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chlmtsdoll · 5 months ago

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I WAS AN ANGEL

౨ৎ Paring: ballerina!reader x older!Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig

౨ৎ Summary: it’s winter and your on vacation at a cabin locked away with Art and Patrick. Spending the weekend teasing the men till they’re wrapped into your alluring nature leads to you getting them exactly where you want

౨ৎ Word count: 10k - well yes, ur girl went crazy !

౨ৎ Warnings: smut ! threesome, p in v (unprotected) sex, age gap (reader early 20’s) older!Art and Patrick, inexperienced!reader, eventually filthiest filth, sugar baby!reader, mentions of Tashi, pet names, smoking (cigs), oral (m) receiving, fingering, porn with a lot of plot, petite!reader, size kink, corruption if you squint (it’s def there), teasing, fluff, a tad angst, so much praise kink, title based off Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey 🤍

౨ৎ Part one | two | three + more

The wind outside was frosted as it hit against the sealed windows of the cabin you’d been staying in for the weekend with no other than the only person you’d want to be cuddled up with on a cozy cabin trip in the hike of the woods on a winter like this one — accompanied by his best friend of course, Art and Patrick.

Tashi, making time for her off weekends of freedom being an underwhelming three times a year, was away with her daughter Lily on a girls scouting trip not too far by where you’d all been staying at in such a luxurious rental cabin.

And it really was the highest of class.

With eight bedrooms, each offering it’s own fireplace and balcony lookout to the fields of mountains and trees surrounding you. A beautiful avalanche of white dust covering trees was the scenery all around. You got to spend a week doing absolutely nothing but lying around the gorgeous place, and although the image of Tashi being uncomfortably out in the wilderness trying with all her dignity to get a signal to check her emails was a priceless sight to see — you knew that scoring such a win as to be stuck in winter paradise with two men near godly looking and over six foot walking around twenty four seven, was an opportunity you were never going to take advantage of.

It had been you and them watching movies all week. From silly romcoms down to chilling horror films that earned you the touch of Arts protective arm surrounding you as a shield, baking sweets with the blonde that was really overall unnecessary since the dozen of cupboards had been pre-stocked with all the foods and treats you could imagine before your arrival. But spending that time with him, laughing, and getting the tidy place all messy with cookie batter and themed frosting was worth it anyways. Getting closer than close. Falling head over heels for a man that had been someone else’s all while engaging in the most pompous wealthy people actives your friends back at the academy would of killed one another for. It was chimera.

And when it came to Patrick, although the two of you couldn’t quite be called the best of friends — Tashi had thought it would be better off if she reversed her approximation of keeping the two of you as separate as possible. Instead, you started spending even more time together. (Preoccupied of course) but settling the wall of any jealousy or tension between you both and the couple. And of course it probably would never be fully clear skies when Patrick was a man of such fiend for rivalry — even if for you, you’d just wanted him to like you deep down. And with the occasional bickering and obvious strive for Art and Tashi’s attention, you could now say the kinship between you and the tennis player wasn’t all bad for the time being.

It had been sunset when you were tidying up in the far end of the house that had been all yours as you glanced at yourself in the mirror of the grand bathroom. Bath tub behind you so large it could fit a party of ten at least.

You were braiding your hair into two dainty braids and your fingers worked quickly as you tied knots into little bows on the ends of your hair. Perfect and precious as ever you attempted yourself to be, getting ready for a dip in the hot tub on the patio Art had asked if you if you wanted to join him and Patrick — so of course you rushed to throw on your bikini. And just beneath you in the grand kitchen area, Art had been getting ready with his best friend to met you there themselves.

“Please ? I just wanna fuck her with the tutu on at least,” Patrick boasted to Art as he had been trying his hardest to bluntly ignore his friends comments about you, that had been in his perfect fashion of light hearted vulgarity.

“No.” Art replied giving the man nothing but an unbothered side eye as he searched the wet room they’d been in for a couple towels for the three of you, or at least you and himself since Patrick had been using the same one the entire time you’ve been there so far by choice.

“Come on,” the brunette laughed as he pushed Art in a way that was all too familiar to him, grinning widely as he burrowed in the fantasy of having solicited intercourse with you while his dear friend observed. “We’ll be stuck in this cabin together for the entire weekend, it’s bound to happen. You’ve been gettin’ virgin pussy all this time. I know you’re dying to share with me..”

“You say things like that and wonder why she doesn’t want to come near you.” Art chuckled, he shook his head at Patrick’s ignorance, “and you’ll probably just scare her away from wanting to participate in anything involving sex ever again, man. I just won’t let you overwhelm her, she’s still getting used to.. y’know-”

“Fucking?”

“Yes.”

“Well, your right, she’s only fucked you. So technically she’s still a virgin.” Patrick joked only to get under the blondes skin even more, and Art rolled his eyes away from Patrick’s obvious smirk.

“I could turn’er into a whole new woman.”

“You’re not touching her.” Art shrugged as he glanced at Patrick who wouldn’t give away the stupid grin on his face of wanting to cause nothing but foolery.

“I think you’re scared after I’m done with her she won’t wanna go back to you… so that’s why you gotta do it with me.” Patrick pokes Art in his exposed chest as they’d both been in nothing but their swim trunks. He looked down at the finger on his skin and then back up at Patrick’s face with a loose expression. Falling unconvinced.

“You know you wanna fuck her with me. See how she’ll react from the outside when someone else gets to make her cum.. it’ll be just like old times.” Patrick’s tone was laced with poison and desire the blonde would try to fight off till he ultimately couldn’t, grimace all over Patrick’s face as he described the image of you spread out for the two of them to enjoy, and Art would defend cutting the conversation short in response to an obvious tent forming in his trunks.

Art looked Patrick in the eyes as he called out for you,

“Baby, are you ready?”

“Yeah! Just a second!” You answered in chime.

Patrick couldn’t help but laugh in all seriousness at the fact that he had been this close to getting Art to submit to his desires and let him get his hands on you. When you had been so devoted to Art, and you had him wrapped around your finger, there was no way he didn’t think he couldn’t loosen the screws just enough by the time this little trip came to an end. He just had to keep trying, at the end of the day, it was all a game to him.

“keep dreaming. And grab the beer while your at it.” Art gave the man a generous pat on the back and sighed lightly with a fond but challenging smile as he walked around Patrick to the back door.

♡

When you had been pleased with your attire, you made your way down to the patio where you knew the two boys had been waiting for your arrival, in nothing but a strapy pink bikini underneath a bulky robe, you pushed the doors open to the nature and you’d been immediately hit with the brisk winter air — so thankful for the robe you’d decided to throw on, you scurried your way quickly to the steaming hot tub, and Art and Patrick’s eyes met your miniature figure skipping over.

“Cold, cold, cold, cold!” You pleaded as the air made you shake, and with a soft grin that turned into a laugh Art stood from the water he’d been adjacent in with Patrick to help you step into the tub, doing so you’d slipped your robe from your shoulders and let it fall as your smooth, shivering skin and dainty swimwear was revealed to the two.

“Careful, it’s pretty hot” Art chuckled as he held your delicate hand to guide you into the water.

“Good.” You breathed out as you settled in slowly, arms wrapped around yourself from the coldness and the steam hit your skin at the perfect rate — making you warm up from outside in. You let out a soft sigh as your body had released it’s tension. “Ahh”

Art’s sideways smirk was stuck to his face as he watched your adorable gesture already change the environment when you made your way over — and he couldn’t say he didn’t catch the eyes Patrick had been giving your oblivious state as you brought yourself to the two men in the littlest yet flattering bikini they’d maybe ever seen. Smile on your face like you’d hadn’t know how goddamn phenomenal you looked right then. Art still had a hand out to you as you’d both settled into the almost boiling water at this point, florescent lights from the jets hitting each of your faces even under the gloominess of the sky.

“Is that the set I got you ?” Art grinned at the way your bikini top had decorated your chest in a painfully perfect way. Dior. Your smile has been shy but girlish, you nodded coyly but with a soft giggle. You’d been waiting for him to notice notice that you were being patient on the perfect opportunity to bring it out of your wardrobe.

“Yeah. You like?” Your smile had widened as the blonde couldn’t have looked prettier right then, hair damp from the steam of the tub that had been hovering the water, chest glistening in the most stunning way which made made his pecks look godly and a certain boyishness look on his face.

Your eyes glanced over how it matched the smile on his peach colored lips.

“Like? I love it and you know that.” Art’s tone was low and laced with adoration mixed with a hit of lust rising. He held a hand out to you, eyes filled with nothing but intentions of getting you as close to him as possible. You’d been too far in his opinion, even being in the medium sized hot tub that had the three of you in an acute triangle. “Come closer baby doll,” Art asked of you and you couldn’t stop blushing already when you slid closer to him in the water. Smile plastered to your face as the man took you in with his muscular arm over your shoulder.

Eyes lightly hooded as he looked down at the way you fit snug in his side and he had to stop himself from biting into your shoulder as a way to show his affection. Just your sent was overwhelming him.

From the opposite end, Patrick had been sitting quite still as he observed the two of you. Elbows hanging off the rim of the tub and he held a cold beer in hand. His green irises switched between you and the blonde as if you were purely entertainment as you basked in each other’s warmth that had been heightened from the temperatures around you.

Patrick could almost feel the way Art felt you. The way you wanted him.

He’s been trying to figure out what made it so easy for you to stroll through the cabin around two men feverishly much older than you, so innocently without a care or censor in the world going off in your head. — and not just that, but you’d hardly ever wore clothing that actually covered you up. This has been the most revealing Patrick had seen you, but it wasn’t all shock when you’d merely always been in shorts that were just right off of having your ass cheeks on display — along with the smallest mini tennis skirts and tops so tight it was hard to imagine how’s you even get yourself into them. He didn’t know if there’d been a dip in your brain or what, but he almost wondered if you acted the way you did on purpose. Like a lost lamb in heat for only the sake of getting their dicks hard and uncomfortable enough for your own pleasure. Or for Art at least.

Maybe you could of just been playing slut like most girls your age did when it came to older men. Whatever it had been, Patrick knew to have you all figured out ahead of time.

“Save some space in between, yeah?” Patrick had noted out in reply of your and Arts closeness, only grin spreading across his lips as he raised the glass of beer to them slowly as if he’d been some threat you both should stay aware of.

And he loved that.

You looked over his way from Arts peering eyes on you with a soft blush. Art had looked at Patrick and remembered what they’d been sipping on to offer you,

“Did you want a beer ? I told Patrick to grab the cold ones.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Patrick, pass her one.” Art eyed his friend as the pack of six had been hanging out on the bar beside the tub, but before the brunette could speak up, you stood from the curb of the small pool.

“Don’t worry, I got it !” you smiled at both boys, but instead they had immediately gone to watch the droplets of water fall from your angel like body. And as you walked to exit the hot tub, you had to maneuver pass Patrick, which was a brief moment of his eyes just inches away from making contact with your breast being nearly one with his face. A shy kind of tint in your eyes as you climbed out and the water you carried splashed on the man while his eyes watched you in complete veneration. Only moving over a tad when he’d remembered you’d been literally trying to get out of the enclosure. And Art only watched, too mesmerized before he noticed Patrick had been staring just as much.

But even jealousy didn’t over take him right then when he saw the way your body was moments away from caressing the man, it was something more of yearning that took the lead.

You could of sworn you heard one of the men curse under their breath when you tuned your back to reach the table for the cold drink. Your ass had been of viewing now and you tried your best to hide an all knowing little smirk before you got back to them. Returning, Art didn’t even think twice before he reached for the can in your hands to open it up for you. The metal cracked with a pop and Art met your eyes again with a small grin as he handed it back to you.

“Merci” you giggled softly, as you relaxed beside him once again. Thinking to yourself before sitting comfortably, “y’know… there’s something I need to ask you both that I’ve been wondering for a while.”

With your delicate but filled, choice of words — both men had sat a little straighter in the steaming water at your voice, hanging on to your every note already as Patrick’s leafy eyes scanned your figure and Art looked down at you with anticipation for whatever had been on your mind.

“Yeah? What is it, doll face?” Patrick’s tone was low as he met your gaze for a brief second before you looked away with a coy scoff,

“Well… back at the academy a lot of the girls would constantly talk about it and - as embarrassing as it is - I just was never around boys much in my upbringing. Like ever. Most dance schools are pretty strict about that where I come from. So, I never got closure or a real answer. But you guys are boys...”

You couldn’t help but let out light girlish laughter after the hint to the male dominance of the atmosphere, and both Art and Patrick had matched your gesture with the sound of their laugher filling the air as they listened in on the way you spoke. It had been obvious they were both fighting the same urge to trail their vision to your exposed chest but you just pretended not to notice.

“So like, how do guys know when we’re ovulating?”

Art had coughed on the frozen beer that had been half way down his throat by the time your words fully got out, and Patrick’s grin only widened before he let out a louder laugh.

“Well-”

“Patrick- can definitely answer that one for you, right Pat?”

Art narrowed his eyes at his best friend sitting across from him in quick notion and your eyes flicked from the blonde to the brunette just as fast. His chuckle only fading some as he glanced back at you

“I mean, it’s more of a senses thing.”

“Like intuition, or?”

“A smell.”

“Oh-” you were slightly taken back by his answer as you snickered nervously. “That’s only a tad bit jarring I guess”

“It honestly comes with the package. Just a normal male thing, unless your consciously looking for it. I myself have a natural talent if you will.” Patrick’s smug was heavy as he educated you and you nodded in agreement, which made Art want to roll his eyes on instant.

“Because of the testosterone?”

“Likely.”

“Is it like that for you as well? Can you smell it?” Your wide eyes landed on Art again as you spoke in innocence that was almost too easy on the ears, the blonde met your eyes as he just lightly fondled with his ear in a fretful manner.

“Well, I- uh, it’s pretty much a normal thing. Like Patrick said. Not really an on or off switch.” The muscular but lean man chuckled and Patrick leaned forward as he watched.

“Art has you and Tashi around twenty four seven so he’s probably immune.”

“No. Not immune, overstimulated? Maybe.”

You watched between them as Patrick kept a sly smile on his face and Art had remained calm throughout the sultry conversation.

“Have you ever used it on me? Like- before we have sex or something..?” you peered up at Art through your lashes and Patrick had raised a brow at your new assertiveness — Art only tried to keep a cool state not too get too flustered as he sunk farther into the tub,

“Honestly babe, I can tell just from looking at you mostly. Like- how you look in those extra mini tennis skirts Tashi has you wear. The way your eyes sparkle a little more when you look up at me… When you’re being naughty.” Art went in to playfully nibble on your neck and you let out a string of giggles at the tickle off it as you fought him off with charm. But the blonde only grinned more as he pulled you in by the waist and he peppered kisses from your neck to your lips.

“I’d offer to say get a room but I don’t mind a little show.” Patrick inhaled deeply and when you turned to glance at him, hand staying on Arts jaw, you could see he had that idiotic look of arousal behind his not so hidden smirk as he sat man spread across from you both.

“My god. You’re such a perv.”

“Yeah? You love it, you’re a perv too.”

“I am not. I’m a girl,” you defended.

“And? Girls can be pervs also.”

“Or maybe you’re just projecting.”

“Art, your little play thing is talking back….” Patrick looked past you to his friend that was as used to the two of you naturally falling into bickering as anything else.

“Shut up.” You laughed, sending a light eye roll the brunettes way.

“You shut up.” He spat back at you like a tennis ball as he leaned up on the edge of the tub, broad shoulders flexing to catch himself and he reached for his pack of cigarettes. The man used his lips to pull a stick from box, he stared up at you with a glimpse of darkness in his pupils. “Want one?”

“Really?.. yeah.” You replied with chipper as you easily lifted yourself from Arts lap.

“Baby..” the blonde declared in a soft but alarming voice while he watched you stand, his hands slipped from your hips and he lost you to Patrick’s side of the pool with ease.

It was known to the two men that you hadn’t ever smoked before, and Art always had his dad instincts constantly lingering in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help it. He never wanted you participating in anything that wasn’t necessarily the best for you, and especially since Tashi would surely be against the idea of it at all costs. It was part of the reason why she wanted Patrick away from you — his influence and easy persuasion always getting to the best of any of the girls he could mess with. So Art knew how easy it was for you to let up to him.

“I just wanna try. Please?” You pleaded, and Art couldn’t say your pretty wide doe eyes and shape all too heavenly for him to deny didn’t steer him away from giving you a clean no.

“Yeah Art, she wants to try..” Patrick’s voice mimicked yours and he started to slowly but surely show his friend a sly smirk which Art replied with a daring look. You’d now been seated beside Patrick and Art had sighed out a deep breath as he nodded you off speculatively, which you then smiled excitedly in regard.

“You’ve really never done this before?”

“No.”

“What have you done?”

Patrick couldn’t help but poke you, and when you hissed with a soft smack to his broad arm that had been intimidatingly large. The man chuckled. You shook your head playfully which also released a few droplets of water from your braids and Patrick observed how your eyes had searched him from up close — he wondered if this was how Art felt when he looked at you. All senseless with a newfound kind of vulnerability like he’d be willing to your every need. But Patrick being who he was naturally, knew how to restrain from that part of himself and kept a mostly dominant state even at your first fruits. He flicked open his lighter and passed you a cigarette which you held with mostly confusion of what to do next.

“Don’t give her a full one.” Art narrowed at his friend.

“Alright, alright,” Patrick furrowed his brows as he exclaimed with his own cig hanging from the side of his lips.

The corners of your mouth inched up into a small simper as you watched the two men exchange with consideration of protection over you. Art remained a safety net always even if Patrick had challenged that assertiveness to him. And as much as Patrick was a hard case you didn’t underestimate your power to have him just as softened as Art was when it came to you.

“You can share with me.” The brunette notified you and you watched as he lit the end of the stick effortlessly and cupped the fire away from you with his ravishingly large hands. In one swift motion he passed the burning substance to you, which you inspected before your eyes met his face again — slight worry crossed you mind. But you didn’t let it show, “inhale that.”

You did inhale it. But it happened much faster than you expected because when the smoke hit the back of your throat, you began to cough instantly.

