#leigh writes

[realwitchieshit]

She's Workin' at The Pyramid

Summary: Ava convinces Melissa to let her plan a group outing for Melissa's birthday. Ava, being Ava, takes the group to a gentleman's club. While there, Melissa spots a familiar face.

Warnings: sexual content (no smut....yet), stripper!reader, mom!reader, reader's daughter is implied black/ biracial, ava being a matchmaker in her own ava way, barely proofread oopsie, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 3.6k

Note: i was listening to frank ocean and this came to me. i don't know how strip clubs work so probs innacurate. if you guys want a second smutty part, let me know!! if this flops... i'll delete it and pretend this never happened. anywhooooo enjoy!

Melissa glanced up at the clock next to the doorframe, school was going to begin ten minutes and there was no sign of her student, Londyn. By this time in the morning, Melissa should be in the midst of hearing a play by play of what happened in the time that she stepped foot out of school to the moment she had walked back in from your daughter. If she had recalled correctly, it should be your week with Londyn and you had never dropped Londyn off past 7:45.

She could text you, just to make sure everything was okay. You had given Melissa your number at open house last year and told her to feel free to text you if she felt Londyn had been falling behind. Londyn never did, but the two of you would text occasionally. Your texts were usually about Londyn and funny or cute things she had said or done. She decided against it, though, telling herself there was no reason to worry.

Just as she decided to not text you, the sound of heels moving at a pace of a speed walk started getting close. The sound kept getting louder and louder until you came into view, with Londyn in tow. You had on a full face of makeup and your hair was done, it looked like you were going on a date. Your outfit had also caught her attention, a gray fur coat and a pair of six inch heels. She could also see the bottom of your skirt, red, sparkly, and a bit sheer. Her jaw tensed at the mere thought of you dressing like that for someone else.

"Good morning Ms. Schemmenti!" Londyn greeted excitedly, walking over to her cubby to hang up her cubby.

"Good morning, Londyn!" Melissa said back, matching the little girl's enthusiasm. She turned back to you. "You're all dressed up."

You chuckled, "It's... a work thing. Here's the permission slip for that field trip."

As you reached out to hand her the paper, your coat opened just the slightest bit and Melissa got a view of your hip. She could see the cut outs along your hip that ran up your waist as she took the paper. You covered back up and Melissa nodded slowly, "Thanks. Well, have a nice day."

"Thanks, you too. Be good, Londyn, I love you, baby." You waved at Londyn.

"Bye Mama! I love you more!"

"Impossible! Do you think that's possible, Ms. Schemmenti?" You asked, with an exaggerated dumbfounded look on your face. Melissa chuckled at you.

She played along, feigning deep thought. "Mmm, I dunno. How much do you love Londyn?"

"To the moon and back!" You declared proudly.

"Gee, that is a lot." She turned to Londyn. "How much do you love your mama, Londyn?"

"To Jupiter and back!" Londyn declared just as proudly, but a little louder. You gape, looking between her and Melissa before letting your arms flop down by your sides.

“Woah! To Jupiter?” Melissa asked, Londyn nodded confidently. “I think she’s got ya beat, Mom.”

You huffed before pointing at Londyn, “This isn’t over, little Miss.”

You broke out into a smile before blowing Londyn a kiss and waving at both her and Melissa goodbye. As the sound of clicking heels got quieter, Melissa smiled to herself at the interaction. Any time she would see you with Londyn, it seemed like she was the happiest kid in the world. You always did her hair, from various pineapple updos to braids with fun parts and colorful beads hanging from the bottom of them, and she was always dressed in cute, girly outfits that matched her upbeat personality.

Londyn ran up to Melissa, practically vibrating with excitement. "Ms. Schemmenti! Do you wanna hear about my day?"

"I sure do, but you'll have to be quick since Mama dropped you off later." Melissa removed her glasses and sat them on the desk, ready to hear the little girl's rambling.

Londyn giggled, "Yeah. I think Mama got dressed in the dark 'cus she's dressed funny."

"That she is, hon."

Then on, you would show up in your strange outfits more often. Melissa wanted to ask you about it, but she thought it may be a bit inappropriate. She'd hate to come off how Barb did when she practically harassed that mom with the "Bitch" tattoo on her chest, so she ignored it. Londyn was still the same happy-go-lucky girl she first met a year ago, so what was the issue?

A few weeks later, Melissa was walking back to her classroom from taking her class to the art room and when she got there, Ava was sitting in her chair.

"Ava? Whaddya doin' in here? Ashley left to get lunch." Melissa said, very unsure of why Ava would be in her classroom, she never did observations.

"Oh, yeah, I know. I sent her out to get it. I'm here for you." Ava clarified.

That confused her more. Ava never came to see anyone unless she had some kind of crazy idea. "Me? What for?"

"I know it's your birthday next Friday, so I want to plan you a party."

"Why would you plan a party for me, Ava? We never see each other outside of work."

Ava sighed, "Yes, and I want to change that. So, I'm planning you a party and I'm inviting everyone."

"Ava, I'm not letting you—"

"Too late, I already told Janine, Gregory, and Jacob." Ava interrupted with a bright smile.

"What about Barb?" Melissa asked.

"She's going on a weekend trip with her husband." Ava sensed Melissa's resistance before she added, "I'm trying to be nice, Melissa. Just let me do this, please."

Ava put on her best puppy-dog eyes and stuck out her bottom lip for emphasis. Melissa stared just back at her, continuing to participate in this standoff. It quickly became apparent that Ava wasn't going to back down, which made Melissa sigh.

"Fine, Ava. Where is it gonna be?" Melissa conceded.

Ava smiled brightly at her, "A club. I'll order you an Uber."

Ava stood up and left abruptly, leaving Melissa just as confused as she had when she walked in.

On the day of the party, Melissa had spent the entirety of the car ride wondering about Ava's motives. Why, after a couple years of working together, did she want to do something like this for Melissa now?

When Melissa arrived at the club, she could hear the music from inside the big building. She inspected the outside of the building, it was a brick building, a big neon yellow sign that said "The Pyramid" in cursive letters. She sighed to herself before walking in past the bouncer, regretting ever agreeing to do this. Her regret increased when she was inside the club.

The club was dark, but what Melissa could see shocked her. There was a large stage in the middle of the club, a long pole running all the way up to the ceiling. On the poll was a woman wearing only a lingerie set, dancing to a song she recognized as Megan Thee Stallion. In front of the stage were various tables and there were rooms along the walls next to the stage that had couches and a table, presumably for higher paying customers who wanted the best view. There were many girls walking about the club, some of them being pulled aside to go dance for a specific person.

Before she could storm out and text Ava angrily, Ava had appeared next to her and had begun dragging Melissa to the private section where everyone was sitting. Janine and Jacob looked like they were trying to convince themselves they were having a good time, while Gregory looked straight up uncomfortable. When Janine saw Melissa, she stood up and grabbed the gift bag that was sitting on the table.

"Happy birthday, Melissa! Jacob and I got this for you." She said, handing the bag to Melissa. She took the bag and opened it, moving the crepe paper around to get to the actual gift. She pulled it out and examined it. It was a Jalen Hurts jersey that had to have cost them a lot. Because of that fact, she refrained from telling them she already had one.

Instead, she smiled at the younger teachers and thanked them both, putting the jersey back into the bag and setting it back down on the table. She sat down next to Gregory and he turned to her.

"I didn't know what to get you, so you can ask for something and I can get it for you."

Melissa chuckled, waving dismissively, "Don't worry about it, kid."

Ava showed up again, her smile unwavering as she handed Melissa a beer. She took it and sipped on it while she talked with the group.

"You know, I actually think exotic dancers should get a lot more credit than they do. It takes a lot of core strength and the ability to entertain a crowd to be one." Jacob said out of nowhere, trying to be as politically correct as always.

Before anyone could respond or even acknowledge that he said anything, the DJ cuts the music and begins talking to the crowd.

"Alright, how're y'all doin' out there?" He asked. The crowd answered by cheering loudly. "Good, good. Well, next up in our lineup of lovely ladies is The Pyramid's princess. Please welcome to the stage, Cleopatra!"

The crowd erupted into even louder cheers, Ava being one of the loudest in Melissa's opinion.

"You know her?" Melissa asked.

Ava smirked and pointed her finger at Melissa, "I do. You might recognize her, too."

"What? What are you talking ab—" Melissa cut her sentence short as she saw you strut your way to the end of the stage. You were dressed in a black, sheer bodysuit that was littered with rhinestones that caught the light of the spotlights. You didn't have anything on under the bodysuit, save for two x-shaped pasties on each of your nipples. Your heels were black and sparkly as well as imposing in height, Melissa watched in awe as you navigated the stage with ease in them.

You began dancing sensually on the stage to a song she didn't recognize and she turned to Ava, fuming. She was about to chew her out until she stood abruptly, pulling an absurd amount of dollar bills from her purse.

