#i want to stay up reading all night BUT I CAN'T!
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skywalkerslvt · 3 days ago
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Hi gigi! Just wanted to say I love the way you write sub anakin anddddd I wanted to request something about a very needy sub!peter parker 🤭 like maybe he bursts into your room in the middle of the night (through your window ofc) just DESPERATE for youuu
a/n: hi julia!! tysm for your message, i love this request. hope u like this lil fic that i wrote <3
CW: sexting, dirty talk, sub!peter parker, peter is a desperate whore, sexual content, 1.3k words, NOT PROOFREAD
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Peter swung between buildings, trying to focus on the city below, but his phone kept buzzing in his suit pocket, vibrating with each new message from you. He was doing his best to ignore it, but it was impossible to resist the distraction when he knew it was you on the other end.
The first message was innocently playful:
"You out there saving the city, Spidey? Or just swinging around, thinking about me?"
Peter bit his lip, quickly ducking into an alleyway to pull out his phone. His fingers hesitated over the keyboard before typing back:
"Trying to focus on patrol, but you're making it hard."
He shoved the phone back into his pocket, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing, only for it to buzz again a few moments later.
"Oh really? Hard like what, Pete?"
His breath caught in his throat, cheeks flushing hot. He didn't dare respond, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.
He tried to get back to swinging, but your next message hit him like a freight train:
"Wish you were here... I'm so bored. All alone. Guess I'll have to entertain myself..."
He groaned, nearly missing his web line as the image of you sprawled out on your bed filled his mind. His cock twitched in his suit, and he clenched his jaw, trying to will the arousal away. Stay focused, Parker, he told himself. But when the next message came through, it shattered any remaining self-control:
"I keep thinking about your mouth on me. Bet you'd be so good at it, wouldn't you?"
Peter's knees almost gave out. He darted into another dark alley, pulling out his phone with trembling hands.
"Please... you can't send me stuff like that right now. I'm trying to focus."
But his desperation only encouraged you further. The next message was a photo-nothing too explicit, but just enough to show the delicate lace of your bra peeking out from under your silk nighty, your fingers pulling it down ever so slightly. The caption read:
"If only you were here to take this off me."
Peter's breath hitched. He could feel himself getting hard, his suit growing uncomfortably tight around his aching cock. He typed back a shaky response:
"You're killing me... I'm already so hard. Please stop, I can't handle it."
But he didn't want you to stop. And you knew it. The texts kept coming, each one more suggestive than the last:
"I can almost feel your hands on me, Peter. God, I bet you're such a mess right now."
"Imagine me, on my knees, looking up at you... Bet you'd lose your mind, wouldn't you, baby?"
Each message had him squirming, hips shifting involuntarily in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure in his suit. But the final text was the one that broke him:
It was a picture of you lying on your bed, wearing nothing but black lace lingerie that hugged every curve of your body. The fabric was sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, and you had one leg bent just enough to reveal how little you were wearing beneath it. The caption was the final nail in the coffin:
"Waiting for you, Peter. Come home and play with your toy."
-
You hit "send" on the last photo, biting your lip as you stared at the screen. The picture of you sprawled out on your bed, wearing that barely-there lingerie, left little to the imagination. The caption you'd added was maybe a bit too bold, but you were already too deep in your teasing game to back down now.
For a moment, you held your breath, waiting for the familiar buzz of his reply. Instead, you just saw the little "read" notification pop up under your message... and then nothing. Your stomach flipped nervously.
Maybe I pushed him too far, you thought, chewing on your bottom lip as the seconds dragged on. Was it too much? Had you crossed some kind of line? You knew Peter could be shy, especially when it came to anything intimate. Hell, you'd been carefully toeing the line between playful and dirty all night, knowing how easily he got flustered.
But now, sitting there with no response, doubt started creeping in. Had you gone too far, teased him into a corner where he couldn't handle it anymore?
You sighed, dropping your phone on the bed and trying to push away the disappointment. Maybe he's just too focused on patrol. I shouldn't have distracted him like that. You turned on some music, trying to distract yourself from overthinking, but you couldn't help glancing at your phone every few minutes, hoping for that telltale buzz. Nothing came.
A good twenty minutes passed, and you were just about to call it a night when you heard the soft thud of something landing on your fire escape. Your heart skipped a beat. You barely had time to process the sound before you saw a shadow move behind your curtains.
Peter practically stumbled through your window, his eyes wild and breathless, his cheeks flushed a deep red. He looked like he'd run a marathon to get here, his hair sticking up in all directions and his suit clinging to his sweat-dampened skin.
"Oh," you said with a sly grin, leaning back on your bed as he stood there, panting and wide-eyed. "Looks like Spidey decided to finally show up."
Peter's gaze raked over you, lingering on the lace that hugged your curves, the same set you'd sent him in the picture. He swallowed hard, his breath hitching when your eyes locked on his.
"Y-you... I couldn't... I tried to focus," he stuttered, his voice coming out broken and needy. "But I-I couldn't stop thinking about you."
You tilted your head, pretending to consider his words as you slowly crawled to the edge of the bed, closing the distance between you. "Oh, really?
So, all that ignoring my messages was just you trying to be a good little hero?"
Peter's knees nearly buckled at the teasing tone in your voice, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with his hands.
"Well, you're here now," you purred, tugging him closer by the waistband of his suit. "So, let's see if you're ready to be good for me... or if I need to make you beg a little more."
Peter's breath was ragged, eyes glazed with a mix of desperation and something raw that sent a thrill down your spine. He took a shaky step closer, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he was afraid to touch you without permission. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him.
"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking. "l... I need you so bad. I couldn't focus, I-"
You placed a finger against his lips, silencing him, and watched as his eyes fluttered shut at even that slightest touch. The way he was trembling under your gaze was intoxicating, his resolve completely shattered.
"Aw, poor thing," you cooed, trailing your fingers down his jawline, feeling the way his breath hitched under your touch. "All that patrol work, and you still couldn't stop thinking about me? You just couldn't stay away, huh?"
"N-no, I couldn't," he confessed, his hips shifting forward as if he was subconsciously trying to find some kind of friction. The way his cock strained against his suit was almost pitiful. "I-I tried... but I just-God, I need you to touch me."
"Oh, baby," you teased, letting your thumb brush over his bottom lip. "You're already this worked up? I barely did anything."
Peter's eyes were practically begging now, his fingers twitching as if holding himself back from grabbing you and falling apart right then and there.
"Please," he choked out again, a desperate, broken sound that made your smirk widen.
You leaned in close, your breath ghosting over his ear. "I'm gonna make you wait, just like you made me wait," you whispered, and the whimper that tore from his throat was so needy, so wrecked, that you couldn't help but grin.
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merakiui · 3 days ago
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going back to read your contractual fwb azul cause it’s my favourite fic ever and i have to wonder; what would azul do if you never used his wishes to your own advantage? like it was always small stuff, so you ended up having to get a new job (sex is banned and let’s pretend like theres some random cafe on sage island or something like that you’re picking up shifts. just not the monstro lounge) and the hours you work there give him less time. would he beg you to use his money? to take advantage of him? it feels like the terms he picked also come from a domestic standpoint of wanting to provide for you. and your new job is really getting in the way of that. rely on him and no one else >:(
(also i’d like to imagine you falling asleep sitting in his lap in his office chair sometime before the confession so he carries you back to his room and you spend the night. the next morning you wake up to him pulling away and in your extremely sleep deprived mind you get upset that he’s leaving. cue him promising he’ll be back—maybe a quick round just so he can get you to wish it and no it’s definitely not because he wants sleepy morning sex—and eventually he comes to wake you back up with flowers, tea (you know the one), and telling you you have a day off somehow.) thank you for listening to my tiny brain rambles
hiiiiiii this is just a question i forgot to add to my last ask that i submitted like 2 seconds ago.
how does your relationship with azul go now that you’re actually in one and not just fwb? like does he still spoil you with whatever you ask for in exchange for sex or just give it to you and sex happens whenever? (more than the average couple cause, cmon) he gave you the fish shoes even though you lost so it stands that he’d spoil the hell out of you whenever he can
- - -
Hi hiiii!! :D omg contractual fwb tako..... I miss thinking about that fic. Peak Azul is him developing a relationship with darling via contractual means and slowly but surely the feelings shift (through dubious efforts hehehe). >:D that dynamic is just so *chef's kiss*!!!!!
Oooo if reader got a job!!! If not at the lounge, which is secretly what Azul hopes, then the place better pay good wages and the hours and work better be reasonable!! >:( he won't have his angelfish struggle. Maybe he'd even visit you during your shifts on occasion and make up some excuse like "I need to know what sort of competition the lounge has" blah blah blah etc etc even though it's quite clear he's checking up on you. T_T I like to think Azul wants you to take advantage of him because it's a deal in which you're both using the other for certain things, so wouldn't that make the most sense?? That's how the logic works in his give-and-take, equivalent-exchange brain.
Azul gets really particularly when it comes to giving gifts and he always seems to want a valid reason for the exchange (like in Glomas where he buys souvenirs for his dorm so that they can remember this good deed and know that they are technically indebted to him even though to Deuce and Epel it appears as though he's just being a kind Housewarden). But also,,, he's so iffy when it comes to accepting gifts himself and always seems to think there's some underlying reason behind it. ^^;; perhaps he'd just feel more comfortable if you were openly using him and this deal to your benefit just as he's doing the same with you. It's probably why he even makes the terms so domestic because, beneath all of the pompous showmanship and businessman flair, he genuinely wants to provide for you and make your life better and be your beloved. <3 but because he's Azul he can't just tell you that. >_<
AAAAA FALLING ASLEEP IN HIS OFFICE!!!!! OTL waking up in his bed all bleary-eyed and sleepy....... grabbing at his arm and begging him to stay,,, the sleepy morning sex... maybe it's the one moment he allows just some of his defenses to fall because most of yours are nonexistent in this moment. Having sex just to have sex without any thoughts about your contract..... of course he's still going to remind you later and insist you use one of your wishes/favors since you technically indulged him with sex, but then you wanted it, too. He's so fussy!!!! Please just ask him for something—anything! He isn't going to beg, but sometimes you really do make him contemplate it when you're so determined to not make use of him and his connections.
You're one of Azul's greatest weaknesses and if you know this then you can easily exploit this because this tako adores you. He is so utterly whipped. Whatever you want, you can have it. Spoiling you is one of his many love languages. He loves giving you gifts, especially when he knows they'll make you happy. Like those silly fish slippers. They are so dumb, but they make his angelfish smile and that's enough reason to purchase them for you. I think once you're in a real relationship the fwb contract is dissolved, but a lot of what you did during those two months still occurs into your relationship. Like the smoldering tension and the chemistry. The silly banter and smart quips. The attraction. And of course lots of love (real and potion-induced mwahaha) and sex. He railed you once in mer form and you better believe he'll do it again now that he's slowly finding the confidence to do so with you.
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wabatle · 20 hours ago
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𓆩⚝𓆪 — How do the brothers act when they're tired?
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𓆩⚝𓆪 — Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan
𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: n/a
𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: gn!reader, fluff
𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: did I cook??
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Tired!Lucifer who, while still working at his desk, can't stop thinking about how badly he wants to see you and relax with you in his arms.
Tired!Lucifer whose sigh of relief stretches throughout the entire HoL now that he's done with his work.
Tired!Lucifer who uncharacteristically throws himself on your bed, immediately pulling you down to lay with him.
Tired!Lucifer whose voice is a mere mumble, but the only words he whispers are declarations of love and how much he cares for you.
Morning!Lucifer who, every morning without fail, makes you swear you won't tell his brothers anything that happened.
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Tired!Mammon who spams you non stop for you to come to his room. Yeah he's tired but not tired enough to not spam you.
Tired!Mammon who immediately curls around you when you lay down next to him, basically a weight on you that completely prevents you from getting up and moving.
Tired!Mammon who mumbles how much he missed ya, and how much he hates being away from you, but it doesn't mean much (it does).
Tired!Mammon who doesn't care whether you're in his arms or he's in your arms because he's comfortable and happy either way. You can always tell from his blissful expression.
Morning!Mammon who yaps about how you should just forget about what happened last night even though he secretly wants you to hold it close to your heart.
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Tired!Levi who stayed up too late and went all day without sleep, so he's absolutely tired. He still wants to game though.
Tired!Levi who texts you to come and play with him. You tell him that he should sleep when you arrive, but he insists on gaming with you.
Tired!Levi who can barely keep his eyes open while gaming, but he has to keep playing since this is one of the times he gets you alone.
Tired!Levi who finally gives in and sleeps on your shoulder, completely unaware of the position he's in.
Morning!Levi who wakes up and jolts up, his face bright red as he stutters out some sort of explanation to why he's lying on your shoulder.
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𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!
𓆩⚝𓆪 — taglist (ask 2 be added): none
𓆩⚝𓆪 — obey me masterlist coming soon!!
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darkmatilda · 2 days ago
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╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper
epilogue
previous parts:
1 2 3
in which you and reid are visiting your brother in hospital after he tried to commit a suicide
tw: mention of a suicide attempt
contents: spender reidxfem!bau!reader, it's an epilogue, please check the previous parts if you missed them!
words: 3.1k
You couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth, but they did. And what’s more, they were sincere.
It was late in the evening when you were heading back to the office in Quantico. No case ever ended with just catching the unsub – after that came the long hours of report writing and paperwork. After everything you’d been through, the team almost forbade you from taking on that task. Instead, they insisted that you go straight home and get some proper rest.
You rolled your eyes and nodded, like a child whose mother insists they zip up their jacket. Hotch was nowhere to be seen, Morgan was listening to music with his eyes closed, Emily and JJ were absorbed in their conversation, and Rossi… well, Rossi was doing whatever it is Rossi does. So, you reached for the case files and tucked yourself away in a quiet corner of the jet. You wanted to go over everything again, even though you knew that as soon as you saw Logan's photo, all the unpleasant memories would come rushing back with relentless force.
 But before you could open the folder to the first page, someone simply took it from your hands. You looked up to see none other than Reid—blue shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up, a look of perpetual sleeplessness, his usual worry, and… joy. Small, but noticeable.
You, too, were almost disturbingly happy. Escaping death filled you with a mood akin to the high after smoking two joints back-to-back. Of course, it would only last for a brief moment; by tomorrow, you’d likely be tossing and turning in bed, plagued by nightmares. A familiar pattern.
"I don’t even want to see you trying to work right now," Spencer said, taking a seat next to you and placing the folder beside him, just out of your reach. Or at least far enough that you’d have to put in some serious effort to grab it—and your sore ribs had no intention of letting you do that.
"Then what do you suggest I do?" you asked, rolling your eyes. "I don't want to sleep."
"Kafka on the Shore?" he suggested.
"I've already read it. By the way, what was the deal with the soldiers and the hut in the woods at the very end?"
"Well, that's an element that leaves a lot of room for personal interpretation."
"Thanks for the explanation, that told me a lot," you chuckled. You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to get more comfortable in your spot, but the movement triggered a wave of pain. You hissed.
“They should have kept you in the hospital for at least one night,” Reid said, suddenly straightening up. “Do you need anything? There might be some ice around… or I could just leave, and you could lie down…”
“No. You’re staying,” you decided firmly. He raised an eyebrow at your abrupt response. You quickly followed up with an explanation. “Well, I’ve finished reading my book, and you took my files. So now you’re responsible for my potential boredom. It’s your duty to entertain me.”
“Yeah” he agreed with a smirk “It’s my duty” 
"So, how do you plan to do that? Are you going to dance? Sing? Juggle?"
"I can't dance or sing, and I don't have anything to juggle. Is it enough if we just talk? Or is that too common of an entertainment for you?"
You pretended to think for a moment.
"Fine, I guess."
"Then what are you planning to do when you get back?"
"Visit Jeremy."
"Oh, right, sorry…”
"Come on," you interrupted, waving your hand. A moment of silence followed as you hesitated before speaking again. However, you remembered that you had decided to stop staying silent about your worries and problems, at least in his presence. "It's just... it really stresses me out. I don't know how I should talk to him, I'm afraid I'll panic when I see him..."
Spencer cleared his throat before answering. 
“That... can really be tough,” he said, not bothering to lie or reassure you that everything would go perfectly. “But hey, remember that he’s probably looking forward to seeing his big sister. Even if you start talking about something you think is silly, he’ll be happy just to have you there.”
He made you smile, though the corners of your eyes began to gently dampen. You wiped them discreetly, not wanting to burst into tears on the jet.
"I hope you're right. And I hope he doesn't hate me for not being there for him..."
You stopped, feeling him take your hand. You realized you had been clenching it into a fist for quite some time.
"I don't know Jeremy, so I can only guess how he'll react. But I'm sure of one thing—he definitely doesn't hate you."
For a long time, you simply stared at your hand in his warm grip. Your fingers relaxed, releasing the tension that had been between them, becoming limp yet yearning for the touch.
"Spencer," you said suddenly, taking a deep breath. "I don't know if I can ask you this... but... you've been there for me this whole time and... okay, I’ll understand if you say no, but... would you maybe... want to visit him with me? I don't know if I can do it alone."
You waited for his response, your heart beating faster with each passing moment. Maybe it was too much? Maybe you shouldn’t be asking him for something like this; maybe it crossed the line of your acquaintance? Just a year ago... no, even a week ago, you never would have imagined you’d be begging anyone for something like this. You would have forced yourself to do it alone, ignoring your fear.
He simply smiled.
"Of course, you can ask me to do that. And I'm glad I'll be able to accompany you."
*
The sound of quickly pressed keys echoed as you gave the hospital receptionist your brother’s last name.
The stark whiteness of the place and the blinding, intense light felt like a scene straight out of a horror movie. The thought of seeing Jeremy soon made you tremble. You had so many questions for him, including why he even tried to take his own life, but you knew you couldn’t ask them just yet. He didn’t need an interrogation to satisfy your curiosity; he needed support.
You were so overwhelmed at the thought of seeing him that you shifted impatiently from foot to foot. You felt stressed but also excited. After all, he was your little brother, and you missed him. Standing beside you, Reid smiled slightly, noticing your behavior. If you were hurting him by squeezing his hand as tightly as you could, he didn’t let it show.
"Who are you to the patient?" the receptionist asked.
"His sister."
"And you?" she turned to Spencer.
"A frie—" he began, probably intending to say friend.
"Fiancé," you interrupted, quickly offering a word that began with the same letter. You worried that if the woman found out he wasn’t connected to you or Jeremy, she might ask him to stay in the waiting room. You didn’t expect him to go into Jeremy's room with you, but you wanted the reassurance that he’d be right outside, not on the other side of the hospital.
Reid first looked at you like you were crazy. You tried to silently signal him to join in on your desperate act. Luckily, he caught on incredibly fast.
"That's right, fiancé. Basically, husband. We're getting married... tomorrow," he improvised, nodding with such conviction that he almost seemed to believe it himself. "Well, actually, not tomorrow, but the day after, because tomorrow is Sunday, and we’re Catholic. In our religion, 
“Darling,” you gritted through your teeth, seeing the receptionist’s confused expression.
“In any case, I’m very close to the patient,” he emphasized.
If he said anything more, you would’ve nudged him with your elbow.
“Well… in that case… the patient is in room number fourteen. It’s that way…” She pointed in the right direction. You thanked her with an overly wide smile. “And… congratulations.”
“God bless you,” Reid said as he waved goodbye.
You quickly turned around, so she wouldn’t see your burst of laughter. As soon as you were out of the receptionist's sight, you hit him on the back so hard that a woman with a cast on her arm almost dropped her coffee. He laughed, and you awkwardly tried to hide how much the whole situation amused you as well.
“If I had let you say one more word, she wouldn’t have let either of us in,” you complained. “She would’ve thought we were freaks. Religious freaks. Or maybe point us to the psychiatric ward.”
“Hey, I’m not the best actor. You should know that,”
“I didn’t know. I’ll remember for next time, though I’m not sure if there will ever be another situation where you’ll need to pretend to be my husband.”
"Fiancé," he corrected. "You decided that yourself."
"Basically a husband. You decided that yourself."
You didn’t say anything more, only grabbed the edge of his coat sleeve to slow his pace. You were standing outside room 14, right in front of the door. You didn’t even peek inside; you weren’t ready to see Jeremy just yet.
“I need one more minute,” you whispered.
“Take all the time you need,” he replied gently.
 The playful mood that had accompanied you both was gone. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you stood on tiptoe and began adjusting his poorly tied scarf. 
“Sorry,” you muttered under your breath. “It’s been bothering me since I saw you.”
"I'll wait for you here, okay?" he asked quietly. Because you were so close to him, he barely had to raise his voice at all. "Jeremy doesn’t know me, I don’t want to just show up unannounced..."
“Are you coming in or what?”
You turned around, startled, to see none other than Jeremy. Lying on the hospital bed, poking at a container of chocolate pudding with a spoon, and most importantly, awake. 
At first, you were surprised, but soon emotion took control of your body, and you ran to him as if he were about to disappear.
"Oh my God, I can finally see you..." His shirt, which you hugged tightly, muffled your words.
"The pudding spilled on your jacket."
"I don't care."
He chuckled into your hair, holding you tighter. You stayed like that for a moment, desperately holding back tears. If even one had surfaced, you would’ve fallen apart like a child.
ou pulled away after a long time, immediately noticing that his eyes were also filled with tears. However, he quickly wiped them away with his hand. Still, he was a sixteen-year-old boy, and crying in front of his sister felt like public humiliation for him, a shame that would last forever. You tried to do everything you could to avoid looking at his wrists. Both hands were wrapped in bandages, and from the conversation with your father, you learned that they had put in a lot of stitches. You focused on looking at his face—young, similar to yours, with the same blue eyes.
"Are parents visiting you?"
He shrugged.
"Father, surprisingly, more often. Mother drops by irregularly and talks about strange things. Apparently, our neighbor's dog has worms, and it really pisses her off. My mother, not the neighbor. Though, probably the neighbor too..."
You didn't know why you started crying.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." you mumbled, your words slurring. “I should have gotten here earlier, and I didn’t. I regret so much that I didn’t, I’m sorry. I should have been here the moment you woke up.”
He didn’t say anything, letting you lament. Finally, you wiped away the last tear, then apologized to him about eighteen more times. You sat together in silence for a moment, busying yourself with wiping the dirty jacket. He wasn’t joking about the pudding.
“How are you feeling?”
He shrugged.
“Tolerable, I guess. By the way, who was that guy who came in with you?”
You turned toward the entrance, but Spencer was nowhere to be seen. He must have sat on one of the chairs outside the room, and knowing him, he’d probably started reading some medical brochure.
“A friend,” you replied briefly. “I hope it doesn’t bother you that I brought him... It’s just…”
You didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t have made it here without support.
“He works for the FBI too?” he asked, suddenly curious. “Would he tell me more about the job than you do?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be dead serious.
“I won’t let him tell my little brother any graphic details.”
“I’m not a kid!”
“To me, you are, and always will be.”
He looked like he was holding back from sticking his tongue out at you.
“Call him,” he asked. “I’d love to meet your friend. Is he a friend, or a friend?”
“Jeremy, you’re ridiculous…”
But you fulfilled his request. Spencer stared at you with wide eyes when you told him that your brother wanted to see him. As he entered the room, he almost tripped over... probably his own feet, since there was nothing else to trip on. And that’s how the rest of the visit went, the three of you together. Jeremy alternated between complaining about the hospital food and bombarding Reid with questions about absolutely everything related to being a profiler. He had always been fascinated by it, but after everything that had happened to you, you couldn’t, with a clear conscience, recommend that job to him. Spencer had been explaining everything in detail to him, and for the next hour, you almost felt like an intruder in their private conversation, which amused you instead of offending you.
Spencer left a moment before you, giving you a chance to say goodbye to your brother privately. When you finally released him from your embrace, promising you'd come back tomorrow, the same nurse who had spoken with you at the reception entered the room. She was checking Jeremy’s condition as you headed for the exit.
“Wait,” she suddenly said. “I think your husband left his scarf.”
She held up the purple scarf, indeed Reid's. You were about to thank her and take it when you noticed Jeremy’s mouth hanging open, and with horror, you realized what she'd said.
"Forgive me, dear sister, but what the fuck?”
*
“So, he’s convinced that we had a secret, spontaneous wedding that you didn’t tell him about?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
In reality, Jeremy had probably realized immediately that there was a misunderstanding, but he just couldn’t pass up the chance to tease you. He would likely bring it up again for the rest of your life. You were also worried that you'd get an angry phone call from your mother asking why you didn’t mention your “wedding,” but overall, you were content with how the meeting went.
You both walked together in an unknown direction, neither of you sure when you should part ways or if you even wanted to. You didn’t want to, but you had no idea about him. The weather was much better than in the town where you had spent the last few days. The fewer trees meant that autumn wasn’t as pronounced. It was only present in the chilly, gusty wind.
"If you don't have any plans, how about going out to eat?" you suggested.
"Sure." Reid agreed immediately, and the corner of your mouth twitched at the speed of his response. "What are you in the mood for?"
"Well, anything. There's a good restaurant on the corner of this street... Oh, God, I just remembered, I owe someone dinner as a thank you."
"Dinner? As a thank you?" he repeated with a strange look on his face. Before he could say anything else, he caught himself and snorted. "Interesting. Just curious, is it someone I know?"
"Oh, you know him." You continued with a barely suppressed smile. "Do you remember James Rivas? The forest ranger?"
Reid literally stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Dinner? With him?"
"That's right. Well, he saved my life, so I guess I owe him that."
You were shocked when you learned how your team knew where to find you after you were kidnapped. The bunker Osborne took you to was unknown to the local authorities, hidden deep in the forest, far from any paths. When the rumor spread through the town about who was responsible for the murders and that an FBI agent had been kidnapped, the forest ranger showed up at the police station. He revealed that he knew the place where you might have been held because, as a child, he used to go there with friends, including Logan Osborne.
But of course, you had no intention of taking him to dinner. You just wanted to laugh at Reid's reaction.
"You're absolutely not owed anything by him!" he blurted out with emotion, a hint of anger in his voice. "If he'd only remembered that he knew about the existence of some bunker, you wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place. You wouldn't have had to go through that hell, and I wouldn't have been losing my mind the whole time, not knowing what happened to you. Plus, have you forgotten what an awful person he is? He's arrogant, self-absorbed, and full of self-admiration—do you really want to have dinner with someone like that...are you laughing?"
He furrowed his brow, completely confused by your reaction.
“God, Reid, I was just joking! I’d rather die than spend another hour with that jerk. Especially voluntarily,” you explained, laughing between words. Something in his remark made you smirk. “Were you really losing your mind when I was kidnapped? “
“You’re impossible," he snorted. “Where’s that restaurant?”
“Wait, don’t change the topic and answer my question”
He simply looked at you, tilting his head to the side.
 “Isn’t it obvious?”
taglist: @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @nightfullofparadox
thank you everyone for reading <3
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manicpixiefelix · 1 day ago
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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
Part 26.
Summary: In which you and Venetia finally discuss the thing you've been avoiding all Summer since Oliver arrived. You finally get the truth from her, and wish you hadn't. Still, you finally offer the truth to Felix.
{ masterpost }
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.
A/N: 3101 words. where have i been? don't worry about it. where have you been? anyways i hope you want some drama to sink your teeth into. went into a much different direction than the chapter outline i had for it. unedited, but would love to hear from you guys as i'm getting back into it!
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
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Things have been quiet since Farleigh left. Was sent away. Whispered gossip and speculation between the Catton siblings and Oliver that you feel too strange to indulge in, and an ache in your chest that you feel like you're not allowed to talk about. For all his disappointment regarding Farleigh's betrayal of the family, Felix knows your own hurt runs far deeper than you will ever let on. Yes, the two of you fought often, and in time you all knew he'd be back, but this conflict had made your bond especially fragile, and in his absence you feared it may never again be what it once was.
And Oliver seems to pick up on it too.
"Are you going to prune all of his flowers too?" Oliver asks, sounding so casual, but his words catch you by surprise, and your expression drops as you turn to him. It's late, in the study together, and he's got one of your botany books open in his lap.
"Whose flowers?" You know who he means, but hate the very thought. You hope you'd misheard. You hope you're wrong, but you're not.
"Farleigh's."
"What makes you think that?" You ask, turning back to the textbook in front of you, laying open on the desk.
"I just mean... well after trying to go under the Catton's noses like he did," Oliver shrugs, like he can't see your growing upset at the reminder, can't see how your face has fallen. This Summer night feels so cold; many have since Farleigh had left.
"No," you tell him faintly, turning to the next page of your book, heart beating uncomfortably in your chest, "he's still family."
"Oh," Oliver doesn't say much more about it after that, nor does he stay all that long either.
"Zinnias," you murmur, face still turned to your book, when he goes to retire for the night. Oliver gives pause, and you tell him, "Farleigh's flowers are the zinnias; they look a bit like a sunset." Oliver doesn't have much of a response, other than telling you goodnight, but you weren't sure what you had been expecting otherwise.
He's somehow even quieter than usual in the wake of the scandal, but he clings to you and Felix now more than he doesn't, and you find yourself clinging to him too. He's been good enough to not bring up Farleigh's departure around you either, though he has taken Farleigh's usual seat beside you at the table. Honestly, you don't really mind; you'd rather that than the emptiness continue to remind you. Surprisingly it's Venetia who seems to have grown wary of him.
"You and Feef must be pleased," she languishes, her back against you in the bath next to her own room, perfumed steam turning golden in the candlelight, "mummy and daddy both like this one."
"Please don't talk about Ollie like that," you sighed, chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her, holding her close.
"Daddy called him 'an intriguing, well-read, young man' the other day," Venetia continues as if she hadn't heard you at all, "and mummy called him charming and thoughtful, and much better than 'the last one'," she offers candidly, "she just liked that he liked my brother, I don't think she ever really cared for Eddie himself much," she leans back a little against you, and turns just enough that you can see her smirk at the corner of her lips, "you didn't either, did you? Even before everything happened between me and him?"
Lowering your face, you pressed your lips to her shoulder firmly, taking a moment to compose your thoughts before diplomatically telling her that Eddie didn't matter anymore. It does you no good to ask her why she's bringing this up now, but you still ask. As expected, Venetia ignores the question.
"Where did Eddie go after he was cast out? Rude, by the way," she adds, "he was fun," her tone is so jarringly light, though you know part of it is just to get a rise out of you. You don't take the bait.
