#if my girl doesn't it's the end of the story
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clfixationstation · 4 hours ago
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all of this. yes.
my only thought is that because straight ships are seen as "normal", Isayama (and many other writers) assume that audiences require less convincing to get behind them and find them believable. Which isn't entirely untrue - there are many m/f ships out there that I've seen straight fans get behind with the bare minimum (from people I've talked to in-person, not just online speculation).
the next assumption writers could be making is that straight couples don't require a high level of understanding and companionship. From my observations, it's unfortunately the case that it's not always expected in straight relationships what do you mean your boyfriend doesn't think you should have rights?? doesn't see you as a full person?? and you still want to marry him???!? girl RUN. It's often (subconsciously) based on the bioessentialist idea that men and women are very different beings with different roles to fulfill, and therefore can never fully understand each other (ugh).
that's why "our worldviews directly conflict and we can't fully understand each other, but we're still drawn together by love and that in itself is an understanding" just isn't compelling to me personally. I've seen it with many canon straight ships in many stories over the years. (to be clear, I am not accusing people who enjoy such ships of being bioessentialist - I do not know the mind of every person)
and then there's yumihisu. Ymir was immediately drawn to Historia because she saw her past self in her, and was determined to empower Historia to live for herself with pride. After a lonely childhood, Historia welcomed Ymir's company and understood that Ymir's abrasive comments betrayed her good heart. Even with the secrets between them, Ymir and Historia had this deep understanding of each other and offered each other compassion and companionship.
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and for some of the other ships mentioned in the tags:
1) I didn't pay much attention to reibert, but wdym reiner "having no interest in women" went nowhere?? like?? and Bertholdt liking Annie out of nowhere was kinda funny. 2) kenuri is kind of just. uncontested canon. 3) I never expected eremin to be canon, but the level of understanding and reverence they hold for each other is unparalleled. 4) I actually love aruani, and that's primarily because their relationship is based in understanding and appreciating each other's perspectives; seeing positive qualities in each other that others could not. It could've used more time to cook, but that's my only criticism
#like why did eremin parallel yumihisu and reibert. while eremika was CANONICALLY framed as a parallel to the most toxic horrific relationship
THIS TAG. This is the one that gets me. eremika paralleled Ymir and King Fritz; Mikasa's love bound her to Eren the same way Ymir's love bound her to Fritz. However, Mikasa was able to free herself from the bindings of her love and act for the greater good. By killing Eren, Mikasa freed herself and Ymir. Acting despite all the love she has for Eren, refusing to allow her love to keep her bound - that is what frees Ymir
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now, obviously Eren did not treat Mikasa anywhere as badly as Fritz did Ymir. Eren being an ass is NOT equivalent to Fritz's abuse. It's just. That parallel does not indicate to me that eremika is, or could be, a positive relationship. Conversely, I think some people interpret it as eremika's pure and good love showing Ymir what love should be like, in contrast to her relationship to Fritz. While that's a sweet interpretation, I have a difficult time agreeing. Mikasa spent the entire series chasing after Eren, desperately trying to keep her last piece of family alive, living in a perpetual heartache. Eren, on the other hand, hid and stifled his feelings for Mikasa until the end. Where Mikasa always desires to return home, Eren will always run forward towards "freedom". To me, the point of eremika is that it's doomed. It represents the beauty and cruelty that exist simultaneously in the world. While they had love for each other, their relationship was layered in pain all the way through
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uhhh I got off-track.
tldr: I hypothesize that m/f ships require less "evidence" to be convincing to audiences because they are the norm. As a result, many m/f ships are written more shallowly than f/f or m/m relationships, whether written as lovers or friends.
why did isayama put his whole pussy into yumihisu after saying he can’t write romance. and then fumble when it came to the straights.
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lambilegs · 1 day 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.
----
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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sorcave · 1 day ago
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Hating Calypso does not mean you don't understand morally grey characters and defending her does not mean you understand them.
I've seen many takes from those defending Calypso in one way or another dismissing those who hate her as "not understanding morally gray characters" which is simply isn't true. Defending her as a poor victim who didn't know any better does not mean you understand the concept of morally gray characters either.
The main divide is whether intent, her actions, or both matters in defining her morality and by how much. Either side of that spectrum is missing the nuance of the situation- she's not a supervillain intent on making Odysseus' life horrible nor is she an innocent, naive girl who shouldn't be held accountable for her actions. To me, while I don't think she is evil, she is at the darker end of the "morally gray" spectrum as her actions are so egregious that her intent nearly doesn't matter.
Most defenders use the story that Calypso tells in "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" as their evidence. She didn't INTEND to hurt Odysseus- she hasn't known anyone before so she didn't know! She was just lonely! She just loved him! If you were stuck on an island all alone for 100 years and finally someone came, wouldn't YOU want to make sure they didn't leave? Besides, she apologizes for her actions!
This is a trap that the song actively brings listeners into. It is meant (or at least easily interpreted as) as a plea for sympathy, to make the audience feel empathy for poor Calypso. It is not a simple explanation for her actions and it is definitely not an apology for them. The reason it feels like a "Youtuber Apology" is that they share many similar characteristics. She is intentionally vague about what she is apologizing about, to the point they are nearly irrelevant. "Coming on too strong" wasn't the issue- it was "Coming on too strong" AFTER Odysseus told her no ( "From here you're mine, all mine"/ "Hell No") was. It doesn't address her main crime, specifically keeping a man AGAINST HIS WILL for seven YEARS, even AFTER he became so desperate to leave that he was moments from committing suicide. Lastly, she doesn't take accountability but (intentionally or not) blames Odysseus . "I'm sorry if my love was too much for you" is a VERY common phrased used by abusers to shift the blame from themselves onto their victims.
The crux of the issue for me is while her rough experience up until she met Odysseus may explain her actions, too many people seem to use it to EXCUSE her actions (including, seemingly, the narrative itself). Why this rubs so many the wrong is because of how many real life victims have been told they have to "forgive" their abusers because their life was hard or "they didn't know better." Many who were bullied as a kid had at least one guidance counselor say they needed to "forgive/even befriend x because they are struggling/ \[Insert Bad Thing Here} happened to them." Many others see Calypso using the same tactics their own abusers used to hurt them, and justifiably hate her for it.
I am not saying someone is wrong or stupid for having a more forgiving perspective on Calypso. If you are one to put more weight into intent than actions, I could see why Calypso could be a much lighter gray ( I am not seeing many defenders saying she is an entirely innocent, "morally good" character"). It can be argued that her actions were not of an intentional abuser but of a goddess who haven't had much experience with relationships before, especially with mortals. If her idea of romance came from whatever the Ancient Greek version of romance novels were, it makes sense that her idea of romance may not be the healthiest. Heck, even reading the myths would explain or even excuse why she didn't see "She's my wife" as a sign to back off- for probably at least 90 percent of Greek Heroes, that would not matter.
In summary, Calypso is a morally gray character- but that doesn't mean there aren't valid reason to dislike or even hate her. Seeing her as dark gray bordering on black doesn't mean you don't see the nuance- many who are against her understand her intent may not have been evil- but that her actions make her intent almost irrelevant. So please stop dismissing those who dislike/hate her as simply misunderstanding/being naive with morally gray characters. Many are not (especially since the entire show is full of them) and simply put weight in her actions more than her intent.
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dragonsoulage · 1 day ago
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Giving back the bird's wings...
feat. Levi Ackerman
After some observing Levi confrontes you about your relationship with your boyfriend. He can't longer look and ignore the feeling that tugged at his heartstrangs. You deserve so much better...
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In this story you are working for the survey corps as maid in the headquarters. And you have a really toxic relationship with your boyfriend. Idk why but writing for Levi always makes me want to write something angsty. So here we are ☠️✨ please be aware that some things can trigger. So take a look at the warnings.💖 Oh and I suck in proof reading ☠️
Wordcount:4k
Warnings: Angst, ab*sive relationship, tox*c relationship, mentions of domest*c v*olence, sad, but fluff especially in the end. Levi is really tender with you 💖
You sat there in his office, tears streaking your beautiful face. It hurt him, more than it hurt you.
He found out what happened, not that it was that hard at all, people just needed to take a closer look, a more concerned look behind that happy exterior you always put on.
It was convincing, nearly so convincing that Levi himself might not notice, not right away.
But he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.
You were a sweet girl, you have always been. So giving and selfless. You weren't in the corps, no. But you worked for them as a maid.
You cleaned and made the beds for the scouts. You cooked and served, and of course always had an ear for everyone who needed it. Not only that, but you were part of the group who made the scout feel like family. Especially the trainees, the new ones.
Levi was always gruff, pretending he would find you annoying.
Although it was indeed the opposite. He knew you was a person that probably would give someone else your last money because they needed it more than you. Too good for this cruel world, too good for him.
Not that he ever had a chance, he always thought to himself. You were taken, not a single lady. Your boyfriend was part of the military policy. A tall guy, strong and really an eye-catcher. But well even when he always seemed so concerned for you, or so nice. He wasn't.
Levis steel blue eyes looked at you, how you hid your face behind your hair. That pain on your face, it tugged in his heart strings.
Why you were sitting here?
Well, after Levi slowly found out what kind of man your boyfriend was, he simply observed you. Some signs were clear, he wasn't dumb. He saw how you hid your bruises, how you cried alone, ate alone. Always trying to avoid when someone asked you...really asked you how you have been.   
But tonight he had enough of observing and lurking around you. He was sure, your tears you shed give it all away.
A barrier that broke after he pointed it out.