"What are we doing, sitting over here? Let's go have some fun!" She announced, waiting for everyone to get up. The three teachers all tensed visibly at the mention of getting anywhere near the stage.

Ava rolled her eyes and grabbed Melissa's arm, "Whatever, c'mon birthday girl."

Melissa was once again dragged by Ava, but this time over to the edge of the stage. She gave Melissa about half of her stack of ones and began throwing the money onto the stage. Melissa also threw some, trying to keep up appearances. Truthfully, she was entranced.

At some point, you had ended up on the floor of the stage, shaking your ass in a way that made her practically drool. Ava held up a folded one towards the stage, you spotted her and crawled enticingly up to her. Melissa's jaw tensed, the intense eye contact you held with Ava made jealousy seep into her. She could only hope you didn't recognize Ava as you took the bill from her with your teeth, the encounter feeling very sexually charged. With the bill still in between your teeth, you glanced at Melissa before doing a double take. You dropped the bill in shock, but quickly snapped out of it, continuing your performance. Because she was so caught up in your performance, she failed to notice Ava disappearing like the ghost she apparently thought she was.

By the end of the song, Ava had returned and Melissa was none the wiser. She felt hot all over, the personality you showed on stage was completely different from the one she saw at school, and it excited her. You gathered your tips and made your way backstage, leaving Melissa feeling just a tiny bit disappointed.

You dropped all of your money onto your makeup station, pulling the money someone had stuffed underneath your bodysuit by your thigh and between your breasts. You counted it out, writing down on the slip of paper that you used to keep track of the tips you made. Once you did that, you put the cash into your purse and put your purse into your locker. You had pulled off your heels to start getting ready to leave, your shift ending soon, when your manager came into the dressing room.

"Hey, Cleo, can you do one last private dance before you leave? It was a special request for the customer's birthday." She asked, looking a little apologetic.

You sighed, "London's with my mom right now, I gotta get home so I can get her ready for bed."

You really didn't feel like being up close and personal with a customer at that moment, you were sweaty and you were sure you didn't smell the greatest.

"She's willing to pay extra. Come on, just one song and then you can go home."

The idea of extra money had made you change your mind in an instant. "Let me put some perfume on. What room?"

Your manager smiled gratefully, "Room 4."

With that, she left. You huffed and took off your bodysuit, it was pretty but it wasn't the best material for grinding up on someone for five minutes. You looked through the outfits you brought with you, trying to find the least intricate piece you had. You settled on a backless purple one piece that had fake pearls along the edges of the fabric. You put it on and looked at yourself in the floor length mirror, adjusting your breasts and putting body tape on them to avoid a slip during the private dance. After putting your heels back on, you gave yourself another examination in the mirror, this was one of the first outfits you bought to dance in yourself. The deep u-neckline stopped right above your navel, showing off just the right amount of skin that was expected of you.

You gave yourself a few sprays of your perfume and put on some deodorant. You checked your makeup in the mirror, and then went off to the private room. As you walked there, you wondered who would've requested you specifically. They paid extra so they must've had disposable income, so maybe you would get some extra money from them if you did a good job.

Melissa was sitting on the velvet couch in the room, unknowingly waiting for you. After your performance, Ava had brought Melissa to this room. She questioned her the entire way, only receiving a sly grin and being told to wait in the room. She accepted her fate and sat on the couch, scanning her surroundings. It was a small room, the floor and walls the same as the rest of the club and the LED lights were set to pink and slightly brighter than the lights on the dance floor. Next to the door was a dial and buttons for the lights and a bigger dial for the music.

She knew she would be receiving a lap dance and she had an inkling you would be the one to give it to her. She was at war with herself as to whether or not she thought that was a good thing, her mind going back to how confidently and fluidly you danced on stage. You weren't the first stripper Melissa had seen before, but seeing you on stage had ignited something within her. On the other hand, she had not noticed any indication that you felt the same way about her that she felt about you; you were always kind, but nothing more. She worried that this would be crossing a line with you.

Melissa's train of thought was interrupted by the door opening, and just like she had guessed, you came into the room. Melissa's gaze ran down the length of your body, lingering on your chest longer than it should have. While she ogled you, your eyes adjusted to the light in the room. You finally processed that it was Melissa in the room and you gasped.

"Melissa!?" You exclaimed. You opened the door and checked the room number, and sure enough, it was room 4. You closed the door and turned back to her.

"Uh, hi." She replied awkwardly, it was all she could think to say.

"What are you doing here? My manager told me I was requested, did you—"

"Oh, no! God, no. Ava did." Melissa interjected, nearly jumping from her seat.

"Why would she do that?" You asked, crossing your arms under your chest, unintentionally pushing up your already barely-covered breasts.

Melissa fought the urge to look at your chest, sighing. "It's my birthday, it's a part of my gift, I guess."

"Why'd she request me?"

"I think... she knows I find you attractive." She muttered the last few words, if the music had been turned up a little more you wouldn't have been able to hear what she said.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, "You think I'm attractive?"

Melissa didn't miss the hint of hope in your voice, her own eyebrow raising as you came closer to her.

"Yeah, I'm not blind." She scoffed, like you being attractive was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look, I know you probably don't want to do this, so you don't have to."

You did want to, though, and Melissa's confession had made you want to do it more.

"Who said I didn't want to?" You asked, walking slowly up to Melissa. "I mean it is your birthday, right? Why not have a little fun?"

It didn't take much to convince her, she had already gotten all worked up from seeing you on stage, so having the opportunity to see you dance like that for her was certainly not unwelcome.

"Yeah, okay. I can have some fun." Melissa said, nodding as you leaned down and braced your hands on top of her knees with a grin.

"Great. Now, just sit back, relax, and enjoy yourself." You instructed, leaning in so your lips brushed against her ear. "You're not supposed to touch, but I think I'll make an exception for the birthday girl. Our little secret."

You stood up straight and walked back towards the door. Your heart raced as you turned up the music, your nerves trying to get the best of you. You sighed in relief when you recognized the song that was playing over the speakers, you often got songs that you had never heard, leading to some lackluster dances. "Often" by The Weeknd filled the room, a song that you had heard so many times you wished you would never hear it again.

You began dancing for Melissa, starting off outside of her reach to tease her and build anticipation. You were able to see her fingers twitch in her lap, itching to reach out and touch you, and you smirked to yourself. You closed some of the distance between the two of you, now dancing close enough that she could occasionally reach out and caress your waist and thighs. Every time you felt the brush of her fingers on your skin, your breath would hitch and you had to fight the urge to pause your movements to enjoy the feeling.

As the end of the song came closer and closer, you decided to end the dance with a bang of sorts. You got even closer to Melissa, straddling her lap and grinding down on her to the rthythm to the music. Melissa's hands wasted no time in grabbing your hips, pressing into your soft skin lightly.

"God, hon... you're good at this..." She commented, sounding breathless as she watched your body and how it moved in her lap. Her hands drifted lower, now caressing your ass.

You smiled down at her, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her closer. "You're too sweet."

Melissa's eyes dragged up your frame until she was looking directly into your eyes. Her pupils were blown and her lips were slightly parted, she looked like she wanted to take you right then and there. You watched as Melissa's gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips to your eyes again and, before you could think better of it, you started leaning in. Melissa leaned in as well, meeting you halfway as your lips connected.

The kiss was heated, your fingers tangled in and occasionally pulling at Melissa's hair, and Melissa's hands skimming from your ass up to the underside of your breasts. You whimpered into her mouth as her thumb ghosted across your nipple, a shiver going down your spine. The song had long been over when the two of you finally pulled apart, your lips swollen and your chests raising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

"That was... wow." You said, breaking the silence.

Melissa chuckled breathlessly, her hands still on you. "Yeah, you could say that again."

"Do you want to, um, come back to my place?" You asked, sounding hopeful. Melissa didn't hesitate with her answer.

"Yes, absolutely. I need to get my hands on you."

You smiled brightly, leaning down to leave a chaste kiss on her lips. "Alright. I've gotta go clock out and then I'll meet you out back."

Melissa nodded and you stood from her lap before leaving the room. She chuckled to herself, shaking her head. She was definitely going to have to thank Ava later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@blkmxrvel asked to be tagged ! lmk if i should make a taglist :)))

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Midsummer Nightmare

AI-less Whumptober Day 1: Drugging

Masterlist

TW: human whumpee, fae whumper, drugging (duh), hmm hunting mention? not really sure what else, but enjoy!

---

Stopping to wipe his sweat-damp forehead with the back of his wrist, Arne squinted his eyes against the sun. It was starting to set, but he figured he still has a couple hours before nightfall.

Frowning down at his meager bounty for the day—two rather skinny rabbits and a half dozen unbroken eggs he’d found amongst a fallen nest—Arne considered: he could head home now, but he could already picture his mother and sisters’ faces, already too thin with hunger, sun-beaten and weary. 

He knew that they’d say it was fine, that he had done the best he could, that all the animals worth hunting had already fled north in an attempt to escape the oppressive heat of summer. He knew this, and yet, he couldn’t help the disappointment sinking and settling deep in his gut.