"That was your mother's decision, not mine," you offer flatly.
"Did you have him killed?" Venetia's glee at the very idea was downright malicious, playing at sounding scandalised. You don't even want to humour her with a real response, just giving a flat, side-eye, "oh, don't give me that look, I'm sure your parents have plenty of people killed all the time."
"They don't -"
"Or they're just not telling you about it," she shrugs, pondering for a moment, "I think our family could get away with murder given the right circumstances, you know? But I could definitely see Pearl having critics murdered for negative reviews on a whim all the time," at her mention of your mother, your face scrunches up. Unfortunately she did have a point, but you hoped your parents, for all their sins, weren't actually that petty and vindictive.
"You're more my family then they are, Ven," you choose instead to say, and Venetia hummed, taking one of your hands beneath the water, lacing her fingers with yours.
"That's sweet as long as I don't think about it for more then a second," she giggled, tipping her head back against your shoulder, turning her face to yours with a mischievous smile, "but that still means you get one, and I'm asking if you and mummy had Feef's ex-boyfriend murdered and buried beneath the flowers in the fairy garden."
"If we'd had Eddie murdered - which we didn't - I wouldn't have had him used as fertiliser in the fairy garden," you tell her firmly, "my flowers deserve better than that." At that, Venetia snorted a laugh, leaning forward to grab her body wash. Sliding seamlessly to the other end of the tub, she begins to methodically wash herself, starting with her arms. There's little else to do but watch her; you don't want to encourage this conversation if you could help it, but you're not sure where to to go from here.
"He was really quite ghastly, wasn't he?" Venetia says suddenly, not even looking at you.
"What?" Your tone is immediately sharp.
"Eddie; he was awfully cruel to Felix," she elaborates casually, like she's completely unaffected by the sudden intensity of your gaze, "not outwardly," she muses, pausing in her scrubbing as she finally meets your gaze, her own thoughtful, "but, like, insidiously, beyond even cheating on him."
"With you," you remind her harshly, but there's an insistent earnestness in her expression that you really hadn't been expecting as she continues.
"With me, yes, but that's the thing," here she gives pause, as if searching for the right words, "he never talked about you or Felix," she finally says like she still can't quite believe it, "you I suppose I understand, but honestly it did always, I don't know, I suppose it irritated me how little he talked to you or even about you, even when he was around you. But it's like Felix didn't even exist either when he wasn't around him," with each word she speaks, her expression falls just a little more. This is all making you feel rather ill; you can't even bring yourself to want to try and comfort Venetia in some way as she seems so helpless and small with her thoughts fixed on the memory.
"I think I wanted to prove that not everything revolves around my brother," she admits softly, "but I suppose it would always be easy taking something he never really had." Her voice is so small when she turns her far away look upon you, "Eddie never really loved Felix, not really," it's not a question, "there was no regret about hurting him," she mutters bitterly, gaze drifting again. Venetia barks a rueful laugh, "you know he apologised to me? I know he's not dead," she admits, "he called after landing in America before I thought to block him, Summer wasn't even over, he didn't even mention Felix let alone ask if he was alright. I was fine!" She laughs angrily, and when she looks back at you, there's tears in her eyes, "but Felix was -" but it catches in her throat, and it's like she finally sees the hurt and anger in your eyes with all she's admitting to. Immediately her gaze drops, apologetic and self conscious for her self involved outburst given the circumstances; she knows she's not the victim.
Felix was shattered.
Venetia clears her throat suddenly, looking away. When she speaks, when she tells you that she knows you warned Oliver away from her, her tone is forcibly bright. But you can't speak. You don't want to be here, don't want to be around her right now. All of your suspicions about Eddie had been right in the end, and now she had to go ahead and bring up Oliver.
Venetia says your name softly, but you stand.
"I can't do this tonight, Venetia," you tell her coldly. It's a strange feeling, to hear her protest, to hear her almost beg for you to just look at her, but you can't do this tonight. After Eddie, you'd iced her out for the rest of that Summer, but she'd seemed contented; she'd won against Felix and so you were not required to keep her entertained. You'd never stood up to Venetia in any way that mattered before.
"Please," it comes out so small, so fragile sounding. Towel wrapped around yourself, you turn, expression hard as you're able to manage.
"Why?"
"So you do know he's lying," she mumbled uncomfortably, then, "I don't know," Venetia admits after a very long silence. Clutching the lip of the ornate tub, she looks almost like a child again, looking, for the first time in your memory, guilty.
"Is it just like last time? Taking something from Felix?" You accused, finally feeling that anger, that resentment beginning to burn in you, "was it better?" You hissed, "when you realised Ollie actually loves him? Or was it worse?"
"I thought if I could get him to look at me the way he looks at you, it'd prove he doesn't really love you," Venetia blurts out. Her gaze is on the floor, and you've gone entirely still. The next words she speaks are biting, full of frustration, "I hate him. I hate the way he looks at you. I don't care how he looks at Felix, everyone loves Felix."
Oh, there is was, unspoken behind her words. As long as Felix, and only Felix, had your heart, she knows she'll always have you around. If Oliver manages to steal your heart, she's afraid that you'll choose him, and she and Felix will both lose you. Her understanding of it all is childish at best; can't she sees that you're capable of so much more than that. You've never conformed to binary choices like that; doesn't she know you better?
"I'll never forgive you if you fall in love with him," she tells you as you reach the door.
"You'll learn to live with it."
With each step back to your room, that hollow feeling in your chest keeps gnawing at you from the inside out. Shielded from the world by only a towel, you feel, for the first time in a long time, you feel too exposed as you roam the halls of the Saltburn Estate. Farleigh had called you spineless, said you'd let Oliver break Felix's heart, and now he's gone. Venetia had so hated the idea of anyone else loving you that she'd tried to facilitate that heartbreak herself, and now you're leaving her behind. All this for Oliver Quick, for the idea of a boy who might love Felix the way you knows he deserves. But even so, Oliver had been party to Venetia's cruelty against you and Felix, had lied about it, had made you complicit when you'd seen through that lie.
Anything to make sure Felix was happy. That's how you justified your own, whether it be indirect or not, cruelty to those around you. But he'd hurt so much more in the long run; the writing was on the walls.
The moment you step into his room, he turns, surprised. He's on the balcony, half folded into one of the wicker chairs, reading and smoking and looking like a dream. Before you even say anything, he knows something is wrong. When he asks, you can't answer, moving almost robotically to change back into your pyjamas.
"I think I need to talk to Ollie," you mumbled without thinking when Felix takes your face in his hands. You barely see him, still stuck in your own head. He frowns, asks why, asks what's wrong, and the care in his voice brings you out of your trance-like state. Swallowing hard when you finally look him in the eyes, your resolve begins to crumble, "I want to know why he did what he did before I tell you," you admit, voice barely a whisper. Felix's expression darkens for a moment, and his hands move from your face to hold you by the shoulders. It grounds you, but the look in his eyes makes your heart ache.
"What did he do?"
"It's different from last time," you shook your head, already trying to soften the blow for what you're about to admit, "Ollie actually loves you, I don't know why he did it." Pressing your forehead to his shoulder, you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes in this moment.
"What did he do?"
"I need to know why he did it," is all you can manage; you can feel yourself beginning to break, "I need to talk to him, I need to ask, I need to know, because that's the only fucking piece left; why?" Pulling back, away from him, you sink down onto the end of the bed, your face in your shaking hands.
"I know why she did it," you finally admit, "I wish I didn't, but I do. I hate her," comes out through your teeth, bitter and anguished all at once.
"Venetia?"
"They've been lying to you, Felix," you choke out, "been lying to your face, because they love you." All you can do is hope that it's true, "it's why she did it, she couldn't stand the thought of someone else loving me, because she thought if I loved him back, I'd choose him over you, and she wouldn't have me around anymore."
"Vee and Ollie?" Felix already sounds heartbroken when he whispers the words. Without looking at him, you nod. The awful, ugly truth, finally, "and you knew?"
"Ollie pretty much admitted it when I didn't believe his lie; he knows I trust Farleigh with my life," you breathed, finally looking up at him, apology in your eyes. Felix looks as though his world is crashing around him. Again, "since I was the one who saw Ven and Eddie together last year, not him." Felix's eyes go wide at this, stepping back, only to starts pacing, scrubbing his hands over his face.
"Why didn't you tell me you didn't believe him?" Felix huffs as he tries to process everything.
"Because I've been trying to find a way to make you believe that what happened isn't like last time."
"But it is!" Felix finally snaps, stopping dead, "I don't want to do this again," his voice cracks, and when he turns to you, there's tears in his eyes, "how can you say it's not?" It's almost pleading, desperate for any kind of hope.
"Because he loves you!"
Immediately, both of your eyes are on the door to the bathroom, holding your breath, fearing Ollie himself may have heard your outburst, may be listening in. You're fairly certain he's not, but your heart is still in your throat.
"I know he loves you, Felix," you finally breathe, hanging your head, "you know he loves you."
"Then why would he -"
"I don't know," you reiterate, desperately, "it's why I need to talk to him." In the quiet, Felix takes deep, shaking breaths, before he sits on the floor before you, legs crossed, his forehead braced against your knee.
"I don't want you to go through that again," you tell him softly, sincerely, carding your fingers through his soft, dark hair.
"We could run away," Felix whispers faintly, echoing words you'd spoken to him just a week ago, when you'd been first dealing with this whole situation and hadn't wanted to admit the truth then either, "like you suggested; get a flat in London, never go back to Oxford, never speak to any of them again," when he looks up, resting his chin on your knee, you see the sadness in his eyes despite his soft smile, "just us."
You both know it's an impossible dream, but still, you huff a soft laugh, your thumb brushing his cheek as you cradle his face tenderly.
"Okay, just us; that's all I'll ever need."
His smile grows just a little wider, leaning into your touch and this moment. But the moment, the idle dream, it has to come to an end. Felix's face falls once more.
"You love him," he sighs gently, mouth pressed into a thin line, "I love him, Y/N," he sounds so helplessly, "I wish I didn't, but I do. I love Oliver Quick, and he's going to break my fucking heart, isn't he?"
"He loves you too, Fi," you assured him gently, "that's why he lied, why..." you take a deep, guilty breath, "why I didn't tell you."
"What the could he even say to salvage this; you warned him about Venetia. The more I think about it, the more I- I- I fucking hate it. Them."
"I don't want you to talk to him," he tells you quietly, his voice calm and serious as he speaks over your protests, "I don't like that you had to do this, that you felt like you had to do this for me. Let me talk to him."
"Fi -"
"You make me happy," he tells you firmly, "everything you do makes me happy; you don't need to do this. Even if me talking to Oliver doesn't make you happy, at the very least, let me do what I can; I want to make sure you're never unhappy for my benefit. I want you to be happy too, I hope you know that."
All your protests die in your throat.
"I do, Fi."
"Then let me do this. This is my relationship too, you don't have to do all of this alone."
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clubsmarties · 3 days ago
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"A lot of mishaps," he laughed, licking his lips after that small make out. The green apple aftertaste leaving traces on his lips. He would have thought she'd be a cherry type of girl but no even with chapstick she managed to surprise him. "M&M I call her that, she loves to be read stories. That's what we do every Friday night. It's why I only have that one class on Friday to make sure I've done my homework when I call her." He shrugged thinking by now he should be used to not having a home. He never had one before the Phillips scooped him up. "It's okay. I'm used to it. Maybe one day I'll find home." Eli's smile widened at the thought of getting stories of her. "I'll take it. Embarrassing? I highly doubt that. Any and all stories about you I'll be glad to hear."
"You're more than dust. You have a glow just some people can't see it. It's on them not on you." He gently squeezed her hand and smiled. "And that's enough. Always will be." Just because her mom didn't see her like that didn't mean she wasn't special. "Good. After all you can't dim your light for others. Not fair to you." Cooking and having a knack to learn seemed like a good combo. "Sounds like we're a match in kitchen heaven."
He couldn't help but smiled amused. "Carry a portable fan with you at all times. That way I don't have to be too far away from you. I know. It wasn't the brightest idea to move here but I also think it lead me to you. I am not sure if I believe in that but also not really a coincidence we met before we actually met. It was like," he thought about it. "A string pulling me toward you. Have you ever felt that?" Nodding his head he didn't think she'd take him up on it so quick but was glad she had. "Winter break coming up. Let's do it. I'm sure my sisters will love to join if you're okay with that. I need to see if they can come or one will be missing. Not sure Isa and hia schedule." He had to think hard on if he did go anywhere he had wanted to. "No. We stayed local or if we felt really adventurous we went to Colorado. But bucket list items for sure. Brazil? That is cool. That reminds me of one I forgot. Panama." He bumped into her and gave her a look. "Neither am I very good at sharing."
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Eli turned around and sighed trying to find his sweater he hadn't worn in the week. Once he did he took it out and found bottoms that would fit her. Last time Inez bought him pants they were a little too tight so now they seemed like they'd fit Laurel. "Here, get comfortable. You can't stand or sit on the floor. You're my guest. I insist." His black striped hoodie was the one he gave her and handed her the bottoms. "These should fit you. I have an extra toothbrush in the drawer in the bathroom so feel free to use that. I promise it's brand new." Now he was thankful the Phillips siblings gave him so much in their care package. "If you need anything else let me know."
Cloud nine was too low for the blissful feeling she was experiencing as he returned her kiss. Laurel hoped, but didn't expect. Feeling him so close to her, well, it was impossible to melt while in his arms. "Clearly many talents," she agreed breathlessly, happily remaining in the daze he left her when he pulled away. Her knees felt weak, and she couldn't be more thankful for the seat she was on. There was no denying, she had fallen for him. It was a thing, right? Love at first dance? "The baby whisperer," the title made her laugh, picturing him as the ultimate babysitter. "Oh that sounds so cute, watching her grow up. You probably have some really good stories from your babysitting days. I can see why she's so close to you, big brother duties." Laurel rested her chin on her palm, listening to him talk more about Chicago. "I'm sorry to hear that, losing a home is not easy." Optimism wasn't her forte, despite the positivity she was trying to display, so she was familiar with his sentiment. It just saddened her that he didn't feel connected to a home, the sadness only increasing with his comment on his parents. Is that what led him here? "Maybe this place helps you find some hint or some direction to a new home. You still have a long time." After all, they were still so young. So much could happen, right? Wasn't that the world's big promise - adventure and twists/turns to find their place? "I know they'd love to meet you, hm I don't know about those stories though." Still, a resigned sigh followed. "They'll be eager to share the most embarrassing stories about me."
She had called herself an open book, so Laurel meant to deliver, even in the topics she tried avoiding. Her big one? Her family life. It often led to some variation of, that's family, you need to understand. The warmth from his hand soothed the turmoil she began to feel with the topic, like settling a storm that hadn't even begun. It was nice to hear otherwise for a change. "She's just...particular about what she wanted. You see past the dust then?" His reassurance brought a smile to her face, "careful what you wish for, but don't worry. I've been learning to be myself, promise." It helped to be in a new place with her dad, no more nagging in her ear. "You like to learn, and I like a challenge, hm...we'll be a good pair. We will add cooking to the list, finding a new recipe, and hope we don't burn the place down."
She was glad that he agreed, because it was the simple truth. It felt like a cliche to say that from the moment she saw him, but things really had not been the same since she spoke to him. "Good, consider it your new nickname. Pretty green eyes," how easily it flowed. "It could be, don't be surprised if I call you that in the middle of class." Or the middle of campus, that'd be funny. Would it embarrass him though? "You picked one hell of a state then." Not that she was complaining, Laurel probably wouldn't have met him otherwise. "Heatwaves are the standard here, but good to know you get irritable. I'll have to keep you near an a.c. unit."
Her eyes seemed to brighten just a smidge more, filled with excitement. "Really?" Laurel was basically a kid at Christmas. "I'd really like that. You can show me what I've been missing. We should totally plan it!" The thought had momentarily crossed her mind, thinking holiday plans and wanting to make the cabin idea happen for him, just to see him smile. Getting carried away was in her nature. But, him suggesting it? Well, that gave her free rein. "Have you visited any of them, or have a list of top three you'd like to visit? I'd like to spend any day with you, outside or inside. So, sign me up for this nature tour." She nodded without hesitation, confirmation was sitting right in front of her. "Nerdy is hot, absolutely. Sharing," she hummed in thought, even if the answer was already at the tip of her tongue. "No, I'm not a fan of sharing at all. Hope that's okay."
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"Tell you what, you come over to my place. Well, my dad's place. We do that cooking lesson, and I can bring those pom poms out of retirement to see if the clap clap cheers stuck." Her voice was laced with amusement, using the words he used earlier. "I'm intrigued to hear these ideas you're thinking of. That would be great, company is really all I want, but I do love fun facts." Taking her hand shouldn't surprise her, but it still sent a light jolt of electricity through her. Laurel loved it though, how things flowed between them with barely any awkwardness. She felt like she had known him for ages, and not just weeks. "Green is a good one, might be becoming my favorite color too. Wow, you know all the good places. Madrid seems like a fun spot, and food..oh my god, probably so good. Me? I have a whole list of places, but top would be Brazil or Japan. Brazil for their carnival, but it also just looks so beautiful." She stepped into his room, offering him a smile as she looked around. "Thank you, I'll be alright." Couldn't get that cold, right? "Okay, I'll be here," she teased, knowing there was no intention to leave.
"Comfy looks good on you." No outside clothes. Well, Laurel was out of luck there. She was not exactly carrying an extra pair of pajamas in her backpack. "Makes sense, I'll just avoid your bed then. And, now I know the outside clothes thing, for future reference."
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lambilegs · 23 hours ago
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does it happen in a season? (part four: SUMMER - i)
in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.
soundtrack: oh girl - the chi-lites; kiss of life - sade, roommates - malcolm todd; real love baby - father john misty; come inside of my heart - iv of spades; let's stay together - al green; into you - fabolous ft. tamia
(contains: 33K words 😋, NOT the last part of this story (summer chapter is super long so splitting it into two/potentially three parts), college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, content warning for: internalized shame over kink, religious jokes as per usual, internalized homophobia, religious trauma, depictions of historical homophobia + towards lesbians, policing lesbians in the feminist movement for being attracted to women (the argument in which this takes place is very woman-centred just because this story is set in the nineties -- it's not at all meant to indicate that people who don't consider themselves women aren't included in feminism and/or can't be considered lesbians. you guys are one thousand percent part of this movement and are one thousand percent part of the lesbian community (if you identify as such ofc)!!), brief ruminations on reader's body hair,sexual content w/ reader's body referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "tits," "breasts," "clit," both reader and lee receiving oral + fingering)
important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.
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SUMMER. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.
when you wake up in the morning, you can see the golden rays of light flashing under your doorframe. your bedroom has no window, for last year in august, you had told lee on the phone to take it – truly, it had been an offer of kindness to secure a semi-good relationship with your future roommate. in all honesty, you would’ve preferred the room with the window, but had been too anxious to voice that then. but, at least lee has it. you wonder what she thinks of when she wakes up in the morning and has the light streaming into her room, the branches of the tree that curve into her view fluttering with spring’s greenery.
lee. your face breaks into a wide grin, flutters immediately erupting in your stomach. you plant your hands on your face, nearly squealing in pure, unadulterated glee. you and lee kissed last night. you and lee fucking harker kissed last night. if you shut your eyes hard enough, you can reimagine the sensation of her lips on yours. it’s real, you know it is, but such an occurrence had existed in the sole seclusion of your fantasies for so long, so actually acknowledging it, with the security of it being a fact, feels so foreign, so odd, so unbelievable. you cannot believe it. it feels too good to be true – that she actually returns your feelings, that she actually wants to kiss you. but, it is true, and the knowledge of that is immensely heavy on your mind, yet far away and distant, all at once. it feels like the impossible, because you’re so accustomed to it being so, but every miniscule touch from the night before is so seared into your skin that you can’t deny just how real it is. it’s confusing.
it takes a few paces back and forth in your room, as well as deep breaths and some sloshing of mouthwash, before you summon the courage to head out. she’s in the kitchen, as she usually is, doing her round of studying. it’s nearly desperate how badly you want to lurch forward and kiss her again. every fibre of your body is wailing for it, crying out to touch her again.
“hey,” you greet, wanting to break the distance between you two as soon as possible, both the physical kind and her lack of knowledge over your presence.
her eyes dart up to you, then immediately glance away. “hey.”
a little part of you aches at the quiet, strained greeting. is this how it’s going to be? just as before? or worse, even more far apart? you feel your chest tighten. what if it was just one kiss? what if she’s changed her mind? what if she never even liked you – and a kiss was all she was curious about?
you stand in the threshold to the kitchen, your mind overrun with the tornado of thoughts, relentless in their harsh, biting winds and muddling sentiments. the idea that she doesn’t actually feel the same way has the bliss you had woken up with washed away with a burn akin to acid. how could just a mere action, a mere word of hers, have you so confused and anguished? had you always been like this? or perhaps it’s just the kiss. a kiss makes things more confusing, it blurs the lines, it tosses in new feelings and foreign dynamics into the mix. the unsurety it leads to makes every action, every word, count more than usual, because, suddenly, she’s something different than a friend. she’s some puzzle you need to sort through all over again – just like before, she’s a stranger to you in this new dynamic. 
you can tell she takes note of your lack of movement, for her eyes tentatively lift to you, scanning your frozen position. “what?” 
you shake your head, already feeling the rush of emotions stealing away your ability to speak. “nothing.” 
she nods, going back to her papers. you could nearly scream. is that it? your eyes rove along her. her knuckles are white with how tightly she’s gripping the pen, and her jaw is clenched. she’s bothered by something. is it your hesitation? or is it just you?
you wordlessly turn around and head back into your room, selfishly hoping she feels at least a bit guilty when she hears the door loudly shut.
your eyes land on the pile of laundry on your bed. might as well do something useful if you’re going to prolong breakfast.
you’re a quarter of the way through the pile, neatly folding your socks into pairs, when a quiet knock comes to your door. you stiffen, patting your hair down and double checking yourself in the mirror. you rearrange your sitting position, taking in a long breath to steady your voice, then say, “yeah?”
the door creaks open, lee’s eyes trained onto you. one hand is carefully gripping the door’s handle, while another holds one of your mugs. you gulp hard at the sight, feeling your stomach flip at the sweet gesture. god, she’s so good. it makes it all the more difficult to remain petty and distant.
“hey.” 
you glance at her before forcing your focus back on your laundry. “hi.” 
“I thought I should try that again.”
you can’t hold back the laughter that her words arouse. “and why is that?”
“because…” she steps forward, carefully placing the mug on your nighttable. “we, um, kissed last night.” the words are tense and quiet, and you can imagine she feels some level of awkwardness from acknowledging it, now that the thrill and heat of the night has faded away.
you feel your face burn at the admission. her saying it is like a slap in the face – it’s so real, so true, and her admitting it makes it even more of a fact. it’s something not just remembered by you – another person knows it, and has experienced it, and it’s a fact that co-exists between the two of you. it’s real, there’s no way it can be part of some fantasy. you already knew this, but lee stating the kiss so plainly makes it even more drilled into your mind. 
“yeah,” you mutter, eyes pinpointed to the pile of socks at your ankle. “do you, um, regret it?” the question fills you with dread. her confirming that she does would send you into a world of heartache, and it would ruin everything the two of you have, you know it would. but, you can’t just float in blissful ignorance. maybe that worked for your feelings and not knowing if she returned them, but a kiss is real and grounded. you can’t just ignore the implications and feelings involved, especially when it’s bound to impact your guys’ friendship.
“no,” she immediately answers. her voice lowers. “do you?”
“no.” eyes still downcast, you shrug. “I had wanted to do, you know, it, for a while.”
a shaky inhale is your only response, and from this angle, you can see how her hand thrums against her thigh. “okay.” 
“do you not want it to happen again?”
“no.” she pauses, before quietly saying, “I’d like for it to happen again.”
“why?” you whisper. 
“what… what do you mean?”
you feel your mouth twist at your next words, eyes beginning to grow sensitive with the burn veiling them. “I… did you just want to kiss me because you were curious or something?” saying the words you just want to kiss me feel surreal. you, kiss, me. to say those words and know it means the two of you, and a moment of shared intimacy, feels like some reality floating above you, just out of reach from being fully realized.
“no.” 
you finally look up at her, shoulders sagging in exasperation. she looks away as soon as your eyes rest upon her. “then?”
“I…” she shuts her eyes close for a second, then turns back to you with a gaze so direct it makes you feel ensnared. “I like you.”
you feel almost detached from your body, the confession making you afloat. “really?”
she nods. “yeah. I do.” after a pause, she adds, “as more than a friend, I mean.”
your chest swells with the sweetest sort of anxiety, stunned into silence for a few moments before finally pushing yourself to speak. “I was scared you didn’t,” you confess, your voice hushed, eyes welling up more. “that you had changed your mind, or that maybe had wanted to kiss me for some other reason.” you want to tell her these things. she’s still the friend who you can talk to about anything, who you know will listen to your pain, and imprint it onto her mind because it means something to her, then do her best to comfort you, even if she may struggle. you don’t want to lose that – the act of confiding, the friendship.
“that’s not the case.”
“well, I know that now,” you shakily laugh, ducking your head down. “I just meant before.”
“yeah. sorry.” 
her voice sounds quiet, a bit embarrassed. it makes you still. you had been focusing so much on your side of things, of the assurance you wanted her to provide for you, that you neglected just how anxious she must be feeling right now. you know how difficult connection can be for her sometimes, and you know as the person who asked for the kiss, there’s a unique kind of doubt she must be feeling herself. and yet, you’ve made no move to comfort her, to give her a sense of certainty. even before, you were upset with what felt like a curt greeting, but you, too, had only given her a single word of acknowledgment. perhaps she had just followed suit out of fear of what was going through your head. 
you force your eyes to tear away from the laundry. “don’t apologize.”
“no, I should. I shouldn’t have let you leave just now, I shouldn’t have left it like that. when you said it was nothing. I–I wanted to ask more. I just, I didn’t know if I should. I wasn’t sure how to act.”
“I know. it’s okay.” you swallow hard, trying to ignore how pathetic your next words might come off as. if you two are going to be honest, might as well go all in. “I just felt a bit rejected, is all.”
she shakes her head. “you’re not. rejected, I mean. I want this.”
“I do too.”
you two lock eyes, her dark ones swimming in something, you’re not sure. with a quiet sigh, her shoulders relax, and the contours of her face, which had been tightened in tension, now soften. her lips part, before shutting, and she reaches up, one hand pressing against your face. your face heats up under her touch, your stomach a mess of sensations. but, her touch feels so good, so right, almost as though that hand of hers had been crafted to lay upon your cheek since the beginning of time. 
“is this okay?” she whispers.
“more than okay.”
a small smile tilts her lips up. 
“sit?” you gently ask, nodding to your bed. 
lee looks down, eyebrows drawing in. she’s been in your bedroom before, but it’s mostly been during brief exchanges, like her asking you to pick something up from the grocery store you work at, or letting you know she’s leaving the apartment. but, it’s rare that she’s actually lingered and taken up space in your room. the way a friend would, the way a lover would.
after a moment, she seats herself on the edge, folding her hands in her lap, eyes wandering along your bedroom. she’s clearly uncomfortable in this position, and you ache to kiss the worry away. you freeze at the thought. right. you can actually do that now. 
you suck in a breath, slowly rising to your feet, picking up your folded socks. you really just need some excuse to move around under the weight her silent gaze, and something to do as you mentally formulate how to go about another kiss. you two had shared three last night. one, on the bathroom counter, the second again on the counter after a brief laugh exchanged, then the third, a tender press of lips before heading through the door and out of your alcove of privacy. you two had sat next to each other for the night, with long gazes and secret smiles passed between like love notes. amaya and maria had come over after, and eventually, you were too exhausted to wait for them to leave, heading to sleep, partially empty at the lack of kisses.
when you stand back up, lee is eyeing her hands, which wind about one another. you smile. she looks right like this – sitting on your bed, being a part of your bedroom. this is a part of your guys’ apartment that’s home for you, that’s just yours, and her being inside of it makes you feel that she, too, is part of this private sphere reserved just for you. that she, too, is home, and comfort, and a peaceful escape from the world. it feels right for her to take up space here – because she’s not just doing that, she’s simply fitting into a part of your life that she always provided the same needs for, just in her own way.
you walk over to her slowly, feeling suddenly like a predator stalking its poor prey. especially when her eyes widen at your proximity, alert and curious. 
you rub your fingers together before cautiously raising a hand to her hair, tucking the strands of it behind her ear. her eyes flutter shut at the movement, and pleasure burns in your stomach. did your touch have such an impact on her? the notion stirs up your sense of confidence, and you mutter, “don’t be a stranger. it’s just my room.”
she hums in response, eyes opening to you. “I’m just not used to it.”
“you should get used to it.” 
“why?” 
“because, we’re… you know.” you fumble with the words. you guys aren’t officially girlfriends or anything. at least not yet, despite how bad you’d like to be. but, maybe it’s for the best right now. for the idea of becoming official, and having that label hanging over both your heads, makes your stomach tighten with a knot. it feels too soon, with too little to be certain of. but, you know that’s not all it is. even if you had every answer fulfilled about yours guys’ current state, it’s really just one future outcome that lurks in a dark corner of your brain and that stirs the most fear within. “romantic.” 
“so, because of that, I’ll be in your bedroom more?”
you glare at her, very much noting the teasing lilt in her tone. “shut up.”
she nods, her lips still upturned. “okay.” 
“and, just, well… can I kiss you?”
her smile widens, lines near her eyes deepening. the sight of it makes you nearly bury yourself in your hands. has she always looked at you like this? “yeah.”
you suck in a deep breath. god, how had she managed the nerves of taking the initiative like this last night? you’re struggling with it, and you guys have already kissed – you can’t imagine how nerve-wracking it must’ve been for her. 
you lower your torso down, tentatively grabbing her shoulders, her automatic flex nearly making you pant in anticipation. god, she feels so firm and steady. you two lock eyes, hers searching yours patiently. you remain like that for a second, feeling terribly awkward and pressured under her gaze. suddenly, it’s like you’re a teenager having their first kiss.
she gives you a small tilt of her head, eyes skimming over your lips. “it’s okay.”
her small assurance steadies you a bit. she’d never judge you. she wants this too. with those thoughts ringing in your mind, you move closer, planting your lips on hers. the position makes you too uncomfortable to properly make out with her, but for a few seconds, your lips press to and explore hers, softly moving against one another. the wet insides of her mouth mold to yours, making it damp. something in you feels feral at the sensation – her saliva, something that was a part of her mouth, part of her, is now inside of your mouth, and will exist deep in you, for you to own and have infused within.
you two part with a small, wet sound, and you throb at it. 
her cheeks are dusted with a pink flush, her breathing a bit laboured, and she stares at you with those shining, dark eyes. 
