hips forward as his balls tighten up so much they're not even hanging anymore.

"Ah fuck, (y/n), I'm gonna cum so fuckin' hard! Gonna cover your face with my seed, yeah! Fuck, here it comes!"

He keeps a fist in your hair when he pulls out of your throat. You choke and spit and fight for air while his hot sticky semen splashes across your face with every jerk of his fist. You stick your tongue out, licking him from your lips.

"Yeah, that's right baby, eat my fucking cum," Kakashi says, using the head of his softening cock to spread his cum into your open mouth.

He draws a hot bath before stripping you down, helping you into the soothing warm water. You watch as he takes the rest of his clothes off, slipping in behind you. He washes your body, then his own before holding you back against his front, slowly stroking your hair. Comforting you. Kissing you. Caring for you.

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: Wanda's boyfriend continues to be an aggravation in your life, causing some distance between you and Wanda

warning/s: none

author's note: i really appreciate the feedback you guys gave in the last part – it’s always motivating to read your reactions/comments 🥰

part one | part two | part four | part five | masterlist | wattpad

Sorting things out with Wanda made everything return to normal in no time. So much in fact that she decided I was worth inviting to her and her brother's birthday party.

Never in a million years did I expect the most popular girl in our grade to know who I was, let alone invite me to her birthday party, so to say I was surprised was an understatement.

"It's not a big deal if you can't make it," she said when she handed me the invitation in class. "I mean, I'd love it if you could, but yeah, no pressure."

I was in awe, accepting the invite and reading it quickly. It must have been a pretty expensive party if she was giving out special invites, that's for sure.

"You want me to come?" I asked, still unsure whether this was a joke or not.

"Only if you want to," she said quickly, eyes darting around the room and anywhere but at me. "Like I said, you don't have to. It's not a big deal and– I– yeah." She pressed her lips together and stopped rambling, offering me a small smile.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slotting the invite in my notebook. "I'll, er, I'll think about it."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and faced forward, nodding. "Yeah, sure, no rush."

After that awkward conversation, I discovered she'd also invited Y/BF/N, the two of them developing a little friendship the more she'd hung out with me. He didn't mind going, but only wanted to do so if I went.

"I feel like I kinda don't wanna go," I admitted to him after school as we were studying in the library.

"Oh?" He rose an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

I played with the pencil in my hand. "I don't know, it's just– it's gonna be full of all of her other friends. And they don't really like me. Plus, her dick of a boyfriend is gonna be there. I just think she might have invited me to be nice. Like she might have felt like she had to because we sit together, y'know?"

"I think you know that isn't true," he said knowingly. "Maybe, just maybe, she actually wants us there, wants you there, to celebrate her birthday."

I chewed the inside of my mouth, giving it some thought. But the idea of going to Wanda's house party and seeing a bunch of people I didn't care about getting pissed wasn't comforting. Besides, even if I went, I'd probably see Wanda once before she'd get scooped away by Nate. What was the point?

"Nah, I don't think I'm going," I decided. "She won't notice. I'll just get her a present instead."

Y/BF/N sighed, clearly not impressed with my answer. Nonetheless, he said, "Okay, suit yourself."

"You can go if you want," I added, knowing his presence wasn't linked with mine.

"No Y/N, no party," he said with a dismissive shrug, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Such a good friend," I said teasingly, but there was truth to my words. And I knew he knew that. 

When I saw photos and videos of Wanda and Pietro's party all over my social media the day after, I knew I'd made the right choice in not going. It was the same visuals of everyone getting drunk, doing stupid shit and making a mess. Call me a loser, but that wasn't really my scene. Pietro and Wanda both seemed to enjoy it though, judging from the pictures.

Instead, I bought her a birthday present, knowing I didn't have to but I kind of wanted to, and planned to give it to her when she turned up to class. It was her birthday today, despite throwing the party over the weekend, so I hoped it would make up for my absence (thought I doubted she noticed).