"It's not like you think, he can be gentle, I swear. Sometimes he just doesn't know how he should control his strength." your voice was thin, even now you was defending this piece of shit? This man, who claimed to love you? And yet hurt you so much.
"Stop defending him. He hurts you, you don't hurt people that way when you love them." his voice was cold, he was angry. Not at you, of course not. His hand went through his raven strands. "You are too good for him, you give him everything and he did what? Throwing it away? And you still think it's your fault?" There was a chuckle that ran down your spine, he was not amused far from it.
"Some people need-" you wanted to start why you saw something good, you always saw something good, even in the captain himself.
"It still makes my blood run cold, to remember what he did before. You never told me anything at all, or anyone. I don't watch, (Y/N)." he stated firm, and he was really concerned, for you. Too soft, to get hurt by someone like this, a bird in a cage which wings were cut off.
He stood up from his seat makes his way around the desk before he stopped in front of you. Your head hanging low.   
"It's not like I would be oblivious, i-I know what he does." You meant, your voice trembling. When you were small you always wanted a man like you had now, big and strong, popular among the ranks, a smile that makes your heart warm, until you discovered his smile, your boyfriend heart was not real. His smile never reached his eyes. It made you believe that simply you was too different for this world. You were the problem, in being too sensitive, too emotional. Caring too much for everything. You were a smart girl, but you lost your own worth for yourself.
Thinking it was all you ever could get.
"When you know, why then you are still there?" he asked in a deep voice, still standing in front of you, looking down at you. He wanted to get a reaction from you, wanted you to see how damn wrong this was.
"Where else should I go? What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your voice filled with sorrow and yet with anxiety.
"I want you to speak it out." Levi meant, and in his head he was killing this man about the 100th time.
"Speak out what? That hitting your girlfriend is wrong? That insulting her is wrong? Making her do things, she never wanted but never had a choice? This is the world we were born in, everyone has problems. Mine is not different. It is what it is, not that I deserve anything at all when I am taking everything too my heart, I try... I fucking try. And it is me who-" you said, and your voice went a little louder in the end, you wanted to lash out not knowing why, tears started to run down your cheeks again. He stopped you, grabbing your chin and lifted it so you were forced to look at him.   
"You are not aware how this makes my blood thin, to remember what you are to him." Levi himself talking a little louder because of the intensity of this situation. He would never allow anyone to touch you like that again. He would rather die than have the hands of this filthy man on you.
Alone the thought how much you suffered at these hands, not just physical.
But the Captain was right, what were you to your boyfriend? A question you asked yourself a lot, wanted to be better, wanted to improve, although you were already perfect in other eyes...in Levis eyes.
"What am I?" you asked, and you looked so vurnable to him, he wanted to shield you from anything cruel this world offered you.
"You are...precious." these words simply came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Not that they were not true, but maybe because they were too true, to himself.
"(Y/N) you are lovely, probably one of the most...purest people I know. You take care of everyone and everything around you, simply because this is the being you are. You make a place feel like home, because you are home." his voice lower this time laced with raw honesty, not that he sounded pretty about that, it was everything he usually would never say out loud. He then went to one of his knees and hold your hand. Your teary eyes widen, no one ever said anything like that to you. No one appreciated your personality like this.
"At least to me..." he than added thin. You took a shaky breath, tried to wipe your tears away. But his hand already was on your cheeks, his thumb collecting the salty fluid.
"Why are you saying this?" you asked him, it was irony still asking questions if this was true, how bad this man had damaged you?
"Because otherwise you wouldn't see it, not that you would see this now, he damaged you, broke your wings." Levi stated and there was this glint in his eye, a silent promise to himself.   
"He broke more than that, he never had a nice word what he really meant." you spoke and at least you now was lured out of your shell, telling him what you really felt. Levi meant every word he said to you. And he was not known to say things like that. You were that sweet expectation, he needed to let you know what you were to him...you were home.
"Levi..." your thin voice spoke his name with such a need, because you felt so lost.
"I give them back to you, I promise." he said it just made you cry more. You felt like you wanted to crawl inside you, away from this situation. Levi would give you back your wings, that were cut of so rudely.
"Shhh." he soothed you then before you was pulled into a warm hug. You were sobbing, like crying out every bit of pain your boyfriend gave you.  
After that conversation, Levi would never allow you to go back to that bastard, not with the knowledge he had.
You stayed in the headquarters. Levi stayed the whole time by your side, until you fell asleep, you were just so exhausted from all the crying and the distress. After he was sure you slept safe and sound he made his way out.
"Where you're going to this time?" a known voice was heard behind him, Levi turned around it was the Commander Erwin.
"Taking care of things." he replied, and it was with a cold tone, hard like steel. Erwin for sure wasn't clearly in the picture what had happened, but he knew Levi wouldn't react like this when it wouldn't be necessary.
"What things?" Erwin asked sternly.
"Removing some trash around here." Levi answered, not giving away at all what his dark plans were.
"Whatever you need to do, make sure it disappears thoroughly." the Commander said before he let Levi go his way. He knew he was going to kill someone, and that someone would be your heartless boyfriend....
Levi knew you would cry, he knew you would break. But you were broken long ago from a person who never even deserved all the love you could give.
His stepped were determined, with that one purpose. Someone who was just so fragile as you and yet so strong trying to hold your head above water, it hurt him.
You were drowning all by yourself, and this bastard of a man pushed your head underwater, filling your lungs so you couldn't scream.
It was unfair to him, like so many things. So many things weren't right, but this, this was not just something. You were good, lovely even, and Levi knew when it was time to let things rest, but this? How should he rest when he knows the bitter truth that someone was making your life harder. Making your life...not worthy.
When Levi reached his place he wanted to be he took a deep breath before he knocked on that door.
Someone opened it, indeed your boyfriend with that bright smile, that smile that teared you apart.   
"The Captain of the Survey Corps, how can I help?" he asked him not aware how the next hour would go for him. Besides the fact that he didn't even ask for you. Your work was done about 3 hours ago, and you didn't come home. Levi knew that because he was the one who stopped you from going home.
"Hm, just checking up on things. Your girlfriend works for us, just doing some check-ups." Levi said gruffly in a low voice, his eyes looked hard, although they always did. He was short yes but not less an authority, he stepped into your home, the home you shared with this man.
"Oh yeah of course, we do these check-ups too, in our ranks." your boyfriend replied with curt smile letting Levi in.
"Where is she?" the Captain asked quiet stern, as he walked through the living room his hand resting on the sofa you probably used to sit.
"(Y/N)? Running some errands by now, she is always up on her legs. Like the good maid she is." he chuckled and well indeed he had this charm, seeming so nice and polite. All an act just to make people think he would be worth something. The short man sighted running a hand through his hair before his steps stopped. Turning around to the man.
"Errands? To this time? Isn't it a little late for that?" he cocked his head to the side, like if he was testing him. Your boyfriend was lying into his face, like he lied to everyone. It made Levis heart heavy to know that you belonged to this piece of shit. Someone who not even cherished you, who wouldn't give anything to you. Not more than a hit to you, not more than just empty words.
How often had you cried, because of him? How often your pretty eyes turned red? How often did you hid in your bedroom, hoping the next fight would be over. It was nearly like Levi could see all those things happen when he was inside this place.
"Well, yes it is late. But you know her, right? She wants to get things done." the other man meant not giving away anything. Levi groaned before the door was closed from the outside.
"Yeah she wants that, she always does a good job." Levi meant and walked closer to the tall guy who claimed to love you.
"It's not safe at all for a woman like her to wander around alone to this time, don't you think?" his voice cold, not a hint of warmth. God Levi would give everything, everything to protect you. Slowly your boyfriend turned irritated by these questions, the behavior. He furrowed his eyebrows tried to wave this off.   
"Women like her?" he asked Levi with a certain edge in his voice.
"Women like her....soft, and good, make you warm around your heart with a single smile. Make your day better by walking by. The way she pours in tea...with such a determination to make someone happy nearly can be annoying when it wouldn't be so beautiful." Levi mumbled more to himself, when he realized how much you meant to him. How much you affected him.
"You don't deserve her, and you know it don't you?" Levi asked him the direct looking nearly menacing in his face.
"What you are talking about? Sure you are still doing check-ups?" your boyfriend asks and slowly there was this other side getting out, his face turning stern and angry.
"Yeah, check-ups on you. You really thought you hid it well enough?" Levi started and well Levi was shorter yes, but this guy wouldn't stand a chance against him.
"It is not of your concern what is between me and my damn girlfriend." he stated with a low and dangerous voice, all that bubbly and happy side he appeared vanished in this second, it was clear it was never real.
"She is my concern, she was when she started working by us. She hides her bruises well enough, you don't hit her face, I give you that." Levis words meant to provoke, to justify his actions he would take. And Indeed your boyfriend never hit your face, it was always so pretty, and he didn't want to ruin it, but he didn't want anyone to notice what was happening behind closed curtains.
"And? What now? Reporting me to the higher ups? Congratulations Captain, no one cares about a fucking maid." your boyfriend claimed with a cruel chuckle, cracking his knuckles.
"It's already too late for that, when you really think this here has a happy ending for you, than you have not paid enough attention boy." Levi grumbled and then it started...   
That "fight" was short, indeed short, your boyfriend was so fast on the ground with Levis form hanging over him, bashed against the wall. Not more than a howling hound now.
"Please, I never do it again!" that tall guy cried, after he got hit many times in the face. His wrists already broken because of Levi.