“I, um…” you start, trying to ignore the heated desire bursting through you. “I’ll keep folding.”
she gulps. “okay. should I, uh, leave?”
“don’t.” you sit back onto your bed, crossing your legs. “if you can, please, yeah – stay.”
“okay. I’ll stay.”
“good.” 
she smiles at you, and you busy yourself with laundry, hoping she doesn’t notice the way your hands shake slightly.
lee doesn’t know how to go about this new position you two have landed yourselves in. the last thing she had expected last year was to end up… romantically involved with her roommate. it feels both natural and unsettling. the friendship between you two has helped in easing the moments of awkward transitioning, but still, she can’t help but feel intimidated at the new territory you two now find yourselves in. she knows romance adds a whole new set of expectations, questions and dynamics that don’t exist in a friendship. especially considering the roommate situation, it plagues her mind with a whirl of questions. like, should she ask you out on a date? over the years, she’s learned that there’s a very organized process to dating, as useless as she finds it. it’s no longer a shared kiss, then automatically going steady. now, two people could go on dates, kiss, and even have sex, but being actually officially together, or exclusively with each other, is an entirely separate dynamic to partake in. she supposes it’s not the most surprising thing in the world – in dating and sex, there have always been these sorts of rituals and practices, even amongst animals. but, this particular one does it make especially harder to know what to expect in her case.
you’ve exchanged a few kisses, but she knows that doesn’t mean she’s your girlfriend. but, she’d like you to be. perhaps it’s just a possessive streak in her, but she wants you to be hers, and she herself has no interest in dating others. but, perhaps you do. maybe you want to explore your options before entering into any sort of commitment with her. but, it didn’t seem like you’re interested in anyone else, based on how enthusiastic you’ve been about spending time with her. but, perhaps her wishful thinking is clouding her judgement. maybe you’d prefer to spend time in this sort of limbo the two of you currently inhabit before entering into a relationship, whether it be due to wanting to explore, or wanting to see what it’s like to be romantic with her. if it’s for the latter reason, though, what does that entail? you already kiss a lot more than you ever did as friends. should you two be going on dates? she reflects on all the outings you two have already gone on together – would dates just be those replicated, but with the title of a “date”? or should she be asking you to attend outings different from those? like the typical fancy restaurant. she winces at the idea. she really does not want to go to a fancy restaurant. 
lee rubs her forehead, eyes pressing shut. she’s supposed to be studying, not consumed by her relationship status with you. besides, all this private, internal musing isn’t going to solve her dilemma. what will help is to just talk to you. she knows this. but, part of her feels a bit uncertain at the idea of doing so. she’s scared what she’ll discover if she has this conversation with you. if you are seeing other people, she doesn’t know how she’ll feel about that. well, actually she does. she knows it’ll hurt her, and that a selfish, private part of her will wish you two could only see each other. but, asking you to not do so feels like an overstep. if maria was there, she’d tell lee that it’s fair of lee to ask that, and if you both can’t agree on how to go about dating, perhaps you’re simply not meant to be. lee sighs at the thought. maria’s practical – it’s precisely why lee and her get along so well, and can depend on one another to be a voice of reason when feelings are involved. but, the idea of ending this with you makes lee shift in her seat, the notion a distasteful one.
she knows the sort of complications in dating, as with any part of life, are just a testament to a variety of experience and preference amongst people – it’s the only explanation. but, jesus, does it make things harder to figure out. all the labels, and nuanced decisions and potential actions – it adds a level of social complexity and organized process to something people always say should be purely about feeling. but, lee’s set in that regard. she already knows what she feels. she likes you – plain and simple. and you like her, too. but, she knows romance carries an inherent social aspect to it, in its presentation, identification and process. exactly the kind of stuff she struggles with. 
she wishes she could just be one of those people who feel relaxed through the process of dating. she never was. in high school, when her friend first initiated a kiss with her in the privacy of the school’s change room, she spent days racking her brain over how to act, what to do, what to say. similarly enough, in her first year of university, she was only lucky enough to have been with someone who had been a lot more decisive than her in figuring out how they ought to navigate dating. she feels the sting of disappointment at realizing how little she’s changed since then. still, she fears and struggles with how to go about things with someone now. 
setting her pen down, she leans back into the chair, head lolling back. her eyes scan over the yellow ceiling of the library, the tops of the wooden pillars. even touching you is something to adapt to. it doesn’t come naturally to her. the urge? yes, of course that comes naturally – in fact, it slams into her, full-force, without warning most of the time. thoughts of kissing you, being the one to comfort you after a long day, to more vivid mental images that flash through her head in a split second and send her eyes squeezing shut. 
it’s not that she’s unaccustomed to it, necessarily. to this day, her mom is more than affectionate. always stroking lee’s hair, staring at her with eyes lee cannot bear to meet, rubbing her back with smooth circles. she’s one of the only people lee hugs in greeting without being coaxed into it. it’s gotten more intense since lee moved out. now, when lee visits, she’s sure that her mom would have her stationed at her side at every given moment of the day if lee wasn’t so adept at silently escaping to the confines of the bedroom.
when she was a child, it was just part of everyday life. she was used to her mom’s affection, and even back then, she was keenly aware that it was something her mom did for comfort. after all, lee herself wasn’t drawn to hugs or cuddles, but anyone could see her mom was. and lee loved her mom, so she welcomed the touches. it was that simple. in a way, it brought her a bit of comfort too. their world was a very lonely one, but in those moments, where lee’s sense of loneliness was blurred by tiredness, and her small body was wrapped in her mom’s arms and a blanket, she felt that surely, her and her mom could stand a chance in this world, even if it was just the two of them. and things would be okay, even if she had no one else. the older she got, the harder it became to convince herself of that sentiment, no matter how hard her mom tried to hold her.
maybe it’s because of that loneliness that it was hard for her to accept touch. she had always been so used to it being just her and her mom, and with how much of an outcast she was, or at least felt like, growing up, maybe she just settled into a lack of affection from others. maybe she just got accustomed to the distance that still causes an internal division within her to this day, and the lack of connection resulting from this. and so, because of that, anything newly affectionate feels strange. but, then again, even after having befriended maria and amaya, there still continued a strain she felt with compliments, touches, the whole lot of it. she just isn’t certain what the ratio is between simply being empty of it, and used to that, versus having a genuine discomfort with it.
she blinks at the desk, then stands up to exit the library, leaving her work there. there’s a phone booth in the pod just outside the library, and thumbing a quarter from her pocket, she sucks in a deep breath before slipping it in. with memorized confidence, she punches in the number, and waits as the dial rings.
the call finally gets picked up. “yes, who is it?” 
“hi, mom.”
“lee?” 
a spring of irritation flutters in her. she doesn’t know what’s been wrong with her mom these past few years. just that something happened, and since then, her mom has slowly been losing herself. she’s more lost, more hazy, and more often than not, lee feels like she’s talking to a shell of the woman who raised her. she knows it’s not her mom’s fault, but she wishes she knew what happened. but, her mom still thinks she’s a child, still thinks she needs protection.
“yeah, it’s me.” she pauses. she wants her mom to know how much she cares – not just because of the guilt she’s starting to feel over her momentary frustration, but because she knows through everything, her mom has never faltered in caring for her. but, it’s hard. hard to tell her mom these things when for years, lee has been driven away and trying to seek a life beyond their home. “are you okay, mom?”
“yeah, I’m okay. just came back from the grocery store.”
lee nods. good. that’s good. she actually left the house. “what’d you get?”
“some oatmeal, porridge – things that are easy to make. I got the cereal you like. for when you visit next.”
lee’s mouth twists. visiting, right. she needs to do that soon. it’s nearing to june, and she hasn’t seen her mom since winter break. almost half a year. the realization makes her purse her lips. it had been so long. too long. “thanks. I’ll visit soon. I promise.”
“yeah.” she doesn’t know if her mom’s voice is hushed in relief or doubt, and she’s not sure if she wants to discover the answer. “how are classes?”
“good. finals are coming up, so things will be busy soon.”
“I’m sure you’ll do good, babygirl.”
lee’s eyes close, the words stabbing her with a mixture of anguish, comfort and longing. she misses her mom so much. “I’ll try.”
“and that’s as good as passing.”
her lips curve into a small smile. “I’m not sure about that.”
“I am. even when you were a kid, you’d be more strict about how your projects look than I was.”
lee huffs out a small laugh. it’s true. she was always so exact about the details of anything she knew was getting assessed. not much different from now. “in your defense, you were tired. from work and all.”
“lots of stuff was on my mind.”
lots of stuff is always on lee’s mind, too. her and her mom aren’t so different. “I understand.”
“you always have, lee.”
guilt pierces her. her mom would never know just how much lee doesn’t understand, how much she wishes was different. there’s no way to say that, though, so she just hums in response. 
when the silence lingers for too long, lee says, “I’ll call you later, mom, okay?”
“okay.” 
if things were different, maybe they’d be the kind of mother and daughter who say I love you before hanging up. but, they aren’t. they haven’t been for a while. and so, they say their goodbyes and hang up.
as the days roll along, you become increasingly apparent of the end of the school year looming over your head. soon, you’ll be done. and what then? you still don’t know with full certainty what you’ll do post-graduation. and that fact was easy to ignore in the flurry of classes and lectures. but, finals are coming, which leaves you with many solitary hours of studying, where you have nothing but some music and leaves upon leaves of paper scrawled with your handwriting to look through. and in those hours, it becomes all too easy to get frustrated with your mind that doesn’t seem to be absorbing anything, and your body that can’t withstand anymore hours of being awake late into the night. and with that frustration comes disappointment at your lack of progress, and anger that you can’t handle more. and this only spins into more worries about how you’ll cope with the real world, the one with a real, grownup job. and that leads to the question of: fuck, what will I even do?
it feels like everyone else in the world knows what they’re up to except for you. you know it’s not true, but, still, it feels that way when you hear all your friends talking about their plans for post-graduation, whether it be travelling, working, doing their master’s or even just taking a year off from life. hell, you’re so unsure about what you want you don’t even know if a year off is what you’d like. that’s how lost you are. 
it makes you feel small and infantilized. like everyone else is leaving their footsteps on a pathway, while all you can do is just trace the marks with your fingers, only wishing you could trod along behind them.
the whirlwind of thoughts catch you in a storm of stomach piercing anxiety and the tight grip of stress, which skyrockets the further you stray from focusing on your notes. the stress causes you to become distracted, and the distraction furthers your stress. it’s an endless cycle.
you lay your head on the desk in your room, eyes closing, wrapping you in darkness. you wish you could skip to the moment where your life is set into motion, a job secured and certainty of your place in life achieved.
a knock shatters your musings. you raise your head up. “yeah?”
lee tentatively opens the door, eyes latched onto you. for a moment, your train of thoughts cracks in the center, the opening gapping for nothing but lee’s soft eyes and quiet approach. “hey,” she says.
“hi.”
she lingers in the doorway. “you’ve been in here for a while.”
you shakily laugh, trying to ignore the burning of your eyes. “yeah, just – long night, you know?”
she leans on the doorframe, eyes sliding to the pile of notes on your desk. “can I… help at all?”
you don’t see how she could. it’s too much content to ask her to look over and help you make any sort of guide for. besides, you feel like you’re on that fine edge of tipping into complete, all-consuming panic, and you need to handle that alone. “no, no, it’s okay. but, thank you.”
she nods. her eyes skim over your room, and you aren’t sure if it’s genuine observation or simply not wanting to meet your eyes. “I can make coffee.”
you can’t bear to reject another offer that’s as sweet as the one she’s making. “that’d be great. thanks.”
she turns to leave before freezing. you cock your head, waiting.
“you should lie down for a bit. take a break.”
“I don’t know…” it sounds tempting, so tempting, your small bed carrying more allure than it has all semester. but, you know once you get in, it’ll be hard to resist getting back up.
she licks her lips, eyes flickering to your unmade bed before meeting yours again. “just for a bit.”
and apparently, you’re all too susceptible to her quiet persuasion. “okay.”
ten minutes later, you’re curled into your bed, fingers toying with your plush blanket.  lee carefully sets the mug on your nighttable, muttering, “careful. it’s hot.”
a smile curls onto your lips, something stirring in your stomach at the kind gesture. now that you two are, well, more than friends, these moments of domesticity have another layer of intimacy that didn’t exist before. it makes your head go hazy and soft with dreams of a future together. one where you two live together post-graduation, maybe share a bedroom that has photos from this past year taped to a wall. “thank you.”
she nods, and you feel yourself heat up at the way a small grin teases at her lips when her eyes linger on you. you barely get to relish under the attention before she swivels around to leave.
“wait!”
lee turns and blinks at you. “what?” 
now that you actually have to say what you want, you feel like a coward. because, in all honesty, what you want most is for her to lie with you and hold you in those strong, steady arms. but, for all the kissing the two of you have done, you’ve barely managed a cuddle. never have, in fact.
you pick at a thread, avoiding her face, forcing the words out only for the reason that if it leads to what you want, you know it’ll be so good. “do you… I don’t know, do you wanna lie with me?”
she gulps, and you watch the way her neck tenses, a muscle in it visibly pulsing. there’s something about lee’s body that makes you want to touch spots you never even thought you could want to touch. the bare, smooth skin behind her ear that gets revealed when she ties her hair back. the muscles and bones lining her neck. the parts of her chest that get revealed with those open-collar shirts. her fingertips, her sharp nose. those lashes that fan as she watches you with clear hesitation. you want to kiss them all. 
“are you sure?”
“mhm.” you try to hold her gaze despite how much you want to hide beneath the weight of it. “if you want to too.”
“I do.” 
your cheeks ache with the wide grin that splits over your face. 
“you look satisfied,” she muses, lifting her wrist to remove her watch. god, that’s so attractive. you hate her so much for how effortlessly appealing she is, wondering if other girls look at her the way you do. the thought leaves you with a stinging jab of jealousy.
“I suppose I am.” you shuffle to the side of your bed pressed into the wall, leaving a small gap for her to lie upon.
she slips off her belt too, nimble fingers undoing the latch then dragging it from the hooks on her slacks. you lick your lips at the sight. god, you wish the two of you were having sex. it’d be so easy then to grab her by the belt, slowly tug her forward, kiss her stomach through that shirt, and ask her to give you an hour of nothing but pleasure and distraction. the efficiency at which she rids herself of these uncomfortable accessories has you nearly high with arousal, the gestures so quick, focused and sensual in a way totally unique to her. it’s so effortless, so smooth, and carries a connotation that makes you want to shy away. all the other ways she’d use those swift fingers on you…
she walks over with a slight grin, and you wonder if she can read your mind. then again, you don’t think she realizes just how attractive she is.
gingerly, she seats herself on the edge, looking at you past her shoulder. her fingers fiddle with the material of her pants for a few seconds before slowly raising to your face. you feel yourself freeze with nerves when her fingertips skim along your cheek, tracing over your pimples, marks and bumps. she does it with such lightness, and her dark eyes rove over your face. you feel as though she’s drinking you in.
“you’re warm,” she mumbles, her smile widening.
“shut up,” you mutter, giggling despite the words. “you’re just cool to the touch, so I automatically feel warm.”
“oh? is that your theory?”
“yes, and it’s the correct one.”
“I see. so, definitely not a blush.”
you roll your eyes, stomach still fluttering with how her fingers explore your face. “definitely not. don’t get so ahead of yourself.”
“mm, I won’t.” her hand smooths into your hair, and your eyes nearly rest at the sensation of her fingers getting tangled in it, her palm rubbing at your scalp. “good thing I have you to keep me in check.”
you snort. “and you’re the future agent, too – you should have more objectivity than me. you ought to be embarrassed.”
“I suppose it’s time for a career change, then,” she chuckles, nails lightly scraping against your head. 
“not too late to change your degree, either – haven’t graduated just yet.”
“I’ll think about it.” 
the banter and soothing touches have you feeling more emboldened, and you whine out, “lie down, lee.”
her smile stretches wider, and she clears her throat, eyes darting between you and the empty space she’s seated upon. her hand slowly slides from your hair, and she shuffles on the mattress from side to side, wobbling oh-so awkwardly, before tentatively lowering to her back. laying on your side, you watch her stretch her legs out, shifting stiffly. she folds her hands over her stomach, and blinks hard at the ceiling.
you burst into laughter at her clear discomfort. “okay, well, now it just looks like I’m holding you hostage.”
she rolls her eyes. “it’s been… a long time since I did this.”
immediately, your stomach is whirring with equal parts curiosity and jealousy. “oh? with who?”
she peaks at you from the corner of her eye. “do I want to answer this?”
you pout, poking her arm. “come on, please, tell me.”
she sighs, glancing away. “I last dated someone in my first year of university.”
you hum, cupping your face as you stare at her. her eyes are avoidant of your gaze, and her fingers are twindling about. “do you not want to talk about it?”
“not really.”
you bite your lip, feeling an ache of worry drop down to your stomach. but, you don’t want to push. the last thing you want is to drive her away. not when you just started having her. “oh, okay.”
lips pursed, her eyes move to your hand, which lies limp near her hip. “but, you want to know, don’t you?”
guiltily, you shrug. 
she inhales a sharp breath. “we didn’t date for long. just close to a year. we ended things due to incompatibilities.” 
you cock your head at her.
“you know, things like our future. she planned to travel for years after university, I wanted to work here and eventually go to virginia. it slowly became apparent that we had too many differences, and not enough similarities to make up for it.”
“I’m sorry.” you feel your lips pinch into a frown. poor lee. you know she feels things deeply, so you can imagine the pain she must’ve felt to have suffered through such a slow downfall of a relationship. as well as the anxiety from how uncertain a breakup of that nature is. your hand twitches, and before you can let yourself resist, you give into the urge, your fingers stroking through those messy bangs on her forehead. she flinches in surprise, then relaxes a moment later, gaze shifting to you. in silence, you continue aimlessly playing with her hair – running your fingers through it, peeling strands from her sweaty forehead, rearranging them. and she stares at you through it, allowing your gentle touches to proceed.
“it’s okay.” her fingers wrap around your wrist, and you shiver when she presses her mouth to your palm, a soft kiss gifted to you. “it was a long time ago.”
“then, why did you not wanna talk about it?” 
“I don’t know, it just always felt like a… weak reason to explain a breakup.” she tears her eyes from you. “I should have been more aware of those kinds of things before getting together with her.”
“it’s understandable, though,” you softly say, hands straying to the layers of hair framing her cheeks. “sometimes, you don’t want to realize or figure things out like that – or don’t remember to – when you like someone a lot and, like, you know, are eager to get together.”
she nods. “yeah.”
so, she did like that girl a lot, then. especially to have acted in such an impulsive, and therefore, un-lee, sort of way. you can’t help but itch to ask if she likes you that much, but you know how goddamn desperate and possessive that’d sound. so, you keep your lips pursed shut.
“was the plan to just lie beside each other in the literal sense?” she inquires after another minute of you fiddling with her hair.
her question eases your worries a bit, sending you into a bout of laughter. “no, I thought we could… I don’t know, cuddle.”
“cuddle,” she repeats, her tone so serious and thoughtful. “okay. how do you want to do it?”
“uh…” your eyes search her face in question. “in the most literal sense?”
“no, I mean, what position?”
a joke immediately flies to the tip of your tongue. “I don’t know, how about doggy?”
her eyes widen, head reeling back. after your words seem to settle in, she snickers softly, cheeks evidently growing pink. “forget I asked.”
giggling, you siddle closer to her. “no, no, please, c’mon, I promise I’ll be good.”
she raises an eyebrow at you, then tentatively raises her arm up, leaning back to give you room. you nearly swoon at the sight of her doing so. 
you press your chest against her side, pausing before laying your head upon her shoulder, in the slope between it and her neck. when you feel nothing but air against your back, you turn back to find her arm hovering above you. “lee, you can lay your arm down.”
she clears her throat, then follows through, arm tight around your shoulders. yours hangs upon her stomach and you could nearly shudder in pleasure. her body feels so solid under your touch, and, best of all, so real. hard, lithe and strong, she’s solidified under your touch, transformed from your imagination into a work of art, marble and hard. she’s actually here, in your arms, stomach rising and falling with steady breaths. she’s here, she’s real, and you’re actually touching her. 
and you can’t get enough. you’re embarrassed to do more, take more, but you push yourself on, anyways, knowing if you both resist taking these steps, you’ll never enter into the steady stream of easy, effortless touches that two partners are supposed to share. and so, you press your face into the firm softness of her neck, breathing her in. 
lee’s fingers skim along your back in light, feather touches. she tilts her head to yours, chin rubbing against your hair. it feels good to hold you in this way. new and unfamiliar, yes – she had to force herself to remain still and not stiffen up when you first circled your arm around her. but, now, she’s melted into the touch, feeling boneless. each caress of yours is like a whisper of assurance. she tries to not think too hard about her touches and just give into them naturally, her hand moving on instinct to rub along your back. it only furthers her confidence to see the small reactions that indicate your pleasure at her movements, such as curling deeper into her, humming at the back of your throat or sighing. these little telltale signs of your relaxation help her in giving into the natural movements of her body, and after just a few more minutes, her hand is mindlessly playing with your sleeve, rubbing the soft fabric of your t-shirt. the other one is soon met with yours and you two twirl your fingers together, a small act that has her smiling, her body feeling embarrassingly fuzzy at the sight of your hand slipped into hers, warm palm rubbing intimately against her own. she wants to memorize what your hand feels like.
at one point, your hand stills in hers. before she can ask what’s wrong, you abruptly ask, “wait, virginia? why are you going there after university?”
she blinks at the sudden inquiry, faintly amused at whatever trajectory paved the way for you to arrive at that point. but, her answer is quick, for it’s been imprinted into her brain since she finally settled on her plans months ago. “quantico, virginia. the academy for fbi training. I have to work a bit before I go, but it’s the plan.”
your head lifts, eyes wide. “so, you’ve decided, then? to do the special agent route?”
she nods. she’s known since she was twenty that she wanted to go into law enforcement, and being a special agent was the idea that always lingered at the forefront of her mind. it was the choice that felt most appealing, but she had wanted to look into all of her options before deciding on it with finality this year. and it feels right, so right. she wants to assist with crimes of a great weight, and put her analytical skills to use and do something worthwhile in the world.
she hopes you think she’s up to the task.
you lean over and press a kiss to her cheek, eyes bright and pretty. she has to look away, feeling her face heat up. but, there’s no escape to your affection, for you follow her, pressing your nose into her cheek and whispering, “congrats, lee.”
she clears her throat. she doesn’t understand what there is to congratulate her for. she simply arrived at a decision. but, still, she finds herself unable to protest when the congratulatory moment means she gets to bask under your attention.
and bask she does, for you continue dotting her cheek with kisses. she knows you must feel the heat of her skin, and as embarrassing as it is, she can’t find it in herself to coax you away. it feels too nice, and the small kisses have her wanting to both lean away and pull you in for more.
when you stop, much to her unspoken disappointment, you bury your head in her neck again, voice slightly muffed. “how long will you be in virginia for?”
“close to half a year.” she already dreads the social aspect of it. she feels as though she only just started getting comfortable with university, and again, she’ll be thrown into an entirely new place, setting and crowd. she’s prepared to devote herself to her studies and training, for that she’s eager and ready for. but, she knows it’ll be a hard adjustment. especially after this year. especially after you. her breaths become heavier. what would happen to you both? to ask you to come with her feels like too much, considering how far into the future the move is. and she doesn’t want you to feel obligated or tied down to anything. but, she could still try to figure out where your plans linger.
“and you – do you know where you want to go… after graduation?”
she feels your chest heave against her side and the way you shift slightly. something about the question seems to make you on edge. her fingers continue to skim between your shoulder blades, hoping her touch can give you as much comfort as yours gives her. 
“I… I don’t know. it’s really stressing me out, honestly. I have no idea what I wanna do after graduation. the thought of graduating makes me feel like I’m losing some sort of security blanket or something.”
she nods. she had suspected as much. you never made explicit mentions of your post-graduation plans, and she had known a possibility could be that you simply didn’t have anything to relay. “that’s okay, though. not everyone knows yet.”
“yeah, but, I want to, though. I feel like i’m looking down into some dark hole, just closer and closer to falling in. in a way, I envy you, lee. you have a plan, something you’re working towards. right now, the only goal I have is to graduate. after that, I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. where to go.”
“hm,” she hums, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. the action comes so naturally, constructed of purely raw instinct, and it almost shakes her just how normal this feels. after a mere two weeks. “maybe I can help you look for jobs. or places.” she lingers on those last words, part of her hopeful you’ll ask to up the lease and stay here. with her.
you shift again. “I don’t know. it overwhelms me to think of it right now. maybe after exams, though?”
her wishful thinking deflates. she needs to stop getting her hopes up like this. you guys just started… whatever it is the two of you have. it’s too soon, too ridiculous, to be asking you to extend the lease with her now, then move with her to virginia. not due to the notion itself of living together. if it were anyone else, yes, the idea of living together would bear a lot of anxiety. but, you two have been living together for months now. to lengthen that doesn’t feel all that surprising to her. but, she knows living together isn’t what would be a big thing to ask – it’d be doing so with no reason other than to remain together. as for virginia – is two weeks enough time to wish for a future? it doesn’t feel like just two weeks. two weeks of romance, sure. but, her time with you has exceeded nine months, and they’ve been nine months of feeling her tight restraints unfurl and her reservations shatter into pieces. nine months of achieving a domestic comfort that she’s not ready to let go of once the year-long lease is up. she knows choosing to live separately doesn’t entail ending things, but the change of it carries an uncomfortable weight.
“we can look into it whenever you want,” she mutters. “but, it’s okay that you don’t know. I think lots of people don’t.”
“yeah, but I wish I wasn’t one of them,” you nearly whine against her neck.
she snorts, feeling rather endeared. “I know. but, it’s okay to be. you have time.” her voice lowers. “that doesn’t change once graduation comes.”
when you say nothing, she lightly nudges you. “okay?” 
“okay,” you mumble, pressing a peck to her neck. she feels herself clench at the cold, wet feeling. it’s been on her mind more and more. having sex with you, that is. some nights, it feels nearly unbearable to know you’re merely across the hall, the warmth of your body so close. she’s not sure if you’re fully aware of it, but sometimes, she feels the way your hips tense under her hands, how your breath hitches, and the vibrations of your moans. those little reactions worm their way into her thoughts at the randomest of moments, tightly gripping her mind and consuming her with blasts of images of how you’d moan with her hands groping different parts of you. she swallows hard, hoping you don’t notice the way her body re-adjusts on your bed. it’s so hard to manage sometimes. she wants to worship you with her mouth, her hands, any part of hers, so long as you wish it. she wants to memorize your body so well that she could bring you pleasure without even looking.
the feeling only increases by a tenfold one afternoon, when the two of you are walking down the street to the video store. it’s an unseasonably hot day at the start of june, and lee’s sweating through the t-shirt she’s wearing, the material sticky and uncomfortable around her. she hates the heat. the dampness of her skin, the way her upper lip tastes salty when she licks her lips, the itch in the crook of her arm. it’s a lot of sensations at once, and she doesn’t handle that so well. it’s only made more intense from the noises of students yelling and gathering upon the street. most of them are divided into groups, chatting on steps and curbs, sharing soda from the grocery store or running along the sidewalk. 
her eyes scan along the surroundings, taking in all the people. she’s never been one to join in on this kind of energized activity. whether it be the dance floor of a party, the rageful debate in a classroom, or even the chase games on the playground. she’s always been content to linger on the sidelines, watching the activity, knowing it’d be too stressful and overbearing for her to join, but finding it interesting to observe from afar.
she hears a sharp scream, and her eyes immediately dart up in concern, gaze relaxing when she realizes it’s just a girl screaming as some guy begins to twist open the fire hydrant.
lee’s mouth lowers to your ear. “I don’t think he’s allowed to do it.”
“oh, lee,” you coo with a roll of your eyes, gently smacking a hand to her stomach. “don’t be so stern.”
her lips purse. “I’m not. I just mean he might get himself in trouble.”
you shrug, smirking at her. “we’re near the end of the school year. everyone’s excited.”
she hums, mouth still pinched in concern. if the fire hydrant gets opened, someone might complain and call the police on the group of students, which will only arouse a lot of unwanted chaos and panic. 
there’s no way to stop it, though – a fact that only becomes more apparent when the water begins gushing out of the hydrant. the guy who opened it cups the stream to direct it at the girl who had screamed, her voice raising in pitch when she’s hit with the water. 
“watching other girls get wet?”
heat crawls up her neck at your words, the innuendo far from being missed. she avoids your eyes, the sexual implication too embarrassing for her to handle. especially considering all she wants to do is pull you in and tell you you’re the only one wants in that state. she wishes she could – it’s an odd urge, a rare one, but she wants to flirt with you, and watch you get flustered. but, she loses the courage, and keeps her mouth shut, lest for the mumbled, “no. I was just observing.”
“will you observe if I go in?”
she blinks at the question. “in the water?”
“yeah.” 
when her eyes flick to you, you’re smiling, eyes twinkling in that way they do when you tease her. she sighs, looking away. “maybe.”
it’s a lie, of course. she’d watch you for an eternity if she could. washing the dishes, flipping through cue cards, soaking in sweat, eyes filled with the stickiness of sleep, picking at your lips that have grown crisp in the winter – you make every sight worth devoting her attention to. 
it’s a sentiment that’s brutally interrupted when you grab her hand, urging her to follow you into the blasts of water. 
she immediately tugs back. “I didn’t say I want to go in.”
“oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun. didn’t you like doing this kind of stuff as a kid?”
she falters. she never did this kind of stuff as a child. “I don’t know.”