She showed up and settled beside me as I was writing the date in my notebook, making me look up to see she'd made an extra effort to dress up for her birthday, looking fancier than usual. I couldn't help but smile at the giant '18' birthday badge pinned to her jacket.

"Happy birthday, Wanda," was the first thing I said when I saw her. "You look amazing."

A bashful smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I hope your party went well," I said, giving her my full attention whilst trying not to drool over how beautiful she looked.

Surprisingly, her smile faded and her eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it did... could you not make it? I tried looking for you and– yeah..."

I opened my mouth to speak, admittedly a little embarrassed that she'd caught me out. I was sure she wouldn't notice – the pictures made it seem like there were loads of guests, I'd definitely have blended in if I were there – but clearly I was mistaken.

"I just thought–" she began, before shaking her head. "Never mind."

"Sorry, I thought–" I started, but like her, didn't know what to say. "Parties aren't my thing," I admitted truthfully. "But it looked fun. You enjoyed it, right?"

She nodded, a small forced smile on her lips. "Yeah, right. It's cool. No biggie."

I swallowed awkwardly. It seemed like a biggie and now I felt bad.

"I, er, got you a gift," I blurted, hoping to change the subject. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the terribly wrapped present and held it out nervously. "I hope you, er, like it."

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes flickered between the present and I. "Oh? You didn't have to. I wasn't expecting anything."

Was it hot in here or was it just me?

I pulled my collar away from my neck, hoping to circulate some air. "I wanted to. It's not a big deal."

She accepted the gift, fingers brushing mine and making me even more nervous, before opening it up. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she revealed a brand new leather paintbrush carry case.

"The one you always carry around is tattered and falling apart, so I thought I'd get you a new one," I explained, feeling like I had to. "I mean, unless the other one has some sort of sentimental value, then in that case, I can just return this."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" she exclaimed, looking to me with a grin. "It's beautiful, Y/N. I don't even know what else to say."

My shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile tugging at my lips. "Good. Th-that's good. I'm glad you like it."

Without warning, she moved forward off her stool and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I was startled, unable to think straight with her body pressed so close to mine and her floral perfume wafting into my nose. Why did she have to smell so good?

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling away but not quite letting go. Her eyes were glowing as they watched me carefully, accompanying her weak-in-the-knees smile. I was sure I'd melt. "It means a lot."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd say something stupid. I resisted the urge to look down at her lips, which were pulled into a small, appreciative smile. She let go of me, looking to the case again and unravelling it. I caught my breath meanwhile, my senses still on override as her perfume lingered.

She was just so damn beautiful.

—

"Okay, how about this – robotic or organic aliens. Which would you rather invade our planet?" Y/BF/N asked.

I chuckled at his question. "Definitely haven't thought about that one, but let's see..."

We were hanging in the bleachers out near the football field as we waited for football practice to end. Y/BF/N had a Film project to do and needed to film the field, so I offered to help like the good friend I was.

"Probably organic," I answered as I balanced on the bleachers, standing up and tiptoeing down them like steps. "At least we could reason with them if they tried to kill us because they'd have a conscience. Robotic aliens would just be programmed to take over and that's it."

Y/BF/N seemed against the idea as he played with his camera. "Yeah, but if they were robotic, all we'd have to do is launch a missile at them and they'd explode. You can break metal. It's harder to break organic matter."

I stifled a laugh. "You've given this much thought, I see."

He gave me a knowing look. "You telling me you don't think aliens exist?"

I stopped tiptoeing and stood still as I looked down at him with humoured eyes. "You know I know aliens exist."

He waved his hand like that was enough reasoning. "There you go then!"

I laughed, wondering how he thought of this stuff, then continued to balance as I walked down the bleachers. Probably the wrong choice as when I heard a voice call me, I looked up, saw it was Wanda, then proceeded to miss a step and fall onto my arse.

"Oh God, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, moving forward to help me.