"I swear! Stop, please." he begged, begged for his life, never did he thought something like that would happen. That someone would come and actually give him a lesson, but more than that to actually punish him for what he did.
"You didn't stop, when she asked you to." Levi spit out into his face, maybe it was wrong, maybe this was the wrong approach to do it. But man like him would never change, they would find the next victim. You already suffered enough... maybe it would hurt, but this pain, Levi knew he would be able to heal it for you. At least this is what he wanted to try.
With some more action of Levis fists your boyfriend slumped to the ground, alive but barely breathing. He asked himself why someone like Levi came to do justice for you.
"You want her to yourself." he stated with a weak and raspy voice.
"It's not about what I want, but what needs to be done. She suffered in your hands, and this what I gave you was not even the half of everything she went through. How could you hurt her?" Levi asked him grabbing his throat looking him dead in the eyes.
"Because she let me... because she is that pretty bird I wanted to keep in that cage." he answered and maybe your boyfriend was now honest for the first time in his life.
"She is good and you knew that. A shame that a man like you had her, had the chance to love a precious being like her and yet ended up locking her up, cutting off her wings, for what use? Because you felt strong? What a pity you need to be, when you need to hurt others to feel strong? Piece of shit." Levis voice was dangerous sharp like a dagger he meant every word, he was so angry at this guy.
"And now do me a favor and fucking die." was the last Levi said to him before he snapped his neck.... it was done now, he removed the trash.   
Weeks went on after this incident, your boyfriend...he was being missed, his body not found, simply no one expected him to be dead, but he vanished.
You were aware what had happened, even when Levi never told you exactly that he committed murder. It was not like that tit was selfish, but he couldn't watch, couldn't watch how you would always be haunted by the actions of this man. And well...you truly let your happy guard down, behind that a sad girl, a broken one. So much weight on your delicate shoulders, a weight he wanted to lift. Levi would carry every burden, even when you never wanted him to.
He gave you time, not even expecting you to love him, to show him a sign of something, a small glimpse. Everything he wanted was that you felt safe, felt cherished.
Levi was in his office again but when he looked outside the window for just a fleeting moment, his eyes caught your sight.
You stood there in your maid dress you always wore, you finished working. Standing outside and handing out some pastries you bake. Of course Sasha was literally eating out your hand before Connie and Jean could get some. You weren't healed, but you seemed lighter, there was something about you now...something that made him want to believe it was justified what he did. He would give everything to a new sight to drink you in. The woman that was so gentle, yet always ready to give everything she could, just for a smile from another. The Captain found solace in watching you, your features highlighted by the sun. These lips that curled into a warm chuckle. These eyes that always gave away how you felt. At least to those who took a look, a real look.
He would give everything to borrow your indifference to see the world through your eyes.
You two had something together, the world had been unfair to both of you and yet you were able to be like this. Able to give that what Levi couldn't show. Not that these feelings weren't there, he cared a lot, more than he would admit, but you were the part that showed it.
You would complete him.
After you gave the three scouts the pastries you then went inside again, not many moments went over and he heard a knock. "Come on in." he replied with a curt voice. And there you was, none of you talked about the fact he made your boyfriend disappear.
You opened the door, with a tray in your hands, a warm cup of tea, Earl Grey, no sugar with a shot milk. And one of the pastries you bake, glazed with honey and walnuts.
"Before my shift is over I don't wanted you to pass out the chance to get one of those, before Sasha and Connie will kill all the pastries." you spoke with a sweet voice. You still seemed to carry a burden, yet you seemed lighter. You placed the tray on his desk, stood there next to him for a moment. Furthermore, you were thinking. There was this tension, the question if you should ask or not since weeks. The tension wasn't bad at all, but it was palpable. So much Levi felt it too.
"Your shift is already over, I know when it ends, and you worked longer than you have should." Levi pointed out with a short nod to the clock.   
Indeed, your shift would have ended about 45 minutes ago. You wiped your hands on your apron before your face turned to him.
"Yeah maybe it was, but I enjoy being here. It's home now, remember?" you answered and was referring to the fact that he told you, you were home. And it struck his heart for a moment when you said that. You weren't shocked about what he had done? You were sweet and gentle yes, but not oblivious. Likewise, you knew your situation had been bad, probably when Levi wouldn't have noticed, when he wouldn't care you would still be locked away like the bird without wings you were.
Yearning for freedom. You were still learning, learning to fly, learning to take your freedom Levi gave you. You were living in the headquarters now, not that old home that hold so many gruesome memories to you.
He gave back your wings, the feathers slowly grow back, with each passing day.
"(Y/N)... I-" for once Levi wanted to start, wanted to explain why he did it. But you shut him up, with a simple gesture. Shoving the tray closer to him.
"You gave me back, what I wasn't able to get myself. Maybe it was not the perfect way. But...what is even perfect?" you asked instead you looked him deep in the eyes.
A silent understanding. It was a moment that not seemed to went over.
"You are." Levi replied, when he said that your eyes went so soft. It has always been like this, he never expected anything in return for what he did. He yearned for you, for so long, for that understanding and lovely woman you were. The way you made him warm around his heart.
Always feeling so unlucky when you had been taken, by a man who never truly wanted to see you. Because Levi saw everything about you. Every aspect that made you...you.
He lived like he got missing limbs, for you. So often he felt a piece missing. A missing heart next to his.
"Don't say that, Captain." you meant to him before you bend down a little because he was sitting, and you had been standing next to him.
"You said I am home... I want you to say that I feel like you are home too." you spoke before you took a deep breath, leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss on his cheek.
The usual stoic Captain, so composed. He felt vurnable for a short moment. Someone who saw behind his exterior, even with the things he has done, and would do again.
"Thank you, Levi. For everything." you whispered wanted to turn awa
37 notes · View notes
zepskies · 7 hours ago
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@lamentationsofalonelypotato
Aww I'm so happy to hear that, friend!! 🥰🥰
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It's not a problem Dean, (the gun is obviously BUT) she is beautiful and you will love her and I will cry at your wedding.
Ehehe it's funny you mention their wedding...
Dean no. No feeling bad for saving your girl and for killing the "sack of shit in human clothes."
Ugh right? Trust, he doesn't regret killing that bastard loll.
Also I didn't notice the Colonel Sanderson thing before and now all I can think about is KFC lol.😂 Which is not to take away from how good this fic is or how well it's written. It's just me lol.
Actually THANK YOU for noticing that because Colonel Sanders was an intentional reference! lmao I saw some meme that called Asmodeus "Bullshit Colonel Sanders" and it made me cackle, so I included that a little bit here. 😂😂
Oh goodness she is already so protective of him and oh my word the wink had me melting lol.
See! It's not taking that long at all for her to start softening up towards him loll. At the very least, she doesn't want to see him killed for her after killing for her.
I also don't think that I mentioned this before, but I really like how you wove in the other characters in the show. Seeing Benny and Cas show up just made me so happy.
Aww thank you!! 🥰🥰 When it comes to AUs, I try my best to fit in canon characters where they make the most sense to me, and try to make them feel "as themselves" as possible.
Oh my word seeing that fight in my head, um... YES PLEASE. And the loyalty?! The love for their friend?! The "Goodbye brother."? It's so good.
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Imagining Dean in uniform, even if he's fighting his friends, just does things to me too loll.
Ultimately, Benny and Cas are good men even in this world, and they didn't want to have to bring in him or Mila to the Colonel either. 💜
She's squishing his face! That is so cute, oh my stars. Plus I am cackling at how long it took him to be able to say her name.
Ahaha this was my favorite part to write for this chapter! Dean struggled, bless his heart. 🤣🤣🤣
I absolutely love this! I really love it when writers pick the names of their characters based on the meaning behind it. And the fact that you gave the meaning of her name a backstory of her mom having a dream and the butterfly meaning that Mila "would have a free mind" is just so perfect for her. Because she is stubborn and she does have "a free mind" by being rebellious and strong, by being a strong female character who does not conform to the whims of what other people deem to be appropriate for her. Also it was funny that Dean thought she was like a "lioness."
Aww thank you!! I'm usually pretty conscious of names and the meanings behind them, but especially in this story I got deep into the research of the Lakota people, and I found that names are very important to their culture, now and historically.
When I was looking for a name for her, Kimmímila stood out as being beautiful (with a nice nickname), but perhaps on surface level didn't reflect her true personality. So that's why I worked in that backstory with her mother's dream, vs. who she wanted her daughter to be, and who Mila considers herself to be. And bonus, what Dean observes of her! lol
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So I absolutely love all of your observations here, because that's exactly what I intended for her!
This is a really wonderful line, that the war "never really ends." It really fits this story and honestly it really fits the entire early history of the United States when it was acquiring territory and embracing the "manifest destiny" ideals.
Aww thank you so much!! That's what I thought as well, not just for this story, but for the greater context of U.S. history during this time and the push to industrialize the entire country.
Okay, the whole part where she is explaining things about her life and her culture was so sweet. Them opening up with one another is just so soft and a little fluffy and I'm so glad that they got to have those gentle moments with one another. Not to mention this bit where Dean admits how much he likes listening to her, is just so good lol. And I thought it was really on brand for him to be a little upset that she doesn't completely trust him yet, even though that he killed one of his men. But he's got to learn to be patient... and then propose. LOL.
That was so fun for me too! The "getting to know you" aspect. I thought that opening up to one another was needed here, and it gave an opportunity for more historical tidbits!