“please, lee, c’mon,” you plead softly, grip tightening on her hand and pulling her close to the small crowd of students that have started to run through the water. 
she knows it’ll be a lot to handle, the stimulation and noise, but the idea feels a bit more bearable with the thought of you being at her side. that, and with some preventative measures, of course. “fine. but, then, we’re getting food, the video, and going right back home, okay?”
“okay, grandpa,” you giggle, beginning to yank her forward, sneakers scratching against the pavement as you run headfirst into the water.
as soon as it hits her, goosebumps flare over her skin, coating her in texture as the cold, seering pressure of the water immediately soaks the two of you. the guys controlling the water seem to be glad you two joined, immediately directing the water over the two of you. lee feels nothing, thinks about nothing, other than the cold iciness of the water bursting along every inch of skin. her jeans become heavy with it, her mouth tastes salty, and in midst of the previous burning heat, it’s almost an escape, getting lost in nothing but the coldness, the pressure, people’s laughter and your hand in hers. 
when the spray of the water is directed elsewhere, she sucks in a deep breath, taking a moment to process what just happened. she feels her bangs plastered to her forehead, and her ponytail hangs lower with the weight of the water. still, your hand remains in hers, squeezing assuredly. no one bats an eyes. she supposes it’s a lucky part to being a girl – no one raises an eyebrow at any affection she could share with you, so long as it’s confined behind the lines that mark affection from unadulterated lust. 
she firmly grasps your hand, coaxing you closer so you can hear her. “are you okay?”
“yeah,” you breathlessly laugh, turning to her.
she swallows hard at the sight of you. the glaring sunshine casts a gold beam along your face, and with the shine of the water, you’re nearly glittering. for a few moments, she finds herself barely managing words at the sight of how… radiant you look. it’s such a dramatic and heavy word, but the only one she can think of to describe you.
a voice in her whispers to tell you. she knows she should. it’s what partners do, it’s normal. and she wants you to know how fond she is of you. expressing it is hard, but she could at least try for you. and maybe with time, she’ll adjust, as she always has in the past with her other partners.
her eyes flick over your face before she leans in, whispering, “you look beautiful.”
any hesitation she might have felt is immediately swept away at the sight of your wide smile. 
“thanks,” you say, teeth shining at her. 
she wants to kiss you, so bad. but, she can’t. not for a lack of want. but, both past relationships she had had were lacking in such public displays. the first time, it was due to a mutual agreement. the second time, it was just her. now, in her third time, she isn’t sure what to do. she doesn’t know what you want or how you desire people to perceive the two of you in public. but, even if she did, she’s not sure if she’s ready for it. she’s never done it before. while it’s terrifying to imagine all these people casting their gazes upon the two of you, exposing you both to their judgement, another part of her, a strong part of her, wants to embrace you, and show everyone you’re hers. not that you even are in the most technical sense.
she’s only ripped away from these thoughts when you turn to her in the pizza place you’re standing in line for together. “you want mushrooms, right?”
she nods, then freezes at the sight of your bra, which is totally exposed under the sheer transparency of your soaked white shirt. 
“lee,” you drawl out with a laugh. “are you checking me out?”
her eyes immediately latch onto the chalkboard behind the counter, desperately hoping she’s convincing in her act. “no.” 
“uh huh. totally believe you.”
“good.” she pauses, blinking hard. “because it’s true.”
“oh, so,” you mutter, stepping closer to her, staring at her through your lashes. her abdomen stirs with a warm, molten sort of sensation at the gaze. “you won’t kiss me or touch me once we get back?”
she clears her throat, gaze flicking around, her stomach tightening in nervousness at your bold words. “um, no.”
thirty minutes later, she practically tosses the box of pizza onto the counter, shoving your back against the front door, pressing her mouth to yours. one hand is tightly encircled on your waist, while the other is cupping your jaw, massaging the muscle so your mouth hangs open. she immediately seizes the opportunity, excitement bubbling in her, and her tongue snakes into your mouth. the warmth of it is a refuge in the chills still surging through her body from the water. she eagerly loses herself in it, swirling her tongue around yours. 
you pull your head back, and before she can question what’s wrong, you push her in the direction of the couch. she gracelessly tumbles into the cushions of it, immediately feeling a pierce of discomfort at knowing the seat is getting wet from her clothes. but, she urges herself to ignore the mental protest, barely managing to swallow down a moan when you climb into her lap. you stare down at her with a wisp of a smile, eyes gentle, and she finds herself unable to meet them with the tenderness contained in your attention.
“you can touch me, lee.”
her fingers tighten into the couch’s fabric. “where?” 
you press a hot, moist kiss to her cheek. “anywhere.” 
she grits her teeth at the answer, but protest is the last thing on her mind. “are you sure?”
you pepper kisses back to the corner of her mouth. “yes.” 
the breath she draws in is a shuddering one. “okay.”
her hands hesitantly cup the crease of your legs where your shins are pressed into your thighs from how your legs are folded. her eyes flutter shut at the warmth of the spot, palm smoothing over your skin as it roves higher up your thigh. the prick of your hair tickles against her skin, and her fingers curl, digging into the plush of your thighs. she bites her lip at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel those thighs in all kinds of ways. under her tongue, lapping at the innermost spot. around her head, as her tongue licks up those folds she’s thought of so many times, usually against her will. 
she nips at your bottom lip lightly, and grunts when your hips buck forward. the layers of heavy, wet fabric dim any friction it could give her, but knowing you felt pleasured enough to move in such a way sends a wave of satisfaction rolling through her.
“did you like that?” she murmurs against your lips, not giving you a moment to respond before gently biting on your bottom lip again.
you whimper. your hips flail again and her hands fly to grip them, squeezing into the soft flesh. “do that more,” she rasps.
your face morphs into a quizzical stare. “I… do what?”
she swallows. “move like that again. if it’s okay.”
you moan, and the noise shoots straight down to her center. “it’s more than okay.”
your hips start moving again, and lee’s head hangs back, her breaths becoming shallow as she watches you grind your hips back and forth, clutching onto her shoulders. you’re clearly enjoying the pressure it’s giving you, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as sighs drift through it. lee just sits, settling into the couch and watching the way you move. your bra is still visible to her, and your nipples poke out. she feels a desperation overtake her at the sight, wanting nothing more than to rip these layers off and have you ride her dildo like that while she puts her mouth on you. 
her hands clutch your hips harder, pulling you forward and away on her lap, helping you ride it. you cry out at the newfound pace, palms flat against her stomach as you let her control your movements. “fuck, lee, feels so good.”
“keep going,” she encourages, nails digging into your skin. an animalistic part of her hopes she leaves shapes of crescents in your skin. she wants to mark you up, show everyone you’re all hers. she doesn’t even know if you are, but amongst all the hazy pleasure, she doesn’t care. in this moment you are, and she wants something to show for it.
the phone suddenly rings, the blaring noise making her jerk under you. you also start, your back tilting a bit too much for her liking, and she quickly presses her palms into the small of it. “are you okay?” she asks, her heart thumping.
you nod, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. “yeah, I’m okay.” the hand that was on her stomach is fisting into her shirt, and lee can’t help but want it there forever.
her eyes dart between you and the phone. it could be her mom. it could be an emergency. she pats your thigh, lips pressing into a tight smile. “um, I need to…”
“yeah, yeah,” you breathlessly say, gingerly climbing off of her and sitting on the couch. she immediately feels the coldness of her damp clothes at the lack of you, and with an embarrassing amount of longing, she walks to the phone and answers it.
“hello?” 
“lee?” 
she clears her throat, an irrational part of her wondering if her mom could sense what she was doing. she tries to adjust her voice accordingly. “yeah?” 
“are you okay?”
“yes, mom, I’m fine.” her voice takes on a heightened edge of exasperation, realizing what the call was about. it was like protocol at this point – every few weeks, especially during finals season, when lee tended to forget about calls, her mom would call her to check in. lee knows it’s not a bad gesture. but, she also knows the calls come from a deep lack of trust for the outside world, a lack that has held lee back for years and has added to the layers of tension between them. it’s a lack that sometimes, truthfully, irritates her. and right now, it and its resulting call have interrupted her time with you.
she speaks to her mom for a few minutes, and she knows she sounds more urgent than usual, fingers itching to end the call. when her mom asks that usual question, she tries not to glance at you.
finally, she ends the call. and is immediately hit with a wave of guilt for how she spoke. it’s not like she gets to talk to her mom often.
she sighs, then turns back to you.
lee pads over and carefully sits on the couch. this time, it’s in the center cushion, right next to you. your face breaks into a smile and yoy shift closer, tossing a leg over hers and draping yourself over her. her arm easily comes to rest on your back, a smooth, effortless gesture that has your stomach whirring.
“was everything okay?” you ask, dotting kisses along her jaw.
a soft grunt comes from the back of her throat, and you bite back a smirk. “yeah. she was just checking in.”
“you sounded impatient on the phone.”
she hesitates, glancing down at you. “I was.”
“I know, but you know, we have all the time in the world. you only have so many minutes on the phone with her,” you gently remind her, pressing another soothing kiss to melt away any burn your words may carry. you know she has things tough with her mom, and you’re still not exactly sure how at fault her mom is, though, of course, a part of you is burning with curiosity. but, you also know lee loves her mom. it’s evident to anyone, and hidden in the pockets of her kind gestures that she reserves to privacy. she calls her mom daily, sometimes even more than once, forces herself to visit despite not liking it back home, and some of the first smiles and laughs you ever saw of hers were solely when she was talking to her mom. there’s a soft underbelly there, lingering beneath the harsh trauma and experiences she’s been through.
you pull away, hoping your words didn’t upset her or seem overbearing. but, she’s only staring down at your hand, which rests on her thigh, eyebrows slightly scrunched in focus. after a moment, she nods with pursed lips. “I know. I’ll do better next time.”
you kiss her cheek, laying your head back on her shoulder. “she seems to dote on you.”
lee’s chin rests on top of your head. “yeah, she does.” the words are hushed, as though she’s embarrassed to admit it.
“and you adore her too, don’t you?”
she stiffens under your arms, her blinks becoming faster. her gaze shifts to you, and you hold it, raising a hand and smoothing your thumb over brown the spots on her face. after a moment, she says, voice low, “yeah. I do.”
you hum and lay on her chest. for some reason, it feels nice. to know how loving of a daughter she is. in a way, it makes you admire her even more.
“and you?” she murmurs. “do you… um, adore yours?” she says adore softly, as though embarrassed to be using so tender a word.
“sometimes.” you fiddle with her t-shirt, feeling unbalanced in answering the question from how much you lean both ways. “sometimes, I look at them, and I see myself in them, and I get why we’re related, how we’re related. and in moments like that, or when we bond or joke, I feel like I could almost call them my friend. but, then, they do something harsh or unfair, and I feel… like, bombarded with the reminder that they’re my parents. and sometimes, it makes me feel stupid, because I feel like a kid again, so small and frustrated.”
“it’s not stupid,” she immediately says. “even I feel… like a kid sometimes with my mom. I think a part of us maybe just reverts back with them.”
“why do you think so?”
you feel her stomach heave beneath your hand. “maybe because since they’re our parents, we always see them as, I don’t know, someone to take care of us. and so we always seek that from them.”
you roll your fist into her shirt. “yeah, maybe.”
she’s silent for a few seconds, then mumbles, “you don’t deserve the harsh parts.”
you rub your head against her, aching from the caring words. “thank you.” after a moment, you ask, “but, it was okay on the phone?”
“it was the same as usual.”
that wasn’t an okay, something you take note of. for all you know, each call could carry something terrible and she’s just accustomed to it – and that’s why she doesn’t call it okay. her calls sound like any other stiff parent-child conversation to you, but still, you’re not sure why that is. just how bad things could be for her. yeah, during the visit to the cherry blossoms, and that night she came back from her mom’s after halloween weekend, she did confide in you about some stuff. but, you feel far from having the entire picture.
you’re about to inquire after it when she tentatively says, “maybe we should talk about what was happening before.”
you swallow hard at her words, slightly surprised at her having been the one to initiate conversation about it. even more apparent is the way you’re throbbing at the reminder of what was happening before her mom had called. god, she held onto you with such a hard, tight grip, dragging you relentlessly. it makes your mind wander to how brutal and unfaltering she’d be in other ways.
you want to ask more about her mom, but refrain. you two have ample opportunity to go back to it in the future, but rare is the opportunity that you both naturally enter into a talk like this. 
shifting, you prop yourself up, extending an arm out so it stretches along the couch and behind her head. “yeah.” 
she remains silent.
you laugh, leaning a hand over to stroke her hair. “okay, so should I start?”
she glances at you wryly. “sorry.”
you smile, then pause, taking a courage-filled breath before saying. “I… I want to, you know? I want to do it.”
“it?” 
you raise an incredulous eyebrow at her.
she shrugs. “I just wanna be sure.”
“fine.” you sigh deeply, then say, trying to ignore the many pauses in between your words, “I want to, you know, have sex.”
her throat bobs, eyes straying to your leg. “I do too.”
it’s almost silly how much you internally brighten at the words. it was pretty obvious from her handsy touches that she definitely wanted something, but to hear her confirm it feels so much more affirming than solely picking up hints that are drawn from touches in the heat of a moment. 
“do you want to wait?” you don’t why, it’s probably due to lee’s reserved nature, but part of you feels like she’d be the type of person to want to take things slow.
which is why you’re so surprised when she mumbles, “not really.”
“oh?” you giggle, teasingly running a finger through her hair, which is still thick and damp with water. 
she edges her face away, gently grabbing your wrist. “it’s not that surprising.”
“it kind of is! you seemed like a, you know, take-it-slow kind of girl.”
she raises an eyebrow. “is this another ex-catholic joke of yours?”
“no!” you guffaw, shoulders shaking. “I just, I don’t know, I thought you take your time with that stuff.”
she shrugs. “with people I just met, I do. but, we’ve known each other for a while. I already trust you.”
it’s said with such confidence, as though it’s the most natural conclusion in the world. unbeknownst to her, her words have made you feel ascended. “really?”
“yes.” 
“okay.” you giggle nervously, fingers going back to her hair, if only to have something to do to distract yourself as you speak. “so, then… we’ll do it?”
“if you want to.”
“I do. do you?”
she nods wordlessly, fingers tapping without rhythm against her knee.
your tone softens. “hey, look at me.”
she does and you feel like her eyes could swallow you whole. something about those dark, wide, brown eyes have you feeling like her gaze is sharp enough to open you and see all the thoughts and words you keep hidden out of fear of driving her away. 
you try to hold her gaze, which is so unwavering it makes you feel uneasy. but, not in a way that’s linked to fear. but, rather in a way that makes you feel like the axis of the earth is slightly tilted, like the balance of your body is tossed away, because some sort of world-shattering phenomenon is occurring right before your eyes. you draw in a breath. “it’s just me, okay?”
she shakes her head. “the fact that it’s you is what makes me scared. I want to do right by you.”
“you will just by being there, lee.”
she tilts her head, eyes skeptical.
“it’s true,” you reiterate. “whether or not we click immediately, or take time to adjust, I’ll enjoy it just because it’s you.”
she looks away, eyes flittering about the room. “okay.”
“are you getting shy on me?” you shift closer, the hand in her hair moving to cup the back of her neck. goosebumps immediately rise against the touch of your palm, and you smile.
“no.” the word is said slightly wavering.
you lean your face in, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek. “uh huh, you know, that’s the same tone you used when you said you didn’t want to touch me. back at the pizza place.”
her head leans away from you. “it wasn’t.”
“it was,” you whisper, and when she turns back to you for what’s probably going to be another quiet protest, you press a shushing kiss to her mouth. immediately, she returns it, her lips caressing yours as one arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer. it’s a bit ridiculous, considering how much kissing the two of you have already done, but the gesture makes you giddy in knowing she wants you near. maybe wants it so bad that she brings you closer without even thinking of it.
when you part, she pants against your lips, “so, if we both want to, when should we?”
“what do you mean?”
“I mean,” she continues, pulling away, her eyebrows knitted, “maybe we should arrange it for a day when we’re both off from work and have no class.”
you burst into laughter. “‘arrange it’? wow, sexy.”
she rolls her eyes. “you know what I mean. we’re both busy, and–”
“let’s do it when it feels natural,” you laugh. “what if we’re not in the mood on the so-called arranged day?”
her tone is flat, pragmatic. “then, we schedule it for another day.”
“no. lee, it’s sex, not a business meeting.”
she looks away with a huff. “it is technically a meeting. of sorts.” 
“one where we’re both naked. I don’t know how well that bodes with formality.”
at your teasing tone, she narrows her eyes. “you know, you’re really just extending the time it’ll take for you to find out.”
“as though you could resist me for long.” there’s a certain power you feel in expressing the words, because you know it’s true. you know if perfectly reserved lee harker can’t even keep her word to not touch you because she wants her hands on you that badly, then you can rest assure that she wants you. the surety in which you feel that in this moment is almost unnerving.
but, she doesn’t respond to your teasing. she just sits in silence.
your previous confidence wanes from the emergence of insecurity and worry, your stomach turning in a sickening motion. “sorry, was that too much?”
“what?” her eyes dart up to you, then widen. “no, it wasn’t. I just – I want to ask you something.”
you grip a bit harder at the couch now. “okay?” 
“are you, you know, seeing or involved with anyone else?”
your head immediately jerks back at the question. it was the last thing you had expected her to ask, the mere idea of you being with anyone else so unbelievable that it feels like it exists in a reality far beyond the one you’re experiencing with lee. “what, no! of course not. why would you even think that?”
she doesn’t meet your gaze. “I… sorry, I just– we never confirmed what we are. and I know it’s a common practice to, you know… date other people before becoming official.”
you cross your legs on the couch. “not for everyone. not for me. is that – do you want that?” the question makes something sink into your stomach. 
she shakes her head. “no, I don’t.”
you sigh in relief. “good. thank god.”
lee’s lip quirks up, just barely. “did you not like the idea of me seeing someone else?”
you gently push her head into a loll, glaring at her amusement. “don’t be so smug.”
“I’m not.”
“then, what’s that smile on your face for?”
she shrugs. her eyes linger on your face before looking away. “cute.” 
your face immediately warms at the compliment. you’re not used to this side of her yet. the side that allows for quiet compliments, sweet mumblings and initiated touches. it still makes you feel windswept, as though her tenderness is a gust knocking you off your feet and into a never ending wormhole of affection. “stop it.”
“it’s just the truth.” her tone is passive as usual, and it makes you even more flustered in a way. she doesn’t say the praise, and state the so-called truth of it, with any embellishment. she says it naturally, with raw honesty. it makes you all the more acutely aware of the fact that she truly thinks of you that way.
you’re still trying to come up with a response when she says, “so, if we’re not official, but we’re only seeing each other… what makes us different than girlfriends?” her voice is low with hesitation, but she eyes you carefully.
you gulp. she’s right, of course she is. you guys aren’t that different from girlfriends at all. you spend so much time together, you kiss, you cuddle, and if your outings just had the label of dates, then you two would be going on dates constantly. but, the idea of actually having the label of girlfriends makes you feel tense in the stomach, as though you’re intentionally tightening your muscles.
“I… I don’t know,” you weakly say.
she purses her lips in contemplation. “I mean, the only thing I can think of is that we haven’t gone through the… procedure of going on dates leading up to an agreement of being girlfriends. but, it feels like we already do that.” she pauses. “unless dates should be different than what we usually do.” 
fondness strikes at your heart like a bell. “maybe the only difference is that dates are called ‘dates’?” you’re glad for the momentary shift in conversation from the word “girlfriend.”
“maybe. then, is that the only thing stopping us from being girlfriends?” she swallows hard. “just beginning to call the time we spend together ‘dates’?”
you say nothing, a slightly nauseating feeling churning in your stomach. you hate it. isn’t this what you’ve been wanting for months now? for her to be yours, only yours, to be the one she can rely on, or call when scared, and bored, and happy? you’ve been wanting, wanting and wanting, and now, you’re dangling on the border of having, and you just want to run away from that edge, feeling like stepping over will lead to a steep, dark drop. 
“what is it?” she gently asks. you look up to find her staring intently.
when you say nothing, eyes downcast, you watch the hand in her lap twitch, lift and lower back once, then finally reach out, tangling your hand in hers. 
she says nothing. she simply waits. it kills you that she has it in her to wait, just for your sake, in what feels like a deeply momentous event.
“I-I’m not ready,” you whisper. “to be your girlfriend yet.”
her hand suddenly tightens. you can’t bear to look at her. 
“okay.” 
you slip your hand from hers, and stumble into a standing position. “I’m going to shower.”
all she gives you is a nod.
lee’s actually thankful for finals this week. because at least it gives her a distraction from you and how things have been at home. 
it’s not like she’s angry at you for having said no to her, well, in hindsight, not-so-subtle suggestion. but, her mind and stomach are an uncomfortable mix of emotions. if there’s anyone she’s angry at, it’s mostly herself. she wishes she hadn’t been so lacking in subtlety. maybe now, you feel awkward with her because you suspect she’s trying to push you into an official relationship. she shuts her eyes, embarrassment creeping through her. what if she’s now come off as forceful, or too much?
she’s not sure as to your reasons for saying no. she knows you not being ready is the obvious answer, but she’s not exactly sure why you’re not ready. perhaps it’s too soon? you two had your first kiss a month ago, and while that feels like a long time to her, perhaps it might not be to you. perhaps you want to spend more time in this vague, in-between state before adding a label. but, why should a label mean so much? why should it carry such a weight?
you two already act like a couple, so why does the addition of the title girlfriend matter so much? it’s just a word. ten letters, two syllables – she doesn’t know why society places such a weight in its connotations. a prickly, gnawing sense of frustration itches at her. she doesn’t get it. maybe she’s the one lacking some important piece of knowledge regarding the dating scene. but, it makes no sense to her. you’re content to act like her girlfriend, but to actually be called it is too much? she feels a twinge of guilt at her own emotions. she knows she can’t force you to feel ready, and even if she did possess such an ability, she’d never want to wield it on you. she wants you to choose this, choose her. but, to not be chosen leaves her feeling with a kind of insecurity she hadn’t anticipated.
because does your hesitation have to do with her? has she been too distant and unclear in her emotions? have her reservations made you question her ability to be a sufficient partner? 
she wants to rattle her head and rid herself of these thoughts. she should be studying, and instead, her mind is flooding with why, why, why about you, herself, both of you together. she knows logically, her own guesses will never match to the reality of what you feel, and can only take her so far. but, she’s filled with fear over approaching this with you. your answers might be more difficult to bear, and she’s not sure she can handle a shocking or painful revelation.
she progresses through the week fine. long, tired hours of studying keep her up late into the night, tucked into the living room where her desk is and flipping through pages. it’s easy for her to get swept up like this, especially if she enjoys the content. as a child, her time and effort for school ranged based on the class, with her most liked classes being those she could pour over for hours, and the ones she wasn’t drawn to, like math, being the kind she pointedly avoided. the latter would lead to a lot of late afternoons spent with homework sheets discarded to the side of her desk, her small hands devoting hours to drawing or peeling through picture books. it was easy to discreetly engage in such rituals with how often she was alone at home. her mother hadn’t even discovered her decline of grades until weeks after lee’s teacher had first notified her to return her calls. in the whirlwind of hours at the local hospital, lee’s mom had easily missed and neglected the crumpled up note next to the phone. 
as a child, lee hadn’t minded the solitude that much. it would usually only last a few hours after school, and she liked the time to herself. similar to her feelings as an adult, she didn’t enjoy the process of conversing with others. even on the days her mom had her babysat, lee preferred to walk the grounds of their home by her lonesome, or watch television. just anything to be alone and have ample silence for imagining herself in the latest film she had seen. and most of the time, whether someone was watching her or she was alone, she didn’t even miss her mom that much. sometimes, yes, but she had adjusted to the isolated existence fast, and it just became second nature to associate home with an empty space.
the only times she had really felt a craving for her mom were on the days her mom was at work for longer than usual. those hours of solitude melted into loneliness, and she would become acutely aware of just how silent the house felt. she would often grow unsettled and anxious in those lonely evenings, the long shadows of the trees creeping through the windows and the branches looking like spindly fingers chasing after her. in those evenings, she missed her mom. some days now, she still felt like that. 
but, things were different in how she proceeded with those feelings. she’s sure her mom would still try and comfort her to the best of her ability if lee ever came to her. but, lee hadn’t been vulnerable with her for a long time. not since her mom had started to push her farther and farther from their home, both with the slow decrease of space and the insistence and paranoia.
lee has always wondered what her own home will look like in the future. the idea of it becoming her mom’s home is one that part of her still fears. so many people turn into their parents, replicate their habits. though, at the same time, she doesn’t even know if such a fear has any real value. to her, it feels like the mess of her mom’s home has embedded such a need in her for space and organization that it’d be impossible to repeat her mom’s mistakes. but, still, the irrational fear lingers.
for the longest time, she envisioned any future home of hers to possess only her, the sole owner and guest. a romantic relationship, a family – they’ve never been huge concerns of hers. she’s usually been content to consume her time with her academics and working towards her goal. the only time in her life where she was truly attached to the idea of dating was when she had first realized her attraction to girls in high school. at that time, she ached for, and couldn’t think of anything but, the touch of a girl, the love of one. she just wanted to experience it, at least once. and she did, and it was just as intense as she had anticipated it’d be. but, after high school, she had become determined to do well in her studies, mostly content with the singular romantic experience she had had. she had experienced love once, and that was satisfactory, since at least she knew, then, what it was like. well, satisfactory most of the time. not always.
now, though, she can’t get a certain image out of her head when she thinks of what a future home would look like. it’s a shadow by her side, and its figure holds an all too familiar shape. 
she gets through the week. it’s difficult, and filled with hours of exhaustion and stress, but she gives it her all, the pressure of this being her last semester placing a heavy weight on her conscience. she wants to prove that her education, her completion of these four years, were worthwhile. she wants to prove it to herself, and to her mother, that she left oregon for a worthy reason. 
she wants you to see this, too. it feels new, the way you now linger at the edge of her subconscious in ways you didn’t used to. now, when she does something, she hopes you’ll approve. when she sees something she finds interesting, she wishes she had a way to send you a picture of it. she wishes for you and wants you in all these quiet, secretive ways. you’ve made a space for yourself in the corner of her mind that had been empty of contact for years before.
you’ve also had a large amount of work too, she knows. you have two exams, one group project that you’ve been complaining about the entire semester, and a graded class debate on friday morning that you invited her to weeks ago. she’s barely seen you this week. though she knows it’s because you’ve been cramming in your bedroom, part of her is gnawed with the deep fear that you’re avoiding her. that she did too much, and is now driving you away. she wishes you would just talk to her. even on the day you confessed to not feeling ready to be her girlfriend, you left her there, showered, then remained in your bedroom for the rest of the night. the next morning, you two drank coffee together, and you struck up conversation with her as usual, albeit more stiff than usual. and before you left, you had pressed a soft kiss to her lips. 
and just like that, the week had proceeded in a series of short-lived conversations, mostly about classes, and brief touches. she’s tantalizingly close to the end of her entire college career, and she can’t even feel relieved. 
all of this leads to the uncharacteristic decision to break the silence of her study session with amaya and maria, who each showcase some variety of a flinch at the sound of lee’s voice. she’s not one to open up like this, so it takes a few pauses for her to quietly reveal what’s been happening.
when she does, she can’t help but hesitantly glance towards maria. though both of them had been pleasantly surprised weeks ago when lee had revealed your guys’ shift in dynamic, maria still had her qualms with the situation. lee worries that this will only increase her sense of doubt. 
thankfully, such a thing does not happen. instead, which actually might be worse, what happens is that maria begins to question you as a person.
“like, are you really sure you wanna be with someone who spends a week not even talking to you about this stuff? stuff that’s important.”
lee fidgets with the ripped strings of paper sticking out from her notebook’s spirals. she didn’t intend for this to happen. she doesn’t want her friends looking down on you, or doubting you. she knows you, she knows you’re kind and considerate. but, she also knows that’s not enough to provide you guys with a lasting relationship. you’ve always been able to talk to her, why are you being so different now?
when the silence lapses for too long, amaya clears her throat, dark eyes flickering between the two of them. “okay, listen, I think one screw up is allowed before we get the pitchforks.” she turns to lee with a gentle smile. “I like you two together, okay? and you guys have a solid friendship going on, even beneath all the mushy stuff. use that to your advantage. talk, and make it clear you don’t like this way of handling things.”
maria ducks her head down, mumbling, “I think that should’ve already been self-explanatory, but okay.”
lee’s jaw tenses. while she’s slightly annoyed with maria, she can’t say she blames her, which somehow, exasperates her even more. she’d also have some reservations towards a person if they were to treat maria or amaya like this. she knows it’s not right of you to do this to her. and it causes a hot pool of frustration to drip into her stomach, because she wants everything to feel right. and everything did feel right up until this point. 
and she misses you.
you’re tip-toeing around the apartment, carefully placing your plate in the sink then slipping on your sneakers with slow, focused precision. once this is done, you grab your backpack and wrap your fingers around the doorknob. 
“where are you going?”
you fucking leap, lee’s voice scares you out of your flesh and bone that bad. “lee, jesus christ, announce yourself!”
“in our own apartment?”
you roll your eyes, though you can’t bite back the smile the words our apartment ignites. it makes you feel like the two of you are living together – actually living together, by choice and with the desire for it to be permanent.
her eyes scan you. “anyways, I’m just here because I thought you wanted me to come for your debate.”
your shoulders deflate at the revelation. it’s not that you don’t want her to come. of course you do – this entire week, you’ve been dousing yourself in buckets of self-pity over the fact that your own stupid behaviour will probably entail her not showing up. and that’s not even the worst of it. you’ve felt like complete shit all week, avoiding her after dropping such an abrupt, harsh confirmation of not being ready to be her girlfriend yet. well, maybe it wasn’t so harsh, but to you, it feels like the worst possible thing you could’ve said at that moment. maybe you’d be less torn about it if you had actually sat down and explained your mindset to her. but, instead, you had scurried away like an idiot, leaving her alone with what was probably an anxious toss and turn of thoughts. and then, what did you do all week? avoid her. you had been overcome with piles upon piles of work, and to say you had been overwhelmed would be an understatement. the idea of talking to her about why you had rejected her advances only accentuated your stress, and you had neither the time nor emotional management necessary for such a talk amidst the finals of your last semester. and you were scared to explain yourself and potentially face disappointment or rejection. and so, you had opted for avoiding her.
you wince. you should’ve fucking told her all of this, all of the reasons for avoiding her like the plague. you should’ve immediately confided in her rather than draw this shit out for a week. you were devastated weeks ago when she had given you a distant greeting the morning after your kiss, and that had lasted just five minutes. she’s been receiving your distance for a week now – you can’t bear to think of how it’s made her feel.
that’s why her coming along to your class now does nothing to quell your worries, and only unfurls a very heavy bout of agony. because you know you don’t deserve this from her today – this support, this encouragement. not after how astrayed you’ve been all week.
you want to throw yourself at her feet, beg for forgiveness. but, you can’t, you’re already running late from all of this staring.