My face heated up as Y/BF/N laughed his arse off beside me. I accepted Wanda's hand and let her pull me up, before letting go immediately when I could handle it myself. Her presence always made me nervous, but this was just terrible.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, glancing at her and freezing at her piercing gaze and suppressed smile.

"You sure?" she asked, glancing at Y/BF/N, before trying to hide her own laughter.

Fuck me, why was I such a mess whenever she was around?

"Very sure," I said, though my back began to ache from where I hit it. "What's up, anyway?"

Y/BF/N finally shut up, to my relief, and Wanda minimised her laughter before scratching her head.

"I'm waiting for practice to end so I can take Pietro home," she said, nodding to the field. "I saw you both sat here and thought I'd say hi. Are you guys watching practice?"

"Not really," I answered, before tilting my head to Y/BF/N. "We're just waiting for it to end so Y/BF/N can film for his project."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," she said, intrigued and looking to him now. "What's that about?"

As he caught her up on it, I found myself checking Wanda out without realising. She was animated as she listened to Y/BF/N talk about his assignment, eyes giving him all of her attention, and a permanent smile was fixed on her lips as she listened to him. Though it wasn't directed at me, I felt butterflies swirling a storm in my stomach and clutched it, hoping they'd go away. I loved and hated the feeling all at once.

Breaking me from my reverie, a football flew past all three of us and hit the bleachers, startling us all. We looked in the direction it came from and saw the football team looking back at us, some laughing and some disgruntled. Two players ran towards us and when they got close enough, I made them out as Pietro and Nate.

Nate was laughing as he looked between us all, before his gaze fell on me. "It's Y/N, right? I feel like I'm always throwing that thing at you. Sorry about that."

But his constant laughing and lack of guilt refuted his words. I merely clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes his way, not that he seemed to care nor notice. I was a mere fly in a world that revolved around him. He'd never notice.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't even know you were over here," he added, looking to Wanda. "You okay?"

Wanda crossed her arms and seemed frustrated. "I'm fine, Nate. Just get your ball."

He shrugged and grabbed his ball. Before leaving, he pressed a kiss to Wanda's cheek which made me wince, but she made no attempt in enjoying it. He didn't seem to care as he took off running back to his team. Pietro smiled apologetically at the three of us.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "He can be such a dick sometimes."

That was the understatement of the century.

With that, he turned and ran back to his team to finish up. Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as Y/BF/N and I exchanged glances.

"I should get the car running," she said awkwardly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and towards the car park. "Good luck with your assignment, Y/BF/N. And I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N."

Waving goodbye with an awkward smile, I watched her leave and wondered the same thing I always did whenever Nate decided to make an appearance in my life.

How could she be dating such a dick?

—

Apart from the birthday party I didn't go to, I'd never been invited (or had a reason to go) to Wanda's house. I'd seen it, rode my bike past it, but never actually been in it. So, when she invited me to her place to work on a project we'd been assigned in class, I was unsure how to feel. She was adamant though and I had no reason to say no, so the only thing left to do was say yes. Even when she offered to drive me there after school.

"This is your car?" I asked with disbelief.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars, but I wasn't blind. Hers was a gorgeous deep red colour with a convertible roof that was currently lowered so anyone in it would feel the sun on their back and wind in their hair.

"Yeah, you like it?" she asked as she got into the driver's seat.

I gulped and sat in the passenger's seat, throwing my backpack at my feet. "It's so nice. You sure you don't mind me drinking in this?"

I had a Pepsi bottle in my hand and was deathly afraid of opening it now in case I spilt it and the cleaning bill would be more than I made in a year at the pizza parlour.

She laughed, already pulling out of the car park. "Of course. Don't be silly."

I glanced in her direction, trying not to get distracted by how good she looked in the driver's seat. She was wearing a red leather jacket, funnily enough, matching the exterior of her car, and she had dark eyeliner around her eyes, accentuating the shape and colour of them and leaving me speechless whenever she looked my way.