As he turned to head back to their cottage with a heavy-hearted sigh, a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. Spinning around, bow at the ready, he nearly gasped as his eyes landed on what, for a moment, he thought might simply be a trick of the heat: a beautiful, plump doe, grazing peacefully just a few yards from him.

Notching an arrow—the feathers of which his youngest sister, Lucia, has carefully attached—Arne drew his arm back, keeping his aim steady as he took deep, stabilizing breaths.

On the exhale, he let the arrow fly loose, but, as it barrelled straight towards the doe, it seemed to almost wiggle in the air, veering enough off-course to fly over the doe’s head. To Arne’s astonishment, the doe merely glanced up before meandering off, away from Arne.

Unable to allow his prey to escape so easily, he pulled another arrow from his quiver as he followed the beautiful beast on light, near silent feet. This time, when the doe settled, Arne allowed himself to creep even closer to her, making sure he wouldn’t miss again.

The second shot hit the doe right in the heart, causing her to collapse with an eerie quietness. As Arne stepped forward to claim his prey, he suddenly became aware of another presence. Kneeling next to the still beast, he looked around, settling one hand lightly on the hilt of the knife he kept at his side at all times.

“Good shot.” The voice was soft, smooth, like warm honeyed tea sliding down your throat.

Arne spun around, fingers tightening around his blade, as he located the figure.

At first appearance, the stranger looked so out of place, it was borderline absurd to the point that Arne had to resist the urge to laugh.

They were tall, with pale golden hair that barely brushed the nape of their neck. Even with the stranger in the shadows of the trees, Arne could see their unnatural golden eyes glinting with curiosity. Even the stranger’s clothes were off-putting: finely made black cloth with golden threads adorning it, fitted closely and precisely to the stranger’s frame, as if it had been made specifically for them. Nobody in Arne’s village could afford to purchase or make fabric like that, even if they could spare the time and energy it would take to travel to the nearest town to acquire it—which they couldn’t.

“Who are you?” Arne asked, attempting to keep his voice flat and even, not threatening but not allowing any nerves to show, either.

The stranger smiled, showing off pearly white teeth that seemed a bit too sharp- Arne blinked and the stranger’s smile looked normal.

“My name is Ikalos,” the stranger said, in a subtle foreign lilt. They weren’t difficult to understand; in fact, their voice had a melodic cadence to it. “I apologize if I startled you. I’m unfamiliar with this area, and I seem to have gotten myself turned around. Would you mind pointing me to the nearest town or village? Anywhere I could find a meal and lodging for the night, really.”

Shoulders relaxing, Arne offered the man—for, now that he got a better look at him, Ikalos was quite masculine, despite the strange beauty he had—a tentative smile. “Sorry for my rudeness, I’m just not used to seeing people this far out. A lot of them fear the forest, even if they say they don’t. My village is the closest to here, only a mile or so hike, and then another half mile to my family’s home. We have plenty of room if you would care to stay the night.” Arne hesitated. “Not a lot of people in my village are all that welcoming to strangers, if you know what I mean.”

Ikalos nodded, clarity glinting in his eyes. “I do understand, yes. Well, if you do not mind, I would like to join you on your walk back, if only to ensure I don’t get myself twisted back up in this damned forest.” He paused, licking his lips. “I can even help you carry this doe back, since it seems you have enough you’re already carrying,” eyeing Arne’s bow and quiver, the rest of his bounty for the day, and the belt slung low across his hips, where his knife and waterskin hung.

Arne smiled. “That would be great, actually, now that you mention it, it is pretty hot outside.” Unfastening his waterskin, he held it out. “Would you care for a drink? I can’t promise how cold it is, but it’s fresh at least.”

Ikalos pulled his own skin from somewhere that Arne hadn’t noticed before. “I appreciate your offer, but I’ve been staying plenty hydrated. This is a delightful fruity wine that has been passed down in my family for generations. Light and refreshing, without the alcohol being overpowering. Would you like a taste? It truly is the least I could do.” He held it out between them.

Shrugging, noticing the sandpaper-like texture of his lips, Arne accepted the skin gratefully, noticing in the back of his mind how soft and supple the skin was. Uncorking it, he took a tentative sip, marveling at the airiness of the drink, how he felt rejuvenated almost immediately. “This is delicious!” he exclaimed, attempting to pass it back but Ikalos waved him off. 

“Please, drink your fill. I’ve had plenty of the stuff over the years,” he said. “By the way, I didn’t catch who you said you were. May I have your name?”

After another, deeper gulp of the wine, Arne held his hand out to shake Ikalos’. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. My name is Arne. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“It truly was a fortunate twist of fate that you caught my nose— I mean, my ear. I heard your footsteps and had to try to find you myself. This really is quite ideal timing for myself, but, well, that’s a long story.” Ikalos grinned, this time his teeth definitely looked too sharp.

Blinking away the sudden blurriness in his vision, Arne frowned. “I’m sorry, I think you lost me.” Shaking his clouded head, Arne turned away. “Anyways, we should probably head back now, if we want to reach the village before total nightfall.”

As he turned, though, the air seemed to shimmer and warp before him, and his limbs seem to stop obeying him, becoming impossibly heavy. “Woah,” he murmured. “I- uh, I’m not feeling too- um, too well.”

Too-cold hands gently guided him onto the forest floor, making him sit down rather harder than he was expecting. Those strange—inhuman, Arne was realizing, too late—golden eyes stared deep into him. “It’s alright now, Arne, everything will be perfectly okay, my dear,” Ikalos said softly, gently. “But for now, Arne, go to sleep.”

At those words, Arne’s eyes slipped closed and his consciousness left him.

---

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober @thelazywitchphotographer @whither-wander-whump @theelvishcowgirl @deckofaces @badluck990 @whumperofworlds @cupcakes-and-pain @misspelledwitch

[fantasticalleigh]

New work alert! (Bridgerton: Polin)

Ever since I started watching Bridgerton and then read Romancing Mr. Bridgerton I've been been obsessed with Colin and Penelope and dying to try my hand at writing something for Polin and including those infamous scenes so here's the start of it. Enjoy!

[lusxnei6]

EVERYONE STOP AND READ THIS UNPUBLISHED HELNIK SCENE

(this is from Leigh’s insta btw)

[quotefeeling]

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (16/17)

Part Summary: You and Leigh cling to each other, counting down the days until she leaves next year for Matt's book tour.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.300+ | Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strap-on usage (r receiving), oral (r receiving), sex in public | Author's note: Just R and Leigh being all over each other before we wrap up this series :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV I Part XV

-

Your internal clock kicks in at five in the morning, even though it feels like you and Leigh only just fell asleep, exhausted after hours of chasing each other to the brink and back. You’ve long since stopped counting the times you’ve brought each other over the edge, a relentless pursuit of pleasure that left both of you gasping, spent, yet craving more. 

Was it possible to share an orgasm that stretched into what felt like hours? If so, how were you not just a tangle of bliss-wrecked limbs, dead to the world?

You vaguely remember a drowsy conversation as you were both drifting off, your sweaty bodies tangled in the sheets. You’d managed a murmured question about the future, about what happens when Leigh hits the road for the comic tour. But she’d just pressed a lazy, silencing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “What if tomorrow an asteroid hits Los Angeles?” she’d teased, nosing the length of your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there.

You tried to frown, your mind foggy with sleep. “Be serious,” you muttered.

“I am,” she whispered back, her lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m dead serious about sucking every drop of now, not wasting a second on what-ifs.”

You’re not entirely sure what happened next, only that when Leigh said the word suck, you felt a tingling sensation that surged down to your core. Before you knew it, you were on your back again, with Leigh skillfully coaxing out the final, shattering orgasm of the night from you.

Stretching your back, you hear a few satisfying pop, reminding you how sex with Leigh was nothing short of a workout, your muscles pleasantly sore from it. The first pale light finds Leigh beside you, her back turned, skin bare, and just a whisper of the sheets covering her. You realize you’ve monopolized the covers throughout the night. 

You carefully pull the sheet over her, tucking it around her exposed shoulder. She’s still out, peaceful, her breathing even and deep. You can’t help but slide closer, wrapping an arm around her waist, her skin so soft and warm. You kiss the back of her neck lightly, her scent—a mix of sweet sweat and the faint floral of her shampoo—fills you up.

Soon enough, the gentle rhythm of Leigh's breathing lulls you back into sleep.

-

When you wake up again, hours later, the bed beside you is empty. The covers are tucked around you, forming a comforting cocoon, undoubtedly Leigh’s thoughtful doing. 

There’s no rush to throw on clothes; you relish the comfort of the sheets against your bare skin as you slide out of bed. It's not your first time being in Leigh’s room, but the last time you were here, you barely made it a foot inside before being overtaken by the fight you were having. Last night was different. In the darkness, nothing mattered except Leigh’s cries of pleasure, the slick heat between her thighs, and the taste of her lips, completely consumed by the wonders of her body. With the slow start to your morning, you realize you now have all the time in the world to explore Leigh’s room.