“No, no, no you have to exhale it eventually,”

“Yeah, because you totally gave her proper directions, Patrick.” Art huffed as he leaned up from attention to your coughing with growing aggravation at what Patrick had lured you into. Already regretting his notion to agree. Patrick shrugged with open arms and he furrowed his brows.

“Fuck off. I’m not good with kids.”

“I’m not a kid.” You responded when your coughs had dialed down and you swayed the smoke coming from your lungs away from you.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Patrick replied in a snarky attitude and you half groaned half whined at his annoying remarks, which had lead you to doing nothing but choking on air, literally. And it made Patrick have to refrain from letting out a chuckle because he’d known Art kill him.

“Relax. Just try again and remember not to inhale it too far. Just hold it in the back of your throat a little then release it.”

This time you did what he told you more considerately. Inhaling the smoke temporarily, then pushing it out with ease and Patrick watched you. His observation quickly turned into dilated pupils and a grin that liking spoke of mischief had widened across his face again.

“Atta’ girl.” He praised, and you supported a cheeky smile.

You held the cigarette in your fingers as you repeated the same all while keeping eye contact with the tennis player and he could of fallen trick for your soft but glorious bambi eyes right then.

“How cool do I look?” You let a light giggle slip from your lips after you exhaled the smoke once again and passed the substance back to the man and he wondered if you or Art could sense the way his desire had basically broadened in the last twenty seconds.

And as Art watched you both smile in lust from each others presence on the other side of the tub, he shifted as a perplex expression rested on his face. He observed the eyes you gave Patrick that he knew all too well. Pleading and filled with elite burning desire that he knew was just seconds away from setting Patrick off — he knew he had to get into stop it somehow.

He just didn’t like to be left out.

“It’s getting dark out, sweetheart. Why don’t you head inside and start setting up for s’mores ? I’ll come set the fire in a bit.”

Your eyes had trailed away from their fixture on Patrick to settle on Art when his voice came ruling in, But Patrick was still looking at you.

“Okay, yeah.” You said energetically as you lifted your legs out of the water that were wet from the knees down, fondly smiling at the two men before you grabbed your robe to head inside.

And when the patio door shut with your exit, Patrick ran his hands over his rugged half beard in a pace.

“Fuck, Art. She wants to fuck me.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious. She told me. She wants to fuck us.”

“When did she tell you this?”

“Just a second ago. With her eyes.”

“Okay. So, she didn’t tell you that.”

Patrick huffed out and fixed the prominent bulge through his trunks that was growing fairly uncomfortable. Art looked down to notice and let out a soft chuckle of not very much surprise since he’d known the man sitting across from him like the back of his hand. Always just on the verge of needing to fuck whatever pitty excuse of emotions he had out somehow.

“For fucks sake, you’re unbelievable.”

“Whatever.” The man scoffed as he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his hips in a hurry. “She’s just as much of a slut as I am, and I’m gonna find out.”

Art watched as his best friend exited from the pool, leaving a splash to hit Art in anxiousness to get to you. And Art scurried to dry off just to follow after him.

♡

It was almost an hour that passed since you’d all been spaced in the living area as the dim lights situated the room in a way that was all too torrid for the atmosphere at once, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

Art had been by the fireplace as he messed with the wood for a while till a brightening flicker over took the large cape and a small flame spread into a huge one in just a few seconds. You’d been sitting on the floor only a few inches away as you were putting a couple marshmallows on sticks (slipping a few chocolates in your mouth here and there) and when you heard the crackle of the fire come from Arts side of the room you glanced up at him with an impressive expression taking over your face and you clapped graciously.

Art couldn’t help but grin at your sweet gesture to which he found you all the more beautiful under the warm tones of the once cold room. You shook your head softly as the smile on your face hadn’t dropped when you focused back on what you’d been doing.

It was rather darker where Patrick sat on the couches not too far away as his forest like eyes watched the two of you basically flirt in secret code. He would usually find it all too soft for himself maybe, and to him, you’d just been a pint sized cheer squad for every time Art dropped a penny.

It was cute, he guessed.

What Patrick was more focused on was the way your eyes flickered to glance at him every so often.

Spotless and filled with attempt to say something. Anything. Just from the clear tension in the room, and as quite as it was — the brunette had to admit he was getting bored.

“Alright.” Patrick groaned as he stretched to lean up from his seat and your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the much taller man, seemingly giant from where you’d been on the rug, march over to where you’d been settled. Calmly but with a smoothness getting close enough to your face that he could read the quick nervousness fill your senses as your eyes searched him questionably, and Patrick’s own eyes scanned your rose tinted robe that you’d slung on, half fallen from your shoulder as he scoffed to himself.

“Just tell me. Do you want to fuck me and Art, or not?”

It came out as a mutter. But Patrick wasn’t the quiet type even attempted in the slightest. Art certainly heard and his eyes had snapped to where the two of you shared breaths with an immediate hardened expression.

“What the fuck, Patrick?”

“Just let her answer.” The other man spat back. And you fought not to bite down on your bottom lip as both men stare each other down. And with an irritated sigh, Art put his vision on you.

“You don’t have to answer him. Patrick just can’t control his dick — and that’s not your problem.” Art spoke sharply as his eyes flickered to the darker haired man who was in fact smirking.

Of course.

Both of their eyelines follow back to you.

And though you hadn’t needed to ponder for an answer, your bashful lashes met the floor anyways as you peered away softly. But all while keeping a dainty simper to your lips.

“No, it’s okay.. He’s right.”

With your words, you noticed Arts face soften, but not in a way you’d guessed — more in a perplexed manner as his eyebrows dipped. And on the other hand Patrick had been grinning to himself with a cocky chuckle coming from his lungs as he rested back on his palms.

“Simple. And easy. I was right, just like always.”

Art had ignored Patrick’s boastfulness and instead he rose to his feet and stepped over to where the two of you had been, you stood up as well — and you’d been immediately met with the blondes gaze on you, hand lifted to your cheek.

“Baby, are- - you sure ? You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything, Patrick can be very..”

“Charming, sexy, fucking unforgettable-” The brunette chimes in with a cheeky smile as he stood up to put his nose in the conversation between you two.

“A nuisance.” Art spoke over Patrick as his eyes went darkening with annoyance while he glanced over to the other nosy man.

“What? Do you think he’ll be too rough ? That I can’t handle it?” You laughed softly, “I can take it.”

“I never said you couldn’t.. but you are learning. And I get this is all new and exciting for you — and your sex drive is going to be heightened at this time…”

“Give the girl what she asks, Art.”

“Shut up. No one’s talking to you.”

“You’re talking about me.”

You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes at the two men bickering now, both over a foot taller than you, making your neck begin to pain just a little as you glanced up at the pair. And although, you would’ve been claimed very brave by most girls your age of how prominent your actions were towards teasing both of the men — you just couldn’t help but play with them.

A delicate sigh escaped you, “y’know.. if you aren’t nice to each other than I won’t want either of you to touch me.” You declare as you turn away from them and begin to walk away, but Art had grabbed on to your forearm and twisted you back around to face him.

“Hey. It’s just- - I’d never hear the end of it from Tashi.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” you began, and you searched the blonde’s expression for any ease which you failed to find — so you took your hand and reached up to gently caress the nape of his neck with your fingertips. “Besides, you’ll be involved. And therefore you won’t miss a thing.”

Your voice echoed songfully throughout Arts ears as he stared into your pretty eyes filled with desire, and just a spark of lust. You step closer to the man and your lips had been inches from his broad chest. It’s like your pleading eyes were like magic, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t fighting the urge to touch you all night long. He didn’t even care if Patrick watched — he liked showing you off anyways. Art pulled from your enrapture to look over at the darker haired man who was already pinned back at him. Chest inflating with a sigh, Art shrugged lightly.

“Fuck it. Fine.” He breathed out, and your smile had gone wide once again and you bit your lip with anticipation already. “But I need to prep you first.”

And with that Art had taken your hand in his as he lead you to one of the closest bedrooms nearby the floor plan, and Patrick of course, had scurried to follow after you both at the immediate note.

Your feet fastened to keep up with the blonde as the childish smile on your face had been filled with excitement to the rush where he lead you.

Patrick pushed open the cracked door as Art was lifting you to your feet on to the high bed where you stood ahead of him. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” Art murmured while he looked up into your eyes through his aquamarine that had darkened with lust in just the short amount of time — soft grin taking upon his lips and you could sense his head just being filled with ideas by the second. It made your stomach do flips with yearn. Your nod quick as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and Art lifted a finger to your silk robe and gently pull it from your shoulders. As it falls, lace straps are revealed to the man and he observed the fabric, eloquent against your glowing skin with a chuckle. “What do we have here?”

“I knew she was prepared,” Patrick’s voice came jarring as he stood next to the blonde and your pupils started dialing by the contrast of the two men gawking at you now. One filled with alluring desire to almost tear what was left of your clothing to pieces — and the other softened. Needing to worship every inch of your petite body before he lost it.

Art pulled away your robe completely in one swift motion as his wide-set eyes never left your own, you wet your lips as your cheeks had began to heat up with anticipation, but nervousness at his quick movements — you stood beyond him, lingerie displaying that was stuck to your body, white with small pink flowers scattered across the cotton and lace. Arts breath hitched just from the sight and he felt so constrained in his briefs as the little pink bow trimming the lining above your core making his dick go painfully hard. He moved his large hands across you carefully. Almost like you were a doll that could break at any given second.

“These stay on till I say,” the man softly mentioned at your ear and you nodded.

You reached for his shoulder blades and the man inched behind your back to undo your bra, he let it fall from your arms before leaning over you to place a smooch your neck area — seamlessly turning into kisses that scattered down to your exposed nipples and you closed you eyes. Bliss took over you for a moment and you smiled. Your hold on him close to your warmth, and Arts fingertips felt the lushness of your skin from every part of you he could. “mmm,” you left out a soft sough as the blondes plump lips explored your tender buds and his tongue brushed up against you briefly, making you hiss for a moment.

His eyes had been examining you, but yours had been softly lidded stint you glanced in Patrick’s direction — to which, the other man’s mouth had been slightly agape, feasting on the view of you both in exhilaration already.

Art braced his hands under your thighs and he laid you down against the bed, your legs were pushed apart on instant but with all tenderness as he leaned up from you — your smile had never faded for a glimpse while the man moved you like a toy. His hands went quickly to pull your panties to the side and Patrick had circled the bed around you both as he stood in awe of the way you weren’t even trying to put up a sexy or proactive kind of facade at all — in fact, you’d been laughing.

Right then. Girlish giggles filled the air as Art grinned down at you in the rising heat of the moment. Already knowing of your ways — you had big, wide doe eyes watching the man take a finger and run them against your slick folds. He examined over your expression, to your already dripping cunt and you bit down on part of your lip. Watching him explore you in an expert manner. Art’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips, he moved his body to tower over your own and your lower back arched a bit off the bed when you felt the tips of his fingers just over your soaking entrance. Coating him in your slick wetness.

“That’s it, sweet girl.”

Art started sinking his ring and middle finger into you painfully slow. You whined a little at the stretch before letting your head fall and braids spread against the comforter of the bed.

Your eyes had caught sight of Patrick looking down on you — so only giving him a playful but sweet smile laced with a kind of innocence and temptation that could of made his head spin. You could just read the expression on his face of how dare you even look at him that way when you’d lured them both into soon doing the dirtiest of acts with you in between. You were a fucking minx. And he then felt his mouth go dry.

“Holy fuck,” the brunette panted in a mutter as he quickened to lower his checkered green boxers to pull out his throbbing cock, stroking himself at the sight of your pretty smile — and cunt, taking Arts fingers so finely.

The soft yet high pitched sighs and moans that were coming from you were the remedy that pushed a complete solid hard on beneath Arts pajama pants as the blonde held your tender legs spread for him to get you ready for his and Patrick’s cocks. He watched you. Eyes filled to the brim with mercenary while feeling you clench and pulse around his digits. Slipping in and out of you, he used his thumb to rub at your clit and you whined out as your eyebrows knitted together in one motion.

“O-oh..” you moaned, reaching out for the man’s fit arm to grasp on to as your toes flexed.

“Good girl.” Art groaned.

You could hear the sound of Patrick jerking himself to the sounds of your moans and the sight of pre cum that was gooing on to Arts hands lead by the own tent that was prominent in sight to the man. Patrick let out a low noise of his own. And Arts eyes finally traveled from you to glance over at his friend,

“You wanna show Patirck what I taught you, princess?”

Your lips curled into a sly smile when you heard his word — you leaned up from the sheets and your legs swiftly moved behind you to now crawl over to the brunette standing by the end of the bed, cock hard and reddened with want for all that was you.

It was undeniable that he was bigger than you could of comprehended maybe, your eyes locked on him now from your knees. They travelled from his dick, to the way he peered down at your plump lips in enchantment for where your clues had left guesses, taking you by the nape of your neck almost immediately you let yourself lick a clean stripe from the base of his cock to the tip as your tongue wet him nice and slow. Patrick watched the way you made sure to show him the shape of your tongue flush against him and he could of came all over your face right then. Large hands going opaque with veins to match his hard member, he gripped the hairs on the back of your neck as you cinched your lips to the tip of him.

“Shit, shit you’re fucking pretty,” Patrick panted at the sight of your eyes staying on his — you perfectly sunk him into your mouth as you sucked with ease and a soft whimper exited from the back of your throat. Knuckles turning white as the brunette peered at the way you took him so sweet, and you brought a hand up to jerk him farther past your lips all at once.

Art just behind your shoulder, watched as you could only fit Patrick half way while you throated him, your lips left spit as you bobbed your head up his cock and back down. The blonde took reign of his own pants and t-shirt to remove them just like you and Patrick had been now, and as the scene had been going on between the two of you, Art couldn’t help but maneuver himself beneath you. Lifting your lower body up a bit effortlessly so he could fit himself underneath — he tugged on your panties to get them off, right down your upper thighs and over your feet in routine as he discarded them off somewhere across the room.

His cock hard and dripping pre cum just under your pulsing cunt, you felt yourself clench just from Arts grip on you, already guiding you down his dick. Familiarly to him filling your tightness still made you pull from Patrick to let out a high toned gasps as you felt the other man sinking into your hole. “Mmm- - fuck..” you breathe out as you feel yourself being stretched so nice — Arts hands never letting up easy from your hips, he guided you all the way down his member just to let out a deep groan and move you back up again.

“Oh, shit..” the blonde panted. You kept your hold on Patrick as you stroked him even moving up and down Arts dick and letting out strangled moans from beneath the brunettes chest. “Come on baby, just like that- keep stroking him while you take my cock..”

“My god. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted us both.” Patrick huffed from the sight of you ridding Art with eyebrows knitted into another realm as you bounced up and down the blondes lap and Art couldn’t help but run his hands up your torso to your breast as you did. You placed your mouth back on Patrick and sucked him into letting out low moans of his own from your warmth around him.

“I could cum right now- - fuck, fuck !” he grunted, your hand had gone from moving quick to slowing down as you stroked his base and Art made you feel way to good inside — you didn’t know how much longer you even had in you as you’d gone light headed right then from the way he thrusted up into your soaking pussy, making your head fall back slightly and your words came out slurred,

“Oh- my-y god! Fuck..” you whimpered out as Art made your ass slap against his thighs from his pounding, he leaned up to peck at your neck and hold your body against his chest swiftly. You always remained content in his lap as you turned to kiss him back sloppily, moans and whimpers come from the two of you like a suppressed hunger.

Patrick felt his cock twitch with greed at the sight, “fuck Art, stop hogging her- - I’ve been practically dying to feel that tight little cunt.”

The already much sweatier and rough man, pulled you off of Art, and launched you forward on the bed as your hands braced your plummet — he made sure your ass was up and superb for his viewing. You moaned as your face hit the mattress and you rose to your hands and knees.

“I know this pussy feels fucking amazing. So sweet.” The brunette had been smirking as breathed in awe of the way the lips of your cunt shaped around his thumb as he felt up your folds and palmed your ass. He watched the way you turned to gaze at him with your own hazy fawning eyes that were full of a subtle plea to let him treat you like a whore. If you didn’t know before — you’d definitely known what I’d been like now. Patrick slid his dick over your soaked lips. You inched forward just from the feeling of the girth against you, causing you to hiss out a whine, not prepared or used to his size at all, it made you shake at the slight sensation.

“Keep still, baby doll” Arts hand had came to rub circles gently on your hip bone, your face consorted in uncertainty for a moment till you felt the blondes touch against your skin and you relaxed under his touch finally.

“Yeah. You’re a big girl, you wanted this remember?” Patrick added, he went to put his hand in your hair and you bit down on your strawberry reddened lips hard.

“Slow, please.” Your voice soft as you palmed the sheets beneath you to brace yourself,

“Slow.” Art repeated as his vision shifted from you to eye the brunette, leaning back on to his elbows beside you to making sure the darker haired man wasn’t pushing his luck.

Patrick raised a leg to get a better angle as he slapped the head of his aching cock a couple times to your puffy cunt, and he began to push in, taking his time to feel the way your tightness stretched fairly wide for him and when your jaw had hung to let out a choke moan, you’d been fighting the urge to give up on your arms strength. You took the man inch by inch. Whimpers escaped you like crazy and your legs began to tremble while Patrick’s lips parted to groan out deeply at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“There you go, pretty girl. Take my cock just like that..” he muttered as he started to fuck into you and your body had moved with his thrusts rather quickly, the man had been much more hasty to take you at a rapid pace on contact than Art normally did. His pelvis hitting the form of your ass and your soft cries matched the pace as he slid you up and down his throbbing member.

“Mmmh, fuck- your so- - big,” You watched as he grabbed on to your body and pounded into you. Patrick couldn’t stop himself now — your legs spread and nearly shaking just for him as your pre juices pooled at the bottom of his shaft. It was all too easy on the eyes for him to only take you faster. Your eyes had fought to stay open as hands come at you from every way at his escalated thrust.

Both of the men watch as you shudder to keep composure. The bows at the ends of your braids go wild on your back from the force of Patrick taking on your little body. And he had reached to grip them in his tough hands, making your your head to lift and echo out your whimpers and mewls.

Art felt himself coming close just from the sight, he had to calm his own hand from stroking himself into finishing. It was like the sight beyond him had surpassed what it ever could of been in his fantasies. He wanted it in you after all.