“you don’t have to, lee.”
her jaw twitches.
“no, no,” you rush to explain, stomach plummeting. “please, no, I just mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean, you don’t have to just because of obligation or your promise. I’ll understand if you, you know, would prefer not to.” you’ll be heartbroken too, but you haven’t earned the right to be heartbroken.
“I’ll come.”
you shakily sigh, nodding. “okay.” you want to hold her hand to the subway station, you want to pull her by that devastatingly handsome short-sleeved button up and kiss her thank you. but, you can’t. and not just because of the time constraint. 
the subway ride is quiet, intercepted by weak attempts at conversation, like asking her how her exams went. she quietly answers, without detail. it feels like it’s fall again. 
however, the throbbing, burning heat of summer smacks you right across the face during the last portion of your debate.
it started civil enough. it’s not the most formal debate, despite its inclusion of an introduction and conclusion, and the professor is mostly using it as a way to assess students’ digestion of the course content, as well as their ability to apply it. she’s spent the past three days inviting two groups, each made up of ten people, into her classroom at different assigned time slots. for each group of opposing teams, she’s given them a question, and for two hours, the debate was to take place, the last twenty minutes being free reign discussion. it was all calm and everyone offered research-based, backed up answers to the question of if all sexual attraction towards women is inherently objectifying.
that is until sandra, a girl designated to the side of “Yes” directs a sharp, pointed look in your direction, saying, “this is exactly why lesbians should have their own sub-feminist group. the mainstream feminism movement doesn’t want anything to do with more talk and involvement of sex.”
immediately, someone in the seat behind you jumps in. “that’s so archaic, though! we’re not in the seventies anymore, we need to accept lesbians in the movement.”
“besides,” you add, not before shooting the person a thankful smile, “we can’t just ignore sex as an entire concept. it exists, and we can’t just not address it, whether it be heterosexual or lesbian sex. and also, it’s not fair to inherently tie lesbianism to sex in a way heterosexuality isn’t.” your stomach begins to stir, prickling with annoyance at her words. she can’t choose the side she’s advocating for, sure, but there’s no need to bring up lesbianism in such a… pointed way.
“well, that’s what it is, isn’t it?” sandra scoffs, and you shift in your seat. it no longer feels like this is just an objective, detached form of arguing on her end. you glance warily at lee, who meets your gaze from the corner of her eye, lips pursed. “lesbianism includes the sexualization of women – women who might be part of the feminist movement. why should we put those women in the uncomfortable position of having their own peers within the movement sexualizing them?”
“you do realize lesbians aren’t dogs or some shit, right?” you snap.
your professor calls out your name in the tone of a warning, and you suck in a deep breath. under the table, you feel a hand press against your knee. it’s lee. with a gentle squeeze from her, some of your embarrassment simmers down. you steady your voice, then proceed. “lesbians aren’t just lusting over every woman they see. and even then, you cannot compare the attraction lesbians feel to that of men who have, well, been men their entire lives and have grown up with the social conditions and expectations surrounding men’s attraction to women.”
“how? sexual attraction is sexual attraction, and anyone who is attracted to women is influenced by a culture that objectifies women.”
you grind your teeth together, your stomach beginning to churn harder as the anger within you builds. “yes, but lesbians have had their own experiences with gender that differ from those of cisgender men. so, the sense of entitlement and allowance that cisgender men feel in objectifying women isn’t there for lesbians.”
“cisgender?” sandra’s eyebrows knit together, and even her expression of confusion manages to possess a shadow of condescension. as though you’re the stupid one for having used a word she doesn’t understand. 
“dana defosse, university of minnesota? it’s a word meant to describe the opposite of ‘transgender.’ that is, someone who is assigned a certain gender at birth and continues to identify as it for their entire life.” you force a sticky sweet tone to your voice, desperately hoping she feels at least a twinge of stupidity at your explanation. next to you, you hear a quiet huff from lee, and your mouth nearly twitches. 
her eyes flick away. “fine.” you sigh, hoping this is a sign of relenting, but nope, she carries on a millisecond later. “but, this doesn’t change my mind. especially with the involvement of bdsm, and more lesbians who dress, like, you know… men, it feels like there’s just a mimicry happening of heterosexuality, as well as aggressive sexual behaviours being incorporated, both of which mean more objectification of women.”
her second point is accompanied with a glance at lee, whose fingers flex against your knee. she’s evidently nervous, or at the very least, uneasy. a sense of protectiveness spikes in you. how dare she put lee, sweet fucking lee, on the spot like this in front of all of these people? how dare she do it at all? your voice begins to waver. “‘masculinity’ and ‘man’ isn’t the same thing. masculinity on a person who isn’t a man doesn’t mean some kind of, like, pretending or copying is happening. even the concept of masculinity itself is subjective and dependent on culture – it barely exists as an objective concept. like… it’s just clothes and behaviours, why do we need to define it by gender and police who can and can't do it? why can't a woman do something just because it fits into what western society deems as 'masculine'? isn’t that against our values as feminists?”
strands of hair move as she cocks her head. “yes, and so is the objectification of women.”
you release a scoff that nearly squeaks with exasperation. “I’m not objectifying women just by being gay.”
she splutters. “I-I’m not saying you do. but, your chances of doing so are higher, and just – that’s why. that’s why there should be a separation between lesbian feminists and straight ones.”
“the chances are not higher!” you gasp out, flattening your palms on your desk. “yes, there’s romantic and sexual attraction, but my experiences with my own gender has earned me the ability to not objectify women in the way a cisgender, straight man is taught to.”
behind sandra, a guy laughs and tosses his arms up. “can you just stop acting like because you’re gay, your attraction is holier than a man’s or some shit?”
“I’m not saying it is–” you try to interject, your body beginning to slowly rise with a harsh dance of anxiety, embarrassment and anger. did you really come off as thinking yourself superior? was everyone judging you right now? the uncertainty begins to trickle in.
“yes, you are,” he continues, laughing. it makes you feel ridiculous in front of all these people, but also indignant that he even forced his way in in the first place. “attraction is attraction, wanting to fuck someone is wanting to fuck someone. it’s not different.”
“thank you!” sandra says, her voice high with an annoyingly relieved tone.
you fumble, now feeling the weight of the class’ eyes on you. when it was one on one, that was one thing, but now with the addition of someone new trying to prove you wrong, you’re overcome with a flood of inadequacy. and the longer the silence drifts into and expands within the classroom, like an infected wart, the more you feel your face heat up in humiliation. your mind feels like it can’t be grasped, your thoughts emptied of what else to say.
“okay, well, let’s call it a day,” the professor says, standing from where she sat perched on her desk. she claps her hands together. “great work students.”
you feel shame at your lack of a rebuttal. were the other people in the class, the people who felt defended by your sentiments, disappointed in you? were they pitying you? embarrassed for you? were people really thinking you sounded as haughty and superior as that guy framed you as? as the stinging, hot stab of anxiety and flusteredness rips through you, you whisper to lee, “I-I need to get out of here.”
without waiting for her response, you shakily grab for your backpack, and rush out of the classroom, beelining to the bathroom.
overwhelmed with emotions, you brace your hands on the sink, crying silently. the heat of the debate, the isolation of feeling two people jump to fight you back, the knowledge you ended the debate with nothing to say to defend yourself or the other queer people in your class – it suddenly takes its toll on you, and you feel your body get heavier with it, begging for release. the tears slip down your face, and you quietly gasp out through them.
moments later, the door creaks open with hesitation, ending with the soft click of the lock. you know it can’t be just any regular student walking in for a bathroom break.
lee quietly approaches you, her bangs swept messily along her forehead, chest rising more than usual. she drops her backpack to the ground, watching you carefully as you stare back with tear-soaked cheeks.
“why didn’t you defend me?” is the first thing you say. it’s stupid, it’s childish, but in the throb of your anger and humiliation, you want to lash out and release it some more.
she blinks at you. “it’s a class debate. I didn’t think I could. I didn’t know if you’d want me to.” she looks away. “sorry.” 
what is wrong with you? your body floods with hatred over what you just said. as if you have any right to make demands with how you’ve behaved with her this week. “no, no, I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, lee. I’m just stressed and upset from the whole thing. and I just wish it could’ve been stopped earlier. but, it’s not your fault.”
“no. I should have said something. you were being treated badly. even if it was under the… guise of an academic discussion. the setting or circumstance shouldn’t have mattered.” silence hangs for a moment, the only noise her fingers tapping against her thigh. “I’m sorry.”
you gulp. “it’s okay.”
“I’ll do better.” her voice lowers. “it did make me angry. I don’t want you thinking it didn’t.” her dark eyes rise to you.
you flinch. you only now realize she’s never seen you cry like this. not truly. it’s only been moments of tears during a movie or a song, but never full on sobbing like this, let alone for something that happened to you. you want to look away, the uncertainty of what she feels about you in this state gnawing at the edge of your mind. but, more than that is your desire to let her see you in this way. totally exposed and a complete mess. you want her to know and witness this side of you, and you want her to understand it, and with that, understand you fully. most of all, you want to bask in her acceptance and comfort.
you’re left wondering if she’ll give you that for a few moments, the both of you quiet. but, then, her lips press together and she walks over, stopping when she’s behind you, chest brushing along your back. she wraps her arm around your waist, hugging you to her, and dips her chin down, resting it atop your shoulder. “are you okay?” she murmurs.
you cry harder at her concern, one hand reaching up to wipe the tears away. you don’t deserve this. this gentle, tender treatment from her. but, god, it feels so good to receive it. in spite of the tears, your stomach flips at the feeling of her strong, firm arm pressing into you. and her warm words, deepend by gentleness and the lowering in volume, make your shoulders feel weightless. the care in the gesture makes you soften to water, and you want to melt away into the fabric of her shirt, the touch of her hands.
“I… you’re not upset with me? over this week?” you ask, voice shuddering through the quiet sobs.
her arm tightens around you, thumb beginning to stroke your stomach over the fabric of your shirt. “I’m… confused. and I was a bit frustrated. I didn’t know what was happening.” she sighs. “sorry.” 
“no!” your voice raises, though its edges are still raspy with tears. “please, don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s been horrible. I’m sorry.” the memory of how you’ve avoided her this week when she was left in the dark and probably needed your support most (for more than one reason), adds layer upon layer of guilt to your heart. you look into your guys’ shared reflection, her eyes downcast. what worsens everything is the knowledge that you had done something to truly frustrate her this week. being on the receiving end of any negative emotion of hers makes you feel crumbled to the ground. “lee, I-I’m so sorry.”
she nods. “we can talk about it later. right now, I just–”
“no.” your voice is so, so shaky, but you push forward. “please. you deserve an apology.”
her eyes tentatively raise to yours, meeting you in the reflection. she tucks her chin deeper into the slope of your neck. “I know.”
you awkwardly shuffle to turn around, her arm continuing to wrap around your body as you do so. you hesitate, then raise your hands to her shoulders, which tense momentarily. god, how long had it been since you touched her like this? it’s only been a few days, but it feels like an eternity. “I’m so sorry, lee. I’m sorry that I said what I said with no explanation, no comfort, and just avoided you all week.” you pause in to suck a deep breath, throat dry. “I was just overwhelmed with work, and knew I couldn’t handle a conversation like this, and I was scared of what you’d think of me when I explained myself. but, I should’ve told you all that. I should’ve explained myself right away. rather than avoid you. I-I’m sorry.” recalling everything you did, vocalizing it without any mincing, makes your gut twist with shame at how you behaved. you, the person who is supposed to not hurt her.
she can’t even meet your eyes, dark brown orbs pinned to your shoulder as her eyebrows furrow, clearly mulling over your words. her lips part, close, and then they open to say, “I wish you had just talked to me.”
“I know. I should’ve.”
her throat moves as she swallows. “please, don’t do that. I don’t want secrets with you.”
your head bobs so hard your head aches. “I promise, never again.” you reach up, cupping her face, thumb tracing over the pimple that’s recently sprouted near her lip. you hadn’t even noticed it, it’s been so long since you’ve explored her face like this. 
your thoughts on her face shatter into fragments when she finally looks up, and her eyes are coated in a sheen layer of liquid.
“oh, lee,” you whisper, regret twisting and yanking at you in the most painful of ways. “I’m so sorry.” 
she says nothing, her eyes simply flickering over your face. when she blinks, a stray tear falls. 
you immediately pull her in, mouth pressing against the drop, mumbling, “I’m so sorry.” you wrap your arms around her neck, tugging her into a hug. her other arm lifts to wrap around your waist, clutching on tightly. “baby, I’m so sorry.”
she makes a small noise against your neck, and you wonder if it’s a sob until starting with the realization of what you just called her. your face warms. it just came out, without you even processing it. the tenderness and protection jolting through because of her tears, the guilt and longing of knowing it’s because of you, because of the absence you drew out that instilled such a want in you – all of it makes you want to be the softest you can be with her. “sorry, I–”
“it’s okay,” she whispers.
you say nothing, reaching up to stroke the hair of her long, brown ponytail, the strands silky smooth. when you feel a cold wetness on your neck, where her face is buried against, your fingers tighten against her shoulders, pressing her in closer. sweet lee. sensitive lee.
you decide to tell her. “sweet girl,” you whisper against her head, rubbing her back in what you hope is a soothing motion for her. the guilt tears at you, the embarrassment at your avoidance claws at you, but what rips through all those feelings, what lathers a soothing balm on them, is your desire to tend to her, be there for her.
the desire for it nearly rips you apart.
lee feels embarrassed at being so doted upon, but she can’t tear herself from it. it feels too good to be under your hand’s gentle caresses, your lips sweet presses. it’s been an hour since your class, and still, her face is shoved deep into that spot on your neck, your legs entwined in her bed. you’re on your back, while she lays on her side, leg tossed over yours and arm slung around your waist. your hand continues to comb through her hair, soft words and kisses falling against her forehead as you sweep past her bangs and dote on her. she nearly shivers at the affection. she always thought she could live without this, do without it – but, now that you’ve given it to her, with such unadulterated and relentless pouring, she doesn’t think she can ever be taken away from it. the more you give to her, the more she craves. maybe she’s always craved it – this touch, this attention. maybe she just did a good job at ignoring the lack of it until this point. either way, she’s content to lay here, surrounded by the musky scent of your sweat.
“are you okay?” she can’t help but feel guilty for the conversation of what happened in your debate having shifted to what happened this past week. 
“what do you mean?”
“because of the… class discussion.”
she feels you shift under her arm. “I am now. I was just embarrassed before for having ended it with nothing to say. I just felt so, like, confused? I just couldn’t think of anything – there was too much pressure from two people joining against me, everyone watching. I felt like such an idiot.”
lee sighs softly, trailing her fingertips along your shoulder. “you’re not. an idiot, I mean. I understand that feeling. it’s hard to… think on the spot with all that attention.” she sighs. she never would’ve been able to do it herself. if it were her, she probably would’ve frozen on the spot from all the watchful gazes. anything she would’ve been able to offer would have been the result of extensive prior practice. “you did good. really good. I was – still am – really impressed.” 
“yeah?” 
“yeah.” 
you pat down her head with a soft smile, and lee’s eyes skip away. after a moment, you say, “I also was worried. like, am I really objectifying girls? am I really sounding like I have some superiority complex to say I don’t?”
lee immediately shakes her head, eyebrows furrowing in concern. she doesn’t want you thinking such a thing. for months, she’s been admiring you for how open and unapologetic you are regarding your sexual orientation, and the idea of your confidence waning because of today heightens her regret for not having spoken up. “no. everything you said was fair. how we view and treat women is influenced by, you know, social expectations. and our own experiences. there’s clearly a leniency, and almost expectation, towards – what was the term? – cisgender men’s objectification of women. a leniency that we aren't given. that’s more than apparent.” she looks up at you, hoping you know just how true her words are. “you were right. and objectification has some willingness involved in the act of doing it. it’s knowing you’re taking away someone’s humanity and only caring about… your own self-fulfillment. it’s harder to do that when you’ve dealt with it yourself in the past, and know what it feels like. as well as when society doesn’t give you tolerance for doing it.”
you seem hesitant, your eyes flicking away, mouth twisting in deep thought. “you’re not just saying it for my sake?”
“no. I’d tell you if I thought you were wrong.” and it’s true. lee’s never been one to lie, let alone be good at it. even if she’s afraid to, she’s more than okay with being truthful. she doesn’t understand why she’d hide her own opinions when someone is asking her a question to evidently seek out her thoughts.
this seems to ease you, for she feels you soften under her arm. a small smile creeps onto your face, and lee relaxes at the sight of it. “thank you.”
she simply hums and presses her face back to your neck. it’s nothing, really. she likes being there for you, and doing something to actually help when you need it. she usually gravitates towards doing a silent gesture, one that can easily be missed, or melt into the background. but, she knows you. you need words right now, clearcut assurance. and she’ll give it to you. she’d talk for hours if it meant you got comforted by it.
“listen, let’s talk about… the other thing. why I said I’m not ready last week.”
lee freezes. she inhales a deep breath. take one, take another, then another. her mind is whirling with the possibilities of what you’ll say – is it her? is she the problem?
your voice is hushed. she can sense the worry you, too, must be feeling. “can we – can, like, I talk to you like my friend? not as my future girlfriend.”
lee’s stomach surges with hope at the use of ‘future girlfriend.’ she tries to pointedly ignore it, focusing on your request instead. she isn’t sure what acting like your friend entails. she never stopped being your friend, she still is. there’s just another thing added to it. her head raises from the warm cushion of your neck, the slope containing a sanctuary. “so, should I move…?”
you laugh. “no, no. we can be friends who cuddle.”
“we were never friends who cuddled.”
“well, then, let’s play pretend.”
lee smiles softly, then shuffles into a sitting position, rising to brace her back against the wall her bed is pushed to, crossing her legs.
still on your back, you whine, “hey, I said let’s cuddle!”
she brushes her fingers through your hair. “I want to see you when we talk about this.” she doesn’t trust herself to figure out the subliminal meanings of your words based on auditory signals alone. she wants to be able to see your face and body, and detect if you need her. as overly observant as that sounds.
you look away, pouting. “makes things a bit more nerve-wracking for me.”
“should I not…?”
“no, no!” your eyes flash to hers, widened. “please, no, stay.”
she rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips tilting up. you could be so confusing sometimes.
“okay, I’ll just – I guess I’ll just dive right in.” you suck in a deep breath, and it might as well have been an inhale stolen from lee’s throat, for she feels herself still completely. “it’s just– I’m scared, lee. not to be your girlfriend – I want to be your girlfriend. but, I’m scared of us… breaking up.” at the two words, lee fidgets, picking at her pants. the thought of you two ending what you have, in any capacity, with any label, floods her with an immediate pull of resistance. “I’m scared of us spending months, years, together, then all of it ending in, like, heartbreak. I’m terrified of it, lee.”
she pauses, the gears in her mind spinning as she digests your words. she understands that fear. the mere mention of a breakup has her feeling thrown from balance, and you two have only been… involved for a month. but, she doesn’t understand why it would cause you to resist being her girlfriend when you two have already been romantic. “if we ended things right now, though, wouldn’t it already hurt? wouldn’t it already be a breakup – or at least feel like one? how would being my girlfriend change that?”
“I know.” you sigh, hands twisting together. “I know it makes no sense. if we left things tomorrow morning, I’d be a fucking mess. it’d be horrible. but, I don’t know, the words, the labels, it makes it feel like a bigger deal to me. if we’re girlfriends, rather than in some weird, middle sort of space, there are these expectations from ourselves and others to stay together. and I feel like those expectations make ending things feel all the more terrible. do you get what I mean?”
her hand continues stroking your hair. while she knows the labels hold weight in society, and therefore, possess meaning in people’s minds, she doesn’t feel they’re so important that they will be one of the main contributors towards your pain. “I get it. but, I don’t agree. at least not for me. I think what’d make a breakup hard is what we have. other people’s expectations resulting from our labels can cause embarrassment during a breakup, maybe, but I don’t think it’ll cause a lot of pain. I think the only time expectations will cause us pain is when it comes to things we also would’ve wanted for the future. and those things we’ll want regardless, even if we aren’t girlfriends.”
“yeah.” for a long moment, you’re silent, and lee’s fingers fidget faster in your hair, anticipation swimming in her. “I guess another thing is, I don’t know, being called a ‘girlfriend’ makes me feel like things are more serious, more structured, so I’m scared that because of that, a breakup will feel more severe, more horrible.”
“I’m not going to say that that word is just a word. I mean, it is, technically. but, I know it gives us structure, a way to identify ourselves to each other and other people.” she sighs, shaking her head. “but, I don’t think it’s what’ll cause the most pain. if we were girlfriends, but totally estranged, a breakup wouldn’t feel as… painful as us not being girlfriends, but, well, close. close like we are now.”
for lee, your experience isn’t one she’s accustomed to. whenever she’s dated someone, she’s always been so certain of her choice that calling them her significant other never felt daunting. perhaps this was due to how particular she was with selecting a romantic partner, as well as the fact that any pursuits she made were committed to with the utmost patience, since to move slowly was her preference and she’s never been one to feel romantic notions quickly. 
maybe there was a desperation to it, as well. the fact that connection came so rarely to her that once it was in sight, she grasped at it with single-minded loyalty and strength. maybe her lack of connection is what fuelled her ability to commit, what pushed her to throw herself all the way in before someone could leave her. the notion is one that makes her slightly nauseated.
when you’re quiet, furrowed eyebrows directed at the wall, she gulps. she’s not always the best when it comes to giving comfort – it only feels easier with you because of how long the two of you have known each other. but, that doesn’t mean she’s confident in doing so. not many people have relied on her for comfort in her life. and not many times has she felt sure in her ability to match up to the task. but, with you, she feels like she can rely on her instincts a bit more – instincts that only exist because she knows you and what helps you. and she knows what you want is honesty. 
“I…” she hesitates, wondering if you’d prefer the silence. when you turn to her, eyes blinking, she musters up the courage to say what she wants. “being close to you is what’ll hurt me if we break up, not being called your girlfriend. and the only thing you can do to prevent yourself from getting hurt is eliminating our closeness. not avoiding being called my girlfriend. I’m not telling you what to do – I just mean this is what makes sense of the situation.”
“but, I don’t want that.”
her lips curl at your immediate interjection, trying to avoid the stinging fear within. “I don’t either.”
your voice cracks. “I’m just scared.”
lee’s thumb strokes your forehead. “I know. if something happens, we’ll handle it together, okay? I just…” she peels a strand of hair away, feeling the heaviness of her upcoming vulnerability bear down on her. “I’d rather try and things end, then not try at all and never know.”
you suddenly reach for the hand in your hair, lacing your fingers and hers together. “me too.” your grip squeezes her. “and you were right. about everything. being called girlfriends won’t account for even half of the pain of a breakup. and I don’t want to end this with you, being like this. and it’s not fair to keep it, but not do something we both want.”
lee is silent. she doesn’t know what to say. while part of her is relieved that you don’t seem to intent on ending things after the choice she’s posed, she can’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable in the turn this seems to be taking. “I don’t want to only do it because you’re scared of this ending.”
she jerks back when you suddenly shoot up from your lying position, shuffling closer to her, your hands cupping her neck. at the touch, she shivers slightly, trying to stiffen her body so it isn’t obvious. she wraps a loose arm around your waist, pulling you in, wanting you close. you play with the hairs on her neck, gaze unfaltering. “I do want to be your girlfriend. I’ve wanted it for months, lee. I want to call you that, I want you to call me it. I’m only scared of the whole breakup thing. that’s it.”
relief pours through her, and she sighs softly. when you keep watching her with those wide, attentive eyes, she clears her throat, head ducking down. she can’t handle it sometimes – how it feels like you cradle her in your eyes. “do you feel scared still?”
“a bit,” you admit gently. “but, I don’t want it to hold me back. not anymore.” you tug on her hand. “it’s okay, though, if I’m a bit scared at first? I’ll be happy, of course I will, but I’m not sure I’ll just immediately feel less scared right off the bat.”
“and you don’t need to.” she doesn’t expect that your anxieties will vanish overnight, even if your thinking and mindset have shifted. she knows that’s not how it works for her, someone who often takes days before her anxiety wanes over something that has happened. she never expected it to be different for you. “we can handle it together.”
“but, lee, know that I am sure of you. I am so sure, lee. I just – every relationship, every connection, has ended in some form of heartbreak. even when I initiated the end, it still fucking hurt. and I’m scared of going through that with you. especially because with you, it’ll hurt all the more, because I just – I… I like you so much, lee.” 
when you finish, you draw in a breath that’s clearly trembling. lee wonders how much courage it took for you to say all this. while she feels a twinge of jealousy over the mention of your past partners, she can’t help but feel some of her nerves wash away under the assurance of your feelings. while she knows that neither of you would be together unless liking one another was involved, your bold, honest declaration of it has her feeling unnerved. she’s not used to this – being on the receiving end of such unabashed affection and want, and she feels a tad pathetic at just how easily she crumbles under the sheer force of it. she’s sure you don’t realize it, but your words, your care, your touches – they have this invisible hold on her, as though there are strings linking her body to all of them, and only you have the power to weave it to your will.
“but, we might not break up,” she quietly mumbles, feeling her neck heat up at the words. it’s honest, too honest, and she’s afraid it’ll push you away, but she wants to share the way you do. she wants to bring you some of the hope you’re trying to present to her. “we might… have a future.”
she doesn’t have a moment to glance up at you before she feels the familiar plush softness of your mouth on hers. her breath hitches in her throat, shoulders stiff. after the surprise trickles away, her lips melt to yours and she presses in, mind fuzzy to the gentle pushes and openings of your mouth. 
when you part away, an embarrassingly loud groan rumbling in her throat, you tip your forehead onto hers. “you’re right. I want that too.”
joy floods her body at the confession, a swift sensation of lightness overtaking her. she had been so tense and rigid and tight with the anxiety, the fear, the terror at what this conversation might turn into, at the possibility of losing you. to be met with kisses and confessions and promises makes her feel wrapped up in a blanket of safety, like the kind her mother used to crochet for her. it seems like this will be okay, like you guys will be okay.
“lee?” 
“mm?” 
“will you, um, be my girlfriend?”
her eyes screw shut, her breath shuddering. for a second, she just repeats your words in her head, processing them. as ridiculous of a request as it sounds, she almost wants to leave the room momentarily to linger on your question by herself. despite knowing you’re being genuine, disbelief and shock hang in her head over your words. she didn’t think you’d propose such a request in this very conversation, that you value her words so much that they can inspire enough courage in you to ask the words you had been avoiding all week. the words that she herself needs a moment to digest and swallow down, and let them settle and soak into her mind. she can’t look at you just yet. it’d be too much to.
but, finally, she does. your breaths are short and panting, clearly indicating your nervousness. and you’re staring at her with shining, wide eyes, eyebrows raised. you’re waiting, and with how carefully you’re eyeing her, she suspects you’d wait however long it takes.
it’s almost unbelievable that you’d even ask her rather than just declare it. she knows you’re doing it to be respectful through the act of offering it to, but not forcing, her. but, she feels a quiet amusement in the irony of you asking her, and awaiting her answer, when all her mind is whirring with is how badly she wants you. 
she nods. there’s only one possible answer, a singular correct one. any alternative, any minimization, would be pure and utter dishonesty. and that’s not who she is. nor who she would ever want to be. she wants to seize this moment with you, and take it and relish in it. “yes.”
a loud exhale sweeps past your lips, cheeks curving and dimpling as a wide smile takes over. lee feels her chest stir at the sight. you look pretty. after a shaky laugh leaves your mouth, you suddenly lunge at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. she starts at the sudden movement, then curves her arms around you, rubbing your back. she feels warm inside.
“thank god,” you mutter.
she laughs, too. but, not out of relief. well, partially from relief. the other part is drawn out of complete amusement over your reaction. she can’t imagine how you could’ve thought she’d possibly give any other answer.
“you’re crazy,” she mutters, dotting a soft kiss to your head.
and she adores you.
when the sky dusks and coats lee’s bedroom in a blue, dim glow, she reaches one arm over to switch on her bedside lamp. music is softly playing, one arm of hers is wrapped around you, and you feel like you could live in this moment forever. 
her stomach slowly rises with a yawn, the noise deeper than her usual speaking level. the sound of it makes you smile. “tired?” 
“mm. a bit.”
you rub at the material of her button-up. a question hangs on the tip of your tongue. for you don’t want to leave her, not like this, not after having been able to finally hold her after a week of barely doing so. not when her kind words and soft assurances gave you the courage to ask her to be yours. not when the knowledge of her actually being yours is still fresh on your mind, sending butterflies into your stomach. of course, with it, there’s the slightest bit of anxiety, and deep, lurking thoughts, but you try to ignore them, hoping with time, they’ll fade away. for now, you want to focus on the good parts. the excitement you feel at being able to finally call her your girlfriend, the daydreams of the future whirling through your mind of introducing her as your girlfriend to others, and calling her that in your most tender moments. you can’t believe she’s yours. not just in title or reference, but in every way that matters most. the connection, the touch, the want, the comfort. you feel like you could race through your neighbourhood with the overbearing lightness you feel.
“can I… I mean, would you be okay with me sleeping here tonight?”
she blinks up at the ceiling. “with me?”
you nearly joke, but hold your tongue, desperate for her answer. “yeah.”
“yeah, sure.”
“really?” 
she nods, face utterly neutral. “yeah. don’t… girlfriends do that?”
you sag against her with a glare. “yes, but I don’t want you doing it just because we’re girlfriends! I want you to want it too.”