"There's CDs in the glove compartment," she was saying as she focused on the road. "Or you can mess around with the radio. It's up to you."

"CDs?" I asked, it piquing my interest. I reached into the glove compartment, adding, "What is this, the 2000s?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, accepting my teasing, as I flicked through the small stack of albums.

"I don't know, I guess I just like having the physical version," she said with a shrug. "It's kind of like a collection."

I chuckled at her need to explain herself, watching the way she rubbed her neck nervously, smiling with embarrassment. Looking back to the albums, a particular one grabbed my attention and I plucked it out with raised brows.

"Oh my God, you like Paramore?" I asked, looking to her with surprise. "Now it's definitely the 2000s."

Her cheeks flushed as she grew flustered. I nudged her in the side gently, getting her attention briefly.

"I'm kidding," I reassured, tilting my head her way playfully. "I actually love Paramore. They're my favourite band."

"Really?" she asked with surprise as I put the CD in her car. I hummed in response, to which she continued, "Have you ever seen them live?"

As For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic played quietly in the background, I nodded my head. "Yeah, once. It was a few years ago, but the tickets were shitty and I could just about make them out on stage in the distance."

Wanda laughed, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "No, that's so sad!"

I chuckled in agreement. "Yeah. It was, but oh well. They have a tour coming up this summer, right? Maybe I can get better tickets this time 'round... what about you? Have you ever seen them live?"

She hummed, making a turn at some traffic lights and chewing her lower lip as she focused on doing so. It was definitely the wrong time, but I found myself admiring how attractive it was, especially when her jaw tensed and her defined jawline was on display.

"Yeah, I saw them a few times," she finally responded, pulling me from my stupor. "Some really good seats, some really shitty ones." She giggled at the end, making me smile. "Maybe we could go to that concert in the summer. If you're up for it?"

This seemed like one of those times where you made plans with a friend that you knew would never happen, so to not cause an awkwardness in the conversation, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, maybe."

She glanced at me and I mirrored her smile, the flash of excitement in her eyes knocking me breathless.

When we reached her house, I was awestruck at how big it was from the inside. I mean, it looked huge from the outside, but the inside was even better. Her family were rich, I knew that, but this was some other level of rich.

"Here, c'mon, I'll get you a drink, then we can go into the dining room to start," Wanda said, failing to recognise my amazement and instead leading me to the kitchen. "We have tropical juice, apple juice, water, Sprite, Cola... which d'you want?"

I settled at the island, taking a seat and subtly admiring her kitchen. "Er, apple juice is fine with me."

She smiled brightly before pouring me a glass, whilst pouring herself some Sprite. Standing opposite me, we both took a moment to have a drink, but didn't get chance to exchange words as her mum entered the room and noticed me instantly.

"Y/N, it's so lovely to see you again!" she said kindly, patting me on the shoulder before heading to the fridge. "You girls hanging out? Studying?"

"We have a project," Wanda filled in as I nodded in agreement. "We alright to claim the dining room?"

After grabbing some water from the fridge, Wanda's mum pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "Sure thing, sweetie. If you need anything, just let me know." Smiling once more at me, she said, "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"You too," I said with a friendly smile before she left.

"Come on," Wanda said, motioning for me to follow. "We have tons to do."

The next hour and a half was spent with Wanda and I planning out our project, our work sprawled along the dining table messily. We were making progress, until she got a call suddenly. It seemed serious as she gave me an apologetic glance and excused herself. I let her go and leaned back in my seat, wondering what I could do as I waited for her to return. That thought was resolved quite quickly when Pietro popped his head in the doorway and spotted me.

"Y/N! What an honour to welcome you to our humble abode," he exclaimed, entering the room fully. "What brings you here?"

Pietro's presence always brought an amused smile to my lips. "Wanda and I are working on a Chemistry project. She's just nipped out for a phone call."

He tutted dramatically, crossing his arms. "Well, well, well. We can't have that! Wanda needs to learn to entertain her guests. C'mon. I was about to head to the gaming room and could use the company."