Patrick pushed on your lower back which forced you to arch for him all the more, your face against the mattress, watching you take his dick while pornographic moans fall from your pretty lips. You turned your head against the sheets to meet Arts eyes in petition as you’d been pulsing so hard — in fear you may start cumming too quick for your own little head to catch up to. Your eyebrows furrowed and your jaw dropped as Patrick fucked cries out of you.

“Aww, you want Art to save you now? Poor thing.” The brunette coo’d at you and you could almost taste the smirk on his face right then as he watched your ass cheeks going swell from his maul on your tight cunt. Art had run his finger tips across your face that had glistened with tears.

“I can- take it, I need more..” you whispered out. To which Patrick pulled out of you with a deep grunt, sack full as he could of came inside of you, but he too could agree. More. The man had simply taken place on his back , you swiftly adjusted your position as the feeling of being cockless inside had already increased your fine need.

“Yeah? Then show us how much you need it. Ride my dick like a good girl.”

You were already climbing on top of the man with abs that could of made your head drowsy all the more, you heaved softly as your much smaller legs adjusted over Patrick’s broad muscular thighs to position yourself to his member. Dripping with a mixture of his and your wet arousal. You sunk down on him more easily now and you winced with pleasure as you leaned back on your arms, head going with you as you started to feel butterflies down there from your first slight movement, moving your hips up his girthy cock and right back down.

Patrick moaned lowly as he held your hips there and helped you move, your tits daintily bouncing with your body in the low light of the room, and you could hear a muttered, “god” come from your side as Art leaned over your delicate shoulder to grope at your exposed breast. His bottom lip tucked in his teeth. You could feel his leaking cock run again your lower back causing you to moan as you took yourself upon Patrick’s hard erection ramming into you.

“You look like a fucking angel fucking yourself on his cock- - shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” The man groaned as he observed his best friend turn you into a whimpering mess.

“Ugh- -, I wanna cum. Fuck, fuck..” Your whimpers were heavenly and sweet, Art took the initiative to reach around you and rub at your clit the perfect pace — making your legs shake and you gasps out. “Yes- - yes, oh. Fuck!”

Patrick grabbed hold of your ankles so you’d keep your balance on top of him, his thumb grazed against your white lace frilled sock and he groaned. To him they were so stupid, but at the same time so fucking hot.

“Cum, princess. Go ahead, Be a good girl for us.” Art slow talked you and it made your eyes flutter as you couldn’t have been filled more with burning lust all over your body as the men brought you right to where you wanted like that — shaking and crying out moans as you had came hard on Patrick’s dick. Your movements became sloppy as you heard groans coming from him as well, he leaned up to grab hold of your neck and press for pressure just before he pounded up into you hard and released his own ropes inside your sensitive heat — feeling him pump you full and the overstimulation of his large hand around your throat had you moaning out his name. You lifted from his cock, but Art held your body so you wouldn’t fumble over.

“Oh my god, holy- - fuck,” your grin now of bliss, string of naughty words and giggles left your puffy lips as you sighed into Arts shoulder and he was smirking down at the way his fingers rubbed your now creamy cunt and the blonde laid you back against the comforter again.

Completely cock drunk and breathing heavy as your heart beat caught up with your breathing, Art didn’t want you losing your overstim too quickly — he was already towering over your petite body and sliding back into you at the second your eyes met his and you reached for his arms immediately. Jaw open as you let out a choked noise. You couldn’t catch a break. Just being filled up again. You lock eyes with the gorgeous blonde above you as he stretched you wide once again.

“You’re so fucking good, sweet girl. Just one more, for me..”

All knowing you’d do whatever he longed for, the man sweet talked you slow as he watched Patrick’s seed drip from your drooling cunt and met the tip of his cock as he began to sink in. You kept your legs spread for him. Round eyes glittering with adoration for him like worship, you stared up at Art — so obedient for him always.

“I wanna cum again for you, I can-” you tried to speak fairly normal through soft gasps when Art bottomed out into you, reaching that spot Patrick lit up within you, your head went cloudy again and released into the pillows priming you. “-do it.” You finished your sentence with a whine.

Art couldn’t help but to grin at your state, so tired and fucked out but so turned on by the way the two men had been taking their toll on you back to back. You couldn’t help but take it all — he held your body, pussy so full from cum and Arts member that filled you excellently. You began to shake and tremble with a whimper at his every slap against your sensitive cunt.

Your hand moved to your face unconsciously you took your thumb in your mouth to balance the sensations all at once, moaning as the blonde pounded you into the bed — he watched you bite down and suck on your own digit in euphoric bliss. He soon reached to remove your own hand and replace it with his, sliding his tip against your pump bottom lip before dipping his thumb in your mouth.

You let out a satisfied little chirp as you run your tongue sloppily over the man’s digit with a smile before sucking on him like it was everything you needed. Eyes shutting softly, he pleased you both orally and by the clench of your pussy. “mmmh” you whimpered out and Art kept fucking into you with a quick pace.

“That’s my girl. I know exactly what you want.” He kept his finger in your mouth before your legs were shaking with need and your own hands gripped his one as you cried out from his thrusts, the blonde panted at the slight of you beneath him so prolific and exposed — he couldn’t even think straight before he was spilling his load inside of you. Keeping himself flush to your cunt as he emptied himself with a low grunt and you ended up squirting on his cock with a muffled scream.

“Fuck, you got her to squirt.” You heard Patrick pant and by the looks of his hand covered in his own arousal, you and Art had both been knowing he came again. Sweaty and chests heaving you both melted into each other, your arms immediately going to wrap around Art as he squeezed and kissed you.

“Are you good, baby? Was that not too much for you? You took a lot just now.” Arts voice came in calmly as he looked over you for any signs of turbulence. His fingers graced your flushed face, wedding band cold as it brushed against your skin. You nodded as your breathing finally caught up to you steadily.

“Yeah.. Fuck, I feel good. You both came inside of me..” your words slip out as if you needed to convince yourself of the matter, like you hadn’t been on your back and both of the men’s cum wasn’t gushing out of you as you speak.

Art smiled softly at you and his tired eyes watched the sparkle in yours. He readjusted himself so he was lying beside your left — and Patrick collapsed against the pillows on your right.

“Fucking hell, Art. I just can’t believe you kept her all to yourself this whole time.”

“Yeah? She’s something isn’t she?” Art replied with a grin as he turned your way and continued to run his thumb over your cheeks and lips. Your blush was heightened at the two boy’s marvel over you, lip between your teeth as you let out a light chuckle.

“I hope you had fun, Patrick. She’s still all mine, right angel?” Art glanced down at you.

“Sharing is caring.” You shrugged in a teasing manner as the blonde scoffed playfully and raised a brow in thought before nodding, “okay, maybe a little sharing.”

Patrick laughed, “you call that a little ? We made her cum twice. You let me fuck her like a sl-”

The brunette was cut off at the blonde hitting him in the forearm then gesturing to you — sound asleep in between the two.

Your soft breaths slip through your lips as your head fell into Arts shoulder. He put his finger to his lips to warn Patrick not to wake you, and he leaned up from the bed slow. “Pass me my shirt on the floor, and grab a towel from the bathroom.” He whispers to the other man who carefully moved up from the bed and threw the T to Art before he went to grab a towel for your body.

Art started to maneuver his shirt on you with tenderness so you at least wouldn’t wake up naked and confused.

When Patrick came back he smirked at the way your small tiresome figure had been passed out on the bed like some sort of sleeping beauty. “See, I did that.” He nodded up at Art with the same darkened lustful eyes he began the night with — but Art only rolled his at the man’s cockiness.

“We did that.” He corrected while he ran the towel over your inner thighs lightly before he lifted your limbs to lie you beneath the covers, and Patrick helped him pull them over you. You only let out a quiet noise from the movement as you continued your slumber and the two men watched you for a quiet moment.

Arts lips curled up in a fond smile before he bent to leave a kiss to your forehead — the blonde looked over at the brunette who had folded his arms over his chest while he watched with a raised brow and Art contemplated before leaving another peck against your skin.

“And one from Patrick too, I guess.”

A/N: I love this little uv I’ve created sooo bad you guys <3

#art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #i love art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x you #dilf art donaldson #challngers x reader #x reader #female reader #ballerina!reader #challengers smut #inexperienced!reader #chlmtsdoll writes

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lambilegs · 1 day ago

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

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.

last chapter: (SUMMER ii)

soundtrack: seasons - wave to earth; video games - lana del rey; well I wonder - the smiths; good old-fashioned loverboy - queen; black is the colour - cara dillon; my love mine all mine - mitski

(contains: 21K words, final part of the fic ;-;, college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, discussions of trauma, depictions of anxiety, ptsd and hoarding, familial strain and issues, internalized homophobia, graphic sexual content, reader receiving strap, lee receiving oral, switchy lee + reader, kinks include: dirty talk, spanking, breeding (lee thinking about it), slight humiliation, reader is called a "good girl," reader's body referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "cunt," "tits," "breasts," "clit")

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

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SUMMER. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

it takes lee about three weeks before she seats the two of you on her bed, ready to tell you everything. before the argument, she was certain that she would barely speak to you about her mother for what would most likely be several more months. and she never imagined that if she did confide in you, it’d be through the process of sharing everything at once. if it had been up to her, she’d have most likely continued just as she was before – dropping a random assortment of details and information from time to time, and hoping you one day can put it all together on your own. but, the hard words exchanged between you two had proven to her that that way of doing things wasn’t beneficial. at least not anymore.

besides, upon some self-reflection, she’s realized that figuring it out on your own isn’t exactly a fair thing to expect of you. especially considering that everytime she had shared something with you these past few months, there was always a tug of resistance she gave into, which would pull her back from divulging anything too revealing. which probably made it impossible for you to truly piece together any of this on your own.

and so, it seemed that details, and the act of unveiling them, were necessary steps lee had to take all on her own in order for you to truly understand this part of her. but, to play such an active role like that felt overbearing, even if it were for her own secrets.

but, ever since you had cried, and spoken of your hurt while lee had knelt by your bed, feeling like she was doing confession, she was gnawed with the knowledge of how little you really know. before, she had been content with ignoring the fact that her opening up was rare and far in between. but, hearing the hitches in your breath, seeing the way you crumbled – it forced to the forefront of her mind that she had known you for nearly a year, and you knew barely anything about her past. at least, when it came to the things that really mattered. and usually, that kind of stuff didn’t bother lee. there had been several people in her life who she knew longterm and still shared virtually nothing with. but, with you, it feels wrong. not because you two are partners, but because the only reason you two had reached this point was because of trust and sharing. and lee didn’t want to break that. she couldn’t. not after the removal of sharing had damaged one bond in her life already.

a bond that she tentatively brings up on a thursday afternoon. it feels like winter again, the stormy clouds of late july shadowing her bedroom with a grey light. but, your skin, brushing against hers, is warm, and she uses that to anchor herself when she says, “I’m ready to talk to you. about it all.”

lee has never been one for words – of that, she is certain. she spent the first decade of her life often lapsing into days or weeks of silence, and even as an adult, she finds herself preferring to avoid conversation as best as she can. lest for a few exceptions.

it makes it particularly difficult in moments like these. where her words carry a weight she can’t ignore, where they possess the sole responsibility to speak on something important. it provides her with a newfound pressure that’s a bit heavier than the already tense relationship she has with speaking. her words are all she has now, really. she knows her words will never fully convey what she’s felt all these years. but, at least it’s a good step.

“like you know, it’s always just been my mom and I. she was, um… cut off. when I was born. because she had me out of wedlock.” her stomach churns in guilt at exposing her mom’s secret like this. she’s just as private as lee is, if not even moreso.

“because of that, she became more religious, more worried over the idea of sinning. her family reached out years later, but she refused to see them and let them visit. because she had become less trusting. towards the world, everyone. she preferred it’d be just her and I. I think she was scared someone would hurt us again.” growing up, it was easy to take notice of how alone her mother was. barely any friends, no dates, no social outings. usually, the reasons lee had to be babysat were purely aligned to her mom’s working hours, rather than anything social or purely enjoyable. lee and work were really the only things her mom seemed to center her life on. as a kid, lee leaned into the attention and affection, her mom her only friend. but, the older she got, the more stifling it was to be the person whose existence her mother’s life revolved around. now that she’s moved away, that feeling has simmered, but as lee recounts these things to you, she can’t help but feel a sudden tightening of guilt in her stomach. there was so much her mom sacrificed for her, so much she had lost and kept pushed away. both for the sake of protecting the two of them and because it seemed like nothing else truly mattered all that much to her. it’s almost like she had been content to forgo her identity if it meant being a mother.

but, the older she got, the more aware lee became about the lack. she never got to be familiar with the feeling of several relatives in a warm home. she never had anyone to run to when she fought with her mom. there was never anyone there to reveal more about her mom. anything ruth harker decided to hide remained hidden, for she was all lee could depend on to know her own mother.

keeping her eyes pinned to the floor, she means to continue. but, her chest suddenly feels gripped with an invisible hand, the pressure surging in making her swallow a heavy breath, fingers tightening against her knees. her lips part and she shuts her eyes, trying to inhale and release steadying breaths to release the tension eating away at her.

in an instant, your hand, warm and grounding, is on her lower back, rubbing easy circles. “take your time.”

she sucks in a sharp breath, then forces the words out in a quiet slew. she just wants it over, to be done with and spat out. “when I was nine, something happened. I don’t know what, I…” she closes her eyes, frustration running through her body. she’s always hated unsolved mysteries, to not know the answer to something, for the questions to be too far from her grasp to truly conclude. but, of all the unknowns in the world, this is the one that haunts her the most. “all I know is that a car came to our house. and people had come before, yes, people who knew it was just us. but, this was the first time something…” she pauses to clear her throat, feeling it tighten as the dread of the memory curls and twists in her relentlessly. “something actually happened. I don’t know what, she’s never told me. and the entire night is hard for me to remember. but, it was bad enough that she called the police.” her lips purse tightly together, and her nails dig harder into her skin. it helps in a way, drawing her back to the present and out of the endless loop she’s spent too many years in, trying again and again to reach out for what happened that night. if she heard or saw anything.

“after that, my mom was different. she became less direct. more like… I don’t know. a shadow.” her voice cracks on the last word and she winces. “she became more lost, and it got worse the older I got. and she started hoarding.” she shifts, a feeling of disgust churning in her stomach at remembering the filth of her mother’s home when she had last visited. she knows it’s not her mom’s fault. she knows that better than anyone. but, she can’t help it. she hates what their home has become, she can barely look at it without feeling dread creep into her.

she can’t bear to look at you. it’s odd, because it’s out of her control, what’s happened to her home. but, it’s almost like she’s so tethered to her mom, and the space they raised each other in, that she can’t help but feel partially responsible. especially considering the fact that maybe if things had been different. maybe if she had heard something sooner, or had been more aware of her surroundings, what happened on january thirteenth wouldn’t have happened. maybe she could’ve saved her mother, her family, her home. broken as it was already, at least it wasn’t destitute before that day.

“she became more paranoid, too. she already didn’t really trust anyone, but what happened made it worse. she clung onto me. a lot. maybe she was scared something would happen again.” she pauses to gulp, the possibility hanging off her tongue filling her mind with a dark cloud, expanding and filling her mind with a dizzying panic. “the older I got, and the more I wanted to have some space, the worse she got. more hoarding, more worrying, more paranoia.” a pierce of guilt stabs through her, and she rushes to add, “I know it’s not her fault. but, between the hoarding, her worries and control, the religious stuff, it became too much. as soon as I graduated, I left." she can't even say with total certainty that her mom's faith is fully in tact anymore, a topic she often wonders about. if her mom, after all the things she's been through, truly rests her hope in god, or just stays with him out of comfort or fear for what will happen if she don't.

she sighs. she finished faster than she thought. but, it hasn’t eased the shame spreading through lee, aching and curling in all the wrong spots. she feels despicable, admitting to having left her mom after all that happened. and she is, isn’t she? she doesn’t even know what her mom went through, the horrors she dealt with that night. and still, she left her. still, she moved to an entirely different state even though she knew her mother would refuse to ever leave. because she was so selfish as to want to escape just for herself. even if it meant her mom was going to be left back, all alone, with no one to protect her anymore. and maybe it was wrong of her to seek protection in lee, she doesn’t know. but, still, lee was a daughter before she was anything else in the world. that meant something to her, meant something to the woman who raised her. she could’ve at least returned the protection her mother had bestowed upon her for years. and she did – she tried, all throughout her teenage years, to do so. working more shifts than any of her peers so that her mom wouldn’t have to undergo the struggle of heading to work. being the one to take care of her mother’s eating and sleeping habits. letting her mom hold her at night even when all she wanted was to be alone. she had tried.

but, what does it matter if she ran away, anyways? and if she’s most likely going to continue to stay away. it doesn’t change the fact that she’s now physically abandoning her mother. and sure, maybe her mom is the one who left first, in more ways than one. but, lee should’ve stayed to anchor her. she should have.

she’s tense, her body stiff, bracing itself for your contempt, your disapproval.

“why does she hoard?”

lee flinches at the sound of your voice. once the question gets absorbed in her mind, she clears her throat, trying to remain levelled. “I don’t know. my guesses are to get back to how things were before what happened, or to maybe have a feeling of control.” she knows her mother wouldn’t like being pitied, but she can’t help the feeling from worming its way through her, throbbing and potent. “she won’t tell me. she doesn’t tell me anything, really. about what happened that night, how it affected her.” her teeth clench so hard that a blast of pain stabs through her jaw. “I… I hate that she doesn’t. I think she wants to protect me, but… it’s just made things worse.”

the avoidance, the secrecy – it’s the reason why this wedge between them exists. yeah, other stuff, like her paranoia and the religion carved the path and buried the first bouts of guilt and shame, but ultimately, it was the lack of understanding that set it all into stone. lee never got to find out what happened, and so, she never knew what her mom needed or how to help her. and so, she was forced to reckon with the changes of her mother, with neither of them prepared or in grasp of the knowledge needed to understand them.

lee flinches when she feels you kiss her shoulder, and she hates herself for it, but she shifts away from you. “I don’t… I can’t.” she feels the same way as she did in the subway with you, stifled and mind faltering from all she’s saying. and you touching her is only making her feel more overwhelmed. her mind feels like it’s on overrun, crumbling under the racing thoughts.