“if it were up to me, we’d sleep together every night.” after a second, she blinks hard and clears her throat. “in the literal sense, I mean.”
you rub your cheek on her shoulder with a laugh, affection blooming through you at her words, the petals stroking your stomach and delivering a fluttery feeling. “no, no, please, keep going.”
she hums. “I’d rather not.”
“you’re so boring.”
her eyes, black in the faint light of the room, lower to you. “I’m on the brink of rescinding the offer.”
you snort. “sure you are. you just admitted you’d like for me to spend every night here, remember?”
“yeah, and you have the ability to make me change my mind in under two minutes. impressive, hm?”
the teasing lilt in her voice is crystal clear and you smack her stomach gently. “you’re so mean to me.”
“I think you like it.”
the words, said flatly, make you nearly bury your face in her chest and scream. the quiet surety of them, the mental image they evoke of lee being even meaner in all kinds of ways, have you antsy with sudden arousal. “no, I don’t.”
she hums, ignoring your protest.
“it’s true, I don’t,” you whine, the earnestness of your words broken with a light trill of laughter.
“so, I guess you’ll retire to your own room tonight? since I’ll probably be so mean to you.”
you tug on her shirt with a small groan. it’s an empty threat, of course it is, but your drowsiness has made you more clingy than usual, wanting nothing more than an unwavering, unfaltering amount of doting and attention. “no, it means you should make it up to me by letting me stay here all night.”
“I guess I could manage that. if it’s to make you feel better.”
“oh? so, that’s the only reason you’ll tolerate me for the night?”
a small, amused huff leaves her. “yeah, I’m struggling to pick out another reason.”
“very nice.” with a small groan, you writhe out of her arms, sitting up and tossing one leg over her body to reach the floor and remove yourself from her bed.
in a quick flash, lee’s hand is grasping onto yours tightly. “where are you going?”
her tone is soft with protest and you grin, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss her stupid. “to get my pajamas.”
“oh. okay.” she continues to hold onto your hand and when you raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly glancing to where she’s still gripping on, she lifts your locked hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. “I do want you to sleep here. you know that, right?” her voice is lowered with trepidation.
“I do.” you lift her hand, pecking it right back. she looks down after the contact, nodding. “give me a sec,” you say.
in the privacy of your bedroom, your face aches with the huge grin that splits on it. excitement is swiftly spreading through your body, plunging your stomach into a sensation of tinglest. it almost feels like you’re a kid again, eager at the prospect of spending the night in a new bedroom that isn’t yours. she’s just across the hall, but it feels like you’re preparing for the most exciting sleepover of your life. except instead of taking magazine quizzes and playing truth or dare, you’ll be cuddled up with your girlfriend. your girlfriend. you could die.
if it were someone else, you might be picky about the pajamas you’ll wear upon re-entering her bedroom. but, lee has seen you in every pair you own numerous times. still, you want to look good for her. tonight bears a huge milestone, and she’s yours. you check yourself in the mirror, wincing at the dry skin peeling around your nose and your cracked lips. god, had she felt the dryness when you kissed her? you quickly apply some vaseline on both parts, rubbing it in until you’re satisfied.
you change into your pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. you look down at your unshaven legs. it’s not the first time she’s seen them, but now, your mind is overtaken with thoughts about if she finds it unappealing. you know that you shouldn’t care. even if she did, hypothetically, find it unattractive, you shouldn’t remove the hair just for her. you’re under no obligation to alter your appearance for lee, no matter how much you may like her. besides, if she preferred hairlessness in the first place for some aesthetic reason, what does that say about her? there’s no reason for you to do anything about it right now, especially in the comfort of your own home. it’s natural, it’s normal. with that, and the reminder that lee has already seen your legs in this state before, you take a deep breath and head into her bedroom.
when you enter, you can hear the faint noise of her in the bathroom. at the foot of her bed, you’re struck with an exploding mixture of nerves and what feels like a neverending thrill. you’re actually going to sink into her bed instead of yours tonight. you’re going to sleep wrapped up in her, and wake up to the sight of her long lashes. you’re going to spend the night with her. 
not knowing what to do with yourself, you set the book you brought onto her nightstand, then crawl into her bed. you tentatively pull the sheet over your legs, bracing your back against her headboard. 
you tap your fingers along the back of your hands, eyeing her room. as usual, it’s clean, meticulously so. empty walls spare for two artworks of flowers, both of which are in neutral tones. the surface of her dresser is filled with no trinkets, just the necessities of a hairbrush, hair ties, what seems to be a jewelry box, one plant. your gaze strays to the first drawer. you swallow hard.
it’s not like you’re unaware that sex could be a possibility for tonight. and as much as the thought of it makes your stomach itch with nervousness, you can’t help but feel desire stir between your legs at the thought. you’re ready for it, you know you are. you trust lee as much as she said she trusted you, if not even more. you know she’ll be a patient and kind lover. and while your mind is silently swarmed with the nasty buzz of thoughts like how good you’ll be, if you’ll match to her past partners, or she’ll find your body attractive, your desire for her triumphs it all. 
when the door to the bathroom creaks open, you scramble to grab your book, flipping it open and forcing your eyes to it so fast you feel a wave of light-headedness. 
she steps in. “hi.” 
god, you hate her so much. she’s clad in nothing but a white tank top and boxer shorts, her wet hair laid flat along her back. she looks so good you almost want to look away. almost. if only the desire to soak her up in your eyes, and let the memory of her become drilled into your mind forever, wasn’t so strong.
“hey.” god, that sounded squeaky. you clear your throat.
she give you a small, tight-lipped smile. just a formality. she walks to her dresser, carefully placing her hoops in the small, white dish. the sight makes you suck in a breath. those fingers of hers are tantalizingly close to that top drawer and the toy within. if she just moved them a few inches down, she could take it out, strap it on, and lower herself onto you. you wonder if she’s used it since you discovered it. if so, did she think of you?
she turns to you, footsteps quiet as she approaches. it doesn’t feel the same as it did just twenty minutes ago. before, you guys were at the peak of your reconciliation, tender and clingy, needing each other. now, a shower and change of clothes later, the tide has calmed, and all that’s left over are the remaining embers in the quiet, low intimacy of the night. the music still playing, the crickets chirping through the sheer mesh of lee’s open window, the street lights painting the corner of her room in a pale light.
carefully, lee seats herself on the edge of her bed, hands fisted in the white sheets. “are you comfortable?”
“yeah.” your eyes scan the back facing you, white fabric transparent and damp under her soaked hair. “are you?”
“not really.” her eyes dart to you. “not because of you. I’m just not used to this.”
you swallow a shaky breath, trying to calm the onslaught of worry at hearing of her anxiety. it’s okay. it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, or your relationship with her, or anything. she just needs time. it’s okay. “okay, um, would you prefer we do it another day?”
“no.” eyes lingering on the ground, she silently reaches for your hand. “I want to.”
you grip onto her like a lifeline, feeling immensely fragile under the newness of this all, wanting nothing but the haven of her arms around you. “okay.”
after braiding her hair, she shifts into the bed, curling on her side as she lies down. her bare legs lifted, you can see the thin skimming of brown hair. despite your little pep talk earlier, you can’t resist the ease that settles into you at the sight. you sidle down next to her, feeling suddenly shy and exposed. she’ll be dealing with all of your secret, unconscious habits tonight. you know you two have slept in this bed together before, but for an entire night? it feels different. “pass me my book?”
she reaches over for it, and you nearly whimper at the sight of her slightly toned arm flexing as she stretches her arm out to retrieve it. yeah, a book would be good. you need some fucking distraction. 
while you flip through the pages, lee digs into her backpack, pulling out a notebook and beginning to scan her eyes over the pages. unable to resist the urge, you take a peak at her notebook, eyes roving over her scrawled jot notes, red pen used to underline and star certain words. the notes are about social factors in the criminal justice system. you read along with her, taking in the information.
“enjoying it?”
you jolt back at her voice. “oh! I– maybe,” you laugh.
a small, barely present smile brushes her face. “it’s for my exam on monday.”
she brings the notebook closer, shifting it more in your direction.
you kiss her shoulder with a smile.
another half hour passes of her studying, with you skimming her notes. when she closes it silently and slips it back into her backpack, what follows is her turning off the music. 
you frown as Sade’s voice suddenly zaps into silence. “hey! I liked that song.”
her legs tuck into the sheets, turning to face you. you turn bashful under her intent gaze locked onto you, the intimate position earning you knuckles that brush against hers. “we can listen to it tomorrow.”
you roll your eyes. “this better be an oath.”
she chuckles. “sounds a tad biblical, but okay.”
“yeah, so right up your alley.”
she snorts. “yes. as I lie in bed. with my girlfriend. the picture of piety.”
she’s so funny. you have a funny girlfriend. god, that’s a nice thought. you try to ignore all the others that linger beneath the surface of that one. wanting them to be forgotten. desiring more of her laughter, her jokes, you teasingly shuffle closer, saying, “hey, we’re not doing anything that’d count as a transgression. to anyone else, we’d just seem like two friends.”
“friends?” 
“mhm, friends.”
her lips curled up, she slides a hand to your hip. you flinch at the touch, the firmness of her palm exhilarating. “still friends?”
you somehow manage to keep your voice steady. “oh, yeah. you could just be a friend helping me with… a hip massage.”
her fingers press into your hip, pushing small circles. “that’s considerate.” her hand raises to your face, brushing a thumb on your skin. “now?” 
goosebumps trail down your spine. “yeah, you’re just my friend who’s telling me how pretty I am.”
her thumb strokes along your bottom lip, dark eyes latching onto the movement. fuck, it’s taking everything in you to steady your breaths and not gasp out loud. she glances up at you, eyebrow raised. 
“now, it’s about how pretty my lips are.”
her smile widens, orbs flicking between yours and your parted lips once, twice, before she leans in, kissing you. 
a quiet, squelching noise rings in the quiet of the room as she parts from you. her pink, smooth lips hang right above yours, hot breath hitting your skin as she whispers, “now?”
your thighs rub together, deeply aching in between them. aching so, so bad. “yeah, because now, you’re just teaching me how to kiss. you know, for boys,” you laugh, the irony of it not at all lost on you.
she scoffs quietly, shaking her head. the motion slows to a stop, and her eyes widen by the most miniscule amount. “I suppose I should be thorough, then.”
her words make your nose puff with a loud exhale. how is she so good at this? “yeah, I guess you should.”
“mm.” her lips meet yours again, and you immediately open for her, mouth dancing and moving easily with hers. her thumb presses deeper into your cheek and it encourages you to open wider, her tongue snaking in to rub against yours. the pink, wet muscle is rough and warm and she’s gentle in her licks, the tip of it rubbing against the center of yours. between your soft, wanton whimpers, and the wet, slippery noises of your tongues swirling together, drool dripping from her mouth to yours, your pussy is throbbing. 
lee pulls back, lips wrapping around your tongue and beginning to suck gently on it. the slight sting of it has you gasping, but she keeps going, her head bobbing as she entraps your tongue between the tightness of her mouth. the pushing and pulling causes saliva to slide down your chin, the sensation tickling your skin. lee releases your tongue, panting with shallow, short breaths, eyes drinking you in. when she spots the wet sheen of your chin, she ducks down, lapping at it. the unexpected sensation has a weak, strangled whine exiting your throat, the noise only rising in volume when she begins to suck at the spot. 
your hips jerk forward, mind flooding with thoughts of how good her mouth is, how good she sucks, how good her tongue feels. one of her large hands dig into your back, muttering against your skin, “this doesn’t feel that platonic anymore.”
“fuck,” you whine as her lips begin to press velvety kisses down the lane of your neck. “y-you’re just… a really nice friend.” 
her front presses against yours suddenly, pushing you to your back. the easy, effortless movement has you shuddering at her strength. her knees close around your legs, pinning you in place. you’re cornered, surrounded by nothing but the firm cushion of her body, and it feels so good. she’s staring down at you, the plain scent of her soap surrounding you, lashes fanning beautifully as she takes in the sight of you. you grow shy under her gaze, but will yourself to keep looking. because she’s staring at you like you’re a puzzle for her to put together, like you’re something to solve, piece together. something to work with, work on.
she leans down, her wet, stray hairs tickling your neck as she continues kissing. “and you’re nice, too. for letting me do this.”
“well, I’m just consider– ah!” you moan loudly when her lips tighten around a patch of skin, beginning to suck hard. the spot stings and aches, but the pain-pleasure mix of it sends arousal through you.
lee lets go not a moment later, eyes shooting up to you. “are you okay?”
“yeah,” you reply, breaths heaving. “more than okay. it–it feels good, lee.”
“yeah?” 
“yeah.” 
she gulps hard, eyes still warily scanning your face. 
“hey, hey,” you quietly whisper, cupping her face. “I’ll tell you if there’s anything I don’t like, okay? but, this all feels good. really good.”
she nods.
“and you tell me too, okay?”
“I will,” she promises, landing a small kiss to your chin. you try not to let your mind race to the way she was devouring it just minutes before. she pauses. “are we about to have sex?”
god, your body is raging for more touch, more kisses, more licking. but, you focus on her question, knowing she needs this clarity right now. and it gives you a moment to linger on her question beyond all the heat. do you want sex with her right now? you mull on it for a long moment. it may not be the most ideal time – she still has a final to prepare for this weekend, you didn’t get to eat lots of fruit in the hours leading up to it like you had mentally planned weeks ago, you’re wearing underwear that’s pure comfort, no aesthetic. you still have your anxieties lingering, creeping along the edge of your subconscious. but, you can’t say no. you want her so badly, in this tight, small bed, during this warm night. the only thing that prevails upon every worry, every doubt, is the sheer, pointed knowledge that this moment you’ve dreamt of for months is right at your fingertips. and to let it go feels like the stupidest choice you could make.
“I want to,” you whisper, combing through those soaked locks. “do you?”
“I do.”
“even if you need to study for tomorrow?”
she laughs. “I’ve managed with less sleep before.”
her words have a pierce of jealousy cutting into you, and before you can decide against it, you ask, “you mean with other girls?”
“I mean when studying.”
“oh.” you look away, the sight of her plain wall suddenly very appealing. god, if there was a spectrum to how cool a girlfriend could be, you’d be sitting right on one end, legs dangling over it. 
her lips return to the base of your neck. “did you really think I could think about any other people right now?” 
“I don’t know,” you sigh, arching up to meet her attentive mouth. 
“well, I know.” she sinks her teeth into the soft, sensitive flesh of your neck. you cry out at the sensation, the prickling edges of her teeth pinching your skin. “don’t think that way.”
she pulls back, licking a long stripe along the marks, maintaining eye contact the entire time. jesus. of all fucking times she decides to do that, this is when she chooses to?
lee pauses at the edge of your t-shirt, head tilting up to you. “can I take this off?”
you bite your lip at her bluntness. “yeah, you can.” your mind whirs with questions – what will she think of this part of you? will she find you attractive? will she compare you to her past sexual partners? you try to shake away the thoughts, but they keep slamming into you, and you can’t bear to look at her, scared of the insecurity potentially showing on your face.
does it make a difference, though? for lee immediately hovers her face over yours, murmuring, “are you okay?”
“I’m just scared. of if you’ll like me, if you’ll, I don’t know, like me as much as the other people you’ve been with.”
lee’s eyebrows slightly draw in together, as though your words perplex her. it sends a wave of embarrassment rolling through you. “I already have an idea of what you look like. you know, just based on the outline of your clothes.” she clears her throat, eyes sliding away. “and… I’m attracted you. I’ll definitely like what you look like. as for the other people, you, what we have – it’s all different. there would never be comparison. you’re the one I like right now, not them. you’re my focus.”
you’re my focus. the possessiveness of the words, the way they highlight, and lavish, attention on you, and only you, the firm, hard, proud declaration of them – they make you feel like hers. they make you feel anchored in her surety, even if your own is wavering. she wants you. she wants this. why would you deny the both of you? especially when you know in time, this’ll get easier. it has to, just like the talking, just like the flirting, just like the kissing. it’ll get easier. but, you’ll never reach that point unless you trust her, and yourself, right now.
you nod, face hot from what she said. “okay. do it.”
“are you sure?”
“I am.”
she slides her hands under your back, palms bracing to help you sit up. you push your hands onto the mattress, helping her guide you. when you’re half sat-up, her fingers slide to the edge of the shirt, slowly raising it up. your vision is partially blocked when the opening gets caught on your nose, and you hear a quiet laugh from her, which only ignites one in yourself.
when it’s fully off, your vision exposed, you immediately smile at the sight of lee pointedly turned from you, clearly giving you a moment to collect yourself. her hands are wrapped in the fabric of your shirt, neatly folding it up.
when she’s done tucking it into the edge of her bed, you chuckle. “you can look.”
with a sharp, heavy breath, she does, her eyes immediately lowering to your breasts. they rove along with a hungry, direct gaze. with every bit of skin her gaze traces along, the more desired you feel, especially when more telltale signs of her desire emerge through. like the bob of her throat, the flare of her nostrils, the wringing of her hands together. it releases a burst of confidence through you.
you reach down for her hand, raising it to one. “go on. touch.” 
her breaths get heavier, and with a small nod, her long fingers grip firmly at your tit. the feeling of her tight grasp, the warmth of palm rubbing at your sensitive nipple, the sight of her fingertips sinking into the plush skin – it immediately has you jutting your chest out to her. “fuck.” 
her left hand wastes no time in squeezing the other one. she pushes her palm in and out with slow, patient rubs, fingers curling in to massage. the flat plane of skin of her palm continues to squeeze against your nipples, which are slowly beginning to perk up under the pressure, and the feeling of it has you squirming. “lee, please, I…”
eyes still on your chest, she mumbles, “what?”
“your mouth, please.”
her head immediately ducks down, lips rounding along one and lightly toying with it. the faint, teasing pressure of it makes you ache and you weave your fingers into her hair, keeping her in place, needing more. almost as though she can sense it, she tightens her lips, heightening the suction tugging at your nipple. she keeps her lips like that for minutes, switching between the two as her lips kiss and suck at the perked buds of them. at one point, she unexpectedly sticks her tongue out, laving it over one, getting it cold and wet in the air of the room. she licks and licks like a woman starved, as though you’re her last meal, only pausing to slightly lean back and let the tip of her pink muscle flick and dart around the shape of it. and when her mouth focuses on a single nipple, her fingers toy with the second, gently rolling it between her thumb and index finger. when her tongue flicks, her thumb follows suit, until both are hard, aching and dripping with her spit. 
your hips begin to buck, pussy pushing and grinding into her bed. the harder she sucks, the more depraved your movements become, until you’re practically bouncing on the surface of her bed.
lee’s nails suddenly dig into your back, and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse. “can I go lower?”
“please.” as if you could stand any other option. 
she lines hard, moist kisses down the soft skin of your tummy, pausing to lick along the waistband of your pajama shorts. with long, nimble fingers she tugs it down, kissing along your thighs as she does. her lips skim along the thick hairs of your shin, one last kiss delivered to your ankle as she drops the fabric to the floor. her arms hook around your thighs, spreading you out.
for a few extremely long seconds, she just stares. 
your hips shift, swallowing down the worry. “is everything okay?”
“mm.” a corner of her mouth tips up, and you nearly hump the air at the sight of it. it’s a smirk. a fucking smirk. months ago, the idea of such an expression on her face felt like a mere fantasy. and now, you’re bearing witness to the most arousing expression to have ever graced this earth, all while she’s tantalizingly close to your pussy. “you’re wet already.” the flat of her tongue languidly strokes your inner thigh. “it’s cute.”
before you can protest her words, feeling yourself leak even more at them, her fingers slide into the edges of your underwear. she pauses. “is this okay?”
does she even need to ask? your mind is focused solely on feeling her mouth on you. “yeah. please.”
she remains still, eyes flicking about. 
“lee?” 
“I want to make you feel good.”
you run a hand through her hair, encouraging her to look up. “and you will. I know you will. even if you need a bit of direction, I’ll give it, and it’ll be great.”
she nods, her breaths measured and deep. you know she’s trying to calm herself, and you quietly continue rubbing her temple, giving her that moment.
finally, she raises her head, kissing your wrist. “I’m good.” 
you stroke her cheek once more before releasing the tender caress of her skin. a quiet exhale slides past her lips, then she begins to drag your underwear down. 
fully naked, you feel your pussy pulsing and gushing even more. her burning gaze blazes past your skin, lighting you aflame and tingling all over, wanting her tongue and fingers to ease where you’re most swollen and dripping with arousal. 
without realizing, your hips begin to bounce up and down, anticipation seizing at your body and teasing at it with its ghosting fingers. 
she sinks her face into your curls, one deep inhale tickling your folds before she presses in deeper, beginning to lick at you. a loud moan immediately erupts from you, pussy sensitive and sopping as she flattens her tongue and laps at your crinkled folds, relentless in its strokes against you. she pauses every few moments to wrap her lips around the folds, sucking them lightly into her mouth, as the tip of her rough muscle continues exploring them. the light ache of it sends your hips pouncing up, hands flying to her hair to keep her in place. 
she toys like this for a while, lavishing attention to every spot but your clit. she sticks her tongue into your hole, sliding it in and out, moaning softly when you clench down. two of her fingers spread you out, and her mouth slides against each of your pussy lips. she even presses her entire face in, mindlessly kissing at your cunt as her nose rocks achingly close to your swollen, stiff bud. but, you can’t find it in yourself to beg for more, for every touch has you wailing and experiencing different sorts of pleasure with each new spot her mouth makes contact with.
finally, she licks a long trail to your clit, stilling her mouth so that her tongue can encircle the bud, rubbing at the hood and coaxing for more of you to peak out. when she pulls away for a moment too long, you cock your head in confusion. you jerk hard when she suddenly spits down on your pussy, coating it in saliva then diving back down. your resulting moans are obscene, bordering on pornographic with how loud and drawn out they are. and you can tell lee is enjoying it, her eyes fluttering shut at every noise, sometimes even returning with her own gasps and groans, which send you tightening. to finally see her like this is surreal – licking up your most intimate spot, moaning just from your noises, eyes shutting from pleasuring you. your mind is clouded with a thin layer of astonishment that finally, finally, you’re living this moment with her, sharing this desire with her. it feels like a miracle, something to engrave in your mind forever.
especially when the ache intensifies by a tenfold when she begins to wrap her lips around your clit and suck it slowly into her mouth. low, wet noises mix between your pussy and her mouth, her lingering kisses and pulls sending a deep, burning pleasure through you. she lets go, fingers spreading you open again, then leans in to begin to swipe the tip of her tongue on the nub, pink muscle darting in and out of her lips as she focuses on the motion, eyes screwed shut. the slippery pressure of it has the throbbing of your clit rising even more, and your hips begin to swivel, grinding against her face.
she laughs softly against your pussy, sucking sharply before whispering, “excited?”
“shut up,” you hiss, the bite to your words shattered when you begin whining at the feeling of her lips tightening.
lee ignores the words, raising her hand up. two fingers lingering along the plush of your lips. she parts from you momentarily to say, “suck.”
it’s almost embarrassing how immediate your mouth is to opening for her, lips entrapping her fingers and tongue moistening them.
when she seems satisfied enough, her fingers drag down to your pussy, toying with the edges of your hole. mouth still on your clit, she looks up at you, and with your nod, begins to push a finger in. 
you nearly sob at the feeling of it, her long digit not enough to make you full, but stretching you nonetheless. it rubs deliciously against your walls, and the sensation mixed with the toying of your clit has you needing to come. 
your hips start flailing, the sheer need gripping at you and sending you into a state of pure want, desiring and craving for nothing more than for lee to bring you over that edge. “lee, lee, please, I need–”
“I know,” she mumbles, and slides a second finger in, fastening the pace of her pumps in and out of you. 
you toss your head up, back arching as your hips push harder into her face, keening as her mouth sloppily, harshly tugs your clit into her mouth over and over again, her tongue pressing relentlessly against it everytime. “fuck, yes, yes, like that.”
she keeps going, fingers jamming in and out of you with careful, hard strokes, and after a minute or two of it, you can’t hold back, a loud cry filling the room as your spasm all over her fingers, latching onto and gripping them hard. lee keeps fucking you through it and your orgasm only washes over you stronger with the way she moans into your cunt, her ministrations the producing loud, dripping noises.
you pant, chest rising and falling. as the heated, burning sensation of your orgasm simmers down, you glance down to lee, nearly whimpering at the sight of her tenderly nuzzling her face against your thigh.
“come here,” you whisper.
her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, immediately flicking up to you. at your words, she slowly crawls back up, a small noise jolting from her throat when you tug her down for a hard, impassioned kiss. you wrap your legs around her hips, wanting her as close as possible. you’ve felt close to her, linked to her, so many times in the past, but this feels different. this is a tangible, physical connection, one between your bodies and the learning of it, the memorizing of it. it’s something that’s seared into your skin – the way she touched you, held you, brought you to your peak. she’s imprinted on your body, and you never want her off. 
“that was amazing,” you mumble against her lips. 
you feel her mouth curve up. “really?” 
“so fucking amazing, lee.” ‘amazing’ doesn’t feel like enough to cover the experience. it was probably both one of the most grounding things you ever felt, yet also was detached from reality in the immense, mind-consuming pleasure it threw you into. it had the safety, comfort and laughter of being with lee, but also the surging arousal, excitement and desperation of being with lee in this way. and, then, there’s the mere fact that it was her – and with her, everything was on the cusp of being heavenly. 
“I’m glad.” she pecks your cheek. then, does it again. and again. you giggle, sensing how needy she must be. 
“let me make you feel good,” you mutter, nipping at the shell of her ear.
she inhales sharply. “but… you should rest.”
the response sparks an idea in your head. with a smirk, you say, “who says I can’t do both?”
– 
lee can’t stand it. your tongue on her center, prodding and licking deep, curling into her hole. the vibrations of your moans against her. you’re so loud, so vocal, and lee is just barely hanging onto a thread of self-control everytime she hears one of your noises, no matter how small. the breathiness, the softness, the way your eyes squeeze shut and mouth hangs open. she’d do anything just to secure a lifetime of those noises from you.
but, your noises aren’t the only thing on her mind. not when your tongue is plunging into her hole, licking up the wetness that’s soaking her through. she feels the texture of it against her walls with how deep you go, and the feeling of it has her leaning her forehead against the wall, needing something, anything, hard and flat to anchor herself on while you play with her from underneath. your arms are lazily wrapped around her thighs, fingernails lightly scratching at her knees, just another sensation to add to the ones already turning her mind into a malleable, hazy enclosement of thoughts that turn to nothing other than you. 
her tank top is still on, boxers discarded somewhere on the floor after you had practically thrown them off when urging her to climb onto your face. she’s never done this kind of position before, and maybe it was for the best, for her thighs are trembling in the effort to keep herself upright, legs buckling under the ceaseless movements of your tongue deep inside her. but, with you, it’s not so embarrassing. it’s you, and those two words are enough to help ease anxieties of how you might be perceiving her. 
especially when you’re taking every opportunity to vocalize exactly how you feel about her. sweet mumblings of, “god, you taste good,” and, “I love how you move,” keep tracing along her drenched lips, and each compliment sends her gasping against the wall, which usually incites a soft laugh from you. your amusement makes her wonder if your praise is being partially said for the sake of teasing her and coaxing all these exposing reactions from her. but, she can rest assure that even if that’s the case, they’re not at all disingenuous. because they usually wind up being accompanied by a harsher suck, a deeper lick, or a heartier devour of her. devour, that’s the word.
when she starts approaching her orgasm, she grows self-conscious of if it’s too fast, if you’d prefer her pleasure slows down so you can take your time. but, then, you press your fingers in deeper, tongue drawing tight circles around her clit, and she trembles with a loud, heaving gasp, nails digging painfully into her headboard as she comes. it almost scares her sometimes, to have such little control over her body in times like these, no choice but to let it lean into pure instinct and desire. but, with how good it feels, her walls pulsing and your wet mouth licking relentlessly, she finds that she’d gladly give up control over and over again if it means she gets to have you like this. 
when the two of you kiss, the taste of your shared juices makes her chase the sanctity of your mouth. it unnerves her how much she wants you. already, she wants to kiss back down to your pussy and relish in the taste of you again. she wants to feel the tight grip of your thighs over her ears and untie her hair so you can fist and pull at it. it’s addicting, the feeling of you like this, body writhing and so reactive for her. she wants to discover every little spot that gets you wet, every hidden crevice that makes you shiver. she wants to study you like an artwork, worship you like religion, and taste you like it’s survival. 
lee wants to do so much more. but, when she’s sucking on your nipple again, nearly coming undone from how each of you are grinding on the other’s thigh, she looks up to find your eyes fluttering close, watery and faded.
with one last kiss, she releases the perked bud. “tired?” 
you pout, cocking your head at her. “maybe. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
“that doesn’t sound like a ‘maybe,’” she mumbles, reaching up to kiss your cheek. 
it’s an innocent touch, but still, it pulls a moan out of you, and she grits her teeth together, wanting nothing more than to open her drawer, put that harness on and pump into you when you’re on your stomach, pliant and ready to be filled. she tries to redirect her thoughts. you’re tired. so, sleep. you two should sleep. it’s a disappointing thought, but she supposes she ought to reign in some sense, and get enough rest for tomorrow. however, the only part of her that seems to acknowledge this is her brain, for every other inch of her body is craving for more of you. 
“let’s sleep, then,” she mutters, looking down to you. your eyes are heavy and dewy with sleep, lips swollen from the harsh kisses you two had exchanged through the night, hair a lot messier than when she had first found you in her bed tonight. you look beautiful. she feels the tightness of possessiveness in her stomach. you’re beautiful, and you’re all hers. the last thing she had expected when she woke up this morning was to both become your girlfriend and have you like this. the word girlfriend in reference to you still feels a bit unreal. but, then, she looks at you, remembers your sweet question, and she’s flooded with pride. you’re all hers. 