Ahaha yep, she's a hard nut to crack, but Dean need only be patient. He's won a lot more brownie points with her than he realizes. 😏 "And then propose" -- I'm weeeak!! 🤣
Don't be afraid to admit it Mila, we all know how good he is to look at. And why shouldn't you look at your future husband? 💍
Ha!! Ikr?? Also, you're getting dangerously warm to what's coming in Part 3. ❤️‍🔥
Oh my sweet goodness, the TENSION!! This is so good my friend and I am so excited for what the future of this series holds and am praying that it doesn't end in death!😬💗
The romantic tension is real!! lmaoo
Thank you so, so much, friend!! Part 3 is my favorite part, I think, and I hope you'll be happy with the outcome, even though we've got a fair bit of action and angst ahead...
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The Honorable Choice - Part 2
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 
Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.
AN: “Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…” ⬅️ If you’ve seen The King & I, then you’ll probably be singing that line in your head like I do.
Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.
Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU
Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack
Word Count: 3.1K
Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Dean, historical tidbits, fluff
🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist
🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!
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Part 2: Death & Sacrifice
Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and the hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.
“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.
The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.
Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.
Dean has a problem.
Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 
He just can’t do it.
His finger eases off the trigger of his gun, and he lowers it to the ground beside him.
“I told you,” he says. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Her head tilts as she stares at his gun, then at him. She relaxes somewhat, and she backs off of him, sliding from his lap down to the grass beside him. Her closed fist with the knife comes to rest at her side. She gives him a look of wary bewilderment.
“You are a strange man,” she says.
Dean has to laugh a little, smiling at her afterward.
“I guess so,” he replies.
Her brows furrow. “You killed one of your own…for me?”
He nods, and his smile falls with a weary sigh. The hard part about that is he doesn’t feel much guilt about what he’s done. At the same time, he does, and the conflict churns in his stomach. He knew what kind of man Roman was. He was the kind of soldier that could’ve filled Colonel Sanderson’s shoes one day. A fellow soldier under Dean’s command...
And a sack of shit in human clothes.
Dean leans back on his hands in the grass and slides his legs out long. His stare falls to the earth between his boots. The ground is soft underneath him. Maybe it rained this morning. 
“Yeah, that’s gonna make it tough when I go back,” he says. “At best, that’s a court martial. At worst…”
The Lakota woman frowns, her dark brows nearly meeting in the middle as she considers him. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him.
“Tell you what,” Dean said. “Give yourself and your horse a rest tonight. I’ll go back and tell them I lost you in the canyon.”
Her eyes widen further in surprise. He can’t blame her for it. He’s surprising himself every time he opens his mouth.
“Will they kill you?” she asks.
Dean shrugs. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”
She levels him with a firmer look, one that demands the truth.
His nonchalance wanes, and he sighs.
“They might,” he says.
She shakes her head. She seems to deliberate over something, but eventually she comes to a decision. Just when she opens her mouth to speak, a gunshot rings out and hits the ground not far from their feet. A warning.
The sound of hooves thundering on the earth reach them before they look up. Two horses gallop towards them in the distance, their riders wearing blue uniforms.
They both tense up, but Dean is the first one to move. He grabs her arm and helps her stand along with him. They scramble back and lead the horses by their reins further into the trees. They find a denser patch and a raised hill to crouch down and hide behind.
The mustang is too tired to go very far, but Baby is already making anxious sounds, protective of her rider.
“Shhh,” Dean whispers, and runs a soothing hand over her side. He leads her to lay down with her legs tucked underneath her.
The Lakota manages to do the same with the mustang after whispering to him softly in her language. There’s a trust between them, Dean realizes. They have a connection that seems to mirror his own with his horse. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.
“Captain!” Benny calls out.
Dean grimaces, but he stays quiet. He turns to the woman and holds a finger over his lips. She stares back at him in apprehension. He begins to creep slowly around the hill, but she grabs onto his wrist. For a second, she looks just as surprised as him by the reflexive action. Then, she shakes her head at him.
Don’t go out there, her eyes say.
Dean smiles, and he gives her a reassuring wink. He gently removes her hand and gestures at her to stay where she is. He army crawls up the side of the hill. It gives him a vantage point to watch his men, who approach just a few feet down below. 
“Captain Winchester!” Cas calls next.
“We don’t want to have to come and get you, Dean. Come on,” Benny says. He does sound reluctant, for his part. His voice grows more somber when he says, “Colonel’s given us orders to bring you and the girl back…dead or alive.”
Dean knows the position he’s put his own men in. He doesn’t blame them for following the Colonel’s orders. He just hopes they can forgive him for what he’s about to do.
He leaps off the edge of the hill with a yell and brings Benny with him to the ground. He sweeps Cas’s legs out from underneath him, then tosses a punch that lands on the corner of Benny’s chin. He kicks Benny’s gun away, and wrestles Cas until his pistol falls from his hand. The three men scrap and trade blows, until Dean is the only one left standing. His men are groaning on the dusty ground, slowly picking themselves up.
Dean’s heaving for breath as well as he leans back against the side of the hill. Despite that momentary victory, he knows what they all know: that this fight isn’t going to end until either they’re dead, or he’s dead.
“Where’s the girl, Dean?” Benny says. He implores him to see sense. “We take her back with us, we can smooth all this over with the Colonel. All of it, even Roman.” 
Dean lets out a deep breath, but he shakes his head.
“Can’t do that, Benny,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
There’s a question circling in his friend’s eyes, but after a beat, Benny seems to know the answer to it. He picks up his gun from the ground. Just like Dean once did, the Lieutenant now has a choice to make.
He shares a heavy look with Cas. The two of them nod, before they focus back on Dean.
Benny’s hand falls, and he stows his gun.
“You died today,” Benny says. “We found your body somewhere in the canyon. Your horse too.”
Dean nods, with something of a smile. He supposes faking his death is the only option now. He rips the badge off his uniform jacket and tosses it to Benny.
“There’s your proof,” he says.
Dean shares a grim nod of respect with Cas while Benny examines the torn patch denoting a captain’s rank.
“Take care of each other,” Dean says.
Benny’s head raises, and he meets Dean with a somber gaze.
“Goodbye, brother.”
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Dean doesn’t return to her until the men are out of sight through the trees. She’s still hiding along with the resting horses, waiting for him. That alone surprises him. It would bring a small smile to his face, if the weight of that goodbye didn’t feel so heavy on his shoulders.
He reaches out a hand for her. It takes her a moment to consider it, but she accepts his offer.
He helps her to her feet, after which, she quickly pulls her hand back. She’s wary of his touch, her face guarded when she looks up at him. Dean supposes he can’t blame her, even if it does strike a nerve. After what he just did for her…
His face becomes stoic, and he turns away to grab his hat from the dusty ground. “We should probably head out.”
She nods and calls to her horse to encourage him to his feet. Despite himself, Dean can't help but be curious. How did this girl manage to tame that wild beast?
“Does he have a name?” he asks.
“Mato,” she replies.
“Mato,” Dean echoes. “Does that mean something? You know, in your language.”
She eyes him wryly, brushing her hand over Mato’s hide.
“It means angry, like a bear,” she says.
Dean snorts. “Yeah, good name.”
He remembers his bruised side (and ego) from when the mustang threw him off his back.
Dean watches her with another realization as she gracefully mounts the horse. Baby has gotten up to her feet as well, already nudging the back of his arm with her snout. He rubs her nose in affection.
Then he turns to climb up onto her back, settling his feet into the stirrups and loosely grabbing the reins. He follows his companion’s lead farther into the forest, but he guides his horse to fall into step beside hers.
“Will you tell me your name now?” he asks. “Think we’ve been through enough together at this point, don’t you think?”
She considers it with a tilt of her head. She looks over at him with a small smile.
“Kimmímila,” she says. The syllables roll off her tongue effortlessly.
Dean raises his brows. “Kim…Kimmeela.”
She shakes her head at him, her lips pursing.
“Kimmímila.”
Lord help him, but he tries his best. His brows furrow.
“Kim…mila,” he attempts. She guides Mato closer and grabs Dean by his cheeks with one hand.
“Kimmí.”
“Kimmí,” he repeats with his cheeks squished. His face is starting to warm up, and not altogether in embarrassment.
“Mila,” she says with a nod.
“Mila,” Dean says. “Kimmímila.”
He’s treated to her smile, warm and true. She releases him, her gaze flitting over his face. Then she keeps riding. Dean grins to himself.
“Think I’m gonna call you Mila,” he says. Make it easier on myself.
She even laughs, a honeyed sound. “Yes, my father does too.”
“What does it mean? Your name.”
“In your language?” she says, in a tone that teases him back. She becomes thoughtful as she searches for the word. “It means…butterfly.”
“Really?” Dean remarks. She doesn’t strike him as a butterfly.
More like a lioness, he thinks, only somewhat holding back his grin.
She gives him some side-eye, despite her amusement.
“You think it does not suit me,” she observes.
“Well, I didn't say that—”
“I don’t think so either,” she admits. “There are many things that don’t suit me.”
Dean chuckles. He can imagine that.
“But my mother had a dream before I was born,” Mila says. “She saw beautiful wings, and said I would have a free mind. When I grew, and wanted to spend my days with horses more than cooking and sewing things, she didn’t call me free. She called me stubborn.” Her face begins to fall. “Maybe too stubborn.”
Dean offers her a rueful, sympathetic look. “Yeah, I get it. My brother always said I was damn hardheaded,” he says. “…Maybe we’ve got more in common than we thought, huh?”
Mila’s smile returns, however slightly.
“You have a brother?” she asks.
“Oh, yeah. He’s a lawyer, so he’s more needed back home,” Dean replies.
Damn. He really does miss his bookish little brother.