“okay, okay.”

she keeps her distance on the bed, nails digging in so hard her thighs are starting to ache. anything to distract herself.

“lee, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you and your mom. it’s terrible that she went through that, and that it caused so much damage. lee, I…” you pause to suck in a sharp breath, and lee wishes she could read your mind to know if this has burdened you at all. “I’m so sorry.”

your tone is soft, and lee can imagine how you look right now – concerned, worried. it just adds to her discomfort. it makes her feel pitied, and right now, she isn’t the one who deserves that. her mother does. and you sympathizing with her just drags to her conscience that this situation is one worth sympathizing with. which, logically, she knows it is. she would also feel concerned if someone she cared for told such a story. but, to face another person’s sympathy head on, to deal with it outside of the rationality of just identifying it as a concerning, to have another person’s worried reaction be thrusted at her like this – it makes her stomach churn. she’d rather forget it all. but, hearing your gentle words, feeling your light touch, it just reminds her of how bad it all is. and that’s something she usually tries to ignore, for she can barely handle acknowledging it. both in general, and how bad it is for herself specifically. she doesn’t like thinking of herself as a victim of something, but when you talk to her like that, she feels that way – like something terrible happened to her. and that makes it harder to ignore the weight of it all.

“I…” she chokes on the word, tears beginning to spill out. fuck, this is the last thing she wanted. she lifts her hands to her face, covering her wet cheeks. she wishes the ground could just swallow her whole. the last thing she wanted was to deliver this in any way that wasn’t fast, to-the-point and quickly done with. she feels like a child again. just as lost, just as unsteady in grasping her emotions or stopping them from overflowing.

“you what?” and now, your voice is shaky too. but, lee can’t focus on that now. she can’t focus on anything.

“I wish things were different. I wish my mom and I were different.” her words tremble as she speaks, littered with small, weak sobs she can’t hold in. they sound so squeaky, so meek. lee didn’t want it to happen this way, she wanted to be in control during this.

but, she can’t stop crying. her palms are moist with the tears, her mouth salty and wet. her and her mom will never get better. and that’s what hurts the most. that no matter how many christmas trees lee puts up with her, no matter how often she calls, no matter how many times lee plays pretend, there’ll always exist this strain now. it’s binding, and it’ll always be like this. forever shifted from what they once had.

she wipes her wrist at her nose, sloppy and dripping into her mouth. she hates being in this state. it’s been hard enough crying in front of you the first two times, but this feels less quiet, less calm – the bubbling hiccups, the shaking of her body, the way her nose can’t stop running. it feels so much more messy, completely and utterly ripped out of her control and stabilization. she doesn’t like this feeling, doesn’t want to feel out of control. but, this no longer feels like a mere sting of hurt or sadness. this is a tight, choking sort of regret and devastation surging through her body. maybe this is why people say to not repress things. lee did, and now that it’s unravelled within her, she feels as though she’ll never be the same again with how much it’s eating at her from the inside out, ripping every bit of flesh and bone of her until she’s a crumbled mess.

if the suppression didn’t work in her favour, maybe the intentional isolating wouldn’t either. at least not this time, when things had reached this level.

just to at least try, lee mutters, her breaths squeezing and high, “please… I need…” she can’t even finish, just leaning in your direction.

you clutch onto her immediately, almost as though you needed this as badly as her – though, lee can’t guess if that’s true for the life of her. she’s been so caught up in her own thoughts she nearly forgot she wasn’t alone. she’s not sure if that’s selfish. but, maybe just tonight, she can let herself be a little selfish. she doesn’t think you’ll mind.

you two say nothing else for the remainder of the evening, remaining in that position until lee falls asleep, body sagged and depleted, with her face pressed into the safety of your neck.

maybe this is why her mom always held her. it’s a bit easier to pretend things are okay when all you can feel is the weight of someone else against you.

–

when you wake up alone in lee’s bed, you’re immediately shooting up, concern twisting in your stomach. you turn her alarm clock to you. it’s 6:33AM. she’s probably on one of her runs. that makes you feel a bit more relieved, though the knot in your stomach remains wrapped tightly. why would she go on a run after all that happened last night? couldn’t she ever give herself a break?

you flop back onto her bed, massaging your temple. lee had meekly asked you to spend the night, requesting that you two just lie in silence. in that moment, you would’ve quieted the entire world for her.

after she had fallen asleep, her face so soft and tear-streaked, you had wept quietly next to her, body aching with all she had told you. you still feel it, really. you had always known lee went through something, but never would’ve guessed this of all things. you went in knowing this much – lee has a controlling mom who is religious and not doing well, lee hates going back home, lee’s mom was cut off. all those things had been delivered by lee rather straightforwardly, so you knew whatever she had to be keeping from you regarding her mother was something a bit different from those things, a bit harder to swallow. part of you had been anticipating that the secret in question would encapsulate the usual trajectory most people faced – a relationship that was strained due to differences that revealed themselves in adulthood, and the harsh fights ignited by that, the wounds that still can’t be healed. but, a night with the police called, a mother becoming a stranger, lee having to take care of that mother for years. you hadn’t expected those things. and it had shaken you more than you expected.

you had never seen her so utterly despaired, so entirely hopeless and devastated. the way her body moved as she sobbed looked so unnatural to lee – lee, who is always so poised and stiff and straight. lee, your girlfriend who is always steady and prepared for anything, looked like her entire world was shattered last night. it made you feel so stupid, so confused, because you didn’t know how to handle a version of lee this distraught, this twisted and wracked by her emotions.

how she kept her shit together for this long, you don’t even know. a night she can’t remember the contents of, a mother who may have been harmed in ways she isn’t even certain of, a relationship that became filled with estrangement and unexplainable behaviours. it’s something almost out of fiction. most people you know are aware of exactly why and how their family’s dynamics are fucked up. but, lee doesn’t even know what the fuck happened to her family. she’s been dragged and entrapped in a black hole of lost memories and secrets for over a decade now. you couldn’t handle such a thing. it’d haunt you every fucking day.

and maybe it does with lee.

you shakily tuck the blanket up to your chest, trying to calm yourself down. you need to keep your shit together. you can’t let her trauma fuck you up so much that she spends the morning comforting you when she’s the one who needs it. especially after she’s spent enough years taking care of someone else.

but, that someone else is her mother. of course lee took care of her.

precious lee, everlastingly good lee.

and speaking of her mother, the revelation of what’s happened has left you with just as many questions as lee. how does her mother act now? what does the haze lee spoke of entail? how often does she seem grounded and real, and how often is she a half-present stranger to lee? the questions do nothing to quell your sense of unease and shock at all that lee has told you. you’ve never met someone whose parent became a shell of themself, whose ongoings of their own home are so unknown they don’t even know what aroused such a change. the gaps and holes of the situation gnaw at you, with each question bringing a wave of secondhand anxiety, discomfort and curiosity. it makes your stomach turn – what happened to lee’s mom to cause all of this?

the possibilities make you nauseated with the range of brutality your mind skims along. and you’re just a stranger to lee’s mom. how must lee feel?

when the front door creaks open a half hour lately, you yank the blanket off, rushing to meet lee in the kitchen.

she’s in a t-shirt and jogging pants, panting lightly. when she spots you, she quietly takes off her headphones and sets her walkman on the counter. “hey.”

“hi.” you want to hold her so bad, protect her from everything bad in the world. but, you know better. lee doesn’t need protection, she’s more than capable. but, still, if there was a way to guarantee she never had to feel another ounce of pain, you’d gladly make any sacrifice necessary for it.

you resist touching her, the memory of how she recoiled last night still fresh. it had stung, but you reminded yourself it was only a testimony to the great pain she was in. it wasn’t fair to dictate her lack of desire for touch as being anything but.

but, not touching means you two stand there awkwardly for a few moments, simply staring.

lee breaks it first, eyes darting to the ground and remaining there. “I just needed to clear my head. sorry I didn’t wake you before leaving.”

“no, no, it’s okay!” you rush to reassure, wincing at how your voice flicks to a higher pitch. “seriously, it’s okay, I know you probably needed that.”

“you don’t need to make leniencies for me just because of last night. it’s okay if you’re upset.”

you frown. “I’m not, lee. I’m not excusing it just because of last night, I understand it because of last night. that’s not cutting you slack, it’s just acknowledging you went through something hard.”

her jaw clenches. “but, I don’t want things to be different now.”

“they’re not,” you say with a shake of your hand. it feels like a lie, considering this morning definitely feels different to any other you two have shared – more tender, more sensitive to how you react or behave. but, you don’t expect it’ll remain like this forever, nor that any permanent, strong changes will happen. so, things really won’t be different. . and even if you do make a few adjustments to try to avoid reminding her of her trauma, it’s not such a big difference, is it? it’s understandable, you don’t want to yank her back into such a dark place. “I just mean that, you know, you had a rough night, and because of that, things may not go as smoothly this morning as they usually do. but, I get it, you’re drained and it’s understandable it’d cause, you know, some changes to our routine today.”

lee breathes in a deep breath, her fingers rolled into tight fists. “I don’t want you to expect changes, though. I don’t want you to just let things slide because you pity me.”

“I don’t pity you, lee.” your voice nearly cracks, beginning to weaken under the lack of sleep and the sense of helplessness beginning to creep in you. “I just feel for you, and I’m sorry for all that happened. and I know bringing it all up last night must’ve been a lot, so I know things may be a bit different today because of how draining it was, and–”

“you don’t need to do all that.” her voice is firm, and still, she doesn’t look at you.

a sharp scoff flies from your lips. you regret it immediately, knowing she doesn’t deserve your anger right now. but, before this gets worse, you say, “fine, okay,” then turn, heading into the bathroom.

when you’re brushing your teeth, on the brink of tears, a knock comes to the door.

“it’s occupied,” you say, words muffled from the froth in your mouth. for once, you don’t want to talk to her.

lee sighs on the other end. “I know. can I come in?”

“later, lee.”

“okay.” the word sounds forced, hardened by an intentional push. you can tell she wants to stay.

after spending twenty minutes sitting on the toilet, trying to gather up and straighten your emotions into something more orderly than an overtired, blubbering mess, you head into the living room.

lee is standing by the tree, carefully re-arranging one of the ornaments. when it drops to the table’s surface, she bites her lip, tenderly cradling it up and hooking it back on. the sight only makes you feel even more sensitive to tears.

you warily call out, “hey.”

lee’s head whips to you, and immediately, she paces over. when she reaches you, her arms lift before quickly flinching back into their resting position at her sides. you gulp hard at the motion – to see her being the one hesitating to touch feels wrong.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, fingers stretching at her thighs. “that wasn’t right.”

“no, it wasn’t.”

the corner of her lip twitches and she nods slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I just…” you gulp, feeling your eyes beginning to burn. since morning time, your emotions have already felt extra sensitive and prickly from lack of sleep and the weight of last night’s conversation. and that makes it all too easy for lee’s earlier words to have pierced through you, leaving a burn of hurt. maybe you had no right to have required anything of her this morning – comfort, softness, talking. after all, it’s her who had shared something of note last night, not you. but, you had at least hoped that she’d let you in this morning, and allow you to support her and give her some love. “that hurt.” your voice falters, and you draw in a shaky breath to level it. “I just wanted to be there for you, lee. and help you, and make you feel better after last night. but, you made it sound like it’s terrible to do that.”

“it’s not,” she softly interjects, shaking her head. “it’s not. I just – I got scared that what happened last night, and what I told you, would make things different. and that you’d change how you treat me because of it. the idea of favours, it makes me uncomfortable.”

you nearly cringe at the words. the knowledge that your care made her feel uncomfortable is borderline humiliating. “uncomfortable because how I was treating you was, I don’t know, too much?”

“no.” she swallows, her throat bobbing. “it just made me feel like you now see me as, I don’t know, different, or pitiful.”

“but, I’ve given you this kind of treatment before. you know, like, trying to understand things may be different the day after something intense.”

“I know. but, with this situation, I…” her voice lowers, eyebrows scrunching in what feels awfully close to shame. “I already feel weak regarding it. not remembering anything, not being able to figure it out. and I just, I don’t want you to see me like how I see myself.” her mouth twists in something sorrowful, her eyes lowering.

“but, I don’t, though.” your voice breaks, and you immediately clamp your mouth shut. you don’t want to make this about yourself or your hurt.

but, lee catches it immediately, her eyes widening and raising to you. her mouth flutters open and shut, and she takes a tentative step forward, fingertips ghosting along your wrist. “I know.”

“I see you as strong, honestly. you’ve been dealing with so much, and you hold yourself together despite it all.”

“I don’t hold it together well. I–”

“lee, look at yourself!” you nearly cry out, the power of the shock at what she had been through pushing you forward to try to shake her into realizing what’s crystal clear to you. “you built an entire life, independently, for yourself. despite having an entire night you don’t remember, one that made things so different for you and your mom. and despite all that happened, you still care for her, without falter or hesitation. you’re a great person, a great daughter, despite it all.”

her fingers wrap firmly around your wrist. “I don’t – you don’t need to tell me all of this.”

“I don’t need to do anything, you’re right. I want to, though, because it’s the truth.”

she shakes her head slowly. “I’m just doing what I need to do.”

you draw your hand from her grip, cupping her face, pressing in close. “you’re doing things that take a lot of strength, and a lot of consideration for your mom.” you lean your head against hers. “don’t diminish it.”

“I’m not,” she weakly protests, her voice low. “it’s just not a big deal.”

“it is, lee.”

she shakily sighs, as though she can’t handle the amount of praise you’re laying onto her. “I just – I only wanted to apologize, okay? for me, at least in this situation, I usually avoid talking about it and want things to immediately go back to exactly how they were before. but, I can’t ask that of you. for you, it’ll be different. I know that.”

her understanding words have your shoulders easing in relief, for to think of moving on without acknowledging all that occurred last night feels impossible. “yeah, it’s just – it was a lot. not in a bad way, of course,” you speedily add, eyes widening to search hers for any sign of hurt that could’ve resulted from your words. “I just mean, I think I would’ve struggled to have just let it go this morning.”

“and I shouldn’t have expected you to.”

you hum quietly. “thanks.” when she says nothing, dark orbs resting on you, carefully studying, you gulp, something else still gnawing at your mind. “lee?”

“hm?”

you start with, “nothing between us will change. and I don’t see you as pitiful, okay?”

she eyes you with furrowed eyebrows, her stare wary. “okay.”

“but, you know, you’re allowed to feel bad for yourself, babe. sympathetic with yourself, your past self, and all they’ve both been through. it’s okay for other people to feel bad for you, too. and for them to comfort you. it doesn’t mean they think you’re pitiful. it just means they care about and love you and are just sad you dealt with something so hard.”

her lips pinch together, chest heaving with a heavy breath. “I know, but people feeling bad for me, or comforting me – it makes me feel small, especially considering how… I can barely manage the situation as is.” she rubs a hand on her face, and your chest snaps at the sight of her clear distress. lee in general doesn’t like unanswered questions – even with movies, whenever you guys saw one with an ambiguous ending, she would spend hours afterwards cracking the code of it. if something as inconsequential as that can gnaw at her mind, what would it feel like for her to face a mystery embedded within her own life, centering on someone she loves? probably terrifying, you suspect. “and I just don’t like to think about what happened with my mom. but, being comforted pushes me to think about it and everything that happened. that’s why I’d rather things go back to normal after I talk about it. not only because the alternative makes me feel pitied. but, because it also forces me to think about what happened.”

“but, does not thinking about it really help at all?”

“I…” she pauses, the firmness of her jaw seeming to deflate as she quietly ponders on your question. “I don’t know. I used to think about it more, but now, I just avoid it. it won’t go anywhere and it’s too much.”

at the vulnerable opening, you tread across the threshold carefully, not wanting to push her too fast. “but, is not acknowledging it, and how it’s affected you, really helping?”

“I–I don’t know.”

she looks so fragile, her face tense and avoidant, ducked down and shying away from your gaze. you can tell the possibility of thinking on it more, lingering on the horrors of it, is overwhelming for her, so you try to quiet your tone. “I – just think on it, okay? I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”

her throat rolls under the skin as she gulps. “okay.”

“I–” god, you want to say it so fucking bad. but, not now. not like this, when she’s clearly already stressed.

“you what?”

“I’m here for you, okay?” you hesitate, then move forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t pity you, or see you as weak. but, I feel bad for what happened, lee, because it is hard what you guys went through. and I know me feeling bad for you makes you feel like I’m pitying you, or seeing you differently. but, I don’t. I’m just sad you went through this. and I just want to support you.” another kiss. “if you’ll let me, I just want to care for you.”

a small noise comes from the back of lee’s throat. you can’t see her, your cheek pressed to hers, so you wait patiently to hear her answer.

when she sags against you, arms tightly clutching on, you have it.

–

lee jerks in surprise when two arms wrap around her from behind. her head flies back, body relaxing a bit when she sees your crinkled, happy eyes, mouth twisted in amusement.

“‘hi’ works, too,” she mutters, very much not pulling away. her body is still tense, but after hours apart, she craves this.

“yes, but where’s the element of surprise in that?”

“not every greeting requires that, you know,” she deadpans, a twinge of disappointment flicking in her when you let go, standing by her side.

“well, I’m just happy to see you,” you whine, bottom lip jutting out. “but, I guess if that’s how you feel…” you turn away, releasing an exaggerated, whooshing breath.

lee’s mouth tingles as she bites back a smile. she wryly glances at you, hoping you’re not actually hurt beneath all the jokes. after a moment of scanning you, she shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you so that your hip is flushed to hers.

“oh, so, now you want to hold me.”

she snorts. “I always do.”

“sure,” you drawl, rolling your eyes.

“I do. do I need to prove that to you?”

“here?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. “didn’t know public play was your thing, harker.”

when lee spots a couple flashing you two alarmed looks, she internally winces. “baby, we’re in public.”

“yeah, I know, that’s what public play is, loser.”

she tightens her grip on your hip, leaning into your ear to murmur, “no, I mean we’re in public, so please, stop talking about the… public play.”

you bite your lip, following her nervous glances to the couple near you two. “did they hear us?”