“okay.” your teeth flash at her in the moonlit night, and she wants to kiss along the row of them. if she were a bit braver, a bit more honest, she’d tell you that your smile was the brightest beam of light in this room. even more than the white orb hanging in the sky tonight. but, under your expectant eyes, she crumbles, looking away. she wants to say these things to you. so bad. but, it feels like right when she’s on the brink of doing so, the sheer openness of the words, and their almost-present accuracy in depicting how she feels for you, spike her nervousness. nervousness about how she’ll say it, how it’ll make you feel. 
but, she wants to try harder for you. 
when it’s her turn to head to the bathroom to clean up, she feels bashful to stand up half-naked in front of you. it’s not that she’s insecure over her body – in fact, she’s quite content, if not neutral, with how she looks. but, she’s rarely ever this exposed to anyone’s eyes but her own, and the shameless way in which you stare at her makes her both eager and wanting to run away and escape your gaze.
in the bathroom, she braces her back on the door and finally releases a heavy whoosh of breath. she needed this, a moment alone. eyes closed, she recalls and goes over how the night went with you. her mind immediately begins to split and dissect how she did. she knows you said you enjoyed it, and based on that and your body’s responses, you seemed to have, but she wonders if she could’ve done anything more. anything differently.
when she’s cuddled into you, new boxer shorts on (since her original ones were too damp, a fact which she tried to hide from you before your eyes had suddenly opened and you discovered her carefully opening her drawer for another one), she poses this very question.
you snort, looking down at her. “are you already forgetting how hard I came?”
she feels her face heat up, mouth pressing tightly. no, of course she didn’t forget. if anything, the mental image and physical sensation of it are two memories stamped into her mind. that’s how much she focused on it. “no.” 
“it was great, lee. amazing. seriously, you know how to fuck.”
she pushes her face deeper into your neck, the compliment doing nothing to make her feel more comfortable. “just… answer me. is there anything more I can do?”
“no, no, baby, I don’t think so.”
lee’s feels like her entire body stutters at the casual toss of baby. this is the second time you’ve done it today, and she feels like a third time might make her implode. how do you do it? call her these things with such ease, as though you’ve been doing it forever? she wishes she could transition into these things the way you do. 
“although…” 
she tenses up, mind spinning with one question: what did I do wrong?
“you know, maybe we should talk about kink. like, particulars of what we’re into. not because the sex is lacking or anything, but just, you know, things to try.”
lee relaxes at the words, content to know she hadn’t dissatisfied you. but, they also release another stream of worry in her. through her years at university, due to reading and ample time for fantasy, her tastes have diverted somewhat from what would be considered normal, acceptable sex. not that she doesn’t enjoy that. she’s still rearing from your previous activities, the image of your face during orgasm tucked into a corner of her mind through all her ruminations. but, she has her preferences and likes – ones that stray a bit more from the norm, ones that despite amaya’s insistence, she hasn’t even admitted to her, even though amaya herself has gotten more into s and m since her last boyfriend. 
but, she was content to keep these things to herself, having spent a long while ashamed of them and only now more accepting. in her first year of university, when she first started mentally exploring, she was fresh out of high school, recently departed from her hometown, still barely able to utter the word “lesbian.” the nature of her sexual desires had only deepened her sense of secrecy, as well as provided more bite to the gnawing worry that she really was sinning, and truly was inherently depraved. after all, she was already experiencing the lopsided attraction of liking girls – what did it say about her that she was now imagining being aggressive with them? did it prove the church right, that her attraction really could never reflect pure love, or was there something wrong with her specifically? the first option seemed impossible after what she had experienced in high school with her first relationship. the second option – well, that had haunted her for months.
it was only when she read more on the topic of this sexual subculture, both in theory and relation to other lesbians, did her anxiety ease and she felt herself becoming more open to her own deep-seeded desires. however, this did nothing to tame her shyness in actually admitting said desires. she wants to, especially because she knows if she does, she might actually be able to explore some of these things with you, a notion that makes her throb in want. but, she can’t help but fear the chance of bringing something up and having you look at her in shock, or worse, repulsion.
 it seems she doesn’t need to linger on that possibility, though, and can put it aside for now, for right as she’s about to reply, she hears your soft snores. with a soft huff of amusement, she curls deeper into you. your snores get a bit loud at times, but to her, it’s a lucky tradeoff if it means she gets to rest her head on your shoulder for the night. the last time you two had slept in her bed like this, it was far apart with no touch, no skin-on-skin, just a lot of desire stirring within her from when she had momentarily woken to your parted lips, your shiny drool. being able to now feel the steady lulls of your breathing feels almost miraculous after having wanted it for so long.
the last time she was held like this at night, it was during winter break, when her mom had laid in her bed one late afternoon, falling asleep next to lee. lee had continued reading, eyes wandering to her mom’s face, the creases of it flattened and softened under winter’s light and the deep sleep. lee couldn’t bear to wake her – she knew how much her mom struggled to sleep these days.
after some more careful watching, she had given into the childish want in her, and laid next to her mom under the setting sun. when she was a kid, they used to do this all the time. despite her general discomfort with touch, there was always the exception for her mom. it rang true then, and present-wise, became even more evident when lee woke up at midnight, and found her mom’s arm wrapped around her, fingers pressing into lee’s shoulder. lee couldn’t bear to wake or leave her then either. 
maybe that’s what her life is crafted of. never being able to fully leave anything.
when she wakes up in the morning, bright, yellow light streaming in through the long window, she’s immediately met with the sight of your back, shirt stretched up as you hunch over your legs, sitting up. 
almost on instinct, her palm rests on the exposed skin, trailing up. 
you flinch in surprise, before tossing your head over your shoulder to shoot her a mischievous quirk of your lips. she clears her throat at the sight of it. your hair is mused, your eyes wet with splotches from sleep, your lips cracked and dry. and she feels reverent. she gets to see you like this now – in your first moments of regaining consciousness, half-asleep and groggy, and it feels like the most precious sight. if there is a god out there, at least she has something to thank him for. this private moment, reserved only for her.
“you know,” she mutters, hand disappearing under the fabric of your shirt, “I used to think of this.”
“think of what?”
your voice is raspier than usual, and lee tries not to imagine how you’d sound groaning her name. “feeling your back.” she thinks of that day at the cherry blossom trees, when she had been fumbling thinking of what to say and how she could break the awkwardness that her words at derek’s party had set into motion. she had felt so uncomfortable, yet so softened at realizing that you, too, had missed her. at least enough to invite her out for an excursion. 
“oh? so, you’ve been checking me out this entire time?”
she feels her face warm. the truth is, she has. but, she’d rather not admit that to you and undergo the weeks of teasing it’ll ensue. and so, she continues silently lining her nails along your back, smiling faintly when she feels goosebumps rise under the pads of her fingers. she wants to plant her lips on every one of them.
“don’t think you’re going to get let off this easy,” you laugh, back still turned to her. “now, you have to answer.”
“I’d rather take a vow of silence.”
“please, like you even need a vow in order to prompt you into hours of silence.”
her smile widens at your slight dig. it surprises her, how easily you can state something about her. it comforts her. “you’re right. maybe you should take one.”
you guffaw loudly, landing a smack to her knee. “jackass. you know you’d miss me.”
she’d probably sacrifice her left limb for it. but, instead, she mutters, “I don’t know. could do with some quiet.”
you glare at her. “well, maybe you should date someone more your speed then.” with an indignant toss of your head, you stand from the bed, beginning to step away. 
lee’s hand immediately latches onto your wrist, and with a yank, you’re thrown right onto the bed next to her. her other arm winds around your waist, pulling you in. “come on, don’t do that.”
“you said you want quiet!”
though your mouth is upturned, she detects the faint whine in your voice, and falters, hoping she didn’t go too far. “I don’t want that. I was only kidding.”
you pout, pressing your body to hers. “really?” 
she leans her forehead against yours. “yeah.”
her answer seems to do some good, for you grin softly, kissing her nose. when you do nothing but continue staring, she clears her throat. “what is it?”
“wait here.”
lee doesn’t have a moment to reply before you’re tossing your legs over her bed and running to your bedroom at the end of the hall. she rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling, before a sudden memory blinks inside her mind. 
when you dash back into her room, slightly breathless, your eyes dart to her. “what are you doing?”
she hits the play button. “you wanted to play this song last night.” it’s not just for you. as soon as you had protested her turning off the song last night, she had mentally taken note of it in order to ensure she listened to it today. just like with the Radiohead tape, she wants to know what you like and which songs hold meaning for you.
“it’s called Kiss of Life. very romantic,” you teasingly coo.
she turns away, sitting back on the bed. “suitable, then.” even to say something as upfront as that has her voice lowering in hesitation. 
you giggle, and her eyes lower to your hand, which is clutching the camera she had gotten you for christmas. she always feels a burst of pride at seeing you with it. it was a used one, but had still costed enough that she avoided buying coffee and taking the subway in the three weeks leading up to the purchase. just so it didn’t create too big of a dent in her careful budget. not that she’d ever tell you that, though. she had, and still is, more than happy to just see your eagerness at using it.
you notice her gaze, and raise the camera. “here, I brought it to take some pictures of you.”
“why?” it’s not like she was exactly presentable, nor were you guys in any sort of special landscape, just her bedroom.
“because, I don’t know, you look so comfortable.”
she nods at the camera. “that’ll probably change once you direct that at me.” she was never good at being the center of attention, and photography demanded just that. even last time you had photographed her, at the cherry blossoms, she had only felt slightly more at ease because she was turned away, and smoking – something to occupy herself with.
you laugh. “yes, but you also just, you know, look so relaxed. and to photograph you in this state, a state others don’t see you in – it feels, I don’t know, intimate.”
in spite of the discomfort, she can’t help but feel her mouth twitch. she lingers on your hopeful face, then sighs, reaching over for her box of cigarettes. “fine.” 
“ugh, lee, you’ll stink up the room!”
“the window’s open.” she leans back on her headboard, lifting one leg to rest on her bed. “and I need something to do.”
your desire to capture her seems to outweigh your concern of the scent, for her words make you roll your eyes and mutter out, “fine.”
and so, you do. just as last time, lee doesn’t stare at you as you bend in all sorts of angles to photograph her. she rests her eyes on her sheets, her walls, anything that can take some of her focus away from what you’re doing. she takes drag after drag, rays of hot sunlight hitting her leg as the jazzy tones of the song play. 
when you seem satisfied, ready to place the camera on the desk, she cocks her head. is that it? did you only want pictures of her? “what about you?”
“no, no,” you respond, shaking your head with a smile. “I feel too awkward.”
she hums, pushing her cigarette into the ashtray, wanting to respect your comfortability. but, then, she lingers on it. if she had a photo of you, she could paste it on her wall. or carry it in her wallet. and have something to remember this moment, and last night, permanently. “can I take one?”
“why?” 
she hesitates, the honesty of the confession holding her back for a moment. “I want to have something of you.”
this makes your eyes crinkle, and you hand the camera to her. “okay.” 
it takes a few minutes of you showing her how to use it, and she finds herself fascinated by all the gears and mechanics. she wonders if you still have the pamphlet with the guide so she can look through it later. 
when you seat yourself on her bed, she reaches out to brush your hair back before leaning back, squinting through the viewfinder and snapping a photo. the knowledge that once these get developed, she’ll have a photo of you, fills her with an unexpected bout of eagerness, and she wants more.
“can I, um, take another one?”
you laugh loudly. “okay.”
“here, do something else.”
“like what?”
she shrugs, looking around her room. there’s barely any space for you to use to pose around, nor does she have any dolls or stuffed animals you can hold. but, she does have her window.
“stand in front of the window.” her fingers itch in anticipation. she used to do this all the time as a child. somewhere in her home is a pile of polaroids containing the random objects and sightings she used to snap photos of. “the lighting will look good.”
“you seem pretty adept at this,” you drawl, following her request and leaning your body into the corner by her window. 
she sits on her bed, raising the camera and leaning back slightly to get both you and the window. “I used to photograph as a child.”
“really? of what?”
“dolls I had, trinkets my mom kept, things outside, sometimes even strangers.”
you tilt your head onto the wall with a corner of your lip tucked up. “I’m sure you made many people feel either a boost of confidence or a total lack of it.”
she quietly laughs. she wasn’t aware at that time of the social cues and nuances of privacy contained in photographing someone. for her, it had been as simple as seeing something interesting, and photographing it. that’s it. 
though, photographing you isn’t just about how interesting you look. being older means being more aware of just how much photography serves in reminding her of a different time, and how much it does to encapsulate a moment in a single image. so, to photograph you right now feels like something she needs to handle with care. these photos will, years from now, be the only tangible thing she has of this first morning with you. most of all, they possess your form in it, and that’s enough reason to be attentive in her actions. 
“you should pick it back up, lee.”
she hums. she hasn’t thought of it lately. once she got into high school, she started doing it less and less, focusing more on her academics and slowly letting her creative hobbies wane. every now and then, she had returned to it, but in the last year, drawing and photography were practices that had almost completely vanished from her life. she misses it. it had always given her, at least for a few hours, a sense of direction and purpose, and in doing so, steadied her mind and thoughts. but, whenever she now thinks of picking it back up, it feels like there’s always something more productive she can be doing. she also feels partially afraid of potentially trying and realizing she’s lost her touch.
but, doing this with you definitely rewards her with some motivation. she feels that same single-minded focus she did as a child, her attention completely pinpointed in capturing your face just right under the sun. while waiting for her to adjust, you turn to stare out the window. the golden light casts on you just right, and she immediately presses down on the button.
at the noise of it, you turn back to her, eyebrows drawn in petulantly. “hey, I wasn’t looking!”
she shrugs, setting down the camera. “candid.” you looked beautiful too, but that she keeps to herself.
though, as she glances at you, she thinks that maybe she shouldn’t. you’re still pouting at her, slowly walking over to her. 
when you reach her, palm cupping her cheek, she gulps before murmuring, “you’re beautiful.”
you squirm a bit, then crawl into her lap, straddling her. she immediately grips your thighs, holding you steady. at this angle, desire is pooling between her legs, mind flooded with images from the night before. 
your arms wind about her neck. “and you’re sweet.”
“no. just honest.”
and a bit too close to being fully enamoured with you. but, that she definitely keeps to herself.
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mishapocalyse · 2 days ago
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When We Were Young || Part Two
->Anon asked: Reader was in love with Ben before he became soldier boy like as kids and then grew old watching him become and asshole and then “die” and imagines what their life could have been (would be heartbreaking to read but hey let’s get emotional)
Description: The fond memories of growing up with Benjamin Gilman, the man who eventually became America's Greatest Superhero, become a thing of the past. Yet when the reader meets him again...what will happen?
Pairings: Soldier Boy x (Eventual Supe) Reader.
Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, language, sexual content.
Note: I twisted the request a bit and made the reader a supe. This is still the most devastating piece I think I have ever written. This is part two. ITS BEEN 2 YEARS GUYS AND I FINALLY WROTE THE PART 2!!!! Please read at your own risk.
It could have been anyone…
Anyone but him.
“Y/N…” Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared up at none other then the man who you thought was dead. It had been twenty-nine years since Ben’s death, and here he was, standing in front of you.
“Y/N….you…you haven’t aged a bit—”
SLAP.
A harsh slap against his cheek knocked both of you to your senses.
“I thought you were dead!" You hollered, voice cracking through heavy tears, standing in front of the soldier, who only seemed to smile. "Well...I'm here, aren't I?" He laughed, outstretching his arms for you to come in to. Yet, you pointed your finger, stepping back, your feet hitting the edge of another tombstone.
You clenched your fists, your whole body trembling as you pointed your finger and refused to let him embrace you.
"Why are you here now?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you glared at him.
The smile on his face slowly disappeared, and he looked at you with uncertainty and regret.
"I know I'm late, but I wanted to see you again," he said apologetically.
You shook your head, the tears now streaming down your face.
"You should have come back alive! Why are you only here now?"
Ben looked down, his shoulders sunk, guilt creeping onto his features.
"I didn't want to leave you like that…but I had no choice…I didn't think I'd come back like this…I'm sorry."
You looked at him, the tears still overflowing from your eyes.
"Sorry isn't enough…it's been twenty years…why are you just here now? You didn't come to me for all these years!"
Ben looked at you, regret etched on his features.
"I wanted to, I really did…but I couldn't…I'm sorry…I'm here now, though…"
He stretched his arms out again, hoping to embrace you, but you only shook your head and took another step back.
He looked at you helplessly, his arms still outstretched.
"How can I make it up to you?" He asked, desperation in his voice.
"I can't just forgive you because you just came back now," you snapped, your voice shaking with emotion.
"You left me…alone!" You sobbed, the anger; the sadness etching your still youthful features. "I watched the world change without you…"
Ben remained silent, his expression growing more somber as you scolded him.
"You died, Ben. You were supposed to stay dead. You remembered what I told you on the balcony that night…Herogasm…Do you remember?"
You wiped your teary face, feeling frustrated and devastated as you looked at him.
Ben looked at you, his expression full of guilt.
"I remember…I remember everything you said that night…I can't forget…"
"Our fairytale, what we had was over…you left a whole world behind because you were too full of yourself to see who was always there for you…" You began, your sobs and tears still evident on your face. "Twenty-nine years," You repeated. "It's been twenty-nine years…"
Ben stood there, his expression full of guilt as you spoke.
"I know…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have let my ego get in the way," Ben's voice was heavy with regret, his shoulders sinking lower.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, but you couldn't stop the tears from trickling down your face.
"How can I make you forgive me?" He sounded genuinely unsure, feeling helpless as he looked at you crying while his arms were still outstretched, eager to embrace you.
"I-I'll do anything…I just…I just want you to forgive me…"
Seeing him so earnest and apologetic made your heart ache more. You could see the regret and guilt on his face, but something still made you hesitate to embrace him.
"Anything? You'll do anything?"
"Yes." He quickly nodded, desperate for a chance to make up for his mistakes.
"No matter what you ask, I'll do it," he said firmly, his expression sincere.
"I want…you…to leave." You said without thinking. "Leave, act like you never saw me."
Ben's eyes widened, his expression suddenly filled with shock and heartbreak.
"What? Y-you want me to just leave?"
He looked at you, disbelief and sadness evident in his eyes.
"You want me to just pretend like I never saw you?"
The words hit his chest hard and left him speechless.
"Soldier Boy…Ben…there were people looking for you…I had hopes that you'd come back for me, realize what we had was real. However…you never did. And the first thing you thought to do was show up two decades later thinking I would welcome you back with open arms?" You took a breath, trying to regain your composure. "Do us both a favor, and leave. I think I've had enough heartbreak for the rest of my lifetime."
Ben stared at you, his eyes full of sadness and regret.
"…So, that's it then?" He asked, his voice quiet and solemn.
He looked at you, hoping for even a glimmer of hope…but you remained resolute, staring back at him firmly.
"…You want me to leave. Act like I never existed…right?"
"That's what you've apparently done the last two decades…" You spat.
Ben's expression darkened, realizing he had no room to retort.
He looked down, his shoulders sunken as he stood there, deep in thought for a moment.
"Just tell me one thing," he started, his tone heavy with emotions.
"Did you move on? From me?" He looked away from you, not daring to look you in the eyes, fiddling with his fingers and the fur on his jean jacket. You were silent, whether or not you did move on, the question hung loosely in the air.
"I never did." You whispered, through lidded eyes. "No matter who caught my eye, or approached me over the years. I never slept with anyone, never married, nothing." You turned away from him. It was just like the night he left you...all those years ago.
"I ran after that truck, wanting so badly to tell you I loved you, I wrote letters everyday with no response. I kept your picture on my bedside table, hoping you'd knock on my door. Hoping you would come home. Instead I get a folded up flag, and years of waiting. Life wasted on the one thing I thought would be my eternity." You poked his chest hard with your finger.
Ben grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to at least grab your attention.
"I'm real. I'm here."
You shook your head, feeling your chest tighten, the heartache still too raw to forgive him so easily.
He continued holding your hand firmly in his, his expression pleading as he looked at you.
"I'm here now. What we had doesn't have to be wasted. We can start anew," he tried to reason.
The way he held your hand and pleaded with you, his eyes desperately seeking forgiveness, made your heart waver.
He looked so sincere and apologetic, but you were still unsure.
"How do I know you won't disappear again?" You asked, your voice shaking with lingering emotions.
"I won't, I promise. I won't disappear again," he replied, his voice sincere and urgent.
He held your hand tighter, almost as if he was willing to do anything just to please you.
He looked at you pleadingly, with full regret in his eyes.
"Please give me another chance. Please…I'll prove to you I won't disappear, just please give me another chance," You looked down at the thick snow underneath your feet. The cold was something that made you feel alive, you weren't sure of yourself. But something in your chest forgave him, just this once.
Ben waited in anticipation as you looked down, hoping, waiting, pleading mentally.
When your eyes returned to his, he looked at you expectantly, hoping to see any hint of forgiveness.
His heart raced, hoping you had spared him this chance.
He looked sincere, but you still felt uncertain. Will he really not disappear, or was it another lie?
"I love you, Ben." You choked.
Ben's eyes widened, his whole body relaxed as he heard your words.
He had feared the worst, but never knew how much meaning your words held.
"You do? You forgive me?" He felt his emotions overwhelm him, and his eyes began to shimmer.
"You still love me?" His voice trembled with emotion.
"I've always…love you Ben Gilman."
Ben's chest swelled, his heart full of emotions.
Upon hearing you say those words, his heart felt lighter, but still, tears welled up in his eyes and threatened to spill.
He stepped forward and hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, wanting to pull you into a tight embrace. You pressed your lips against his, a feeling like no other. He tasted like iron, smelled like soot and blood, and felt like heaven.
Ben wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you against himself, feeling your body against his.
He held you close, feeling your lips press against his.
For a moment the cold seemed to melt away, and the past 29 years seemed to fade into nothing.
The only thing that mattered was Ben having you in his arms again. It felt like the old days.
Of when you were both young.
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scrumptiouskoalahottub · 2 days ago
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☁️Stag Do | George Clarke
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[ George is on his stag do with the boys, you're at home as your hen do isn't until next week, as the night goes on the alcohol hits George and he starts to miss you, wishing you were with him; one comment from his friend results in him leaving early to come home to you]
It's around 7pm and you're on the sofa watching your favourite film once again, cuddled up with a hot water bottle and snacks when you receive a text from George.
Geo🩵: "miss you x"
You let out a small smile as you read his text message, no matter where he is, who he's with or what he's doing, you always know there's a thought of you lingering in his mind.
You: "miss you too cutie, having fun x?" You reply
Geo🩵: "yeah but it'd be better if you were here x"
You: "you'll be home soon, enjoy your night, you've got me for the rest of your life remember x"
Geo🩵: "I'm the luckiest guy alive x" he replies
You heart react his message, leaving him to enjoy his night. Flicking through Netflix as you await his return home. As the night progresses George can't help but think about you, feeling a tinge of sadness wash over him as there's nobody in the world he'd rather be with than you right now. He nurses his pint as he stares into space, zoning out sounding out the noise from the bar. Chris notices his absence to the group and decides to say something "hey mate you okay?" He says looking at George with furrowed brows "yeah mate, just missing y/n you know? She just completes everything" he says with a small smile on his face, Chris laughs "mate this is your last night of freedom, focus on something else" he says, George's face scrunches in disbelief of Chris' words. "Why would I want to focus on something else? You're all talking to girls and I'm sat here missing MY girl because you lot wanted to fetch me to a stupid bar in London, I'm off home" he scoffs necking his drink and grabbing his jacket.
"Are you serious? We're all out here for you, leave her at home for a change it won't hurt" Chris retorts, George clocks the comment "it might not hurt her, but it's hurting me, SHE has persisted I stay out and enjoy my night, it's ME that wants to go and see her, I'd rather spend my days at home with her than snake my way around girls in sweaty London bar, talk to me when you're sober" George hisses and with that he leaves, calling an Uber to your flat.
You head to the kitchen to make yourself a hot chocolate before ending your film, the clock strikes 9pm and you feel your eyes getting a little tired. You stir your cup when you hear the front door creak open, it's George. You peek round the corner confused hot chocolate in clutch "George?" You call out, his face appears around the corner "hey baby, got one of those for me?" He says with a smile on his face shuffling over. You set your cup down on the counter and look at him confused "why are you home so early?" You say as he snakes his arms around your waist. "I missed you too much" he says planting a kiss onto your lips with a sweet smile attatched "but it's your night you should be-" he cuts you off "enjoying myself? Yeah, I did and now I'm coming home to enjoy myself with you, cuddled in bed with a film on, I don't need the nightlife anymore y/n, you're my nightlife" he says to you looking at you with doe eyes, smitten for you.
You let out a smile as you hand him your hot chocolate you'd just made "here have this, I'll make another are you hungry?" You ask him shuffling over to the kitchen counter "I could eat" he says walking over to the sofa "it's a good job I've just ordered pizza then isn't it" you say chuckling to yourself as you boil the kettle, admiring George as he picks out a film to watch. You couldn't help but feel a sense of safety develop inside of you, a feeling you've never felt in a relationship before; the way George prioritises you in every aspect, his kindness and caring manner towards you.
"I can't wait to marry you" you say sitting down next to him as you rest your head on his shoulder. "I can't wait either" he says kissing the side of your head.
-
🫶🏻
@arthurhillmastermind
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kryptznnn · 1 day ago
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♡/♛- It's Been A While [III]
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➸ INTERESTS; -mha!shouta aizawa x quirk-using!freader
➸ BACKGROUND; - after an attack at the high school you studied in, you were requested by your work firm and the firm of that school to work as a teacher there for extra security, incase an attack were to occur again to protect the students (and teachers). Unfortunately, it won't be as easy as you expected when you rekindle with old friends, and a specific someone.
➸ WARNINGS; - wc. 4.5k, romantic tension, traumatic disturbances, mentions of medications, bad health history, hallucinations, little bit angsty, haunted by the past, sexual tension, shaking, indecisiveness, confusion, etc.
➸a.i; - its 6am i sleep, also posting the masterlist for the series whenever I wake up, it should be updated on all of the chapters sooner or later this afternoon (also ik the chapter is so long im sorry i was bored) !!
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♡/♛- It's Been A While [ II ]
♡/♛- It's Been A While Masterlist
You sighed as you placed the textbook you were reading back down on your desk your students rushed out of your class. The last bell of the day had rung, and it also seemed like the deadline for your answer to the question Shouta had asked you prior.
His words still rang in your head, you kept both of your hands over the sides of your head, thinking. There was no way you could reject his offer, but there was also no way you could accept it either. Luck was barely on your side knowing that whoever broke into your apartment didn't know your schedule had changed, you couldn't put others in danger.
If anything considered from the heads up your boss had given you last night, whoever or whatever they were must have been after you for two reasons: your status within the embassy, or your quirk. The second reason made much more sense to you however, because if they had wanted you for your title, they would've come to see you much sooner.
Now was a horrible time to even think about or do such a thing, especially since you had to drug yourself up over prescribed medications to even keep your powers and emotions at bay. It's easy for someone to use you for your powers rather than status, honestly that's what you liked so much about the embassy, you barely had to use your quirk.
No one even knew about your quick use of medications to keep yourself at a low after so many losses from your powers. Each time you convinced yourself they were accidents, and honestly, they were, but the number of nightmares you had about the occurrences said otherwise.
Now with everything hitting you all at once you had the option to move in somewhere secure, somewhere safe. You knew Shouta and you knew he was someone who could take care of you, and himself. He was a pro hero for fucks sake, one of the best at that, it can't be as dangerous as you think if you were to accept his offer.
Maybe it'll be a good thing, maybe just maybe this is one of the only opportunities I'll have at being happy or seeing things on the bright side after having such a shit week. Plus, you didn't have to keep paying in cash to stay longer than you intended at the hotel you were planning to stay in.
You stood up from your seat, collecting your belongings from your desk and placing them in your work bag. Determined to find Shouta to speak with him about his offer, unexpectedly you hear a knock coming from your opened doorway to find him standing there.
"Hey" you said softly, glancing back at your desk and grabbing your phone, seeing you had a message. You only turned it off, thinking to yourself you'd answer it later as you placed it in your pocket.
"Hey, I was just stopping by to see if you made up your mind about my offer, it still stands." He replied, his voice heavy as he watched your movements, both of his hands now in his pockets. You looked back at him, now taking him in fully.
He had gotten a lot taller from when you two were this close, of course that was back in high school before you had left. If anything, if you had gotten closer to him, he might as well have towered over you. You only smiled at him and nodded as you threw your bag over your shoulder, placing your hands in your pockets as well.
"I was actually just on my way to go see you about that actually." You began, scanning his face for any reaction from the first half of your statement, only to see nothing but him nodding. "I accept your offer, but I'm not sure I'll be able to thank you enough for it, I have a lot to bring though." You stated, placing a hand out of your pocket and pointing behind you with a smile.
You said softly, you weren't sure if it was the bandages pressed against his collarbone and lower chin that made him put his head down, but you could've sworn he was smiling just now. He'd do that all the time since you two were children, hiding whenever he smiled or laughed, it's good to see that most things haven't changed.
It's almost funny really, how just a few days ago he seemed like he hated you. Was doing everything to avoid you or even speak to you, acting like the grinch almost, and here he was now, with you, smiling because you accepted his offer to move in with him temporarily.
"If it's your bags being too heavy, I can always help you with them and anything else you're bringing. I have plenty of space so you can put your things where you want." He spoke softly, now taking a step towards you, if you were to even move back you would've hit your desk.
You stood your ground and eyed him as he made his way towards you, you only nodded in response. Now gripping on tightly to the bag that weighed down on your shoulder. Your eyes met with Shouta's constantly within seconds, the tension between the two of you becoming thicker with each glance, as you stepped around him to leave you paused.
"If you send me the address to your place I'll stop by later tonight with my things, I need to pack." You said, not even turning to look at him. You needed to get out of that room, and it had to be quick, whatever it was he saw in you to look at you the way you did made you scream internally.
"I don't think I have your new number..." he said as he turned around and watched your state, it's almost as if you could feel him raise a brow, but you didn't dare to turn around and look him in the eyes again.
"My number never changed" you said simply, now turning to the left as your heels clicked. You made your way down the hallway towards the exit and into the parking lot, digging in your pocket to get your car keys. The entire moment the two of you just shared replaying in your head over and over without fail.
As you unlocked your car and took your bag off your shoulder you chewed on your bottom lip. Tossing your bag in the passenger's seat as you sat in the driver's seat, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life.
This was going to be much more complicated than you expected.
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You scratched your head as you looked at the way you placed your bags within the trunk of your car. It looked so disorganized, but frankly you were too tired to fix them any better, the car ride would've been bumpy regardless, so it didn't matter too much. Just as you were going to close your trunk, your phone vibrated.