Though, quite literally, there’s not much to unpack here.

In one corner near the windows, stacks of cardboard boxes are still wrapped in tape. They are remnants, you guess, of her life with Matt. Drifting over to Leigh’s desk, you notice a notebook sitting there, its pages shut tight. The temptation to peek is there, but you respect her privacy, leaving it untouched. Above the desk, a small shelf is lined with books—classics you recognize and, surprisingly, a few romance novels by Emily Henry. You're not usually into romance, but you make a mental note to check out this author on your next visit to a bookstore.

Exploring Leigh’s room reveals a charming minefield. Clothes are draped over chairs, pooled on the floor, or spilling from drawers. The dresser is a jumble of lotion bottles, perfume, earrings, and hair ties. It's all quintessentially Leigh—somewhat untamed. Your self-guided tour brings you inevitably back to the doorway. Just as you’re turning to give one last look over the room, the door bursts open. It's Jules, and the moment she sees you, her eyes widen in horror.

“Jesus, Y/N!” Jules shrieks, throwing her hands up to shield her eyes. “What the hell?”

Scrambling, you grab a throw pillow off Leigh’s bed and hold it in front of you. “Jules! I, uh, didn't think anyone would be coming in,” you stammer, cheeks heating up.

“Why are you naked in my sister's room?” Jules demands, her voice muffled by her hands, still covering her face. The question sounds ridiculous even to her ears—everyone knew you and Leigh had a date last night.

Of course, you're naked in her sister's bedroom the next morning. Where else?

“I—We were just—” Every explanation sounds more absurd as you try to find the words.

“Just—don't. Please, just get dressed,” Jules interrupts, still not looking at you.

Nodding, you quickly grab the first clothes you can find, not bothering to check if they’re yours or if they’re clean. Within seconds, you're awkwardly pulling on a white shirt featuring a pickle wearing aviators, captioned Dill With It, and squeezing into lime shorts that are definitely a bit too snug and short for your taste.

“I'm decent,” you announce, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how flustered you feel.

Right then, Leigh emerges from downstairs, looking bewildered by the commotion. “What’s going on?” she asks, eyes darting between her flustered sister and you in your bizarre outfit.

Jules lowers her hands slowly, peeking out with one eye before fully facing you. Her irritation is palpable as she glares at Leigh. 

“You said I could borrow your charger from your bedroom!” Jules exclaims, her finger quivering slightly as she points it at her sister.

Leigh blinks, her lips twitching as she fights the urge to laugh. She sneaks a glance at you, your face now resembling a ripe tomato from embarrassment, and mutters almost absentmindedly, “I assumed she'd still be asleep.”

Jules huffs, “Whatever.” She strides over to Leigh's desk, grabbing the charger with a dramatic flourish. You stand frozen, barely breathing. As Jules heads for the door, she pauses, crinkling her nose as if a new thought has just occurred to her. She turns, eyes narrowed slightly in disgust. 

“And open a window, would you? It smells like a brothel in here. Gross.” With that parting shot, she's gone.

Leigh lets out a breath and shakes her head. She steps closer and wraps her arms around you, her laughter bubbling up. “Well, that was something,” she says, coming over to wrap you in a hug. She gives your shirt a playful tug. “You kind of rock the pickle look, though.”

“It's a new trend,” you joke, pulling her a little closer. As you do, you lean in to kiss her cheek softly, whispering, “Good morning.”

Leigh smiles and leans in to kiss you on the lips, but you instinctively bring up your fingers to your mouth, mumbling, “I haven’t brushed yet.”

Unfazed, Leigh simply pries your fingers away and presses her lips firmly against yours. It's a quick but solid peck, leaving you both smiling.

“Morning breath doesn't scare me,” she murmurs, tracing a finger down your throat to your clavicle. “Besides, after last night, I think a little morning breath is nothing we can't handle.”

Grinning, you dive back in for another kiss, deeper this time, as Leigh starts steering you backward towards the bed. Just as the back of your knees hit the mattress, a rumble from your stomach interrupts the moment—loud, untimely, and embarrassingly intolerant.

Leigh chuckles, her forehead resting against yours as she catches her breath. “Guess that's my cue to feed you something other than kisses,” she says with a smirk, pulling back and offering her hand to help you up. “Come on, Jules made breakfast.”

Gratefully, you take her hand, letting her lead you out of the bedroom.

-

“Forget that research gig, I'm heading straight to America's Got Talent,” Suzie jokes, staggering back to the table after a spirited, if slightly wobbly, rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart. She's already half-drunk but radiates happiness, her performance having drawn cheers and hearty sing-alongs from the crowd at the karaoke bar.

She flops down in her chair, cheeks flushed and grinning, as your group erupts in cheers and claps. Tomorrow is Suzie's last day, and you had her pick the venue for her farewell party. Knowing how much she loves to sing during downtime at the clinic, a karaoke bar was an obvious choice.

“Here's to Suzie!” you shout, trying to be heard over the sound of a couple belting out a ballad on stage. “For the longest time, you've been the clinic's backbone and heartbeat. We never would've made it without you. You'll be terribly missed, but remember, our door is always open for you.”

The table erupts in cheers before everyone empties the glasses they're holding up. You drop back into your seat, feeling a little dizzy after that round. It's a small group—just you, Suzie, Foreman, Sara, and your maintenance guys, Joey and Mike.

Suzie suddenly leaps to her feet, glass raised high. “And a huge shout-out to the hottest boss I've ever had the pleasure of working ‘under’!” she yells, punctuating her words with a devious wink. Your team bursts into laughter, their uproar drawing whistles and applause from some folks at nearby tables. Sara chimes in with a spirited “Hear, hear!”, while Foreman simply rolls his eyes, a hint of envy in his expression—he's already made a pass at Sara and was swiftly rejected.

You wave your hands dismissively. “Alright, alright, let's not give everyone the wrong idea,” you say, your cheeks reddening a bit from both the attention and the alcohol. Just as you're about to retake your seat, feeling the room sway slightly with your tipsiness, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You fumble it out to see Leigh's name lighting up the screen. You’d texted her this morning inviting her to join the farewell, but her busy schedule had made her confirmation uncertain.

You excuse yourself and stumble slightly as you rise, steadying your hand on the back of your chair. Weaving through the tables, you find a quieter spot near the entrance of the bar to answer the call.

“Hey,” you say, pressing the phone to your ear, your voice dropping as you move away from all the ruckus. “Everything okay?”

“Hey,” Leigh's voice cuts in, a bit choppy and barely audible over the blaring speakers. “I'm outside of the... Brass Gibbon? Am I at the right place?”

You miss the last part of her sentence. “Sorry? Can you say that again?”

Strangely, you catch Leigh's deep sigh perfectly. “I said I'm outside,” she repeats.

“Oh! Hang on, I'm coming out.”

You dash out of the restaurant and spot Leigh leaning against the wall. You can’t help but rush over and wrap her in a tight bear hug. It’s only been two days since you woke up in her bed, but you’ve already missed seeing her, smelling her, feeling her in your arms.

She laughs and returns the hug. As she tries to pull away, you tighten your grip, holding her for a few more precious seconds. She relents with a soft chuckle, patting you lightly on the back. When you finally let go, her eyes roam fondly over your face, taking in your slightly flushed cheeks and dreamy stare. Seeing this, her smile only widens.

“Someone's had a few too many,” she teases.

You hiccup and try to defend yourself, “I’ve just had three—no, four!”

Leigh smirks and shakes her head. “Four, huh? Must've been some party,” she says, taking your hand. As Leigh leads you back toward the bar, you find yourself gazing down at your intertwined hands, a goofy grin spreading across your face. You giggle softly to yourself, slightly buzzed and thoroughly enchanted by the simple act of holding her hand.

Upon reaching your table, Suzie waves enthusiastically to get Leigh's attention. Leigh responds with a bright, “Hello, everyone!” as you both approach the group. There’s a moment where everyone looks expectantly at you, waiting for an introduction. Momentarily distracted by Leigh's presence, you get a nudge and a whisper from Suzie sitting next to you, “Introduce her, you goof!”

Quickly regaining your composure, you turn slightly, still holding Leigh’s hand. “Everyone, this is Leigh,” you announce, proud and slightly nervous. Everyone takes turns shaking her hand and introducing themselves. You watch anxiously as Sara stands up to greet Leigh, but Leigh's smile never fades, and a wave of calm washes over you as you observe your team warmly interacting with your—

“Is she your girlfriend?” Foreman asks overtly. The room goes quiet. Everyone's eyes swing between you and Leigh, waiting.

You're stuck, words lodged somewhere in your chest, not sure what to say or how to say it.

And then Leigh beats you to it.

“Yes.”

You blink, staring at Leigh, flooded with relief and suddenly feeling very, very horny.  When Leigh notices your dazed look, her face switches to concern. “You okay?” she asks. Before you can answer, she’s already grabbing your hand, turning to everyone, “Excuse us, Y/N's not feeling great.”