“yes, they did.”

“oh.” you laugh, nuzzling your face against her shoulder. “my bad.”

she sighs, eyes darting to the nearby couple again. “just order, then let’s go.”

you slip from her grasp, peering into the plane of glass, eagerly taking in the colourful stamps on the other side. “what flavour will you get?”

she hums thoughtfully, looking at all the special flavours set for summer. while they look nice, she isn’t really up for trying anything new. “just vanilla.”

you cock your head at her with what can only be described as a pleading look. “c’mon, be more adventurous than that.”

her eyes carefully rove along the small, yellow shop, ensuring no one is in earshot before muttering against your ear, “this is the last vanilla thing I have since dating you, so let me keep it.”

you nod along to her words, and after a few moments, you start, your head whipping to her. “wait, what the fuck?” your face crumbles into a loud round of laughter, and a warm sense of pride flitters through her stomach. “wow, you’re funny!”

lee rolls her eyes, sniggering. “don’t sound so surprised.” despite her outward indifference, the compliments do stroke her ego a bit. she’s never seen herself as being funny, or charming, and she’s certain no one else has either. but, you have a way of so easily flashing her smiles and tossing her compliments that she can’t help but feel that at least you see her in that way. and though she’d never admit it, she’s glad to know you do.

after the ice cream is secured, you two sit on the park bench, one of your legs laying languidly upon hers. lee likes it, this easy intimacy, and she lets her fingers rub along your shin as she takes observations. there’s a woman playing frisbee with her dog, a group of students sitting on a picnic blanket, some children playing, well, a frankly poor attempt of baseball (and lee isn’t even a fan of baseball), and several other such groupings. lee wonders what any of them would think upon seeing you or her. would they see two friends, or a couple?

as lee hears the slippery noises of you happily eating your ice cream, she can’t help but feel she’d like them to think the second. you’re hers, and ever since your discussion at the pride march, she’s wanted to try to be more intentional.

she lowers her head, kissing your knee softly. when she raises up to continue eating her ice cream, the side of her head practically burns from your unfaltering gaze.

glancing at you tentatively, she asks, “what?”

“what was the kiss for?”

she shrugs, brushing her thumb over the spot, still slick from her saliva. “no reason.”

“mm, no reason my ass.”

she continues eating her ice cream, her body afloat in what’s finally a sense of peace. she’s been waiting for it, hoping for it. ever since she confided in you about her childhood, she can tell that you’ve grown a bit more hesitant, or at least delicate, with her. you’ve been lavishing touches on her more frequently, leaving the room when she talks to her mom, or on some occasions, staying and then hugging her silently right after. you now pause for longer beats before asking her about her childhood. she knows you’re not doing it to make her feel uncomfortable – if anything, it’s just evidence of how jilted you were from the recollection she delivered to you. and she can’t blame you for that – she lived through it, and even she can barely stomach it on most days. and knowing you, you’re probably just trying to avoid tipping her into another breakdown. which she’d like to avoid too, but not because of an evident barrier within every moment that vaguely connects to her mother or childhood.

she spoke to you about it two days ago, focused on softening her tone, a practice she rarely ever engaged in. but, after what happened last time, she wanted to be careful. at the end of it, you promised to try to not be so awkward about things. lee hadn’t told you then, but part of her also wanted the hesitancy to diminish because she thought about what you said to her last week. a lot. and she decided that she does want to try thinking about the past, talking about it, letting herself feel for it, just as you said. you were right. the silence with her mom is what shattered what they had – what if her own silence on this matter one day breaks her too?

at least now, things seem more normal. she feels less frightened about any sort of permanent change, for your questions are now laced with less pauses and wary gazes. you still seem a bit more tender than usual, but lee’s accepted that maybe that’s just a natural part of confiding in someone who feels this way about her. maybe part of acknowledging how… hard the situation was (she still winces to think of it that way) is allowing you to give her proportionate care for it. at least, well, what feels “proportionate” for you. she still struggles to think of herself as needing that much.

she watches you as you smile up at the tree shadowing you two, which is lime under the golden sunlight peeking through. “do you… do you like this area?”

the location of your university has left you no choice but to live in this kind of area, and lee itches to know what you would choose if it were up to you. both out of curiosity’s sake, and to, secretly, use your answer to adjust her envisionment of the future.

“I do.” you release a sigh, eyes scanning your surroundings. “it has nice parks, the subway makes it easy to reach deeper parts of this city, but, our place’s neighbourhood is still quiet enough to be more… serene.”

she hums, nodding. she had presumed as much, based on the way your eyes lingered on the flowers filling the lawns of neighbourhood homes, and how you sometimes stuck your head out the window of her room to look at the kids playing on the streets.

you love her window. it makes her a bit regrettable – she hadn’t cared much about the window apart from it making her bedroom feel a bit less closed in and a bit more breathable. but, apart from that, she had only chosen that room for herself because it was the smaller one and would force her to set a desk out in the open. which she didn’t like, but she had done it so things could at least be a bit easier for you. she didn’t want to be a selfish roommate.

“you?”

the answer is immediate, months of reflection bringing her right to it. “I could live somewhere more isolated.”

“oh?”

she eyes you hesitantly, hoping her answer doesn’t dissuade you in any kind of form. “like, a cottage. in a forest.”

your eyes bulge out. “damn, that sounds… isolated, indeed.”

she fidgets, feeling slightly self-conscious. “in a bad way?”

“no, no, I mean, it makes sense, considering you like your solitude. but, you’d be comfortable being that isolated?”

I wouldn’t be alone. her mouth twists at the thought, stomach tightening over the fact that your phrasing makes it sound like you expect her to be there alone. do you not envision a future with her? she tries to shake off the thought, focusing on what you asked.

but, the truth is, yes, she would be that comfortable. more than. “probably. I don’t mind being physically alone. it makes me feel at ease.”

“but, you wouldn’t be nervous? scared?”

“by the time I could afford anything like that, I will have completed my training.” she shrugs, stroking your knee. “so, I could defend myself.”

“plus, you’d…” when you pause, lee’s hand stills, awaiting your next words. “you’d, I don’t know, maybe have me?”

lee nearly exhales a deep breath of relief, just barely refraining. it’s been prickling at her mind – the possibility that you may not want to share a home with her. it’s a foreign thing for her to worry over, and ironic, in all honesty. she’s spent most of her life anticipating the day she gets to be alone, on her own, with no one but herself to account for. and now, right when she’s on the precipice of having that, she finds herself wanting nothing more than to stay here with you. maybe it had always been less about wanting to be by herself, but wanting to be somewhere where she’s understood, and having felt convinced for most of her life that she was the only one who could give herself that fully.

“yeah,” she mumbles, unable to resist the small smile that tilts her lips up. something had been gnawing at her mind for two days now, but the topic of conversation, as well as your confession, pushes her on now to voice it. “listen… the landlord told me two days ago we have three weeks to decide if we want to up the lease. I want to. but, if you don’t, you can tell me. it’s okay.” direct, straight-to-the-point, and done with.

when you say nothing, lee forces her eyes to you. your lips are parted, and you resemble an owl with how you stare at her.

“what?” she quietly prods.

“well, I just– you don’t want to leave here after grad? maybe explore somewhere else.”

lee blinks at you. she had never been one particularly excited at the idea of exploring new places, often too comfortable in her surroundings to stray. and graduation, finding a job, having a partner – those are enough changes as is. she hadn’t been eager to seek out more. “no, not really. I’m not in a rush to leave. I wouldn’t mind staying till I need to go to virginia.” she shifts slightly, suddenly wishing you two had discussed this before now. “I– do you want to stay?”

“I do.”

“do you want to stay with me?” it’s the question that really matters.

your face becomes a beam of light when you smile, and lee turns away, her breath hitching when you say, “do you even need to ask?”

lee breathes in a shuddering breath, taken aback by just how… happy your words make her. she wasn’t even half-ready to let go of this yet – the home you two have built the past year. it’s been an entire year, but she feels like she’s only had the briefest taste of it. she’d like to indulge in at least a bit more before whatever comes next – whether it be the two of you moving somewhere else together, moving to virginia together or even being apart during her time at the academy. it’d be hard, sure, but she knows the two of you can handle it.

when the feeling of overwhelming lightness settles down, she releases a puff of air. “well, of course, I need to. can’t up it without asking you.”

“yeah, you’d be a tad creepy for doing that, huh?”

she snickers. “just a tad.”

when the two of you wander through the farmer’s market taking place on the outskirts of the park, you loop your arm through hers. she tenses automatically from the public display of affection before easing up. even though she wants to be more open, she still can’t help but immediately tighten in tension when you do these things. she supposes it’s just a matter of adjusting.

“so, three days.” you pout, leaning on her shoulder.

lee gives you a small nod. three days until she goes back home. it’s not an entirely welcome thought, considering how uncomfortable it makes her to think of how long the two of you will be apart. but, part of her has been wanting to see her mom since she confided in you. something about speaking so unabashedly of their bond, and all her mom did for her, has her longing to see her again. though, she’s certain that in a week, she’ll be desperate to leave the house, for upon each visit, the hoarding gets more stifling, more treacherous.

“are you… nervous?”

she shrugs. “a bit. just about how much worse things have gotten regarding her behaviour, the house…” it’s an anxiety she’s grown accustomed to, one that visits and makes a home in her body, feet tossed up and all, everytime she’s anticipating a visit to her mom’s. “I can manage.”

you hum in thought and plant a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I just – I wish I knew how to grapple with the kind of things she says. I usually just stay quiet.”

after pausing for a moment, nothing surrounding you two but the soft cacophony of the crowd’s conversations and purchases, you quietly say, “maybe all you can do is tell her that when she’s ready, she can talk to you, or, you know, use your help to get help. but, other than that, just try to be there.”

“I’ve always been there.” sometimes, lee hates that she’s been. since childhood, her mother forced her into a box, with just them, content to keep herself and lee hidden from the rest of the world’s company. the wariness of the world, the protection of lee – it never truly waned. as lee got older, it only fused with other things – like her mom’s inability to do certain things around the house, and her increased paranoia of lee leaving and the resulting hesitation for whenever lee had to go to work or even school.

her responsibility made her both grow up too fast and too little. she had acquired the necessary skills of survival, like cooking and managing money, but little of what was needed for actually living. her mother had been absent for many of lee’s most formative experiences – her first love, first heartache, first friendships. and while some of those things had been hidden away for privacy’s sake or out of fear of her mother’s disapproval, there was always a gnawing voice at the back of her mind reminding her that her mother wouldn’t be fully present even if lee did reach out. she would maybe give lee some comfort and advice, but it would only be a matter of time before she said something else that’d unnerve lee. so, lee avoided it.

and as a result, lee had to learn a lot, maybe too much, on her own once she slowly came to realize just how stilted she was emotionally. it came from careful observation, and an embarrassing amount of self-help books.

though, she can’t help it. part of her still stings with bitterness at how much she had to train herself for because her mother wasn’t there to help her. at least not as much as lee wished for her to be.

“I know,” you softly sigh, rubbing her back. “it’s okay to sometimes want a break, you know? you don’t have to put it all on yourself.”

“she doesn’t have anyone else.” lee feels an odd kick of protectiveness. it’s strange – she doesn’t enjoy visiting most of the time, but she’d never give it up. not when her mom is so alone. in a way, it’s a duty she’s caged into, but she can’t imagine escaping it even if she had the key. both out of obligation and due to the fact that when she spends enough time away, she usually winds up craving the comfort of her mother, anyways. visiting is a way to replenish that in a sense, as well as check in and help. “besides, I owe her this. I already keep so much distance as is.”

“do you think that’ll… change anytime soon? like, her maybe living with you?”

“no.” lee doesn’t mean to sound harsh, but the question is one she’s thought of before, while the answer is engraved in her mind. “I spent too long looking after her, and being scared, and I can’t– I, yeah.”

you squeeze her forearm gently, and lee peers at you, shame coursing through her. will you look down at her for being such a bad daughter?

you’re watching her with eyebrows drawn in, mouth pinched together. she anxiously wonders if it’s disappointment until you squeeze her arm again and say, “I understand. you already spent so many years looking after her, making sacrifices, feeling uncomfortable. you’re not wrong to not want that again. your visits are more than enough.”

she looks down. “thanks.” she certainly doesn’t feel like her visits are enough, but it’s really all she can manage. and it helps, somewhat, to hear you all acknowledge all she’s done. it eases the guilt somewhat, at least in this moment.

“and if you feel anxious there, or want to rant, call me, okay?”

“like a hotline?” she mutters, her lips tickling with the urge to smile. despite the joking words, she feels more than touched by your kindness. it’s nice – that you know about her mom now. at least the explanation is done with, so she can talk about these things without tiptoeing the line between what you know and what else she can reveal.

“oh, yeah,” you snicker. “if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get one of those 1-900 ones.”

lee casts you a sidelong glance, curiosity bubbling within her. in all honesty, she’s glad for the chance to discuss something else, feeling worn out from the talk of her impending visit. “did you ever call one of those?”

“yeah,” you giggle, leaning into her conspiratorially. “at, like, fifteen, I think, some of my friends and I brought a bunch of quarters so we could get at least five minutes on the phone with the girl on the other end. honestly, it’s probably what prompted my sexual awakening.” you shoot her a mischievous grin, and lee feels her neck burning. “did you?”

“no.” religious shame, innate discomfort with intimacy and a sheltered upbringing didn’t exactly make for a good combination to be sexually rebellious as a teenager. “I heard people talk about it, though.”

“eh, wasn’t really worth the anticipation. I mean, back then, it was – a woman’s ankle would’ve probably had me frothing at the mouth. but, now?” you shrug, idly brushing your fingers through a bouquet of flowers being sold at one stall. “the real thing is better.”

lee feels her face warming up more, your low tone making it evident what you mean. she can’t help but take a bit of pride in your words – logically, she knows it’s not that much of an accomplishment, but considering how much practice she committed to talking explicitly in her freshman year, it feels like one.

“once,” you continue, cheeks lifting as you laugh, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, “a guy told me I had the voice of the speaker on 1-900-SPANK-ME.”

her mouth clamps together, feeling a whirring mix of surprise and embarrassment on your behalf. “that’s… unexpected.”

“yeah, I know! I think he liked me or something, but like, a mixtape would’ve sufficed.”

“yeah. do you like mixtapes?” she asks, hoping to sound discreet.

“yeah, it’s like what I said – homemade stuff is always so thoughtful. I would’ve loved one back then. plus, romance-wise, it’s better than being compared to some girl he heard who said, ‘I want you on top of me so bad.’”

✩

the way you imitate the caller, raising your voice and making it sound more seductive, has lee shifting her shoulders, suddenly keenly aware of just how effortlessly you slid into that role.

“um, well, what did the person say when you called that one time?”

you seem to hesitate for a second, casting her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. whatever you seem to find on her face, though, seems to earn you a boost of confidence, for you then hover your mouth near her ear, quietly answering with a giggle. “oh, you know, something along the lines of, ‘oh, welcome to 1-900-whatever-whatever, where girls with the wettest, juiciest pussies are just aching to talk to you.’”

lee gulps, her abdomen beginning to sizzle with something warm at hearing you say something so filthy. the few times you had uttered such words during sex made her feel swept from under her feet, light-headed and flung somewhere else mentally. there was something about how your voice got huskier in its teasing tone, or higher in shy humiliation, that made her feel totally broken in any reservations, wanting nothing more to drink in all the telltale signs of how you’re feeling and figure it all out like her own special puzzle.

“I see,” she says through gritted teeth, hoping you don’t notice any signs of her sudden arousal.

when your teeth flash at her, her hope cracks a bit, but it feels nice.

you have her so worked up that that night, you two finally try lee’s toy. lying on your sides, face to face, she nearly comes undone at the sight of your mouth falling open, eyes screwed shut, as she spreads you open with her cock. you ask her to let it rest inside you for a few minutes, and for that time, lee rubs soothingly on your clit, kissing you languidly and murmuring how you’re taking her so well. words that made her feel so embarrassed the first time she uttered them, but now, slip from her mouth without an ounce of hesitation. for doing so is only made easier by the way you gasp at the words, your hips twitching. as lee plays with different parts of your body, wanting to spend the night worshipping it as though every inch is a sacred artefact, she wishes she could feel how your pussy wraps around her. how it’s tightening when she gently pinches your nipples or sinks her teeth into your collarbone.

when you adjust, lee has you on your back minutes later, burying her face in your neck as she slowly thrusts in and out. she’s sucking the sweat off your skin, lapping at the tangy taste of it, feeling close to addiction with the way you wrap your legs around her, clawing at her back.

the sting of it has her panting, “you like that, don’t you?”

you tug on her hair, raising her to a messy kiss. “god, I love it.”

she thrusts harder into you, one thumb flicking over your budded clit, her mouth relentless on your neck. with your hands on her back, your hair plastered to your forehead, you come just like that, body arching against her, chests rubbing together. lee wishes so bad she could feel the way your pussy flutters around her cock, how you clench so hard and latch onto her.

the second time you get back on it that night, you’re riding her. every bounce you take on the strap has the harness pressing against lee’s clit, and she bites her lip to hold back her whimpers. there’s something undeniably attractive about you on top of her like this, tits bouncing, nipples hard, your entire body shaking. you’re struggling so much to keep going, and lee can’t help but wring pleasure out of that, leaning back on her headboard and watching you as you grasp at her stomach with needy hands.

when it gets too hard, you curl your fingers around her neck, panting out, “please, baby, please – ah.”

your words break into a long whine when lee wraps her arms around your torso, holding you flush to her body as she jerks her cock into you, her hips furiously jutting up. the sound of skin smacking rings through lee’s room, and it makes her hole clench in desire.

“couldn’t do it on your own, huh?” she mutters against your ear, her breath hot and moist as she laps at the shell of it. “you just need someone to do all the work for you.”

“no, no, I can do it, I–” your stubborn whines break into a long moan when lee’s hand comes down on your ass, slapping it hard. she relishes in how your skin gets warm to the touch from it, murmuring against your cool, wet skin, “not so mouthy now.”

that only makes your hips jerk harder, and the unexpected motion of it has lee crying out, her eyes tensing shut for a second.