I was visibly surprised. "You have a gaming room? Dude, that's awesome!"

He laughed. "C'mon."

Joining Pietro, the two of us headed to this so-called gaming room and I was not disappointed. There was a huge TV with a PlayStation and Nintendo Switch connected to it, a snooker table, a foosball table, a dart board, some old arcade games – it was amazing, any gamer's biggest dream.

"What you feeling, princess?" he said with that flirtatious smile of his.

I rolled my eyes playfully. He was being overtly flirty, more so than his sister was – was it a Maximoff personality trait or something? – and I wasn't sure whether he meant it or was just being his usual self.

"Are you flirting?" I deadpanned, tilting my head curiously. "I can't tell."

He pocketed his hands, swinging back on the heels of his feet. "That depends. Is it working?"

Despite my lack of interest in him like that, I felt my face heat up at the attention. "Pietro, I must tell you that any moves you attempt to make kind of won't work."

"And why's that?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the snooker table with a cheeky smile on his lips. "Am I not your type?"

"Unless you change into a girl, then no," I played along, making him flush with embarrassment. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm gay."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense," he mumbled to himself, before sighing and meeting my eyes. "We can still be friends, right? Or is that forbidden since you're already friends with my sister?"

I laughed and approached him. "Friends works. I don't think Wanda will care. I certainly don't."

He grinned. "Awesome! Well, d'you wanna play a round of foosball?"

"Sure," I said with an amused expression. "Bet I can kick your arse."

He pushed himself off the table and feigned surprise. "Oh? Game on, Y/L/N."

I didn't realise how long Wanda had been on the phone until I managed to get through three rounds of foosball and was in the middle of a snooker game with Pietro.

"You may have beat me at foosball, but you're terrible at this," he pointed out with stifled laughter.

I'd missed my third shot and it was more funny than it was embarrassing.

"Your talking distracts me," I said dismissively, before lining up the next shot with my cue.

He watched as I tried to take my shot before sighing loudly. I glanced at him with a quirked brow.

"You have a thought you'd like to share?" I asked playfully.

He hesitated, moving forward to correct my posture. "Look, if you just aim it like this–"

"Don't even think about it, Romeo," I said jokingly, standing up straight and pushing him away gently. "I know what you're thinking."

He laughed. "What? I was just going to help you aim!"

I gave him a knowing look. "So holding me close is just a bonus?"

"Fine, take your shot without my help and see what happens," he said dismissively, waving his hand.

"I'll do just that," I said with confidence, before bending down and taking my shot. The ball hit the other and neither were pocketed, which was an achievement as I'd got the cue ball in several times before, but still pretty shit as I didn't score any points.

Pietro smiled with satisfaction, leaning on his cue. "You happy with that?"

I held in a laugh as I looked to him. "Shut up."

He chuckled before bumping me out the way. "Now for the professional."

Bending down to take his shot, he pulled back his cue before hitting the balls. They rolled around on the table and one ball was about to go in, but I quickly grabbed it before he could get the point.

"Y/N!" he shouted between laughter. "That's cheating!"

"Technically we didn't establish rules," I pointed out, before moving backwards as he tried to grab it from my hand. "What do you say to calling it a draw and playing something else?"

"I say that's a childish way to admit you've lost," he responded, before moving forward quickly. I dodged his attempt and he pursed his lips. "Y/N."

"Pietro."

He smirked. "Seriously?"

I grinned.

He tried to grab it again and ended up chasing me around the room as I avoided giving in. Taking the piss out of Y/BF/N enough times had prepared me for moments like this, so I was able to avoid Pietro long enough to run into whoever walked through the door.

"Shit, Wanda, I'm sorry," I said between laughter, steadying both me and her.

She smiled with confusion, about to speak, but Pietro caught up to me and lifted me up, throwing me onto the couch before I could protest.