You're still reeling from her bold affirmation and too captivated by Leigh to piece together a coherent thought. The next thing you know, you're being guided—rather roughly—into one of the bathroom stalls, your back pressed against the door as Leigh locks it behind you.

Leigh leans in close, her breath hot against your ear. “You shouldn't be wearing your white doctor's coat out like this,” she murmurs.

You open your mouth to explain—it was chilly, and beneath the coat, all you had on was a skimpy black strappy dress. But as Leigh slides the coat from your shoulders, her lips find your earlobe, gently nibbling. The words die in your throat, replaced by a sharp intake of breath. Leigh pushes you harder against the door, her body pinning yours with surprising force. That's when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness of a strap beneath her pants. A deep, needy moan spills from you as she starts grinding against you.

How did you miss the pronounced bulge in the tight jeans she wore to meet everyone? Was this part of her plan? The nerve of it—meeting everyone, introducing herself so confidently and casually, all while planning to take you here, in a public bathroom. It's almost as if she was silently bragging to your team, “Yeah, I’m about to fuck your boss in a public bathroom. Nice to meet you.”

The thought alone makes you soak your panties. Despite the thrill, the risk of getting caught in public makes you hesitate. “Leigh, they’re waiting for us,” you protest weakly.

Leigh just grins against your skin. “But I'm not done making you feel better,” she whispers slowly, making you clench your thighs together from how hoarse her voice has gotten. Her hands are deft as she bunches your dress around your waist and begins to unzip her pants. All the while, she deposits open-mouthed kisses along your neck, leaving a trail of saliva in their wake. 

“Leigh…” you whine, unsure if you're trying to make her stop or urging her on out of impatience. She just smirks, that knowing look in her eyes telling you she’s got you right where she wants you. Before you can protest again, she pulls you into a deep, toe-curling kiss that melts your doubts away.

Then, you see it. Leigh pulls out a seven-inch strap-on, its girth substantial. Her hand barely fits around it as she spits into her palm and coats the silicone with deliberate strokes, preparing it. 

You're teetering on the edge, mind spinning, when Leigh switches things up on you. Suddenly, she’s on her knees, and before you know what’s happening, she’s tugged your panties down. You’re about to react when her tongue hits you, slick and warm, tracing up your pussy.

“Oh my god!” you cry out.

Leigh’s tongue works magic, and she hums against you. “You taste sweeter every time,” she murmurs, just before her tongue dives back in for more. You can only moan in response, words failing you completely as pleasure builds. Just when you’re about to peak, Leigh pulls away, leaving you hanging on the brink. She stands quickly, grabs the strap-on, and steps closer. Her grin is wicked as she rubs the toy against your slick folds, coating it with your arousal. When the thick head nudges your clit, you can’t help but curse out loud.

“Leigh! Fuck!”

Leigh clamps a hand over your mouth, her eyes widening slightly as she hears someone enter the bathroom. She gives you a quick, commanding look, silently instructing you to wrap your legs around her. As you comply, the toy squeezes tighter in your folds, making you shudder.

“Put your arms around my shoulders, hold tight,” she murmurs, breathless from the effort she’s exerting to hold you up. She guides the tip of the cock to your entrance. “Ready?” she asks softly. You nod, pressing your face into the crook of her neck to drown out any sounds. Without another word, Leigh thrusts into you in one swift motion. The size is a shock, and you bite down on her neck to stifle a cry, the slight pain mingling with deep pleasure. Sensing your need to adjust, Leigh holds back, her body taut yet patient, giving you a moment. Once you give a slight nod against her neck, Leigh starts moving again, slowly at first. 

She continues thrusting into you, speeding up just a little, her lips just inches from your ear. “I've been thinking about this, fucking you like this,” she whispers.

Dumb with pleasure, you gasp out, “H-Here?”

“Not here, silly,” she breathes out, her rhythm faltering slightly as a particular thrust grazes her clit just right. The strap-on drags tantalizingly against your walls as she pulls out, then sinks back in deep, hitting spots that light you up from the inside. Leigh’s fucking you like the strap is a true extension of hers. For a second there, you wish it were. 

“Ideally, I'd have you in your bed, where you can scream your l-lungs out,” Leigh whimpers as her movements grow more and more out of control. She drives into you relentlessly, each stroke making you slicker, drawing moans from deep within you. “S-Seeing you tonight... I couldn’t w-wait.”

You've never been so wet, so ready, and every time she pulls back, you feel the absence of her deeply, desperately not wanting this to end.

Leigh changes her approach, drawing back slowly until only the head of her cock remains inside you, before surging forward, slamming into you. Each powerful thrust pins you harder against the door, the sound of your bodies smacking together rocking you into a lust-filled haze. The sheer strength of her movements turns you on even more, making you more slippery, and soon you can practically hear the sound of her fucking you—wet, squelching noises that you're sure anyone nearby can hear.

True enough, you catch the sound of hurried footsteps and the door slamming shut as someone rushes out, likely realizing what's happening. 

With the coast clear, she carefully lowers your legs from her waist, sensing that you’re close but knowing you need more. Just when you think you might lose it, she suddenly pulls out. You barely have time to gasp, ready to curse her for stopping, when she swiftly turns you around and positions you over the toilet, making you brace yourself on the seat.

Without warning, she enters you from behind, the angle allowing her to go deeper. Leigh drags your dress further up your body, her hands roaming over your smooth back before digging into your hips. Your breathing becomes shallower as she continues her unforgiving pace, but you crave more.

Sensing your need, Leigh sneaks a hand in front of you, her fingers finding your swollen clit. She circles it tightly with three fingers, massaging the engorged nub. “Look how big it's grown,” she whispers huskily in your ear. “You're so ready. Practically dripping everywhere.”

You whimper helplessly, tears forming behind your eyelids from the amount of pleasure you’re receiving. 

“I wish I could come in you, fill you up.”

That does it. Your body tenses, and a powerful orgasm crashes over you, making you cry out. Leigh tries to hold you up, supporting your weight as you lose all sensation in your legs.

“Fuck, Leigh!" you moan, trembling. “That was... oh god…”

Leigh doesn't stop, her own need for release driving her forward. Despite your pleas about how sensitive you are, she continues relentlessly, her fingers expertly working your clit again. “Leigh, please,” you whimper, your body overstimulated and trembling. “I can’t—”

“Just one more, baby,” she groans. “I-I’m close.”

At Leigh’s plea, your body, still reeling from the first orgasm, starts building up again. “Oh god, Leigh,” you gasp, feeling the pressure mount once more, your body trembling uncontrollably. Within seconds, you're hurtling toward another peak, your legs shaking as she drives you over the edge. A second, even more intense orgasm rips through you, your cries echoing in the small stall. Leigh finally lets out a low, guttural moan, her own release hitting as she keeps you bent over, her fingers never stopping their assault on your clit until every last wave of pleasure has wracked your body. 

Shortly thereafter, Leigh finally slows, her thrusts easing until she stops completely, still buried deep inside you. She pinches your ass appreciatively, then tests how sensitive you are with a small thrust that has you hissing. She chuckles at your reaction, taking pity on you. Bending over, she kisses your cheek and whispers, “I'm gonna pull out now, okay?”

You nod weakly, still catching your breath. Leigh begins to withdraw slowly, her eyes fixed on the junction of your bodies. She watches, fascinated, as she draws back, the wet tendrils stretching and finally snapping from your pussy to her cock. 

“Look at you,” she murmurs in awe, half to herself, as she finally frees herself completely and tucks the strap back inside her pants.

“Are you okay?” she asks, noticing you’ve been in the same position longer than usual.

“Yeah, just give me a minute... or five,” you reply with a breathless laugh.

She laughs softly too, then helps you pull your panties up from your ankles. Once you're somewhat decent, she sits on the toilet lid and pulls you into her lap, resting her forehead on your chest, eyes closed, her breath steady on your sternum. You weave your fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp gently. Leigh sighs contentedly, but then her voice turns apologetic. 

“I'm sorry for… I literally lost control. It's just... I keep seeing you and thinking of February, when I have to go and I—”

“I know what you mean,” you interrupt softly, tilting her head towards you with fingers under her chin. “I don't want to waste a single moment.”

Leigh nods, then quickly buries her face in your chest to hide her watery eyes, her head nestled comfortably against your breast.

For a while, you just hold each other without saying anything, content even in the cramped space of the stall. After a while, you gently suggest, “We should get back. Don’t want to give the staff any ideas.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Leigh says, lifting her head to meet your eyes. 

She helps you to your feet, both of you adjusting your clothes, sharing a quiet, knowing smile. With one last kiss, you step out of the stall together.

When you and Leigh return to the group, it's clear they're more inebriated than when you left. Except Suzie. The smirk that spreads across her face as soon as she sees you gives away that she's pieced together what happened between you and Leigh. Your cheeks flush immediately, providing Suzie all the confirmation she needs. Without missing a beat, she guides you both back to the booth and strategically sits between you and Leigh, still smirking.