“oh?” you mutter, pressing your hips back down again, smiling when lee shivers, her hips bucking up. “does that feel good, baby?”

lee’s breath hitches as the pressure of the dildo’s base again pushes against her clit, sending streams of pleasure through her center. she grits her teeth, rasping out, “yeah.”

“poor baby,” you coo, ducking down to process sloppy kisses down her cheek. “feels good to split me open? c’mon, move harder, for both of us.”

“ah, okay,” she brokenly moans, bracing her feet down on the mattress and using the leverage to thrust her hips up.

you keen at the deeper thrusts, and jesus, lee wishes she could feel the way the silicone tip rubs against your g-spot, prodding and pushing the spongy texture of it. how she’d love to just feel your hot, drenched walls clamped up on her, squeezing and gripping, and begging for her to release inside you.

“fuck, feels so nice,” you whine, wrapping your arms around her neck, combing your fingers through her hair. “you’re doing so good.”

the praise has lee burning with pride. it eggs her on, pushing her to arch her hips up more. she grabs your breasts with her hands, pushing her face into them, lips moving without thought. she laps her tongue around the curve of them, nose fetching deep breaths of your scent.

your grasp on her hair tightens. “such a good girl. fuck, please, my nipples, baby.”

your voice feels like seduction personified, low and heady and making lee’s head spin with the way you’re guiding her. you use your hands to keep her arms locked in around your waist, almost as though you’re silently demanding her to help you. and lee is seized by the switch in dynamics whole-heartedly, the sight of you being pleasured and staying in control making her throb with want. there’s something almost relieving about being the one without the reigns. she’s so accustomed to having her fingers sunk deep into every situation regarding herself, wanting to weave and structure it according to the rules. but, giving herself over to you like this means that for once, her control, her decisions – it’s all tossed out the window. usually, she hates that, but with you, someone she trusts. it feels good, it feels like she can commit herself to letting go for once.

and so, lee obeys without a second thought, her mouth wrapping around your perked nipple and sucking it into her mouth, the stiff texture of it against her tongue making her groan. her fingers work diligently on the other one, flicking her thumb over it, then lightly rolling.

your hips buck harder through it, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. lee takes the opportunity immediately, lifting her head up to draw your tongue into her mouth, eyes closing as she sucks and licks at the soft, pink muscle.

“mm,” you whine against her sloppy kisses, “you’re such a good girl. filling me up like this.”

lee hisses, the praise driving her to push into you even harder.

and you sit there, on her cock, taking it so well. just remaining wrapped up in her arms, tightly clutching on, as it rams into you over and over again. lee sinks her teeth into your shoulder, the wet squelches ringing through the room making her squeeze down on nothing. with the mix of lube, spit and juices lathered on your folds, you sound like a mess. god, she wishes she could add to it, wishes this silicone could be real and she could send spurt after spurt of her seed into you. she wants to claim you in every way.

and it seems you feel the same way, your mouth desperate and quick on her neck, sucking dark marks into her skin. lee’s so sensitive that she feels like every patch you give attention to is made of needles, prickling, skimming and stinging as you nip and mark her up.

when you pull away, your lips turn up in a wide smile. you mutter, lips ghosting hers, “you’re all mine, okay?”

lee bites her lip, arousal coursing through her from the words. since you guys got together, it’s been clear you have a possessive streak to your affection. usually, lee wouldn’t like the idea of someone staking any sort of claim on her. but, with you, there’s something sweet about it, how badly you want her to be only yours. it also amuses her, since she’s been yours for months, and there’s no way she’d leave you – so, this side of is less than reasonable to her.

but, your jealousy has never caused any dire sort of situation in your guys’ relationship, so as of now, the little showings of it are something she allows herself to find pleasure in, both from how endearing you are when it happens and from how it makes her feel to be so wholeheartedly desired.

besides, she’s not much better than you in that regard. maybe some, but not a lot.

“I’m yours.”

“good, good,” you moan, dragging her back in for a long kiss, your tongue clumsily swirling around hers.

minutes later, you whimper, your voice timid when you mumble, “lee, my thighs… they hurt.”

lee laughs lightly against your lips, feeling heat pool in her stomach from your confession. wordlessly, she eases you off her cock, relishing in the moan you release when she slips out fully. she pushes you gently onto your stomach, nearly gasping at how good you look like this. your back’s fully exposed, sweat shining the skin, and your ass has lee’s fingers twitching with how badly she wants to hit it. she runs her fingers along your thighs, stopping to grip your hips tightly and tug you up so that your ass is in the air. you whine at the change of position, rubbing back against her bobbing, sopping dildo.

lee grits her teeth, taking in a deep breath before she starts.

once you’ve adjusted, she doesn’t falter, her hips snapping against you without a moment of slowing down. you bury your face into her pillow, incomprehensible words flowing from your mouth, muffled against the fabric. her nails dig so hard into your flesh that she leaves crescent-shaped marks, and she can’t help but fondle with the skin there, groping and pinching as she pumps in.

“can you spank me?” you whine, biting into the pillowcase.

lee doesn’t respond, but her hand immediately plants a firm swat on your ass, teeth clenching at the way you rock back against her from the impact. at this angle, she can see the way the rim to your hole stretches over her, latching onto her cock and keeping her locked in. she brushes her thumb against it, breaths heaving at the way your arousal sometimes drips when she pulls out.

later, you come with lee still behind you, your front pressed against her headboard, back flush to her breasts as she encircles you in her arms. her mouth feels practically ravenous, hungry kisses littered over your neck as she rubs at your clit and mumbles, “so tight for me, so good. I can’t wait to see you come for me like this.”

you cry out, clutching onto her arms. “I need it so bad.”

“yeah?” she snickers, an idea stirring in her mind.

a moment later, her thrusts slow, finger circling your clit with enough pressure to get you twitching, but light enough that any orgasm drawn from it would be so far from satisfying.

“beg,” she murmurs, pinching your nipple hard.

your entire body writhes, head falling against her shoulder as you cry out. “but, but, it’s embarrassing–”

“I don’t care,” lee cuts in, stiff as she tries to keep her voice calm and removed from the trembles and heavy breathing that results from her arousal. “if you beg, I’ll make you feel good. otherwise, you can get yourself off.”

“lee!” you moan in protest. “that’s so mean–mmph!”

she shuts you up with a hard kiss, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. “I don’t care. do it.”

“I–I…” your words falter, before a quiet string of them fall from your lips. “please, lee, I need it so bad.”

“you can do better than that,” she whispers. there’s something about dominating like this that’s also relieving in its own right. she gets to focus solely on guiding and directing you through a series of steps – something she’s good. in addition to that, she can’t help but feel her mind go a bit slack at just how eager you are to follow directions, just how much of a control she has over you.

despite all the progress she made since the start of university, it still makes her feel a bit guilty, to thrive off of that. but, she tries not to pay it mind in this moment, when your moans and cries are clear indicators that you’re enjoying this too.

“fine, I– please, please, please, lee! I need it so bad, need to come so bad, I’m aching for it, and I promise I’ll be good, and–” your words break off into a stifled noise as she starts working her way into you again, hips slamming vigorously.

you come just like that, body squirming, lips hovering against hers as you softly wail into the small space of her bedroom. your hips flinch all the way through it, and lee needs to press her arms into you to keep you still. lee hearing and witnessing the evidence of your pleasure has her taut with tension and arousal. you look perfect like this – sweaty, exhausted, and thoroughly taken care of.

post-cuddles, when lee tosses the strap onto the towel on the floor, she immediately flushes at the downright evil giggle you release at seeing her grey boxers soaked through.

“now, what do we have here?” you drawl, fingers slipping down the waistband and drawing them down. when you spread her thighs out, eyes immediately flicking to the spot between them, lee feels heat run up her neck from the way you smile, eyes crinkling in sheer satisfaction. “such a mess, baby.”

she swallows hard. “I– it’s not my fault.”

“oh, I know, I know,” you gently soothe, shifting down her bed to get your head lower. “you poor thing, you just couldn’t help it, could you?”

your tone, so sweet, so patronizing, has her hips shifting, a mix of embarrassment and arousal whirling through her.

when you keep staring at her, clearly awaiting an answer, she rolls her eyes, though her hips stutter. “no, I couldn’t.”

“you know, I’d usually make you wait longer for this kind of attitude.” you bat your lashes at her, and lee feels her clit throb when you flatten your tongue along her inner thigh and stroke along it slowly. “but, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

lee’s bucking into your face a few moments later, her entire pussy aching with the way you devour her, starting off with slow, open-mouth kisses along her folds and lips, pausing to draw different spots into your mouth and tug on them until she hisses in protest. you lave your tongue all over her, tracing and slipping, as though you’re starving and eager to drink up everything she has to offer. the thought itself is enough to make lee squirm.

when you get to her clit, you keep the point of your tongue stroking along the hood, not directly on the bud just yet but toying at the sides. lee’s fingers tighten onto the sheets, her patience waning.

“please, I need more,” she gasps out, her long-awaiting arousal snatching her of any reservations.

“awe, but you sound so cute like this.” your words are punctuated with a delicate kiss to her clit, and lee releases a choked out gasp.

after a few more small, wet kisses peppered over the length of her, you finally round your lips around her clit, sucking it in with fluid motions. everytime your lips tighten around her, the ache in her clit deepens, and lee’s head falls against her pillow, mouth hanging open as a velvety, warm surges through her.

with two fingers buried in her deep, your mouth is relentless in your attempt to draw out pleasure from her, moving from slow, patient sucks and kisses to your tongue flattening and running up and down her clit. the firm, steady rolls of your tongue have her teetering on the edge of climax, . it only worsens when you lift your thumb up, and start flicking the bottom of her clit, your tongue moving in quick, hard motions against the rest.

without meaning to, her hands fly up, gripping onto your head and keeping you in place as her hips mindlessly thrust into your face, her entire back arching as an embarrassingly high-pitched noise wrings from her throat. her orgasm hits her so hard that it almost feels like something is internally shattering, releasing a damn of hot, overwhelming relief through her body, almost painful in how intense it is.

when the last of her aftershocks wear off, shakily lowering her body back to the mattress, she sucks in a deep breath. “I– thanks. for that.”

you giggle, crawling up her body. “I should thank you.” laying on top of her, you kiss her slowly, tenderly, and lee basks under the attention. there’s something painfully vulnerable, and limitlessly freeing, when she’s surrounded in such unabashed intimacy with you. a part of herself, the one containing the desires and wants, that’s usually kept wedged shut, is totally open to you and all your care. it’s frightening, it’s fragile, but it feels so nice when you receive her with nothing but understanding kisses and words, assuring her of everything she wants with you.

when you break the kiss, you mutter, “giving me the strap just two days before you leave. that’s evil, you know?”

despite herself, a lazy grin curls on her lips, the weight of you on top of her possibly one of the most comforting things she’s ever felt. especially when you stroke her hair and rub her arm. she feels so desired under your gaze, yeah, and she’s not used to it, and feels a bit awkward by it. but, it also makes her feel like she’s being seen in a way only you can behold in your gaze. that makes it special. and to know you want her, maybe as much as she wants you – as surreal and intimidating as it is, it makes her stomach flip.“maybe it was part of some ploy to ensure you stay waiting for me.”

“trust me, you need no ploy.”

lee bites her lip. you’re so sure of her, so certain about your choice in her. she doesn’t know how to handle that.

but, she will, at least now, let herself indulge in it, her head curling into your neck.

✩

–

“can I please get these?”

you immediately recognize the voice, like the soundwaves of it are imprinted on your heart. head jolting up, your cheeks ache at the sight of lee timidly sliding over some candy and a bouquet of flowers.

“sure, miss,” you drawl out, hands shaking a bit as you scan and check out her items. she’s picked you up after your shifts before, sure, but she’s never actually seen you in action. it puts a silly sort of pressure on you, and you try to be smooth and efficient in packing her things up in a paper bag. “what are the flowers for?” you add, batting your eyes exaggeratedly at her.

“for amaya.”

“oh.” your bottom lip juts out, and you meekly slide her groceries to the edge of the counter. it makes sense, considering amaya’s small get-together is tonight and lee will be wishing her off. but, still, ugh, how embarrassing.

after taking in the sight of you for a few moments, lee says, “I can get you some too.”

“no, but now, it’s only happening because I asked for it!” you whine, feeling rather petulant.

“but, isn’t that how anything is acquired? you ask for it before?”

your teeth clench at her logic. “but, with flowers, that should be a given!”

“how, though? I didn’t know if you liked them or not, so I didn’t get them.”

“yes, but you could’ve figured it out by getting me some.” your tone is embarrassingly high-pitched now, raising in exasperation.

her eyebrows furrow. “but, if you didn’t like them, then it’d be a waste of money.”

“I’d automatically like them because they’re from you!”

she blinks at you, her mouth curling in thought. after a moment, she says, “okay, I’ll remember that.”

you give her a pointed look, yanked out of the conversation when an old man begins placing his groceries on the belt. at least it didn’t end on a bad note, considering she seems to get your perspective. and as stubborn as you feel, you understand hers, too – it’s one crafted by pure logic and a bit of lax regarding social norms. which encapsulates your girlfriend perfectly.

when you’re done cashing up the man’s groceries, there’s a moment of quiet before any new customers come, and you use it to breathe in the quiet buzz of the day, thankful for the store soon closing. lee takes advantage of it, moving closer and dragging her finger through your belt loop. “are you upset?”

you’re unable to resist the smile that prods at your mouth. “no. I get what you mean. I’m sorry.” you blow out a deep breath. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“yeah, I’m sure that’s all there is to it,” she whispers, the sweet little lines near her mouth dipping as she grins. “don’t forget, we leave at nine.”

“yes, mom,” you shoot, gently pushing her at the hip as she walks away.

at maria and amaya’s party, you watch in admiration as lee bounces between your side and her friends’. you try to give her that space, wanting her to have time with them as just a trio before amaya leaves. whenever lee catches your gaze from across the room, you give her a subtle thumbs up, smiling softly at the sight of her, laughing and relaxed with her friends. she always nods at your reassurance, though it’s usually followed by her visiting your little corner, tucked away with some random people you don’t know. she checks on you, diligently, without break.

and you check on her in your own private ways too. fiddling with her bangs when she comes over to you, quietly asking if she needs a moment alone. the first time she nods, a response you had anticipated from her stiff stance and flickering eyes, you hold her hand and ask maria if the two of you could head to her bedroom for a second. she seems to understand immediately and sends the two of you off.

but, you can tell the party does lee some good. even though she continues to slink off to maria’s bedroom throughout the night, she’s attached to her friends for most of it, welcoming their touches and leaning on them as they talk, gaze intent. and her eyes glimmer with a sort of pride when amaya eagerly takes the flowers, arms tossing around lee and yanking her down for a hug.

the party, surprisingly, does you some good, too. when you join the three of them deeper into the night, lee’s hand resting on your back, amaya says, “lee told us you’re still kind of undecided on what to do, right?”

you wish the earth would swallow you whole, a pinch of irritation piercing your stomach at lee’s revelation. wincing slightly, you hesitantly say, “yeah, I don’t really know what I want to do.”

you brace yourself for some judgement, an awkward silence or a round of laughter. or some confusion as to how you’ve been in university for four years and still haven’t managed to figure it out.

but, instead, maria shrugs and says, “listen, I’ve known I’ve wanted to go into law since I was in middle school, but I don’t think that’s the only way to do it. my sister changed her major during her fourth year, switching from engineering to music. and such a last minute change probably wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t rushed her decision and just picked something my parents wanted. so, really, you’re probably gonna waste a lot less time figuring things out, and then looking for a job, as opposed to rushing, working in a field you don’t like for years, then having to start all over.”

your mouth twitches as her shoulders lift into a delicate shrug, taking a sip from her drink and then sneering at the contents of the cup. god, she’s so much like lee. pure, unadulterated, hard logic.

whereas amaya seems to be the sweet, calm sort of balm, adding, “plus, even for your own peace of mind – it’s better to make a choice you’re sure about.” she offers you a nod, eyes soft. “it’s not a race, you know. take your time, and you’ll be okay.”

their words have you nearly driven to tears from the relief it settles upon you. for weeks, you’ve been feeling a range of emotions, from insecurity to fear, about your lack of plans and surety as to what you want to do post-grad. and while lee has been such a comfort, part of you has worried that her comforting comes from a place of her not wanting to hurt you. which doesn’t make sense, considering her natural bluntness, but still, your anxieties make it all too easy to minimize that aspect of being. so, to hear two people who owe you nothing telling you it’s okay, handling the situation with a kindness that’s both pragmatic and centered on time, as well as gentle and reassuring, takes a weight off your shoulders. it doesn’t completely ease your worries, but it certainly helps.

you go before lee, wanting to give her some time alone with her friends so they can properly exchange their goodbyes. before you go, you take out your camera and snap a picture of the three of them, amaya making a silly expression, maria smiling widely, and lee, after some convincing from amaya, meekly poking out her tongue.

when they hug you goodbye, and you get to maria, she whispers, “thank you for looking after her.”

the small show of gratitude warms you for the rest of your way home. to think that you’ve secured the approval of her friend in that way, as well as recognition for the ways in which you try to support her. it makes you feel like you’re doing something right.

when lee returns home, her eyes are tired, sad, and she immediately dives into your bed, nuzzling sweetly into your chest. you know that discomfort and a faint sense of mourning must be keeping her company. her friend will be gone when she returns from her mother’s, a friend who’s been webbed into her life for four years now. you can’t even begin to imagine the amount of pain lee is in – she probably won’t tell you, that much is certain, but you can feel it in the way her breaths shudder against your skin, her body sagged and pliant.

“it’ll be okay,” you murmur into her chestnut hair, dotting kisses into the smooth locks of it. “you guys can try to work in, like, weekly phone calls.”