"No more cheating," he said sternly, as I lifted my head from the pile of cushions on the couch to look up at him.

"You're an arse," I said, pushing myself up off the couch.

"And you're a sore loser!"

We had a mini staring competition before the two of erupted into laughter.

"You're not half bad, Pietro," I complimented as he helped me up.

"Thank you, princess," he said, the flirtatious smile on his lips again.

I shoved him in the shoulder playfully before looking to Wanda, who was chewing on her lip as she looked between Pietro and I with an unreadable expression.

"So, what prompted you to leave Y/N alone for an hour?" Pietro asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, making me shove him away. He grinned at me before looking to Wanda.

"Nate called," Wanda responded carefully, arms crossed as she continued to look between us. God, I hoped she didn't think Pietro and I liked each other. That would be embarrassing.

Pietro scoffed from beside me, making Wanda sigh with annoyance.

"Don't start, Piet," she said and gave him a look which he seemed to understand.

By the sounds of it, Pietro didn't seem to like Wanda's dick of a boyfriend either. That was strange since wasn't impressing the brother the first part of being in a relationship with someone? And they were on the same football team, so I figured he'd at least tolerate him.

"Are we alright to get back to studying?" Wanda asked, directing her stare to me. The annoyance she held for Pietro was still present in her eyes and I suddenly felt nervous when she looked my way.

"Yeah, of course," I said, before giving Pietro a half-smile. "Rematch at snooker next time. Sound good?"

"Try to keep the balls on the table and we'll see," he teased, before nodding to Wanda. "You should get back to your project before Wanda kills us both with her deadly glare."

I smiled awkwardly, looking back to Wanda as she was indeed glaring at her brother. Clearly there was some sibling rivalry going on here, and I definitely didn't want to get in the middle of it, so I headed to Wanda, signalling I was ready to leave.

The two of us headed back to the dining room in an uncomfortable silence. I felt like I'd done something wrong and she was giving me the silent treatment which was strange. Then I figured it was probably something with Nate that made her annoyed, so didn't question it too much.

We sat back down and I looked at what we'd done so far to try and pick up where we left off, but then she spoke out of the blue, taking me by surprise.

"Do you like my brother?"

It was so abrupt that I took a moment to acknowledge it, blinking. "What?"

"Pietro," she clarified, saying it with such dismissiveness like it wasn't a big deal. Her attention was on the books before us as she continued, "Do you like him?"

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. "No, Wanda. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a great guy. But yeah, no, I don't like him like that."

She chewed her lip, nodding, but I swear I saw a hint of a smile on her lips. I hoped it wasn't the thought of Pietro and I that made her annoyed. I wasn't that bad, was I? I know she cared about her brother and was probably overprotective, but me being his girlfriend couldn't have been that bad, right?

We got back to work in no time, getting a lot done. I didn't realise how late it was getting until Wanda's mum poked her head in, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner.

"Dinner?" I asked, eyebrows raising with surprise. I checked my watch and realised how long I'd been here. "Damn, maybe I should head back."

"Nonsense, you must stay," her mum insisted. "Y/M/N won't mind. A daughter of hers is a daughter of mine."

"You can even sleepover if you want," Wanda offered, and I almost choked on my own spit. "It's getting pretty late."

I shook my head, forcing a small smile so they wouldn't get offended. "Honestly, it's fine. I can head back."

"Please?" Wanda asked with a hopeful expression. "It's the least I can do. I kinda wasted your time for an hour earlier..."

"I should ask my mum," I said, chewing on the inside of my mouth.

"Oh, I'll ring and let her know," Wanda's mum said breezily, before looking to Wanda. "D'you think you can clear your things up? Your brother is gonna set the table."

"Sure, mum." Wanda smiled her way as she left, before looking to me. "I've got clothes and a spare toothbrush you can use tonight."

I smiled awkwardly, nodding. Sleeping over at my crush's house wasn't how I thought I'd be spending my Wednesday evening, yet here we were.