He explains to her about his family, his brother and mother who still live in Lawrence, and how he joined the army, in part to honor his father.
“What happened to him?” she asks.
“He died…in some cornfield near Sharpsburg, Maryland, fighting the Confederacy,” he replies, heaving a breath.
"Con...federacy?" she questions.
"The South," Dean explains. "See, most of our southern states thought they should be their own country, letting slaves plow their fields and mind their kids. I may have lived on a farm, but my father always paid his workers. He fought for the Union."
"So you fought among yourselves, over land that did not belong to you," Mila points out.
Dean falls silent. After a little while, he concedes her point with an incline of his head.
"Fair enough," he says, glancing over at her. “I think my dad thought the fighting would end with the war, but, uh...it never really ends, does it?”
Her expression of curiosity fades, turning more solemn.
“No,” she agrees. “…I am sorry for your father.”
Dean's a little surprised to hear that from her, but he nods his thanks. They continue to talk as the sun begins to set in the west. When it dips behind the canyon, they stop to make camp for the night, and he helps her catch a rabbit to roast on the fire they build together.
That night over the meal, she slowly opens up to him. He learns that she’s an only child, though she has a sibling-like bond with her older cousin, Šóta. She spends most of her days planting or harvesting their crops, depending on the season, as well as sewing, painting, helping the elders of her tribe with tasks, and helping her mother and aunt cook.
When the rabbit is gone, she unbinds her long, thick hair and untangles it while she speaks. She explains that the Lakota are just one of many tribes. There are six other bands of Sioux who live in this region. Along with the Dakota and the Nakota, they are the “Seven Council Fires” who have made the Great Plains their home for generations.
She tells him about the way her tribe lives, caring for one another, giving the land back as much as they take, and letting it rest. The men hunt and protect the village from the outside, but the women protect the inside, their way of life.
Most of all, Mila tells him, she loves caring for the horses. She goes out and rides whenever she can duck out of her mother’s watchful eye.
Dean enjoys listening to her stories. He likes what he learns about her, but also, he just likes the sound of her voice, smooth and steady, almost calming. He thinks she might like the sound of his too, the way she’s smiled at him, laughed with him, glanced at him when she thinks he’s not looking.
She still picks a spot as far away from him as she can to sleep though. She keeps the fire pit in between them. He even catches sight of her knife, hidden in the hand she tucks underneath her cheek. Evidently, she doesn’t fully trust him just yet.
It annoys him at first, considering how many times he’s saved her already. How much he’s sacrificed just to get them this far…
Until he remembers how they met. He remembers the disdain and anger in her brown eyes, then the mistrust, and the fear hidden underneath. He thinks of every experience she’s likely had so far with the U.S. Military, and anyone else who looks like him.
Dean settles down on the ground and stares up at the innumerable stars in a raven sky. He’s exhausted, but his thoughts don’t let him rest for a while. 
At the very least, the way she looks at him now is softer than that first day.
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In the morning, Mila watches the strange man wake.
He blinks and rubs his bleary eyes, yawning, groaning at the sun’s brightness like a child. She hides her smile by bowing her head over the apple she’s cutting with her knife. The orchards span wide across the forest, and soon he’ll find two yellow-red apples beside his head.
His brows raise at them, then he looks up at Mila sitting with her legs crossed behind the small fire pit. The wood there is just ash and blackened remains now, but it still carries the smell of burning.
“Morning,” he greets.
She nods back at him and pretends not to watch when he sits up with a groan, stretching and bending his arms high behind his head. He removed his uniform jacket to sleep. It allows her to see every dip of male muscle that his plain white shirt clings to, even in the long sleeves.
Her gaze furtively runs over the broad shoulders, the tapered waist, then back up to his half-bearded face, defined by a strong jaw and dark brows. The sun catches on his brown hair and teases the ends of it golden.
She would never admit it, but he’s not unpleasant to look at. 
Last night, she declined his offer to travel with her until she reaches her tribe safely, but he was insistent. Again, strange.
So here she is, with him. Here they are. 
Dean turns to see the horses grazing nearby. Mato no longer has the saddle and bridle his men put on him. He looks rested and at ease. He even whinnies at Baby, tossing his head a little. She answers him and flicks her tail. They continue eating together.
Dean smiles, then grabs an apple. He raises it to her in thanks before he takes a large bite. Its juices run down the corner of his mouth, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. Mila can’t help but be drawn to the sight.
She tears her eyes away when he looks over at her.
“We have a long way to go. Three days, if the weather is good,” she says, continuing to carve pieces of her apple to eat. “We will know we are close when we reach the river.”
Dean nods in understanding. With a grunt, he gets to his feet and takes another bite out of his breakfast. She doesn’t expect the way he approaches her with a hand outstretched. She looks up at it, then at his expectant face.
“Come on. Let’s hit the road then,” he says.
Mila considers his offer for another moment. He seems to be making this a habit. Amused, she wonders if this is just kindness, or if the women of his people aren’t allowed to stand without a man’s help.
She pockets her knife, swipes her braided hair over her shoulder, and slips her hand into his, allowing him to help her to her feet. When she gets there, he’s closer than he should be.
A breath gets trapped in her throat as she once again looks between his warm hand closed over her smaller one, and his face. In the small space between them, there is a different kind of tension than before. Mila can’t tell what the man is thinking when he looks at her like that, but she doesn’t like it.
And at the same time, she does.
She takes back her hand, and she goes to the horses. She firmly ignores how her heart gallops, even as she rubs at her chest like it’s an ache that can be soothed.
She doesn’t hear Dean’s unsteady breath, nor does she see the way his green eyes follow her.
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AN: *rubs hands together* Well, here they are! It's all starting to come together. What did you think of Dean's decision?
Coming up next, we have the final part: some action, some fluff, and some potentially perilous situations for Mila and Dean...
Next Time:
“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”
Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.
“I will protect you,” she says.
Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.
“Mila…”
“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”
Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.
COMING 11/17! (New chapters every Sunday.)
Or read Part 3 on Patreon now!
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claudialover · 2 days ago
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Sofia is my favorite character in the serie, I love her so much...she's beautiful and crazy and psycho and traumatized. Full of nuances and layers. All of this made me love her, so I'm very sad about what happened to her.
I mean, okay, at least she's alive, but omfg my girl spent 10 fucking years locked up in Arkhan and when she got out she didn't even get a taste of freedom before she got locked up again.
SHE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS!
I know, she did things, but watching her, her story before and after Arkhan. everything with her father, everything she did. how she felt about gia...she's crazy and all ok, but she's still empathic and cares...I don't know, I really wanted a better ending for her
Who cares she killed some people? she's beautiful and... oh, no words for her. either way she doesn't deserve this, Oz should be in her place
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evi-anxiety · 1 day ago
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Why Allura's Death Was Unsatisfying
You know, I think the reason Allura's death was so unsatisfying was that there was no buildup or closure to it.
I've been thinking about. Major character death isn't new to audiences, and it can be done well. It's sad, yes, and not wanted by most means, but it's possible to have it written in a way where it not only
makes sense, but
delivers closure to both the character and the story
So how do stories do this? I've found the biggest way is through buildup.
We as the audience already know, or at the very least have a feeling, that this character is going to die. Maybe they are destined to die by prophecy, or have some sort of illness that has no cure. Whatever it is, we have the suspicion that this character might not make it to the end.
Another thing is that when a character dies, it serves to wrap their character development and personal arcs. They have grown to be the most ideal version of themselves within the confines of the show, and now they're moving on.
This is satisfying to the audience. It makes sense.
Allura's death has neither of these things.
There was no buildup to her death. For a majority of the show, fans expected Voltron to end with all of the seven main characters alive, because there was no need to expect otherwise. The writers did not give us a sign that someone might possibly sure. So when Allura dies at the end of the show, it's sudden, and it feels almost abrupt in a way.
It didn't wrap up her character arc. Now there's a lot of controversy on whether or not characters even acted remotely like themselves in Season 8, and I'm not going to get into that. It was clear though, that Allura still had a lot growing and learning to do, what we were meant to interpret after the show's ending. She also never really got the chance to be a leader or avenge her nation the way she wanted to. Sure, she defeated the Galra Empire, but she still needed to rebuild Altean civilization and fix what the Galra had destroyed for the entire universe. She doesn't get to do any of that.
In conclusion, Allura would have been better off as a character had she not died, OR, they should have written Allura's arc differently in a way that it would make sense for her to die. She simply had too much to look forward to after the events of the show that nothing of her personal arc got tied up with her death.
Free my poor girl she did nothing wrong.
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respectthepetty · 1 day ago
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Season two of Chaser Game W was just as wacky as the first, but I'm going to go on record and state I believe season two was better because Fuyu really got to evolve and kept me entertain with all her hilarious facial expressions.
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The finale began with the Red Devil back and back to her old habits, but instead of Fuyu immediately caving, she figured out this was her father's doing.
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And when Itsuki was spiraling after Fuyu's mother visited, Fuyu was like, "You told my mother to eat poison, right?"
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Because this is a color-coded family and her mother would not abide by the assigned color-coding. She also made their sweet daughter beg to not be sent away, so grandmama gotta GO!
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Everything comes back to those gay penguins! I'm not even slightly upset that Fuyu's ex suggested she not tell people about her relationship with Itsuki. Not everybody can be out in all aspects of their lives, so it's reasonable to protect their child, they must rethink how not everyone can be trusted with the truth.
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Our mama penguins decide that is solid advice and encourage their daughter to call Itsuki her aunt in public, so the bigots aren't mean to a five-year-old child.