“Thanks for coming, Leigh,” Suzie says, offering Leigh a beer.

Leigh accepts the drink, taking a large gulp before saying, “Sorry for crashing your party.”

“No, you’re not,” Suzie says with an impish grin. “I told Y/N to invite you. I wanted to meet you properly before I go.”

“Oh?” Leigh looks up from her drink. “Why’s that?”

“Suzie—” you try to interject.

Suzie holds up a finger to shush you. Leigh's eyebrow arches at the gesture, clearly feeling provoked by your former receptionist's antics. You tense up for a moment, worried Suzie might say something offensive to Leigh.

Instead, she grins and says, “I wanted to meet the reason my boss stares into space half the time.”

You shoot Suzie a deathly glare, but she just laughs. 

“Really?” Leigh asks, amused. “That bad, huh?”

Suzie nods, enjoying every second. “Oh, yeah. It’s been fun watching her daydream.”

The rest of the group laughs and then Foreman accidentally spills his drink down his shirt, drawing everyone’s attention. Taking advantage of the distraction, Suzie leans in closer to Leigh, her expression becoming earnest.

“I might not be Y/N’s best friend,” she tells her, “but consider this a friendly warning from someone who cares about her just as much. Don’t break her heart, okay?”

Leigh meets her gaze head on and says, “I don’t plan on it.”

“Good,” Suzie says, rising from her seat. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to kick off the second set of my concert tonight.”

-

Leigh doesn’t mention Suzie’s little warning to you, choosing to keep it to herself. Yet, as she spends more time with you, those words linger in the back of her mind, subtly coloring her perceptions and the way she observes your interactions. It’s not something she dwells on openly, but it’s there, quietly guiding her along the way. 

You don’t tell Leigh how she’s been everything you could ever ask for these past few weeks, but you've noticed. You see her thoughtfulness in the small things—like how she always brings you your favorite coffee just the way you like it, or the way she listens, really listens, giving you her undivided attention when you talk about your day, no matter how trivial the details. And it's clear she's not holding back; she's refreshingly candid. Leigh shares everything that's on her mind, effortlessly expressing how your words or actions impact her, for better or worse—a true companionship.

The sex gradually tapered off, but your longing for Leigh has only grown—not just in a sexual sense. You miss her in the mornings when she's makeup-free, leaving a small mark of drool on your pillow. During the day, you wish you could grab lunch with her or talk about the new book you spotted in a shop window, especially after deep discussions about its author. You long to share every detail of your day with her, to hear her take on the little things, to see her in your dreams.

Simply put, you find yourself wanting her around all the time.

It's risky to find yourself wanting her even more than you already do, but you've long since surrendered control over your own heart. It feels like being a prisoner on death row, helplessly waiting for the inevitable moment she leaves LA for her tour.

-

One evening, Leigh surprises you with a picnic dinner at the park. She finds the perfect spot under a massive oak tree and lays down a cozy blanket. From her basket, she pulls out a homemade lasagna that’s still warm and a grazing box loaded with your favorite cheeses and cold cuts. 

As you settle down, Leigh pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses. She winks, assuring you she definitely got permission to take it from her mom’s cellar.

You smile, watching her pour the wine. “So.. what’s the occasion?”

Leigh shrugs as she hands you a glass of wine, her smile easy. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” she says simply.

You take a sip, enjoying the flavor, but there’s a nagging feeling you just can’t seem to shake off. 

“You've been going all out for me lately,” you quip, keeping your tone light. “What's this really about?”

Leigh’s smile fades just a touch, though her eyes remain hopeful. She takes a deep breath.

“I spoke with Matt's publisher,” she starts cautiously. “I’ve officially agreed to go on the tour. They've sorted out all the details—the itinerary, the places, everything.”

The news doesn't surprise you. You've been expecting this; neither you nor Leigh can keep avoiding the inevitable, hiding behind the rush of desire you have for each other, the comfortable days that are, you both know, numbered.

You fall silent for a while, simply lying down with your head in Leigh's lap. She seems taken aback at first, but quickly adjusts to make you more comfortable. You look up at her, smiling, finding her face and the night sky an unbelievably stunning match.

Leigh gives you a funny look, her brow furrowing slightly. “Did you hear what I said?” she asks.

“Yeah, I heard you,” you mumble, still distracted by her face. Then, as an afterthought, you whisper, “You were always going to go.”

She nods, looking upward, her eyes glistening as she tries to blink back tears.

“Are you going alone?” you ask.

Leigh takes a moment, then shakes her head slightly. “Danny might come too,” she admits. “But with his new job in Vegas, I doubt he’ll be able to.”

As you absorb her words, you realize why you asked. Maybe part of you had sensed it, maybe you needed the confirmation. Regardless, you know you have no say in the matter. If Danny is there, at least someone can look out for Leigh.

You hadn't noticed you'd voiced your thoughts about Danny possibly joining her until Leigh says, “I can handle myself just fine, you know.”

“Of course, you can,” you reply quickly, “but that won’t stop me from worrying.”

She gives you a soft smile and starts toying with your hair, gently pulling strands and braiding them. The slight tugs as she twists your hair into braids lull you into an almost sleepy state. You're drifting on the edge of dozing off when her voice, soft and tender, pulls you back. 

“I love you.”

Your eyes snap open. Leigh’s refrained from saying it during sex, and not that you’ve been counting, but it’s the third time. It takes you a few seconds to process, your heart catching up with your mind, and then you notice Leigh's amused smile. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper back. You can sense that your statement simultaneously makes her both happy and sad. You wish you could make it all joy, all the time.

But that’s not how life works.

Leigh bends down, her lips brushing softly against yours before she pulls away, her breath warm on your face. “Do you think this would be easier if we hadn't said those three words to each other?” she whispers, her eyes searching yours for an answer.

You sigh, mulling over her question. “I honestly don't know,” you say, voice soft but certain. “But I couldn’t have kept it to myself, not with how I feel about you. All I know is I love you, whether you’re leaving or staying.”

Leigh's eyes well up again, but this time she lets the tears fall. She leans in, her forehead resting against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs. 

“For what?” you ask curiously, sitting up.

Leigh wipes her tear with a dainty finger, then traces the line of your jaw before pecking you on the lips.

“For being you,” she whispers. “And for showing me that life can go on in any number of ways.”

[thoughtkick]

When they took everything from you, you found a way to make something from nothing.

Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

[thehopefulquotes]

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

[resqectable]

When they took everything from you, you found a way to make something from nothing.

Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

[realwitchieshit]

Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: Your ex, Melissa, invites you over when you’re out with friends. Despite your better judgement, you go see her.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied cheating (kind of?), gender neutral!r but there is one use of the word “girl”, lmk if i should add more! :)

A/N: this fic is inspired by “bad idea, right?” by olivia rodrigo. this is my first fic so i’m sorry if it’s bad. enjoy!

part 2

The beat of the club’s music vibrated throughout your chest as you danced with your friends, the dim lighting making it hard for you to see anything but black silhouettes. This had been one of the only times you’d all been able to go out this month, your friend group having your own things going on. You were pretty tipsy at that point, having thrown back a couple of vodka shots reluctantly.

Despite the booming of the bass, you still felt your phone buzzing in your back pocket. You pulled it out, looking to see who was calling you. The words DO NOT ANSWER were plastered on your phone screen, the contact name you gave Melissa after you went to see her “just to catch up”. Before you had the chance to scurry off to the bathroom to answer the call, there was a hand on your elbow.

“Girl, do not answer that,” Your friend, Mira, warned, wearing a look of worriedness and sternness.

You watched the phone screen as it turned black, your stomach turned, “I’m just gonna tell her I’m busy…”

“You’re doing so good, babe. Don’t let all that work go to waste.” Mira was right, you hadn’t been alone with Melissa at all in the last month. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating. Would it really be that bad to call her back and tell her you’re busy?

“I’m just gonna call her back and tell her I’m busy, I swear.” You said, causing Mira to drop your arm and drop her with a look that said “are you serious right now?” She seemed like she wanted to say something but decided against it, instead just shrugging and turning back to the group reluctantly.

You pushed through a sweaty crowd of people to get to the bathroom. Once there, you opened your calling app. You chewed on your thumbnail, second-guessing yourself. This was practically a routine now, Melissa would call you and you would drop everything you were doing to go see her. The only reason the routine had stopped was because the last time you were there, Melissa had rudely woken you up in the morning by throwing your clothes at you. She told you Gary was coming over and you needed to either leave or pretend to be sleeping in her guest room.

Yes, she’s your ex and is actively talking to someone else, but she’s also your coworker. It’s good to be friendly with your coworkers. And besides, can’t two people reconnect?

With that, you clicked on Melissa’s contact and called her. You placed the phone to your ear, still nibbling on your thumbnail. The line rang for a total of two and times before you heard a quiet “hey”.