You reached in the back pocket of your jeans and pulled it out, seeing a message from Shouta and the person who had messaged you earlier in the afternoon. You closed your trunk and made your way to the driver's seat, locking your car as you sat in the parking lot of the hotel you stayed the night at. Now unlocking your phone and going to messages you saw the message underneath Shouta's from an unknown number, you rose a brow before opening it.
[XXX-XXX-XXXX: I won't let you forget about what you've done to our family]
You felt a twist in your stomach as you read it, already knowing who it was from, one of your old 'accidents' that occurred right after high school. The one that caused you the most grief and nightmares from the tragedy, and the same one that made you quickly cut the deal from being a pro-hero and working full time for the embassy.
Without a second thought you quickly blocked the number, sucking your teeth as you slumped into the seat, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You quickly swallowed your emotions as you remembered you hadn't answered Shouta's texts, quickly opening it and reading his message.
[Shouta :) : Hey, here's the address XXXX Main St, XXXX ****. Be safe on your trip here, I'll be waiting outside to help with your bags]
You smiled at his text, looking in your rearview mirror at the bags piled up in the trunk. You shook your head and chuckled softly, only hearting his message and pressing on the address that was underlined. It took you straight to the maps app and you followed your GPS to his place, as you followed it you played music from your favorite playlist on the way.
As you got closer and closer to the destination of his place you began to think how it would be. Was it just a two-bedroom apartment or was it something large and cozy like your own apartment. It must depend on the salary he's getting as both a pro hero and as a teacher, in all honesty you had no idea.
He didn't seem like a huge person on decorations or huge flashy things, so you didn't expect much, but when you drove through in the neighborhood you weren't expecting to see such a nice grey tone looking house. When your GPS told you that this was your destination you blinked out of confusion, looking back at the numbers on the house then your phone.
It wasn't wrong, this was definitely your destination, you just weren't expecting all of this. You shook away your thoughts and pulled into the driveway before seeing the garage open as you shut off the car after parking it. As you opened your car door the garage opened fully, revealing Shouta.
Honestly if you hadn't been paying attention you wouldn't have suspected it was him, he looked entirely different than he did a few hours ago. He was built, and you meant it, he was wearing all black, black sweatpants and a black wifebeater. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail as he kept one hand in his pocket, raising the other one to wave at you.
Thank goodness he did wave at you, because it snapped you out of the little trance you were having of him. There's no way he was hiding all of that in the outfit he wore on the daily with his students and at night on his patrols. As you waved back at him and closed your door to make your way to your trunk you still couldn't wrap your head around it all.
Lost deep in thought you weren't even aware that when you opened your trunk, he was already making his way right behind you. Before you could reach for the first bag in the back his hand grazed yours as he picked it up, then picked up another and threw it over his shoulder.
Your head sunk down slowly as your breath hitched, not wanting to make this more awkward than it already was. You slowly made your way to the side and picked up two much smaller bags and turned to him as he cocked his head to the side, pointing to the house.
"Just follow me and I'll show you where your room is" he said, looking at you, you looked back to the car with a nod quickly. There was no way in hell you two were about to start yet another staring contest, especially now of all times.
As you followed him inside you got a nice view of the house, well the inside anyway, everything was nice and clean. It was honestly pretty bland inside, no sheer pop of color or decors, just furniture that was a sort of marble grey. Anything you could look at or pay attention too other than the handsome sculpted man in front of you would've sufficed.
As you walked down the hallway, you heard him speaking of you having the room entirely to yourself, and the bathroom was just to the side of it. You only hummed in response to his statement as your mind continued to wander, until a sudden question popped up in your head.
"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" You asked, your question quickly followed by a yawn, to which you covered your mouth with the back of your hand. Shouta placed your bags down in your new room, it was big to say the least, neat and empty. The bed sheets were a tan kind of color, sand almost, along with a cream-colored blanket.
"What do you mean?" He asked, now turning to you and raising a brow as you placed your bags down on your bed, looking around the room to see where you'd place most of your belongings. You looked up at him, taking a glance at his face before walking over to the dresser that was in front of your bed.
"When we first bumped into each other you looked at me like you hated me, now we're here." You said carelessly, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you toyed with your hair for a little, looking over to see him in the mirror as he crossed his arms.
"I've never hated you" he said honestly, you now turned to look at him, in the eyes this time. Seeing the same look he had before, a look of sadness and sorrow. You only hummed in response yet again before opening the empty drawers to your dresser and looking inside them all, planning which draw would hold what.
You only left the room in one swift movement and made your way back to your car and grabbing your last two bags along with your work bag. You closed the trunk as you locked the car and began walking back inside.
Whatever answer he just gave you when you were inside didn’t answer your question, you hated how he always beat around the bush. Now you were too tired to argue or pry to get an answer that you wanted from him, you only returned inside through the garage to see him standing in the hallway waiting for you. Without exchanging any words, he just came over to you, taking the bags from your hands in one swift movement and walked into your room, placing them with the others.
“Thank you” you said, removing your phone and keys from your pockets and placing them on your nightstand by your bed. Shouta only shook his head at your words.
“No need to thank me, follow me so I can show you around” He spoke, now exiting your room and pointing down the hall for you to follow him. You followed behind slowly, turning your gaze back to the walls and floors now, not wanting to look at him knowing how easily your mind wanders.
You wondered how he felt about you, honestly it couldn’t be anything bad, he had offered for you to live in his house after hearing of your problems. Even though things ended rocky between the two of you and started again off to a strange start here you were, pushing everything to the side as he gave you a personal house tour.
You couldn’t even call this fate, as of right now you had no idea what it was, but whatever it was made you more curious than ever. As the small tour came to an end Shouta had shown you practically everything. The kitchen, living room, his bedroom and your bathroom, it wasn’t a lot, but it could be, his home was spacious, and you liked that.
He had even cooked apparently, and you complimented it too. His food was good and honestly you were surprised when he first told you, not expecting him to be the cooking type. Soon after you helped him clean up and stood around as you watched him.
Not to mention to your surprise you felt something pet against the heel of your feet, startling you as you quickly turned around. You were met with a small black cat, meowing at you softly before repeating the same action as before. You only smiled and relaxed, bending over to pet it, your back now facing Shouta.
You grinned as you called it pet names as you continued to pet it before picking it up and reading the collar. ‘Yoyo’ you read and laughed, knowing there was no way Shouta could’ve named her.
“This was definitely Nemuri’s doing, I think you’re more creative than this.” You laughed turning to Shouta, who was dangerously close to you. Your arm had brushed up against his chest and you knew better than to move. You only turned all of your attention back to Yoyo, as if you hadn’t realized what happened.
“Yeah, it was, I wasn’t sure what to name her, but I had help” he replied, placing his hand on the back of his neck and holding it gently as he sighed. You gave Yoyo a small kiss and hug before placing her down back on the floor and standing up again.
Without thinking you turned around and face planted into Shouta’s side, immediately pulling back and apologizing as you held your head. He only shook his head and apologized as well, placing a hand on your shoulder asking if you were alright. You only nodded and drew your shoulder back, feeling dizzy at the feeling.
He smelled good, too good, like one of those really nice colognes that would catch your attention whenever you went shopping and passed by the men’s section. You were snapped out of your trance when it seemed for a split second someone was standing behind him.
You immediately darted your head to the side, only to see the figure disappear as you frowned. You just brushed it off and turned into the kitchen, checking the time. As you counted how many weeks it had been in your head.
8:36pm
You were late to take one of your medications, your alarm had probably been going off for a while now and you weren’t even aware of it. Thankfully you had already eaten so you didn’t have to worry about taking it on an empty stomach.
“I have to go, I’ll uh, I’ll be back” you said with a pause, quickly turning around and making your way back to your room. You quickly shut off the silent alarm that had been ringing on your phone for nearly an hour before grabbing your keys and heading outside.
As you unlocked your car and climbed into the passenger seat to open the glove department you saw a shadow in the rear-view mirror. You turned around slowly only for the figure to yet again disintegrate from your view. You took a deep breath and searched for the bottle you were looking for amongst the junk in the department box, ending your search when you found a bottle labeled ‘Risperdal’.
As you cleaned up and closed your glove department box and locked your car you quickly walked back inside. The figure appearing beside you yet again, muttering whispers to you as you ignored it and made your way back to your room digging in your bag.
Your pill cutter where is your pill cutter. You’re prescribed to only take half of the full number of milligrams the pill had and unfortunately you had already taken the other left over half 3 weeks ago. It was surprising to you almost, you had never taken them so close together before, things like these were only monthly occurrences, but it was getting worse.
You sighed to yourself out of frustration as you couldn’t find what you were looking for, your grip on your bottle tightening as the faceless figure taunted you, practically laughing at you through a mouth it had grown out of nowhere.
You made your way back to the kitchen, embarrassment hitting you as you realized you had one of two options. Either hoping Shouta had a pill cutter around somewhere or using a knife to cut it yourself.
He raised his head as he looked up at you after drying his hands when he finished the dishes. Smiling at you softly before seeing something in your hands and raising a brow as you wet your lips and parted them.
“Hey um, do you have any pill cutters?” You asked quietly, but loud enough for him to hear, he slowly made his way over to you. He opened the cabinet beside your head filled with medications, as he reached to the top shelf and got a green pill cutter and placed it on the counter.
He then made his way over to his fridge and got a cold-water bottle, placing it next to the cutter. The entire time he kept his eyes on you, only that you weren’t looking at him, more or less something behind or around him had your attention.
Your eyes trailed on the figure that now morphed into a teenage girl, one who you had known well in high school. She went around and teased you laughing at Shouta as she grinned at you sinisterly as she spoke, you couldn’t hear what she was saying as it all came out as whispers. You knew it wasn't her though, the way her body was so deformed, and her face was twisted proved it was all in your head.
You then looked over to the pill cutter, placing the pill bottle in your hand on the counter before opening it quickly. Then opening the water bottle, shaking slightly as you did so before placing a pill within the tiny machine on the counter.
The girl had now made her way over to you as you placed the device in your hand, clamping your hands down on the button attempting to cut the pill. The more and more she whispered to you and placed her hands on your shoulders the more you trembled, your vision clouded with tears as you chewed on your bottom lip.
Within seconds you felt two large hands overcoming your own, and a firm chest being pressed against your back as you heard a click from the pill cutter. You gasped softly as you were snapped out of your trance for a short while as Shouta took the pill cutter from your hands.
He soon opened the device and took the left half of the pill with one hand, his other one rested on your shoulder. There was absolute silence between the two of you, the only thing making noise was you, your breathing was ragged. He paused as he read the label of your pill bottle, frowning softly before turning his attention back to you.
“Can I trust you to take it yourself or do you need my help?” He asked softly, his body still pressed against yours, you only shook your head in response. You only kept your head down and turned around slightly, the whispers of before echoing in your mind.
Shouta hadn’t said anything else, he only lifted your head slightly, his hand grabbing your jaw softly as he looked at you. It’s as if you weren’t even there with him, looking over the side of his shoulder, your mouth still agape. You watched as the deformation of the girl disappeared, her laughter leaving a trail behind.
He took the pill and placed it at your lips, his fingers brushing against your lips focused your attention on him, your eyes now locked with his. You parted your lips even more now, letting the cut pill go past your lips and hit your tongue, the taste bitter as your eyes never left his.
Your eyes were watery was his first thought, the same way they always were whenever you were about to cry. For as long as he knew you it had been that way, you’d squint slightly before letting your eyes water and cry, and he hated it.
He hated how conceited you were, especially with him, and now it hadn’t seemed like things had changed much. Even now, years later you were taking on way much more than you could chew, and he always blamed the embassy for it.
The two of you broke eye contact as you were the first to turn around, placing a hand on his chest to push him away softly so you could reach for the water bottle he had gotten you before. You quickly chugged the bottle two thirds of the way down, the bitter taste still in your mouth as you placed the bottle down.
The hand you had on Shouta’s chest hadn’t left, he grabbed it softly, tugging you towards him as you turned around again. You looked at his face, hinted with disappointment and possibly anger as he saw your gaze.
“Y/n. Risperdal? What has happened since you joined the embassy?” He said, now bending slightly to reach your eye level, his hands not leaving your arms. You had heard him, but his words weren’t as loud as the whispers that were still echoing in your head before you spoke.
“I’m fine, I took it too late” you replied slightly, ready to push him off of you, but his grip only tightened, pulling you in closer. You’re too close to one another, way too close. You weren't sure if your thumping heartbeat was getting louder from the way he held you or the sounds ringing in your mind, but you didn't like it.
Even through the haze of what you’re going through you can tell that this was wrong, even though it felt good, and it made you feel warm inside. You shook your head and pushed him off of you successfully this time as he left you go.
“I said I’m fine.” You repeated harshly, glaring at him as you watched his sad expression quickly turn angry, glaring back at you in return. Your hand clammy as you squeezed it open and closed again. There was no need for him to care so closely to you as he had before, you two weren't together anymore.
“You’re still a shitty liar, I guess you haven’t changed since when you left.” He responded harshly, you looked to the side and thought back to when you left initially years back. Your expression softening as you took a breath and stopped clamming with your hand.
You only excused yourself and bid yourself goodnight, practically speed walking back your room before slamming the door behind you. Taking all preparations and moving your bags to the side as you got ready for bed, laying underneath the covers with your earphones in listening to your music as you tried to tune out your thoughts before drifting to sleep.
Maybe you were right about putting Shouta in danger by living here, but the danger wasn’t from the outside or whoever was after you.
The danger was you.
౨ৎ⋆˚。⋆౨ৎ⋆˚。⋆౨ৎ⋆˚。
Taglist: @getoisinnocent
✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn
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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 days ago
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Hi! I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on Rebecca and Eric from "Luster" by Raven Leilani. I just reread it recently and yeah, it is incredible (saying this as an almost 23-year-old Black woman that sort of identifies with Edie).
I really enjoy both Rebecca and Eric as characters - and within their separate relationships to Edie. However, it's really hard for me to understand which scenes/instances - besides the obvious humiliation they both participate in in regards to Edie - that show explicitly Rebecca's issues with rage and Eric's more absolute loserish tendencies.
I mean, I'm not completely unaware of the unsavory ways in which they act; not going to list them all out. But some of the reviews - including yours - and even interviews with Raven Leilani that talk more about the characters, don't go as in-depth as I'm looking for. I feel like the ogre reading Joyce :(
[The lines from the book I've been thinking of most often - though not my favorites are Eric saying "I don't think of you as a person at all" and (I'm gonna get the wording kind of wrong, but) "I cry everywhere and often" near the beginning of the book]
I hope this is asking too much. I really enjoyed your review and I'm already kind of looking forward to reading it again because of it <3
hi anon,
well Rebecca, to me, is impossible to read as anything BUT a white woman hitting middle age and realizing that she made all the "right" choices - she has a job that pays well and she married a stable man and together they adopted a child and got a good house in a good (read: white) neighborhood - and still isn't actually happy with her life.
I mean, what does Rebecca actually have going on? she's exercising furious control over her body via furious physical activity because it's one of the only things she can feel in charge of. she pushes the same on her daughter, making a child count calories in a way that's absolutely going to give her a complex. she didn't want the child in the first place; she tells Edie verbatim that she never wanted to be a mother and while I do think she cares about Akila's well-being I think she also knows that she's wildly ill-equipped trying to parent a traumatized Black girl. she's in an "open" marriage that reeks of "we either had to open the marriage or get divorced" that she micromanages from afar so that Eric gets as little freedom as possible with Edie in the early stage of their relationship; Rebecca doesn't actually want Eric to fuck someone else, she wants him to get tired of trying and come back to her.
after the initial humiliation of trapping Edie at their anniversary party Rebecca remains emotionally distant towards her; even after she invites Edie to stay in her house she stays mercurial and her mood is subject to switch on a dime, always falling back into little power plays to remind Edie she's in charge, because Edie is a safer and easier target for Rebecca's pent up frustrations than her husband or daughter. she's exactly warm enough to Edie to make it hurt more when she's callous and mean, which I don't think is strictly intentional (I don't think Rebecca consciously knows what the hell she's trying to get out of their dynamic, either) but is still an extremely shitty way to treat a vulnerable young woman who's currently completely dependent on her for shelter.
arguably the most relaxed we ever see her is when she takes Edie to a mosh pit, because that's one of the only moments of unrestrained emotional authenticity that Rebecca gets to have - and it's wildly outside the norm of her day to day life, something that she's supposed to have left behind when she started dating Eric. Rebecca is so furiously dissatisfied with everything about her life and I frankly think she'd be happier if she disappeared in the night to go be a bartender or a roadie and never saw her husband or daughter again, but she'll never do that because you Can't do that, not if you're a respectable woman trying to cling to the signifiers of success that you worked so hard for.
re: Eric being a loser I really don't know what I need to cite other than him having a wife and a girlfriend and not treating either of them well tbh
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heliswife · 3 days ago
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「1:27 a.m. ft. lee taeyong」
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"...you awake?"
Your voice is barely audible. You can hear the rustling of blankets and you can see Taeyong's silhouette facing you. Even in the darkness of the late night, you can make out his facial features.
"Yeah, what is it?" He responds groggily. You probably woke him up, but that's a problem for future you to deal with.
"No matter how I try, I can't fall asleep. Can you?"
"Not anymore." Taeyong sees the pout on your face. His expression softens as he gently takes your hand. "Do you want me to stay up with you until you can?"
You nod. Taeyong uses the hand that's holding yours and his free hand that's now on your waist to drag you onto his lap.
"Let's talk about something," You suggest, "I don't know what about, just anything." You grab one of the plushies that's on your bed for moral support. A goose plush a friend gave you a few birthdays ago.
Taeyong looks at the plushie, then back at you. "Does it have a name?"
"This little guy? His name is rotisserie, stupid name, I know."
"I think it's cute. Do the others have names?" Taeyong grins as you begin to introduce all of your plushies to him, even adding an a few fun facts about each of them.
"Tomorrow, I'll buy you any plushie you want," Taeyong says, pecking your lips, "As long as you name it after me."
"God, you're stupid," You giggle, "Taeyong Jr. doesn't sound too bad, though."
"I told you!" You and Taeyong are both laughing now. Once it finally dies down, Taeyong gently hoists you off his lap, "Let's get some rest now, okay baby?"
"Okay Tyong, good night."
"Good night."
The digital clock read 1:27 a.m., the only source of light along with the dim moonlight in the comfort of your bedroom.
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l-in-the-light · 3 days ago
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Chapter 1131 commentary
Finally the long break is over!! And no break next week :3 Let's start from the survey again, they're honestly quite fun to come up with :D
Now, let's move on to the chapter itself :D
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Luffy's so excited! And why? Because finally it's confirmed they're in Elbaf! Which means I was right, his excitement from before wasn't because he saw Elbaf (this is the reaction right here instead), it was because of the snow! :D
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Luffy is so excited and he's not even listening to Loki anymore, lol. Loki at first follows through, but soon he can't even sneak in a word anymore, haha. The manipulator having a hard time getting Luffy's attention. A moment later he snaps and scolds Luffy, I mean... for a master manipulator he's not overly patient or good at steering those conversations in direction he wants them to go...
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Hm, interesting how Loki treats humans. He clearly takes care of them, but thinks of himself as their master and requires they call and treat him this way. Reminds me of those thoughts I had in previous chapter commentaries, that for giant people normal humans will seem like toys, puppets or slaves. Though it is worth noting Loki seems to indeed take care of them properly, so maybe more puppets or underlings. I wonder why they wear gas masks... because of the putrid smell?
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Treasure Tree Adam confirmed!!! So it's actually not Yggdrasil!
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Seems Loki has the same issue as Luffy with remembering people's names, lolol. Loppy, can you imagine...
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The Realm of the Dead, lowest layer of Elbaf or also "the first world", where criminals and condemned are kept, a prison and execution ground. Where humans wander around as "walking corpses" (in clothes covered in "putrid smell", in blood from the deceased perhaps?), to disguise their presence to survive, otherwise they will get devoured by the beasts. They seem to be also servants (of the sun god?), they end up here by "defying Elbaf" or by trying to challenge it. It's indeed a lot like Rodo's detention centre roleplay model. Seems Luffy doesn't like the sound of it. Later in Hajrudin's scene we learn that it's also a hunting ground for the brave warriors (but who isn't brave in Elbaf, the land of war?).
It's worth noting that the accursed prince Loki apparently was held in this lowest layer since he was born (or soon after he was born). He says it himself: he friended the beasts because he knows them ever since he was a child. So the conclusion here is that he must have been kept in this underworld realm for most of his life? After all only those "who defy Elbaf, criminals and condemned" are living here. My hypothesis that he is called accursed because of some prophecy or mark he was born with, seems to line up with those pieces of information we got so far.
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I admit I'm impressed with Luffy. He actually did not attempt to free Loki, despite the fact he was so shocked that Loki was kept here for 6 years. He listens to him and stays with him, but doesn't agree to his ideas and doesn't even comment much. I'm proud of Luffy, Law would be proud too, Luffy is no longer causing random chaos without knowing more about the situation. Is Luffy finally growing up? 💔
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More lore. The World of the Dead belongs to the Sun, hm? Is that why Loki is kept here or is he calling himself a sun god as the result of becoming a master of this realm (by making everyone his underlings so now he is their god)? Interesting.
Also it's kinda rare to associate sun with underworld, not counting some indigenous beliefs of people from Amazon rainforest. I remember reading in anthropology books that sun can be linked with the realm of the dead, because everyday it makes a journey on the sky and finishes it in the underworld (then the night falls on the world). If you hop in on the sun god's carriage (it's actually a canoe swimming on the sky carried by two big birds), you can actually travel between the world of the living and the world of the dead. The god can be nice enough to transport back a lost human that ended up in the underworld because of grief and falling through one of the pekari pig's holes in the ground. But the human that is dead but returns back to the world of living will appear to humans like a regular pekari pig. Apparently after humans die they turn into pekari pigs and are kept in pens by the god of the underworld, who takes care of them. It's actually not clear which god it was. The myths refer to them as "master of the pigs". It might have been the sun god, or god of the underworld, or maybe it's one and the same being.
Amazonian myths are very interesting, but rarely ever referenced in modern fiction. I don't know if Oda is referencing it here, but the moment they called Sun the God of the Underworld, I instantly thought of that. I will be surprised if anyone in OP fandom even considered the possiblity that sun can be linked with the realm of the dead! Oh, it makes me have so many interesting thoughts and observations about the world of One Piece in general...
Also, nice worldbuilding intro to Elbaf. Seems Elbaf has "multiple" worlds, each located on it's own level of the tree Adam; it's very similar to the norse mythology realms that you can travel into by descending or ascending Yggdrasil :D
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Luffy already tamed those beasts, huh XD five beasts, a bear, a gorilla, a wolf (I think it's a wolf at least?), an elephant/mammoth and a snake. Snakes and gorillas often appear in important worldbuilding arcs of One Piece, somehow. I know the zoology of OP is often overlooked, but I feel like it will bite us in the ass before the end of the series.
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Because look at people's reactions every time Luffy tames the beasts easily. It's a really uncommon talent! It seems very important, maybe it's some special trait only passed down in Luffy's lineage? The picture Oda drew of child Garp taming some wild beast also comes to my mind... it might be a D. clan trait, or maybe it's just Luffy's lineage trait. Was Joyboy good with animals? :P I mean, that question just begs to be finally asked... at least minks and Zunesha have an important connection to Joyboy...
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I solemnly swear I'm up to no good, signed by Loki, lol. He said all this shit on purpose to provoke Luffy, but I dunno what his plan here actually was. If he realized that Luffy was so happy at the mention of Shanks, then calling Shanks names is not gonna get him what he wants from Luffy, quite the opposite really. And again, the triple dot of doom... We shall remember this moment, I guess.
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TCB is kinda failing with their translation a bit in this chapter. The last line is definitely spoken by Loki again, because it's another pissed off bubble, but they translated it like it was something said by a third party instead... The alternative translation also makes more sense: "if you can't move, then don't piss me off" as in "should you even provoke me if you can't fight back?" instead of the "whatever, I don't care" attitude. Makes more sense for Luffy's personality, he's not a "whatever" type of person. It was also a while since we last saw Luffy defending his friends like this :D
Loki doesn't seem to like Luffy very much, there goes the good first impression, haha. Already plans to kill him off in anger lol. (that will definitely not happen btw, he will 100% change his opinion on Luffy) Curiously enough Luffy seems to like him a bit, as long as he doesn't trashtalk Shanks.
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See? Now here it makes more sense. "I will tell you more about Shanks if you do something for me". The earlier "coward" approach was such a nonsense in comparison. Did Loki seriously just expect Luffy to sit there and listen to him trashtalking Shanks? For a master manipulator, Loki kinda falls a bit flat, ngl. People have already pointed it out that he seems more like Usopp-type, selling some lies to appear more important/respected than he actually is. That attitude might have the root in similar childhood: always staying on his own so telling talltales is his coping mechanism, just like it was for Usopp.
At this point we might question whether Loki will indeed bring any sort of end to the world or is it yet another lie (or perhaps he got banned to this underworld realm as the result of a prophecy told at his birth?). And he most definitely isn't a sun god, he just thinks he is because he considers himself the ruler of this lowest realm of Elbaf, which according to the beliefs is the realm of Sun God. So it's a natural conclusion: if he's on top of it then he is the sun god himself, right. But despite his name, he's not really a trickster or anything like that, Doflamingo would easily outclass him.
Also a moment of appreciation for cute blushy Luffy :D last time we saw his blushy cheeks from the cold was in Punk Hazard!
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Sunny spotted! It looks like a toy when Giants are carrying it, haha. Like a cool boat toy for kids. I can't with Zoro, always trying to cut up their problems, lol. Glad Usopp is the brain of the group.
I bet the Giants actually want to catch up to Strawhats to get them to safety, not to kidnap them again lol. Well, maybe except Rodo, he might want some payback 😂 though would he openly oppose Hajrudin, even if he refused to work under Strawhats? I'm not sure Rodo has it in him tbh, now that it's been exposed that he kept them hostage, lol. I wonder if he's now in trouble or what haha. Or maybe he lied and said he wanted to deliver them to the feast once they wake up but they escaped him instead lol.
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Random appreciation for Usopp the brave warrior getting over his fear of heights thanks to his fear of being chased by their captor :D
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Appreciation for their cute little song :D
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I wonder what's that all about? Sun stone? I guess I will have to wait for Japanese youtubers to address this, they might have something interesting to share.
I like how Hajrudin is still full of gratitude towards the Strawhats! Even preparing a feast for them. I have a feeling Giants really like to drink and have feasts all the time XD
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Woah, what a fun snake-like creature there in the sea!
Brook is cute with how anxious he is. I'm glad that finally he's around new people who are laughing at his skull jokes, because Strawhats are so used to it already that they just ignore Brook by now, heh.
Bonney's excitement :D Franky is suddenly becoming very nostalgic, no wonder, he met Robin at Water 7, his home, and they had that "adventure" at Enies Lobby together. (he really looks great in those clothes btw. Some people speculate his cowboy hat actually belongs to Robin and she borrowed it to him, I actually love that idea!)
Yet another triple dot of doom, this time coming from Robin hmmm.
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She looks cute indeed. Oda really highlighted this scene though, hm. her blush is adorable :D
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And another triple dot of doom. Third one already this chapter, and two from Robin alone. I wonder, is it time for callback to Water 7 finally? They even mentioned the events of that arc in this chapter, it feels like a build-up honestly. Are we finally getting the payoff from that arc?? Is it finally the time to share my Robin conspiracy theory with the world?! (yes, I do have one. I have it ever since I reread Water 7 for the third time. There are loose ends there and I think I know where Robin's story is going towards from now on. Hence why I'm so hmmmm over all those triple dots bubbles lol)
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Hm, TCB translated this as "he fell and can't get up" while other translation went with "he fell and he's not moving". Honestly the second one sounds waaay more dramatic. I mean, he might be just drunk, we saw Saul drinking while he was listening to Vegapunk's broadcast. But that would make this cliffhanger really lame, ngl XD
But IT IS very curious that we get this cliffhanger teaser here just before Robin and Saul can finally reunite, right?? I kinda want it to lead to some serious development, not a gag.
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Time to share the results of the previous survey! Technically, everything listed up there can *still* happen in the future, so I will keep it in mind to return to those results later as far, just to see how correct we all were, for the laughs and potential self-satisfaction gloating moment!
But as for this chapter alone, the second option seems to be the winner. "It's not Luffy's business" lol. So far in my surveys only the minority choices win and we all thought we know Luffy so well already! Hey, I was also completely off, I really thought Luffy would attempt to free Loki immediately :D
This break was way too long, I already need the next chapter please, it was hardly enough!
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stargazerbibi · 22 days ago
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can't wait to be done with tests so i can read for 12h straight
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iwakuraz · 4 months ago
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..
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byanyan · 5 months ago
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the amount I've been hoarding away some of the memes I've seen on the dash over the last week or so is so not okay for someone with as many drafts as me ashfjdh
#me: i want to focus on getting through all my drafts when i get some energy back#also me: but good & juicy memes........#I'm thinking I'm gonna lean more into doing whatever the hell pleases me once I get back to writing tbh#but I'm almost definitely throwing all the drafts into a paused queue that I won't start posting until they're all finished#will I reblog a meme or two to play with as I do that? probably. almost definitely.#fresh stuff always helps get my brain going again ahdjgsg#but know that drafts will be happening!!!! I did delete some stuff but like. not enough lmfao. I have too many great threads#that I can't bear to let go of and i've kinda accepted that at this point#sorry I'm so slow y'all pls know that me taking forever to get to shit has nothing to do with how much I'm enjoying our threads#the fact that I'm clinging to them despite wanting to start completely fresh & dump everything says a lot more about how much I love em all#anyway. may or may not write tonight? I'm going with the flow tonight & rn the flow is telling me to keep reading#I finished my reread of the second book in the millennium series last night (& stayed up way too late in order to do so ahdgksg)#& I've started my reread of the third today and I just. I can't stop. it's too good.#if I find the willpower to put it down at some point I might dabble in poking at smth but. if not perhaps tomorrow uvu#(also want to note I've been marking the books through my reread with pink page flags#whenever smth really smacks me in the face with how much byan was inspired in some way by lisbeth lmfao)#ANYWAY. love u guys!!! I'm lurking & hoping you're all doing well!!! 💜💜#━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ ooc ⋮ don’t @ me.
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