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But the bigots are doing the most to teach their children to hate others at a young age.
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And even though my babygirl was thrown off by their decision, she also understood the reasoning behind the decision because it's clear they are in love (the color exchanges say so), and they love their child. Not telling others doesn't make that love any less valid.
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But after all of that, these two show up in almost-matching outfits to tell the entire PTA that they have big old lesbian crushes on each other, so suck on that, ay yay yah!
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As wild as that school scene was, I liked that it ended with the child repeating the question of "What is normal?" because two color-coded parents in love seems pretty normal to me!
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Then Fuyu actually told the entire world they were in love as if the colors didn't already do that!
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This is how peacefully everyone should sleep after they come out on international platforms and ruin bigoted bitches' day.
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Especially this Red Devil's day since she threatened them so many times!
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Even though the show went left in the last minutes by making the father be the one to say China needs to change,
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And having the Red Devil take the credit for Fuyu's bravery,
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I don't care because in fictional works, I want my happy endings however I get them, and this IS a happy ending.
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Instead of being a poly series *sad face*, we got more of the story about two women in love!
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We have Itsuki being the most adorable Heavenly Human wife to Fuyu.
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And Fuyu still being the cringe corporate Black Brooder wife!
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Then we have other color-coded girls in love who have witnessed the journey of our protagonists.
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We have Itsuki finding other parent friends who aren't homophobic asshats.
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We have grandma sending her lesbian granddaughters and cute great-grandchild gifts!
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Because grandmas in QLs are really proving the Boomers didn't protest wars and fight for our rights to be wrongfully considered the bad guys now.
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We have the ex-husband finally getting to live his best life too with someone who gets him.
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And I got COLOR-CODED GIRLS IN LOVE.
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And a babygirl.
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izzyy-stuff · 1 day ago
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For your 300 follower bash, can I request a short story/drabble where the reader is either the sixth member of TXT or a member of a gg like maybe Le Sserafim or Aespa and is in a relationship with any member (I'm ot5 so it really doesn't matter who <3) I do kind of like the idea of Hyuka being the love interest and can totally picture the other members teasing him a lot, but again any member is fine <33
𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 - 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈
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bf!blond!Kai x fem!reader
in which no matter how much his friends tease him about his girlfriend, he knows they love her just as much as he does.
wc 1.4k
warnings kissing, slightly suggestive
↪ izzy speaks... first fic for the 300 bash!! I am happy it's with huening too! I've been meaning to use these pictures for a while now.
event post | event masterlist
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The smile on your face slowly fades away as you watch the three dots disappear, leaving you on ‘seen’. You raise an eyebrow in confusion, but you don’t get a chance to pay it any more attention as your best friend, Yunjin, wraps her arm around your shoulders, smirking.  
“Look who’s being all lovey-dovey again,” she teases, giggling as she snatches your phone. “You guys are so adorable it makes me sick.” Kazuha and Chaewon share a laugh with her, shaking their heads at the brunette. “Hey! Give it back! I’m in the middle of a conversation!” You try to take your phone back, but it only leads to more of Yujin’s laughing. 
Little did  you know that your dear boyfriend Kai is in the same situation as you, hiding his face in embarrassment as Beomgyu holds his phone. 
“Can’t wait to see you again,” Beomgyu reads out loud, running around the room. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to do something like this. It was Kai’s privacy, and there was no way he would cross the line, but a dare was a dare. 
“Just read it all! Get it over with,” Kai whines, his cheeks red as he stares down at his lap, listening just like everyone else. “Oh, god. I’m not reading that. That’s for sure,” Beomgyu frowns, catching Yeonjun’s attention. The youngest’s eyes widen as he realizes what chats one of his best friends has just stumbled upon. “No, no, no, don’t look through that! This far is enough. Give it back,” the blond looks up again, his eyes full of fear and awkwardness. 
But before Beomgyu can do as he asked for, Yeonjun is already up, stealing the phone from him. “Yeonjun!” Kai yells, his mind too clouded with thoughts to use honorifics. “Oh my god!” The eldest gasps. “How can our fans call you an angel?” He dramatizes. “You’re nasty.” 
“Just kill me,” Huening sighs, closing his eyes. Taehyun chuckles, patting his back. “It’s not the end of the world,” he reminds the blond, rolling his eyes when he notices Yeonjun taking pictures of the chats on his phone. Sometimes, he doubted if Jun was actually the eldest of them all. “It might be, though! She is going to kill me if she finds out you’ve read our chats.” 
“I won’t tell a soul,” Yeonjun proclaims, still laughing as he hands Kai his phone back. “But I’m glad you don’t act like a complete angel, at least with your girlfriend. Honestly, the whole innocent act has been freaking me out.” 
“I’m not even going to say anything to that,” Kai answers, gripping his phone tightly as if he were scared someone might take it away from him again. “Now, answer your girl. You don’t leave a girl waiting when she asks to hang out.” Hyuka rolls his eyes at him, opening his phone again, “I’m not stupid. I know what to do and what not.” 
“Right,” Beomgyu is the first to scoff, but it doesn’t move Kai a bit. Once his girlfriend had his attention, nothing bothered him anymore. 
♡⸝⸝  
You watch Sakura, Yujin and Kazuha go over the choreography repeatedly, mentally going over the steps along with them. You definitely couldn’t say you would excel the dance yet, but you’ve had enough for today. If you went through the choreography again, your legs might as well give up. 
“Okay, we’re clocking out now! Have fun!” Eunchae grins, swinging her bag over her shoulder while Chaewon stands beside her wearing the same annoying smirk. You catch Yujin rolling her eyes and have to laugh. “I am going to leave in a bit, too,” you say, and your best friend immediately turns to you. “What? I thought we were grabbing dinner together after practice!” She complains. 
You open your mouth to answer her, but all that leaves your lips is a shaky breath full of regret. You squeeze your eyes shut as you remember the plans you made, clapping your hands together and muttering a quiet “sorry” through them. Yujin sighs when she notices your eyes. She can’t even blame you. Not when you seem so genuine with your apology. “I kind of…forgot about it,” you admit. “And made plans with Kai instead.” 
“Alright then. You’re lucky I know Kai has been busy, and you haven’t seen him much lately,” she shakes her head, and you smile again, jumping up to hug her. “Thank you, thank you!” Yujin smiles as she wraps her hands around you. “We can have dinner tomorrow. What do you think?” You ask hopefully, and she chuckles, nodding. “Go hang out with your boyfriend now,” she says, pushing you toward the door with a laugh. 
“I’ll see you tonight! Bye!” You quickly wave at Sakura and Kazuha before the door closes behind you, and you stand in the hallway, beaming as you notice your boyfriend sitting on the side, scrolling on his phone. “Hey,” you greet him quietly, making him raise his head immediately. “You should have come in. No one would mind.” Kai grabs his bag from the bench, slightly shaking his head as he walks to you. “It’s fine,” he assures you before gently pressing his lips on yours, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other rests on your cheek. “Hi, pretty,” he mumbles his greeting against your lips, making you bite your bottom lip to constrain your smile. 
Hyuka holds your hand as you walk through the HYBE building, telling you about his practice and some of the stupid dares they did during their break – purposefully not mentioning the one involving his friends reading your chats – while you tell him about your practice and the main points of your new choreography, bragging about how fun they are. 
He only lets go of your hand when you get to the entrance, smiling as he lets you walk outside first, watching you walk to your car while he waits for a few minutes, just like he did many times before in order not to get anyone suspicious about your relationship with him. People don’t need to know that you’re on your way to his dorm. 
♡⸝⸝  
You chuckle at the familiar voices as you step inside the dorm room. You feel at home. Not only because of your boyfriend, but also his friends, who’ve never been anything but welcoming to you. 
“Don’t mind then. Beomgyu and Soobin got immersed in League again,” Yeonjun simply waves at you as he passes the front door on his way to his room. “Taehyun just finished making dinner, or you know where the snacks are,” he smiles. “Thank you,” you smile back, taking off your shoes. 
It doesn’t take much longer for Hyuka to arrive, too, pulling you in for a hug as soon as he gets to you. You giggle, wrapping your arms around him and relaxing. “Have they been bothering you a lot?” Your boyfriend asks softly, and you swear you could get lost in his eyes when they lock with yours. You shake your head, grabbing his hand. “You know that’s not possible.” You’re right. No matter how much his friends tease him about you whenever they get the chance, they love you just as much as Kai does. He has to smile, remembering all the times they had told him how happy they were for him. 
“Right,” Kai mumbles quietly, his eyes on your hand holding his as you take him to his room. 
No matter how much time he spends with you, every moment and touch will always be as important to him as when you first got together. “Get a room!” Beomgyu yells, making Hyuka snap out of his thoughts. “Shut up!” He yells back at him, hiding his flushed cheeks as he follows you. 
You never need to do much with Kai to have fun. Honestly, you prefer not to do anything when you’re with him. Being able to relax after a long day with some lazy kisses and back rubs sometimes means so much more than having big plans. And today is no different. 
Kai tugs your hair behind your ear and pulls you in for a kiss as soon as he sits on his bed. You get comfortable on his lap, grinning into the kiss as you close your eyes. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against your lips. “I haven’t been in the shower yet. I’m all stinky,” you laugh, cupping his cheek. “Still beautiful,” he assures you, not wasting any time and pressing his lips on yours again, unable to get enough. “I love you.” 
“I love you too,” you whisper back with a smile.