“Hi, I saw that you called.” You muttered around your nail.

“Yeah, I was gonna ask if you would wanna come over.” There was a beat of silence before she added, “I made some tiramisu for Barb and I have some leftovers.”

Tiramisu. You hadn’t had tiramisu since you and Melissa broke up. You had attempted to make it yourself one night, but you failed miserably. Melissa probably knew that.

“I don’t know, Mel. I don’t think we can keep doing this and I’m–” Before you could say that you’re out with friends, Melissa interrupted you.

“C’mon, hon. It’s just tiramisu, nothin’ else.” Her tone lowered in that way it did when she was trying to sound serious, it made you smile lightly. “Nothin’ else” usually meant Melissa would wait at least five minutes before she began trying to get you into bed, and she would often succeed.

“I’m tipsy.”

“Great, so am I. I’ll order you an Uber.”

You sighed, leaning your head against the bathroom wall. Here we go again.

“I’m… on the way.” With that, you told her where you were and said goodbye.

You went back out onto the dancefloor, finding your group and telling them goodbye, feigning illness. A chorus of “aww”’s and “we have to go out again soon”’s broke out in front of you while Mira looked at you disappointedly while shaking her head slowly. You shot her an apologetic smile and made your way to the exit. You stood outside the club, the late summer night breeze caressing your skin gently.

The ride to Melissa’s house was quiet, the Uber driver having the music set to a quiet volume. When the car pulled up to her neighbor’s driveway, you stepped out and thanked him. You waited until the car was out of your sight before walking down the road to Melissa’s house, just like she’s told you to. Due to the lack of clothing your clubbing outfit included, the once cool breeze made you shiver as you waited for Melissa to open the door.

She opened the door with a shit-eating grin on her face and a glass of wine, making you crack a smile and look down at your shoes. She sidestepped to let you inside, looking you up and down. You ignored her gaze and walked in, enjoying how her house always seemed to be set at the perfect temperature. You walked straight to her kitchen, telling yourself that you would only have a piece and take whatever leftovers she had.

“Did you get all dressed up for me?” She asked playfully, earning her a quick glare from you.

“No, I was out with some friends.” You answered, cutting a piece of tiramisu and setting it on the plate you had already gotten from the cabinet.

Melissa’s brows furrowed, “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt your gathering. I could’ve just brought you some on Monday.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t having that much fun, anyway.” You and Melissa both knew that was a lie, when you were out with friends, especially Mira, it was damn near impossible to get you home. Even so, Melissa brushed it off and watched as you moved about the kitchen to get a fork before settling across from her at the island. There was a silence in the room as you ate your tiramisu, a sort of tense silence.

“Well, can I make it up to you? Barb recommended this really good red, so we can sit on the couch and have some wine.” She offered, you gripped your fork tighter.

You were about to tell her no, you really were, but then you looked up at her. She didn’t look different from the last time you saw her, which was yesterday, but your heart still skipped a beat when you looked into those green eyes. It’s like all higher-brain function had stopped abruptly, the voice of reason drowned out by a certain redhead’s voice. You tapped your fork against the plate and looked at your watch. It was still early. Just a glass of wine or two, then you’ll order an Uber and go home.

“Sure. But no funny business.” You pointed your fork at her with a playful smirk.

She raised her hands, “No funny business. Just wine to make up for your lost night.”

A glass of wine turned to two, and two turned into three, and before you knew it Melissa had you laid down on the couch while she kissed down your neck. In this now much more inebriated state, all you could focus on was how Melissa’s lips felt against your skin and how nice her perfume smelled. You felt Melissa’s hands begin fiddling with the button of your shorts and you snapped out of your haze. This is a bad idea, right? This is a seriously terrible, stupid, idiotic idea, right?

“Melissa,” You breathed out. She pulled away from your neck, lifting herself to look at you. She looked breathtaking, her hair falling around her face, her lip gloss smudged, her cheeks lightly flushed from the wine and the makeout session you just shared.

“Yeah?” She asked, her voice just as breathless as yours. It made your heart jump.

Fuck it, it’s fine.

“Bedroom.”

She smirked at you, lifting off the couch and grabbing your hand to pull you with her. She leads you to her room, fingers intertwined. Tomorrow, you’ll be telling your friends that you just tripped and fell into her bed.

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Kind Commander

AI-less Whumptober Day 2: Exhaustion

Masterlist

TW: military whump, power dynamics, multiple whumpees, lex is a fucking dumbass that's what

---

Lex Winch groaned as he slowly rose to consciousness. Confused as to what had awoken him, he sat up wearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a frown. 

As soon as he sat up, though, his memories came flooding back to him. 

The recon mission. The ambush. The death of his squad. The capture of the remaining two. 

Of his half-dozen member squad, only Lex and his friend, Isaac Lidgett, had been able to stay alive. And even then, Lex couldn’t decide whether their dead squadmates were the luckier ones. The Skoaxians were infamous for their brutality and poor treatment of their prisoners. Especially those under the command of Captain Ulysses Hawk.

Sighing, Lex stared up blankly at the muddy green of the tent fabric above him, wondering, not for the first time, just how exactly he had ended up in this situation. 

One day,  he was only a few months away from getting his masters in Ancient and Classical Literature, and then the next thing he knew, Skoaxia had attacked and Nascines had been forced to retaliate, never mind the thousands of innocent Nascinites who had been drafted and sent off to die.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Lex forced himself to take an inventory of his surroundings, the phantom voice of his old commander, Vyctore Bray, barking orders at him. Of course, Bray had been blown to smithereens right in front of him a few weeks back. Still, he had taught Lex valuable survival skills.

Keep an eye on your surroundings at all times. Make sure you see what’s around you, not just from your perspective, but from your enemy’s too.

Don’t play the hero. Heroes die. Painfully. Be a survivor. That’s the best way you’ll be able to help anyone.

Don’t be stupid, Winch. You hear me, boy? You’ve got a mouth on you and that might just end up getting a bullet put into your skull one day.

Looking around, Lex saw only the dark green of the thick tarp-like fabric, the two wooden poles holding it up, and battered dirt beneath it. A thick steel chain connected both of Lex’s ankles to the base of one of the poles, giving him just enough leeway for a couple teetering steps but nothing more. The other pole had an identical chain leading into a crumpled pile of dirty and torn up fabric.

Swallowing, Lex whispered, voice hoarse and raspy, “Lidgett, is that you?” 

The pile of fabric twitched, moving slowly into a slumped, sitting position. Through the grime, Lex was able to make out the startlingly pale green of Isaac’s eyes and the coppery curls that bounced down his forehead; although, now, his eyes were darkened and swollen, heavy bags hanging underneath them, and his hair was stained darker with blood—both his and others’—and the curls were tangled and limp.

“Winch?” Isaac answered, before dissolving into a violent coughing fit. Lex frowned as he saw what looked to be dark spots appearing on Isaac’s sleeve, before he wiped his mouth and it disappeared. “What happened?”

Lex sighed, pulling his knees close to his chest and leaning back against the thick wooden pole. “We were ambushed, remember? Everyone- everyone else is dead.”

“Shit,” Isaac sighed, letting his head thump against his own pole. “I was hoping that was just another shitty nightmare.”

The two slipped into a precarious silence, neither knowing what to say to the other. The obvious hung in the air around them, heavy.

They only need one of us. Two is more liability. 

Lex was just starting to try to figure out how to broach the topic when footsteps sounded from outside the tent. One of the tent flaps swished open, momentarily blinding Lex with the sunlight, before it fell closed again.

There was now a man standing in front of them. Lex knew immediately, without having to hear a single word, who he was. Those gray eyes, so dark they appeared black, and that black hair, buzzed low and neat, were the elements of horror stories around Nascinite fires. More than anything, though, it was the scar, long and unnaturally straight, cutting down against the outer corner of his left eye, running the length of his face that gave the man away.

Captain Ulysses Hawk.

Judging by Isaac’s sharp inhale, he also recognized the man standing in front of them.

Captain Hawk smiled, humorless, showing teeth just as straight and neat as his hair. “I’m assuming you boys recognize me then.” Lex didn’t even bother getting annoyed at his use of ‘boys’; despite the fact that he couldn’t be more than ten or so years older than them, the experience that Hawk had made them seem like utter infants compared to him.

“What, uh, what do you want?” Lex asked softly, hating the way his voice trembled. “Sir?” he added on belatedly.

Hawk narrowed his eyes, gaze slowly scanning up and down Lex. “Private Elexandyr Winch, I presume.” Not bothering to wait for confirmation, he squatted down in front of Lex, nose wrinkling at the dirt, mud, and dried blood that caked nearly every inch of him. “You, as well as Private Isaac Lidgett-” his eyes darted towards him before refocusing on Lex- “are now prisoners of the Skoaxian army. I, as I’m sure you’re well aware, am Captain Ulysses Hawk.” He smirked. “Welcome to Camp Ironglass.”