“it’s not the same,” she whispers.

there’s no denying it, so all you can do is whisper, “I know, baby,” and hold her close.

minutes later, you shiver upon feeling the kiss she presses on your neck, her hot breath ghosting along your skin as she mutters, “it won’t be the same without you either.”

your arm tightens at the reminder of tomorrow’s departure. you’ve been trying not to think too much about it, simply wanting to deal with it when it happens and not have to carry the weight of premature longing and devastation. but, now, when there’s less than twenty four hours lingering between this moment and when lee will leave, you can’t help but cling onto her. in another week, you yourself will be heading home for two weeks, but still, it’s not the same without the steady, formidable rock of your girlfriend, with those dark embers that make you feel alive, and those fleeting smiles that make her face glow like the moon. the gentle touches that protectively skim along your waist, the way she’s so careful and kind, her thoughtfulness laced into every word. how will you do without those things? how will you manage without being there to give her comfort and love when she needs it? you want to be there to hold her, assure her, take care of her. staying away is just as heartbreaking for the things you can’t give her as it is for the things you can’t receive.

“call me when you reach, okay?”

“I will. and call me if you need anything.”

“that comes with the risk of you potentially leaving early and driving to rescue me,” you giggle, getting lost in the motion of twirling her dark hair around your fingers.

“what’s wrong with that?” she mumbles, dipping her nose into your neck.

you lightly smack her back with a chortle. “lee! you need to stay with your mom.”

“I know, so I’d just drive back to oregon once the problem is resolved.”

god, what did you do to deserve her? you want to sprinkle her face in thousands of kisses, body seized with a deep squeeze of gratitude for her. “that’s sweet. but, only do something like that for emergencies, yeah?” your voice trickles to a gentler tone at the end, not wanting to make her feel scolded.

“if it’s you, it always feels like an emergency.”

your eyebrows scrunch together. “is this meant to be a dig about me being clumsy?”

“no, it’s meant to be a fact about how much I– how much I worry.” her voice lowers towards the end, and you squeeze, wondering if she’s thinking of her mother.

you rub her back, hoping the motion will help relax her. “nothing will happen, baby.”

she hums, raising her head up. “I’ll, um… I’ll miss you.” she dips her head down, planting a kiss to the point of your chin. “a lot.”

everytime she speaks a sentiment like that, it feels like a flower in you is blooming anew, all of them collected in your chest – a garden just for you to look back on and tend to when you want to remember her. with each kiss, she waters it, and with each tender word, she plants something new. you know how hard it’s been for her, to get more accustomed to being so open, but she’s trying, you know she is. and though her words may stumble with awkwardness, and pause with careful consideration, they carry a world of intention. and what’s more romantic than that?

“I’ll miss you, too. sweet angel.”

she stills at that. “you say things like that so easily.”

“because it’s the truth.”

“I don’t know if it is.”

“that’s okay. I’ll know it for you.”

you feel an amused huff hit your neck and can’t help but smile in pride over having made her laugh. “so, I have no choice but to agree to these terms and conditions?”

“none at all.”

“so, I probably shouldn’t try to convince you otherwise, then?” the words are mixed in with open-mouthed kisses to your neck, her hand rubbing at your tummy, the cool touch making you arch up.

“I can’t make any promises, but you can try,” you laugh, tugging on her ponytail so she can kiss you.

you two make love several times that night, bodies melding and conjoining in a blur of sweat, kisses and soft words, with breaks in between consisting of lying in bed, talking, or falling asleep before one of you starts yearning for touch again.

you can’t find it in your heart to rank these short, warm moments, but your favourite amongst them has to be the last. it’s four in the morning, the world outside is still dark, the stars staring upon you with twinkling eyes. the windows have been tossed open, noises of drunken students and dragonflies bringing your apartment to life. lee is at the stove, flipping two grilled cheese sandwiches on a pan smeared with bubbling butter, the smell of the toast wafting from the kitchen to the bathroom, where you sit on the toilet, washing your sore center, the door unabashedly open so that you can hear the music.

at the sound of an all-too-familiar strum of the guitar, you race out after washing your hands, nearly tripping over your discarded bra on the floor.

“I love this song,” you squeal, dashing to the radio and turning on one knob until the noise of it is loud and clear.

just as always, lee asks, “what is it?”

“you don’t know it?” you gasp. “we were kids when it came out, it’s the smiths!” you used to get giddy whenever a friend’s parent put it on in the car when driving you all somewhere. especially during summertime, with the windows wound down and the breeze flying through your hair. it felt freeing, like you were getting a taste of independence, head sticking out the window and that deep, husky voice surrounding you, thrusting you into a flurry of dreams and hopes.

lee pauses, eyebrows drawing in as she listens. after a few moments, she shakes her head. “no, I don’t.”

“it’s dangerously underrated.” you turn it up a bit more, leaning on the counter to stare at her. there’s something special about the moment with the way the warm, orange light dimly coats lee’s body, how her lithe, strong fingers work on the sandwich, the aroma of it wrapping around the apartment. how the melancholic song, heavy and moist like a spring wind near the water, plays in the background of this quiet, private night that feels reserved for just the two of you. anyone else existing in it is far from this small kitchen, playing on the streets, dancing under the streetlights, maybe even relishing in the flow of music through your open windows.

lee must feel your eyes on her, for she raises hers to yours slowly, mouth parting then shutting before asking, “what is it?”

“do you wanna dance?”

you don’t know why, but something about this night feels like it’s set apart from the rest, lingering in this space where nothing can go wrong, where all the rules and realities are bent. the girl you love is leaving tomorrow, you both are up at an obscene time when she should probably be asleep, and also spent hours upon hours rolling around in the bed that a year ago, you never thought she’d occupy. and so, you want to do something with her you two have never done together, something she’d usually say no to.

“um, not really.”

you skip over to her spot at the stove. she’s never seen you dance, so part of you is just as embarrassed, your stomach coiling with nervousness. but, her own hesitation pushes you forward, hoping your own false courage rubs off on her. “c’mon, please, please. please, just this once.” you hold her wrist, lightly tugging.

she gives you a narrowed look, but doesn’t pull out of your grip. “I–I don’t dance.”

“I don’t do it much either! but, c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

she flatly watches you. “will it really?”

honestly, knowing lee, it feels a bit of a lie to confirm the truth of the notion. “I don’t know, let’s see.”

you tug again, and with a sigh, she switches off the stove, letting you guide her. you guys end up in the small space between the kitchen and living room, and you awkwardly swing your arms together, not really knowing what to do. lee stares at the ground, clearly just as uncomfortable as you. you use that to urge yourself on, grabbing her other hand and beginning to push and pull between the two of you to the beat.

when lee keeps her body stiff, arms flailing lifelessly from your encouragement, you whine, “okay, give me something!”

“I don’t even know what qualifies as ‘something’ when it comes to dancing.”

“just any movement, c’mon, you can do it!” you coax, intensifying your movements by bouncing on the balls of your feet. it feels slightly humiliating to devote more of your body to dancing when lee is still as frozen as ice, but you push yourself through for the sake of making her more comfortable. besides, the longer you two stay together, the more likely she’ll bear witness to even more weird shit from you, so might as well peel one layer off now.

you do a small twirl under her arm, but lee’s death grip makes you struggle to do it smoothly, so you wind up stumbling in a circle under your raised arms. it ignites a chuckle from lee, and you use that as an opportunity to pull her in closer, jumping a bit higher.

“come on, come on, pretend it’s exercise,” you laugh, pressing a shaky kiss to her lips. in the middle of it, lee hesitantly waddles her shoulders side to side, the rest of her body honed in on one position, simply standing upright.

you’re more than encouraged by the minimal movements, tightly gripping her hands and continuing to jump and twirl around her until she seems a tad looser, letting you yank and spin her body around. you two dance around the apartment for a while like that, your warm interlocked fingers giving you just enough leverage to pull her around the apartment, dragging her into head-dizzying swivels and pushes and pulls that send your arms pained with the exertion, cheeks aching with sheer, childlike delight.

you even pull out a few laughs of lee, who later into it, seems to actually enjoy herself, beaming and moving faintly with you. and you feel like you could float.

please keep me in mind.

a sentiment that wraps around your body when you dance, as well as in the morning after, when you lie next to lee in the morning. she’s still asleep, sweet thing, her torso bare from the night having gotten too hot from her. she looks perfect like this, your floral sheets wrapped around the slope of her waist, her freckled back the dip you get to press your lips against.

when the time gets close to 10:00AM, which she had set her alarm to, you give into your finger’s urges, laying them upon her freckled skin. you trace mindless patterns and swirling shapes, smiling at the way her body slightly squirms under your ministrations. you continue like that, using her back as your sheet of paper to draw anything you’d like.

you pause, thinking of a particular note you’d like to leave her if you did have some paper. a note you’d like to write all over her if you could, until it sinks into her just how real the sentiment is.

maybe you’ll write it now – something temporary to convey to her, something that feels a bit easier with the absence of permanency. maybe once she returns, you’ll have built up the courage to really tell her it.

I LOVE YOU.

you sign it with a kiss, pulling back when she groans, rubbing her eyes, panic momentarily bursting through your stomach.

she rolls back to you, eyes filled with goop in the inner corners. you raise your thumb to smear some of it away, pecking her nose. she doesn’t say anything, and seems to be right in the first moments of awakening, which eases some of your anxieties.

she raises her arm, brown underarm hair tickling against your cheek, smelling of her deodorant. long fingers brush through your hair, and you swallow hard at the feeling of her dark eyes resting intently upon you. they flick along every feature painting your face, and the sharp focus of it has your face warming.

“what is it?”

“you’re beautiful.”

there’s no hesitation in the words, and the surety of them have you laughing shyly, flicking her chest lightly and mumbling, “no, you are.”

her lip quirks up. “is this gonna turn into a competition?”

“yeah, but you have to head onto a train soon, so I’ll probably be the one to have the last word.”

she snorts. “good to know that winning by default isn’t below you.”

“hey, it’s still winning,” you cackle, though secretly, you know it won’t feel like winning at all when lee steps onto that train.

the evidence of that fact comes to you too quickly, the next few hours of breakfast and taking the subway to the station lee’s train is departing from happening all too fast. it all flashes by so fast that by the time the line is moving and lee needs to head down the escalator, duffel bag clutched tightly, you feel a rush of emotions surge into you at the sight of her so close to leaving – pride for what you now know she’s going back for, heartache for the struggle it’ll be, loneliness at the thought of her absence, and another ache, one that can only truly be described with one word.

lee’s eyes flick to behind her, where people are heading down the escalator in a messy, jumbled file. “I should go.”

you’d maybe grow insecure about whether leaving is difficult for her if it weren’t for how when she turns back to you, her eyes are wide, blinking hard, hesitation clearly present in the way they remain pinned on your face, unmoving, even though she ought to be leaving. her empty hand is rolled into a tight fist, stretching out to rasp against her thigh before she mutters, “can I hug you?”

you immediately lunge at her, throwing your arms around her neck. you feel the fabric of her duffle bag brush your leg as she drops it, her strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding your body flush to hers. she buries her nose into your neck, and you nearly croak at the way she breathes you in. you know how much she likes that spot in your neck, how often she lays her head in it when cuddling. you wonder if she’ll miss it. if she does, you can’t imagine how it’d be even half as much as you’ll miss her steady, grounding arms around you.

you dig your nails into her shoulders, trying to relish in this last moment of her being around you, totally surrounding your every sense. she smells of her neutral soap, accompanied by a faint whiff of cologne and the familiarity of your laundry detergent, coating an old t-shirt of yours that she threw on this morning. the sight had made you soften in all the right places, wanting to bury your face in her chest and scream at the sight of her wearing something belonging to you. it produced such a possessive bolt through you – she’s yours, yours and yours. yours, completely. your lee, comfortable enough to borrow your clothes, intimate enough with you to wear them as her own and let the fabric that’s rested on your skin for years slide against yours. it makes you feel moulded into her, as though deep in the stitches there had always existed a patient wait for lee to one day wear this as her own.

when you two part, faces close enough that your breaths to intermingle, you wait for her to push away and go, wanting to soak up the sight of her as much as possible before she leaves.

instead, she raises a trembling hand to your cheek and cups it, rough fingertips stroking the small bumps dotting your skin. a moment later, she leans into you and plants a short-lived kiss on your lips, firm and filled with an acute sense of intention and determination. you can feel the concentration and strength it takes for her to do that, her breaths shaky and heaving against you when she separates. but, she’s trying. for you, for herself, for what you two have. it makes you want to drag her back in for another, but her eyes are skittering nervously to the escalator, and you know she’s feeling too anxious to be running more late.

you gently push at her wrist. “go, go, baby. call me when you get there, okay?”

“I will.” she slips her wrist from your grip, sliding her fingers between yours and gently squeezing. “page me when you reach the apartment.”

the unspoken meaning hangs between you both.

when she starts going down the escalator, her head swivels back to her. trying to not worry her with the heartache that’s already settling in, pained and filled with the weight of dread, you blow her a kiss.

you recover momentarily when she glances around before sending you one back, the gesture stiff, awkward, and oh-so lovely.

as it turns out, you recover from the heartache in a sprinkle of different moments that day.

✩

it doesn’t fully go, but it eases in those seconds. like when you curl into lee’s bed and sleep in her scent. or when you get off to the memories of last night. or when you call one of your friends and make plans to develop your pictures tomorrow.

✩

or when you’re drinking tea before bed and as you head to the tree to turn off the tree’s lights, you find a tape laying upon the mini-skirt of it.

body thrumming with excitement, you pick it up, a grin splitting on your face when you read the sticky note pressed to its side.

It’s a bit late in terms of when you wanted one, but I hope you’ll accept it now. Think of it as an overdue gift from someone who would’ve wanted to make you one back in high school if we had been just a bit closer to each other.

– Lee

just like last time this happened, your eyes water, emotions seizing at you from the thoughtfulness of her gift. she really was always listening, wasn’t she? picking up on clues and hints about her loved ones, almost like little love notes, and using them to thoroughly understand all of them. her care seems to have no bounds – always executed through her attentive listening, mental noting, and action. true action, where no promises are broken and no doubt could ever be tied to her earnestness.

you immediately pop it into your walkman, eagerly putting on your headphones and walking to the kitchen. as you make a sandwich in this place that cracks and bends with familiarity, Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy playing in your ears and making the tears leak out, plans to meet your friends hanging on your mind, you suddenly feel very at ease. you may not know all your answers, or be sure of everything you feel, or are even over everything you feel, like the occasional bouts of anxiety for the future. but, this is still a life. one that you breathe in everyday, that has little rituals you could never part from, and contains things you are sure of.

and that’s enough.

–

when lee walks up the pathway to her small white home, the unmaintained grass and weeds scratching insistently at her shins (she makes a mental note to mow it down later into the week), she lets her eyes wander around, drinking in the sight. her preferred seasons are fall or winter, but she can’t ignore how beautiful oregon looks this time of year. in the heady month of august, her mother’s home is surrounded by lush trees that arch over the roof, the pine trees a dark contrast. maybe that’s why she’d like to live in a cottage. maybe it’d make her feel more tethered to her childhood home in a way that living in the city never could. she purses her lips as she steps onto the porch. she never thought of it that way.

she tentatively opens the door, the creak ringing through the house and making her cringe. her eyes immediately scan the staircase, feeling a pierce of discomfort at the two new boxes that seem to have been added since her last visit. the more she looks around, the more the sizzling anxiety in her stomach begins to burn. she draws in heavy, even breaths, trying to level herself. she can focus on this later. right now, she wants to see her mom.

her hand pushes the door to the living room open, her mother seated on a couch that is propped in the back with more blankets a person could ever need in the summer. trinkets and clutter turn the room into filth, hiding the floor and any inch of an empty surface. lee swallows hard and quietly says, “hi, mom,” approaching the woman in question.

her chin fits just right on her mother’s shoulder, silky grey hair rubbing against her cheek as they embrace for a long while. with anyone else, excluding her friends and you, she’d be on edge from such a lingering touch. but, with her mom, it’s an automatic, something she doesn’t even think twice about before giving her now. it’s become that embedded into their interactions, especially since lee moved away for university.

when lee sits next to her, a hand immediately patting down the soaked-through back of her t-shirt, her mother asks, “how were exams?”

“good.” she hesitates before blurting out, “I upped the lease. I’m going to stay there for a while longer.”

her mother is silent for a long while, her hand freezing, and lee instinctively tenses, awaiting some verbal reprimanding. they never really spoke of what lee would do post-graduation, but lee can imagine part of her mom had hoped for her to return to oregon and work there.

“I’m sorry. I want to come back. maybe one day.” she intentionally keeps it vague – she really isn’t sure if she’ll return.

the hand resumes its stroking. “I can’t blame you for that, babygirl. what would you do here?”

work. take care of you, probably.

lee sighs. “I don’t know.”

“I wanted more at your age, too. to work, to be away from my family.”

that’s what hurts, too. all her mom has missed out on, all that’s been lost in the midst of that night and the results of it. her mom had once been a nurse – still paranoid, still religious, but lee likes to think she was at least content with her life. now, however? lee isn’t sure if her mom could even answer that.

“do you feel you got that? more than what was expected of you, I mean.” lee rarely asks about her mom’s past. as a child, she always did, filled to the brim with curiosity over the kind of person her mother was before lee came into existence. now, lee never asked. not out of disinterest, she actually thought of her mom’s life a lot. but, it felt too close, too personal, to be asking those things, after years of avoidance.

“I mean, I had you. that gave me more.”

“in a bad way?”

“no.” her mom’s lips tilt up in a faint smile, and lee wishes she knew the meaning of it. “I mean, having you gave me more than I expected to have in this life.”

most daughters would be pleased to hear such a thing. but, all lee feels is a sense of embarrassment at the vulnerable words, as well as doubt. lee undoubtedly did give her mom more than she expected – but, was that really good? with lee’s birth, came the isolation, the thirteenth of january, and everything that occurred after. her mom did, indeed, get more than she bargained for, but lee couldn’t help but feel that more in this case meant unexpected horror. guilt churns in her stomach, and god, she wishes something had been done differently in the trajectory of her mom’s life. something that could’ve prevented all of this.

“maybe too much.”

lee shifts when she feels her mother’s gaze linger on her, and she suddenly regrets having said that.