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lennsart · 1 day ago
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I see that you're a prince Legend enjoyer. Mind if I tell you about my hc about that? Jsjsjsjajsjs
- His clothes are the only ones that have golden thread. Something only royals can have, still the rest of his clothes are made of common cotton.
- He gave up his right to be the king. But he's still a prince, and he helps Fable in anything he can. He's a free soul, and Fable knows that.
- His uncle is, in fact, the captain of the royal guard. Because of the triforce in Legend's hand (another hc that all the Links have the triforce on their hand, it's just more visible on some of them) everyone knew he was the next hero so the royal family told the captain to take care of Legend and teach him how to use a sword.
- But Legend's uncle saw more in him than just a prince/hero, so he also taught him the value of hard work with the apple field. And tried to save him from his destiny, that's why he tried to save Fable before Legend.
- Almost nobody knows that Legend is a prince. So, for his kingdom he's only an adventurer and he's ok with that.
- The chain knows he's a prince. But they only use that title to tease him.
- Legend often tries to flee from royal events, but Fable stops him. He learned to dance and he sometimes played for the people. In the end, he stays on the events for about 20 minutes, and then he's out of there. He has a small social battery and feels overwhelmed. He also doesn't talk in those events, he prefers to use sign language.
Hello hello, I do not mind at all I love receiving headcanons :D
All of this is interesting !
I like the detail of the golden embroidery being a sign of nobility :0 Four do have them too though if I remember correctly... (Four, something to share with the class...? Lmao no but it could have changed between his time and Legend's, or it could be a gift from his Zelda, who is his best friend in Minish Cap I believe)
I have to admit, I also like the darker take of the royal family supposedly being blessed to only have girls (in the public's eye) since only the women of the family have Hylia's powers... Meaning they abandon/hide Legend at his birth for being a boy D: the drama !
But I never really bothered to think about a way for the royal family to have abandonned Legend without that, and your version do work very well ! The triforce is a powerful sign, but for a public figure to have it... It's ought to bring bad people's attention !
(also yeah in my heart all the Links have the triforce on their hands too hahaha)
I also (in my personal stories !) don't feel the need for Legend to actually give up on the right to be a king, since Hyrule's princesses must be such powerful historical figures... Even if you don't take in account the "only girls" thingy, maybe they at least should get on the throne first ? Sure, we only saw kings in LoZ games, but they never had a queen ; maybe they only get on the throne when the queen dies ?
(Again, you don't have to agree haha ! I do enjoy multiple contradictory headcanons at all time ; I'm just typing as I'm thinking, it's not to dismiss what you told me)
In any way, yeah, I absolutely think that Legend don't want to be king/a noble, and stays the friendly adventurer in his kingdom !
Once the chain knows he's a prince they absolutely tease him to no end haha ! But I do think he wouldn't tell them before a loonnng time (eyeing the "average nobody" line, which gets hilarious with this headcanon). I also would love for him to reveal it by mentioning it casually and everyone losing their mind wondering if he's joking lmao
And omg I think the exact same about his social battery hahaha ! (If only for projecting myself on him not gonna lie 😂)
I do think he has a fun time, especially if he plays like you say— he likes to make people happy ! But put him an hour in here and the boy's brain is absolutely fried. 24 hours nap to ensue !
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kickingitwithkirk · 2 days ago
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Winchester's Folly
Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family
Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam
WC: 1650
Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.
Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms
*Additional warnings will be added
Square filled: @spnmixedbingo -Hiding an Injury @anyfandomgoesbingo -Childhood Best Friends
A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.
A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.
Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)
Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)
*Divider by @firefly-graphics
*No Beta-all mistakes are mine
Series Masterlist
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PART X
Bobby fiddled around with the unfinished box when, bingo, it popped open, revealing a bunch of rolled papers inside. He crossed to the garage and fired up a printer, making copies of the documents then returned everything to its original position because John would notice if anything were misplaced. Heading back to his room, Bobby noticed light still coming from underneath the boy's door and lightly rapped it before opening it.
The elder brother was spooning his mate from behind, which made sense since Bobby knew from personal experience that lying on bruised ribs dulled the pain. However, it was difficult for the man to process why his brother was sleeping snugly against her front, his fingers twined with Dean's, resting on her hip.
****
Bobby is jerked out of his troubled sleep by a truck engine rumbling to life. Moving the window, he sees the taillights as John's GMC crunches over the gravel driveway toward the gate. Cursing obscenities in multiple languages, he rushes downstairs and pivots toward the front door when a voice calls out, "Denver Pyle aware you stole his underwear?"
Doubling back, he finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table with a smirk, drinking coffee. "Don't think you're too big to be taken to the woodshed, boy." Bobby chastised with as much dignity as he could muster in his red flannel long johns, walking to the stove to pour himself a cup from the old blue enamel pot. Ignoring the other man's continued smirk sat down across from him. "Good to see your eyes back to normal. Ready to tell me what that was about last night?"
That sobered Dean up.
He inquired how much Bobby knew about everything, and the Beta was honest about what he'd been told and felt that familiar pang of resentment toward John, watching Dean retreat into himself, knowing self-recrimination was nothing new for him.
"Seeing it's too early to get breakfast from Micky D's, I'm guessing John's found somewhere else to be." The young Alpha shrugged, saying it is what it is, and fiddled with his mug. "Anyway, I gotta keep my nose clean so Sammy doesn't end up in CYF custody. And seeing how you're my warden, that's the parole officer we're supposed to meet today." Dean slid a piece of paper over with his parole officer's info. "Is there anything else I should know before seeing them?" Dean shook his head negatively. Bobby braced himself, knowing the next thing coming out of his mouth would raise the Alpha's hackles.
"Couldn't help noticing number girl shivering in those hand-me-downs last night, and Sam needs some warmer clothes for school; going to get damn cold before too much longer." Deans features shifted, "Bobby, it's my responsibility to provide. I'll get what they need after I find a job."
"Looks like John forgot a few details. Part of the agreement is you'll work for me, too. But if that's how you want to do things, I've got no problem docking your paycheck in reimbursement." After rinsing his mug, the older hunter crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, and decided to bring up what he saw last night.
"Considering we have an Omega in the house, I want to get a few things straight,. You boys have always been close, and don’t care if you still share a room, but don't take me for stupid." A flash of oh crap crosses Dean's features. "And I want to be clear: she's your property. It'll be your decision how to handle situations when they arise. Where Sam is concerned, there'd better not be any fighting over her 'cause I'm not getting in the middle of you two. And give me a heads up before you go into a rut 'cause that's another thing I'm not going to deal with either."
After getting a yes sir, Bobby heads back upstairs to get dressed when he runs into Sam, who asks why he is dressed like Uncle Jessie makes the Beta grumble; this is gonna be a long six months.
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Bobby once again wonders where god got their twisted sense of humor.
The building Dean's parole officer directed them to look like a country feed store from the outside. Inside, that was a different story.
Bobby had learned a few things about people's kinks over the years, but this place shocked the seasoned hunter when a bubbly voice that didn't match the decor called out, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I help you with today?"
Bobby watches Dean lean against the glass counter, showcasing a variety of erotic toys, turns on the charm he's mastered at a young age, turning the female Beta into goo while explaining he needs the necessities for his recently acquired Omega.
The shop assistant leaned towards him, putting her ample bosom on display. "We carry all the approved items from the O divisions. But if you're interested in something more adventurous, we have a certified craftsman who does custom designs." Bobby slaps the list they'd compiled on the counter, "We just need this stuff."
The assistant does a quick read and, within minutes, has almost everything sitting on the counter. "Most of our customers prefer to custom order outfits for their O. Let me show you what we have in store; see if any strikes your fancy."
Exaggeratedly swaying her hips, she heads toward the clothes section, where Bobby picks up a shirt and says, "This stuff makes the lingerie I gave my wife look conservative." Dean nodded toward him and inquired. "Do you have anything not so revealing for an O about his height?" The assistant looked confused. "Are you kidding?" Dean shook his head, and her attitude changed. "If this is some prank, you can leave, or I'm calling the cops."
Bobby intervenes, and Dean can hear the testy assistant's insolent remark and Bobby's very Bobby response as he walks out of the store. Unlocking the Impala, Dean opens the rear door and helps the Omega out. As they enter the store, the manager is now arguing with Bobby. "O's are not that big; it's a biological impossibility!" Bobby replies, "Oh yeah," and peers around them, "Tell that to her!"
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Dean sat a bowl of spaghetti covered in meat sauce and salad he'd made to appease Sam in the middle of the table, then went to pull the cheesy garlic bread from the broiler. "Damn, that smells good," Bobby said coming from the library with Sam in tow, and sat in their usual spots at the kitchen table.
Reaching for a piece of bread, Bobby asked, "Isn't your girl hungry?" Sam's eyes cut to his brother, waiting to see how he'd answer, and watched Bobby's narrow at Dean's casual response, knowing he was concealing something.
"She won't touch the stuff Dad bought, so Dean's been sneaking her food, but the only thing she'll take is broth." Sam yelped and kicked his brother back. "This true, boy?" Dean affirmed that he had, and Bobby wiped his mouth. "Show me the stuff John got."
Retrieving a bag resembling dry dog food Bobby opened it frowning, "This isn't fit to feed a hog, let alone a person! Why'd he get this crap?"
"It's on the list of approved nourishment."
Bobby sighed, "As long as you're in my house, we all will eat like other families."
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Completing more paperwork made Dean gnaw on the end of the pen because the bureaucracy involved in owning an Omega annoyed the Alpha after spending most of his life trying to stay off the government radar. A cough drew his attention, and he saw the Omega shivering where she knelt on the tiled floor.
"Fuck this," Dean growled, tossing the clipboard aside, got up, and getting her up off the floor, removed his jacket and wrapped it around her before helping her sit in the chair next to his.
Returning the clipboard, Dean drew the receptionist's ire and let them know he doesn't give a shit about their rules before sitting down, glaring. He continued until they were called and slowly made their way to an examination room at the far end of the clinic, where the doctor Bobby knew was already waiting.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Stevenson. Could you please have her remove the coat and sit on the table? I've looked over the other clinic's paperwork. Are there any other issues you're concerned about?" Dean tells them about her not eating and the constant pain she seems to be in, even with the substantial pain reliever being given. "Let me do another examination, see if something got missed."
The doctor asks the O to indicate pain on a scale of one to ten, starting at her feet and working up her body. They are pleased that most reactions are under five until they touch her neck, and she throws herself off the table. "Believe we found the source," the doctor comments. They ask Dean to remove the collar, and he admits not knowing how it made them frown.
Dean helps the trembling O back up as the doctor pulls out a penlight and shines it over the collar, finding hidden stitching and their expression changes.
"What's wrong?"
"I haven't seen one of these since my residency. I'll find something to cut the leather while you hold her." Dean drew the O flush against him and gently guided her face into his neck, releasing calming pheromones to relax her.
Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original high collars were redesigned for autoerotic asphyxiation. Their voice fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."
The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.
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Part XI
SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird  @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r
Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl
WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys  @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67
Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid
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bluiela · 15 hours ago
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Todays fun facts:
- Elriel’s did not come up with the concept of a bad/wrong mating bond … the author did. And she did it in direct reference to Elain and Lucien.
- Elriel’s did not come up with Azriel liking Elain as more than just a friend … the author did. And she did it with insanely hot and specific detail.
- Elriel’s did not come up with Azriel not considering Gwyn a friend … the author did. And she said it explicitly from his own thoughts.
You can argue with some of our interpretations of moments or events, but you cannot deny straight up canon facts. Have a nice day everyone!
Add to the list:
-bad/wrong mating bond in a world where mating bonds exist is self-explanatory, exceptions are always there nothing is perfect so having a negative of something positive is a given and we were told about this in book 1 (tamlin's parents) (also elucien doesn't have a story yet so we can't have an outcome that it is a "bad mating bond', how do you know? Un reluctant lovers is really a very common trope, maybe read other books than acotar.
The author also put another girl's image in his heart (and she did that with the cutest and swoon worthy detail) and made him not plan for elain beyond his lust,
The author added a "but" after that sentence that changes the meaning of the sentence, let me explain to you how I would my 2 yr niece, take a sentence say "I am good person" now add a but to it in the end "I am a good person, but" Now you see in the 1st sentence the subject is a good person but in the second the meanings and interpretations are vast, maybe the subject is not a good person, maybe he is ? and adding that but makes all the changes
You can argue with some of our interpretations of moments or events, but you cannot deny straight up canon facts. Have a nice day everyone!
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mat2468xk · 15 hours ago
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Ok, I'll overanalyze this post.
Hitomi - I know the poll lists her as the wrong answer. But she had the most roles in the series. The problem is that she'd probably just have an "antagonistic" role against Sayaka. Although I disagree with her becoming a magical girl.
Junko - Being Madoka's mom, it would make sense if she appeared more. My problem is that her only notable role is not being able to stop Madoka from confronting something. In my opinion, one of the original series' weaker points.
Tatsuya - He knows of Madoka after the event. I feel like he might forget about her when he grows up. But if he doesn't, then he might have interesting interactions with other magical girls. Although if time-skip is involved, the other magical girls might end up being older than Magia Record's Yachiyo's current age.
Tomohisa - I find it interesting that they've decided to include a househusband in a 2011 anime. But other than that, nothing much to say asides that it would make sense for Madoka's dad to appear more.
Kazuko - Would be cool if the magical girls save her from some danger just so she'd have more presence in the story. Other than that, not much to say.
Kyousuke - Most of the fandom hates him, and I think he is only present in Sayaka's arcs? If he's included he might just have an "antagonistic" role, and that'd feel fan-service-y/pandering. So I won't vote for him.
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mopcycle1000 · 22 days ago
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I'm reading The Vampire Lestat right now and I knew Marius embodied the West as a continuation of ancient Greco-Roman values and that Anne Rice thought this was a cool and good view of history but I was NOT prepared for how mask off the colonialism and racism gets.
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Like he just says that?? He says that after explaining that Rome and the West could never accommodate evil dark vampires the way the East does. He says that after explaining how his slaves waited for him while he robbed an Egyptian temple of its writing because he was the only one (with his epic Roman knowledge and values) who could be trusted to understand and protect them. (And that's all cool because it was after Akasha and Enkil actually Asked him to take them out of Egypt because it was too backwards and they knew he was enlightened! It's not colonial violence when the narrative validates it!) He says this while white Europeans are in the process of inventing the concept of race to justify the continued murder and subjugation of black and brown people. I'm honestly going to be sick. How are there people defending this guy. It's genuinely impossible for me to read this as anything but a criticism of these values (he says this while owning slaves!!! he says this while still killing people every night!!! but he's Better because he feels Guilty about it and he only kills Evildoers so actually he's doing the world a favor) except the narrative bends over backwards to justify how He Is Right Though. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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He wished he could have taken the writing off the walls!!! His slaves are just there!!! Imagine writing this and NOT intending for it to be about colonial violence except insofar as colonial violence is Good, Actually. Tears in my eyes. I knew factually that there are in fact many people who genuinely believe in the all encompassing Civilizing Goodness of the Roman Empire and how it enabled Enlightenment Values and this is really what this book has been building up to for hundreds of pages and yet I still just was not prepared for it to get so.
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arcane-ish · 2 days ago
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I'm not sure I love it that much from a thematic point of view because it gives too much power to the father. Not to mention that Vander (who's my bae) was a very flawed person himself.
Doesn't really do justice to the assorted additional families they have adopted in the meantime either.
And in the end their rift does strike me as more complex at this point.
Doesn't mean that I'm not psyched to either their fight together while they don't know who he is yet, nor to their reaction if they figure out who he is.
I'm super curious how it will work out. Do they know rumors of a beast and go hunt it. Do they go where Warwick is and are surprised they are being attacked? Is he going where they are and surprises and interrupts them.
Is Warwick aware and will reveal himself? Do they recgonize him and they or one of them tries to reason with him? Will we get a brush between them where everybody survives and there is an "investigation" phase? (and if there's an investigation phase who takes lead? Jinx because she's smarter or Vi because she's supposed to have cop instincts?)
I'm just sad that with how super rushed everything felt I strongly suspect that not even a fraction I want out of the Warwick + girls story will show up on screen, not with all the other things that are going on and demand screentime.
That said my current dream (since I still hope they will brush on what happened around the infamous bridge fight where Vi and Powder's parents died) is that revoluationary!Jinx actually leads another march on the bridge and memory riddled Warwick jumps in to stop it and ends up in one big chaos.
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I wanna say something but like…what can I say, these shots are STUNNING!!
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thedrotter · 6 months ago
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as a little treat i am sharing with you little Aya doodles I've done over the last few days to unwind ww just little expressions based on lines in-game because those are always fun to draw. nothing too special just biscuit
it's Aya because upon doing bizarrely throughout playthroughs of the game for still unspecified project purposes I've gained a soft spot for her she's my daughter now my mental tier list on my favorite characters is so confusing right now
#re:kinder#fanart#aya re:kinder#aya hibino#i state shes my daughter NOW because before i didnt pay too big of a mind to her#but honestly in each different playthrough of this game i gain new appreciation for each character#because fun fact ryou was my favorite character at first just because he seemed nice and was a healer and was nice#second playthrough brought in rei and shunsuke in my mind because they ate it up wirh their roles in the story#meanwhile as time passed yuuichi started to grow on me as i realized he was a little too relatable BASICALLY THINGS LIKE THAT#and spoilers for the unspecified project mentioned in the text just because i feel like it#i also did this because having a transcript of every line just spurred me on becquse of how easy it made things#its much more fun to start doing these kind of line based doodles when you dont have to manually go througj hours of gameplay to find stuff#so just being ablr to ctrl f through a document made me very glad HEUEHEHEBEHR#im still working on it it needs proofreading and polishing on some sides but overall it should be here soon i hope#if anyones interested in it do let me know HUEHEHEBRB i will post it regardless but it would be nice to know if anyone is interested#ANYWAY#as to why Aya seems to have a purse when her sprite doesnt its because her equipment mentions her carrying a yellow pouch#its meant to be that!!!#she looks very goofy with it on made me giggle ngl#(as in. amusement)#it adds more interest to her visual design so its nice to have it there im glad its there#OH YEAH SOME COMMENTARY ON ONE OF HER LINES HERE THAT REALLY PIQUED MY INTEREST#if sayaka dies and shes there to see it (thus. you chose to bring her with you) she has this line#where it implies that shes afraid of dying which makes things sad when she's suicidal#she already states i think her desire is more to disappear than to die exactly but even then it's quite sad#like even if she wants to disappear with how gloomy she's feeling and all the things going around with her parents#shes just a little girl who doesn't want to die😭😭#it really adds a sense of realism to how depression is tackled in game at least for me#that when one is depressed and suicidal a lot of the time it's the wish for this state of suffering to end rather than to actually die#SUCH A GOOD CHARACTER ITS ONE OF THE THINGS THAT UPPED MY APPRECIATION FOR HER
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