“you think I regret it?” lee’s mom’s voice is hushed, raspy at the ends with old age. “I’d do it again. and again, and again…”

as her words dissolve into murmurs, lee feels her stomach sink. her mom is slipping away from this moment, this conversation. lee lets it happen, mulling over her previous words. you think I regret it? how could she not regret it? lee doesn’t know if she likes the idea of her mother not regretting it any more than the idea of her mom regretting having had lee as a daughter. because if her mother doesn’t regret it, then that means part of her mother is okay with all that happened, and maybe even takes a sort of pride in it. all because she wanted lee to be here, no matter the expense. and lee doesn’t want her mother to find any sort of pleasure in this situation, especially because of her.

“you shouldn’t,” lee whispers, the sound rough. “I wouldn’t want you to deal with all this again.”

her mother’s murmurs crawl into a silence, and she pauses, pursing her lips, before saying, “I would. so, that you could grow up. so, that I can see my little lee grow up.”

lee chews on the inside of her bottom lip silently. she never wanted her upbringing to be at the expense of her mother. but, she knows her mother is just as stubborn as she is. there’s no way of convincing her to regret lee or the situation. if her mom accepts it, if she’s glad of it, lee knows she can’t change that. who knows, maybe lee would feel the exact same way if her life choices also meant she got to live with and watch the life of someone she cared for progress. maybe she just doesn’t really understand the care of a mother just yet – the kind that surpasses anything, so long as your child gets to live and exist.

her mom’s hand rests on her lower back. “I wanted to have you. it meant I got to watch you grow up.”

“yeah, but…” it meant I got to watch you fall apart. lee can’t bear to say that, though. she doesn’t have the courage to bring to the surface that much. “so much…” she wants to talk about everything, she really does. but, years of failure to do so, both because of her own anxiety and her mother’s refusal to talk, hold her back. is there even a point now?

her mom speaks before she can decide. “it was okay. I don’t even remember it, I don’t– I don’t remember anything.”

lee swallows hard, her stomach stretching in frustration. she knows her mother remembers, she knows. she just doesn’t want to tell lee. lee wishes she could just drill into her mother’s head that she’s not a child anymore, she can handle the truth. well, the second part may be false. but, at least she’d be there, and they could struggle together. at least lee could know, and have the gap filled, and do something, anything.

her mother’s head turns away, jaw tight. lee knows she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore – maybe she can’t.

her hand, trembling lightly, raises, goes back down, then plants hesitantly on her mother’s knee. “you know, if you… ever want to talk about anything, or, I don’t know, what happened, you can talk to me. I’m ready to hear it.”

her mom grips onto lee’s hand like an anchor, and in the squeeze, lee hears the silent acknowledgement, the words her mom can’t, maybe ever, bear to say.

“it was worth it,” is all her mother murmurs.

lee sighs, then awkwardly, without surety, dips her head onto her mother’s shoulder. she can’t remember the last time she initiated touch like this with her. it feels restrained and uncomfortable, completely foreign and out of place to lee’s body. but, it’s at least something she can offer. she no longer lives here, and can commit to the daily diligence of working and taking care of her mom, which is how she showed her care before. and she still knows nothing, so can offer no weak attempts of verbal comfort. but, maybe this touch, the kind her mother seems to always like and leans into, can be some kind of offering.

it’s impossible that things can be fixed completely, at least anytime soon. but, she can at least show she’s there. sometimes, she doesn’t want to be, especially after having been there maybe too much in the past. but, when it comes down to it, she’d always be there, waiting for her mother. just as her mother is always here, waiting for her.

maybe one day, they’ll be able to talk about it and fill the gaps together. one day, lee knows she’ll tell her mother about you. she may not be ready now, she may never be ready to learn what her mom feels about it. but, she will speak on it – for her own sake, and yours. and maybe that’ll help her mother open up too, maybe it’ll help her learn that lee can have these conversations, that lee wouldn’t be timid or judgemental for anything that happened that night.

hours later, near to midnight, the television’s still playing in the background, and lee’s fingertips trace the receiver of the kitchen’s phone. she tries to weave together what she should say when you pick up, her thumb brushing the picture of you she secretly keeps in her wallet.

when she felt your secret message drawn into her back, her eyes had squeezed shut, heartbeat pounding. it was so delicate, slowed by something – lee’s not sure what. hesitation, maybe. but, she hadn’t dared to inquire. she hadn’t dared to do anything, really, anxiety plaguing her and making her frozen in place, unsure of how to react. the last thing she had expected were those three words to be thrusted onto her, and in a panic of how to perceive them, let alone respond, she immediately dropped it. after all, did you even mean it? maybe there was a reason you wrote instead of said it, like not being ready to declare it, or knowing if you even want to declare it.

and after the flurry of breakfast, last minute packing (a result of the late night of sweat and music, lee gathers), and the drop-off at the train station, lee finally had a moment to sit down, alone, and ask herself: did she love you?

the answer came as fast to her as only pure fact managed to: yes.

she learned a long time ago that love cannot be quantifiable, measured or determined solely by facts. in other words, it existed in a space she usually wasn’t comfortable to stand in, where feelings were the most reliable evidence. but, she knew, in her gut, that like no longer covered whatever it was she felt for you. in fact, using a word as simple and amicable as like felt like an offense to what it is she felt for you, and tasted sour in her mouth. in what she felt, there was too much intensity, too much of an overflow to hear your conversation and be better for you, to lie in your arms and remain safe there forever, for like to apply.

to her, that was proof enough. it felt like nothing but love, so it must be love – it was that simple. after all, process of elimination seemed the most reliable way of making sense of this feeling. but, the longer the train rode on, the more her thoughts lingered on the topic, she became convinced that even if she had paid just a bit more attention to how she felt, she probably would’ve figured it out. even when she was upset with you, there was a constant underbelly of care and tenderness. when something went wrong, she wanted to tell you and bury her face in your neck. when you showed any sign of sadness lee could manage to detect, she longed to do anything possible to bring you happiness. even if it means breaking down some of her own rock-hard walls, and taking steps of courage she’d fear treading otherwise. with you, it wasn’t easy to be vulnerable, but it was something she wanted to try harder for. because she wanted this to last, and she wanted you happy and cared for. you understand her, she understands you – and she wanted you to understand her, which is a rarity. to her, that’s love.

she picks up the phone. your absence has her longing to hear hear your voice. she’ll make no mention of the three words. she won’t.

“hello?”

she nearly breaks right then and there. “hey.”

“hi, baby.” your voice is like a fire, and she rolls in the hearth of it. “how has it been?”

“fine. we spoke a bit. I told her what you mentioned, about, you know, being there when she’s ready to talk.”

she hears you sigh. “I’m so proud of you, lee. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

she twirls the spirals of the phone along her finger, feeling warmed by the words. “thank you. and you? what have you done today?”

“I listened to a certain tape, lover boy.”

your words end with a small bout of laughter and lee bites her lip, cheeks heating up. she had hoped you’d like it, feeling all too exposing and vulnerable in the process of making it. but, she had done her best to push through, knowing it would make you feel happy, even if a mixtape wasn’t something you still harboured much of a wish for. placing it under the tree while you used the bathroom before leaving had felt like laying her heart out on the line. or whatever that saying was.

“you liked it?”

“I loved it,” you say, your tone sounding like something lee can only describe as melty, eased at the edges, your laughter dissolved. “it’s so lovely, lee. I’ve nearly broken my pencil with all the times I’ve re-wound it. I just– thank you. god, it’s such a nice gift, lee, it means so much to me.”

“it was– you had mentioned the mixtape. you know, from high school?”

“you remember that?” your voice raises a notch higher, sounding so touched that lee needs to clear her throat before answering.

“yes.”

“you remember everything, don’t you?”

lee smiles. “I wish I did.”

“me too.” after a pause, you ask, “do you really feel that way, like what’s described in the song? you always think of me? you, you know… yeah, do you feel those things?”

lee clutches onto the phone tighter. two words in the song ring loud and clear in her head, two that flow in just as the melody simmers to a slow. if she answers “yes,” will you realize just how much she means them? she inhales a sharp breath – she doesn’t want to lie to you, and now seems like an opportune moment to tell you what she’s been feeling. she hates being impulsive, yes, but, rare of an occurrence it is, she’s desirous to make her feelings known. maybe it’s to see if you meant what you traced on her back, but also because she just wants it to be known. she wants you to know that what she feels for you can no longer fall under any other word, and she wants you to at least exist with the knowledge that she loves you, even if you don’t return it. she wants to answer you honestly.

“I, um… I feel…” why is it so hard to say? she has to keep reminding herself that no matter what happens, you and her can together handle any change this could spring upon the two of you. and even if change did come, logically, how bad could it be? she’s simply a person telling their girlfriend that they’re in love.

“you feel what?” your tone is gentle, but prodding, clearly wanting an answer. maybe that means you really do want her to say it. she doesn’t think you’d be this urgent about her answer if part of you didn’t want to know it.

that fact urges her on, and she sucks in a sharp breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “I feel–”

“lee, honey? I’m going to sleep.”

lee turns to her mom, who lingers by the entrance to the kitchen. “okay, mom. goodnight.”

when the creaks along the staircase dim in noise, you say, “lee?”

she gulps down. it’s good timing, she reminds herself. you’re asking her with all the honesty and openness you expect from her in return. she can do it.

after two more heavy breaths, she spills it out. “I love you.” it’s just a murmur, barely there, but she does it.

it feels almost relieving until several seconds pass, and you say absolutely nothing.

lee tries to stay patient, she really does, but the seconds morph into a minute that feels like eternity, and her patient snaps, stomach turning too fast for her to handle. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, why? I called after you. I thought you were still talking to your mom.”

“I-I was before,” she confirms, trailing off, eyebrows drawn in. “but, then, she went upstairs. did you not hear what I said?”

“‘I love you’? yeah, weren’t you… saying that to her?”

lee blinks at the phone, completely silent. she doesn’t want to lie, and even if she did, she’d most likely be terrible at it. and so, she stands there, completely still, hoping you understand her meaning without any coaxing on her end.

“oh,” you whisper. “oh. oh, my god.”

you haven’t returned the sentiment back to lee. that’s the one thing all her thoughts are honed in on, and before you can worry over not returning it, she adds, “you don’t have to say it back if you–”

“are you kidding me?” you guffaw. “not say it back? how can I not say it back? of course, of course I feel the same way.”

lee freezes, her jaw clenching. she feels struck into place, the realization of her returned feelings bolting at her so abruptly she nearly wants to hang up the phone and take a few seconds to process it. you feel the same way. you love her back. it feels unreal, too hopeful, too lucky. of all things lee had expected at the start of the year, finding someone who loves her back was the last of it.

“oh, okay.” she huffs a sigh as soon as the words slip out. she’s not even close to an expert on romance, nor how one ought to conduct themselves in the throes of it, but she’s certain that that’s not the right response to someone heavily hinting that they love you. “I– sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you say, sounding rather out of breath. “nerves. I get it.”

“yeah.” she rasps her fingers on her thighs, suddenly antsy in this singular position within her kitchen. she wants to go outside and take a walk. but, if she does, she’ll have to hang up. and that seems like the most unwanted thing she could do in this situation.

after another beat of silence, she screws her eyes shut, the shock beginning to morph into a deep plummet of doubt at your lack of confession. “I– really, it’s okay if you don’t want to say it. I–”

“no, no!” you cut in, your voice so squeaky in protest that lee winces, moving her ear back. “no, I’m sorry, I-I was just surprised. I love you too, of course I do, lee.”

lee nearly splutters at the way the words burst from your mouth, so fast that it’s barely detached from the string of the rest of your words. “I– okay. wait, sorry, I– yeah. I love you too.” the words have her stomach turning, the feeling akin to anxiety, but a bit more pleasant, almost as though there’s something eagerly floating through her, sending each nerve tickling in a kind of happiness.

happiness. that’s what she feels now that some of the confusion is cleared away, the clouds of it removed from the situation. it’s light and overwhelming, and floods her entire body in something sweet and intangible. you love her back. you actually love her. the concept feels like a revelation, some holy occasion beyond the bounds of reality, gifted upon her and only her. as though she’s been the one individual selected for this gift. the words themselves make her feel overwhelmed, too, as though they bear too heavy for someone as mortal as her. she leans her elbows on the plane of the counter, dipping her forehead against her palm.

“I know, babe, you just said that,” you say, your voice beautiful with the way laughter wraps around the words.

“I know,” she grunts, running her hand over her face. “well, I know now. I’m just– just shut up.”

“awe, is that a whine I hear?”

“no,” she snickers, embarrassment curling through her, hot and heavy. “you confused me before, alright?”

“hey, you’re the one who didn’t confirm her mom went upstairs!”

“well, because I thought the minute long silence was enough of an indicator that conversation with my mom had ended. most people are usually able to gauge that.”

“ugh!” you scoff. “is that how you talk to the person you’re in love with?”

jesus, how embarrassing – you’re surely going to spend weeks now holding that over her head. “if they’re not making sense, yes.”

“well, they don’t have to make sense, right? you should know – after all, love doesn’t make sense, but you just declared that you love me.”

your mocking words have her slightly humiliated, yes, but they also arouse a jolt of pride and possessiveness through her. you know she loves you, and she knows you love her. just another thing to share between yourselves, privately reserved for your exchanged words and touches. and while your satisfaction will most likely result in a ceaseless amount of jokes that she’s the center of, she can’t help but feel a warmth from the way you’re lavishing under the confession. she’s glad to have given you that ego stroke, that dose of love and surety.

and so, she lets you go on with your jokes and when you ask, she says it again. “I love you.”

and your voice gets soft, in that way that sends her stirring as though she’s been half-awake her entire life until that moment, and you say, “I love you too, sweet girl. you’re the sweetest, you know?”

and sure, it makes her hot in her face and shift on the stool she drags to the counter later on so that she can talk to you comfortably. but, it makes her smile to hear you giddily laugh and whine, and it makes her feel afloat when you return the words. shell-shocked, sometimes. but, most of all, adored, so adored that she nearly shies away from saying it again.

but, still, she says it. she wants you to know. she wants to tell you these things.

----

some notes about your guys' life together:

when lee returns and you show her the photos you've printed, the first thing she does is hang them up in her bedroom, filling the space of her blank walls (the gesture and sight makes you cry, and she holds you for the rest of the night)

lee introduces you to her mom at graduation, and you take pictures of them together that ruth takes back to oregon

months later, lee tells her mom about you two. it's fast, to-the-point, and blurted out the morning of her departure to come back home to you. her mom acknowledges it, quietly, then continues to eat. weeks pass of neither of them mentioning it until lee one day says on the phone, as firmly as she can muster, "this is someone in my life. I don't want you to ignore them, please." after that call, they don't speak until ruth calls her one day. when she asks, "and how is your... friend?" lee actually smiles. it takes two months for ruth to call you her girlfriend, and when she does, lee practically beams.

sometime in the future, lee does discover how much her mom did come to question her faith while still using it as a shield. but, ruth says, it was meant to protect them from others, not from each other

things go long-distance when lee attends the academy in virginia, and when she sees you and ruth in the crowd during her ceremony, she wells up

you guys do, in fact, move into a cottage together (one that lee ensures has lots of windows), and you keep the small christmas tree from the apartment up there year-long

out of habit, you guys still page, then eventually, text, each other your first apartment's number to signal you've arrived home

after some coaxing, you convince lee to adopt two kittens with you, who she grows immensely attached to (one light brown one that's always jumping on her and playfully scratching her awake, and a grey one, solitary and quiet, who silently sits on her desk while she works)

lee, one day, wraps her arms around from behind as you make coffee and mumbles, "thanks for moving in with me." you laugh at first, but the noise fades when she adds, "the apartment, I mean," which incites a wave of gratitude to roll through you, the two of you meeting for a soft kiss. she has no idea how glad you are of it, too

you guys continue to be curious about each other

regarding lee and ruth's backstory: i didn't really want to include the supernatural elements of Longlegs in this story, so instead, i leaned into the theories and maika's alluding of the film being a metaphor about trauma. so, just like in the film, a stranger visited ruth and lee's home the day before lee's ninth birthday, and the trauma of that day is what led to the changes in ruth, such as her hoarding habit. what exactly occurred on this day is vague and up to interpretation -- both because of the film's vagueness in what the harkers' trauma is meant to be if the film really is a metaphor, as well as lee's lack of memories for for that day. it's up to you to decide whether it was kobble or visited them, or someone else. and lee does not remember the night both due to ruth's secrecy and her own suppressed memories, which is meant to tie into the elements of suppression and family secrets within the harkers' story in the film.

A/N: so, that is it for does it happen in a season? 😭 now, that it's done, I'd absolutely love to hear what you all thought of the final product, whether it be in the comments or through an ask. I always adore hearing what you guys think about this story, whether it be about a specific chap or the work in general, so I'd truly appreciate any thoughts now that's done, and would be so incredibly touched to hear about what it meant to anyone and everyone who read it :") i worked really hard on it, and hearing your guys' thoughts would feel like such a gift (it can be as long as you want I'm truly open to anything and want to know soooo bad) <33

ofc, I wanna thank all my mutuals and followers who always diligently liked, reblogged and commented -- like, it always made me feel so encouraged and uplifted, and really pushed me to continue in the best way possible, since I felt, like, "okay, there are people who look forward to this story and want to see more of it." like, you guys truly gave me so much comfort and confidence about writing this story, and whenever I posted, I was always so eager to hear your guys' thoughts and see you in my notifs. it just made this entire story feel so communal, if that makes sense? like, this story just felt like a work so seeped with community, support and friendship, both because of the encouragement of others, as well as the amount of people who helped me, like my girlfriend, @threenounname, and dear friends, @mignonettesauce and @sillysillyparty, when it came to making decisions about the plot or just needing reassurance about if certain things made sense. (like, my gf literally put SO much work into helping me with this story, he was constantly reading snippets and pieces of it and letting me drag him into long ass conversations about if this or that was accurate to the story or to lee). same with my other friends who aren't on tumblr, who were so supportive and advised me on how to approach certain things, as well as gave me so much encouragement and lovely words about the snippets I showed them, which boosted my motivation so much. so, yeah, this entire work felt so comforting and safe to return to, and was completely surrounded by such lovely people who gave me constant replenishments of motivation to continue, and I'm so grateful for all of you :") here's to all of us finding and having both people and places who makes us feel totally at home <3

#does it happen in a season?#s.writing #lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #lee harker #longlegs #longlegs fanfiction #longlegs 2024

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