Isaac muttered something—either a curse or a prayer—under his breath as Lex’s stomach sank. Ironglass was the most infamous of all the Skoaxian camps, partially due to the cruelty of Captain Hawk.

Swallowing, Lex looked up into Hawk’s eyes, feeling as though, if he looked for too long, he could get lost in that inky abyss. “What do you plan to do with us? Sir.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Hawk reached forward to capture Lex’s chin in an unbreakable grasp. Instinctively, Lex flinched back, too slow, and he had no choice but to allow Hawk to slowly move his head, studying him intently. Finally, he spoke: “I am going to do whatever I please, Private Winch. And there is nobody in this camp, not you, not the other prisoners, not even the other officers, who can stop me.”

A chill crept down Lex’s spine and his breath seemed to freeze in his lungs as Hawk slowly released his chin and stood up, still maintaining unwavering eye contact. Finally, he smiled again, turning away from them. “I do hope you boys enjoy your stay here.”

Then he was gone.

---

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober @theelvishcowgirl @misspelledwitch @i-eat-worlds @shywhumpauthor @the-dump-of-whump

[fantasticalleigh]

Chapter 2 is up! It wasn't supposed to go up so soon but I don't like having only one chapter by itself and everyone's response to this was so kind that I had to throw in a quick update. Thanks for reading!

[perfectfeelings]

But maybe being brave didn’t mean being unafraid.

Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

[whats-todays-hyperfixation]

i love six of crows but how dare it set my standards so high for books like nothign can beat it. how do we go from "i have been made to protect you, only in death will i be kept from this oath." TO STEALIJG A WHOLE ASS TANK??? like guys how do i recover i keep trying to pick up books and i cant anymore cause its not my stupid group of criminals

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (12/?)

Part Summary: You know Leigh well enough to recognize that she never acts without intention. She must have agonized about this too—about that kiss, about you. And she's making it difficult for you to guess just what conclusions she had come to in the time you were apart.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.500+ | Warnings: Smut | Author's note: I honestly don't know what else to write in the summary without giving too much away, so without further ado… P.S. No cliffhangers this time ;)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI

-

A week after Thanksgiving, as the icy Maine wind whips across the tarmac at Rockland Airport, you find yourself holding a container of lobster cakes—your mother's way of sending a piece of home back with you. Despite her protests about you cutting your visit short, she spent last night in the kitchen, crafting your favorite dish, the smell of butter and ocean filling the house. “Eat these when you miss home,” she had said, pressing the container into your hands with a sad smile. The decision to leave early was anything but easy.

You initially planned to stay five more days in Camden, but Leigh's radio silence prompted you to book a direct flight to Los Angeles. It was eating you up inside; you had to go back. The familiar dark screen of your phone kept you on edge; you hadn't expected Leigh to strictly follow through on her promise not to contact you. She had a way of doing the unexpected. Or maybe you've been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you underestimated how deeply she wanted you that night. And perhaps you've overestimated your own anger, believing it would even slightly lessen your feelings for her.

Sitting in the window seat with the whole row to yourself, you stare at your phone as the flight attendant's voice crackles over the intercom, signaling it's time to switch to airplane mode. Impulsively, you tap out a text to her.

Belated Happy Thanksgiving, Leigh. If you’re free tomorrow evening, maybe we could talk? Perhaps over dinner?

It’s straightforward, maybe too much so, but it’s sent before you can overthink it.

The flight attendant's voice fills the cabin once more, reminding everyone to switch their devices as the plane is about to take off. You comply, toggling the setting and sealing off any immediate replies. The engines roar to life, and as the plane ascends, you try to push away the knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach.

As you wait to fall asleep, you think about Leigh—whether she’s seen your message and what she might be feeling. You wonder about the time apart, recalling the old saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Or does it make it forget instead?

-

You touch down in L.A. just as the date ticks over to December 1st, the clock a little past midnight. The moment the plane reaches the gate, you grab your phone and switch off airplane mode. There's a message from your mom, checking in to see if you've landed safely, and you text her back to let her know you did. Suzie has also texted, saying Foreman called in sick and asking if you can cover at the clinic later. You shoot back a quick reply, saying you just landed, you'll catch some sleep, and might be in late in the morning.

But there’s nothing from Leigh. No text, no missed call, nothing to indicate she received your message or is interested in meeting.

You sigh and, without thinking, tap her name on the screen. The call goes through, and the phone rings as you make your way through the late-night crowd at LAX. It continues ringing, unanswered, until it finally clicks over to voicemail. You mutter a soft curse under your breath. Of course, she's not going to pick up—it's 12:30 in the morning. You consider sending a quick apology text but then reconsider, figuring you've already pushed enough boundaries by calling her this late.

Instead, you slide your phone back into your pocket and head toward baggage claim. You weave through the half-awake travelers and the sterile glow of the airport lights, finally spotting your suitcase trundling along the carousel. You heft it off and make your way through the automatic doors. You glance one more time at your phone, half hoping for a notification, but it's blank. With a sigh, you head for the exit, feeling the exhaustion settle in.

-

You check your inbox first thing in the morning, but there's still nothing from Leigh. You don't have time to overanalyze this again because you're already running late for work.

-

The whole day is swamped, with emergencies piling up alongside a packed schedule of immunizations and follow-ups. Suzie mistakenly booked an entire week's worth of scheduled vaccines for today, a Saturday. She explains that the clients requested to move their appointments to the weekend, adding, “We're closed on Sundays, so I thought today would work.”

You try to hide your frustration, not wanting to lay the blame on her. Your nerves are already frayed, and every hour that passes without a word from Leigh has you feeling more on edge.  As you tend to your patients and give instructions to the staff, you feel the pressure building, a headache beginning to throb behind your eyes. The never-ending stream of clients leaves you with no time to catch your breath. Between each appointment, you plaster on a polite smile, but inside, you're counting down the minutes until you can check out of, well, everything.

As the clock hits seven, you can't take another minute. The clinic has been a madhouse since the doors opened. You barely glance at Suzie as you callously tell her, “Close early. I'm tired.” Without waiting for her response, you trudge straight to your office and slump into your chair, eyes closed against the harsh fluorescent lights. Resting your head back, you exhale slowly, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. The fatigue wraps itself around you like a fog, and for a moment, everything falls away.

A few minutes later, you hear a gentle knock. It's Suzie, standing in the doorway with a paper in her hand. Without opening your eyes, you mutter, “What is it?” Your irritation seeps through, but you’re too drained to rein it in.

Suzie hesitates before stepping into your office, her expression unreadable. She extends the paper towards you. “It's my resignation letter,” she says quietly.

Your eyes snap open, and the paper feels heavier than it should as you take it from her hands. You’ve been nothing short of awful to her all day, snapping at every turn. 

“Is this about today?” you ask. 

She gives you a small, weary smile and points to the date on the letter. “I wrote this last week, right after you left for Maine.”

You glance down at the letter and see that it’s dated exactly a week ago. “Why didn’t you give it to me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your vacation,” she says softly. “I know how much you needed that break. And honestly, you’ve got enough on your plate right now without me adding to it.”

You can feel the burn of frustration and shame behind your eyes. “You’ve been a rock here, Suzie. I don’t want you to go. Please reconsider.”

She shakes her head gently. “I’ve thought this through. It’s time. I care about this place, and about you, but I need to move on.”

You let out a long breath. “I see. Still, I'm sorry today was so rough,” you say, looking up at her wistfully. You try working your puppy eyes, and for a moment it seems effective as her expression softens into a frown. 

But then she says, “It’s not the clinic or the work I do here. I got an offer for a research position; it's something I've always wanted to try.”

That makes you smile. If that’s the case, then you’re truly happy for her.

“I understand. I wish you hadn't felt the need to keep this to yourself, especially with everything else happening today,” you say, still clutching the paper tightly in your hand, crumpling it slightly.

Suzie shrugs. “I didn't want to add to your stress. Don’t worry, I’ll count the 30 days' notice from today, not the date on my resignation, so you have time to find someone to replace me.”

From that, you know her mind’s already made up. As you read her letter again, your eyes start to sting. You glance back up at her, your vision blurring. “Suzie, thank you,” you mumble thickly.

“Hey, it's okay,” she says gently. “I'm not leaving town. We can still grab lunch whenever. I know how glued to your desk you get, so I'll drag you out for a bite now and then.” You let out a shaky chuckle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“It's just—I’m going to miss you, and I don’t know how I'll replace you,” you say with a sniffle.

“Missing me is a given,” she says, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Actually, I might know someone interested in my job.”

Your ears perk up at that. Good help is hard to find these days, especially with more demands from applicants and a tight job market. “Who?” you ask, curious.

Suzie turns around as if she's going to leave without answering, but then she glances over her shoulder, her smirk widening. “Sara.”

-

A little while later, you catch Suzie just as she's finishing up in the lobby.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll lock up. You’ve done enough today,” you say, sending her home. She gives you a grateful smile, slings her bag over her shoulder, and wishes you a good night before heading out.

Finally alone, you take a moment to decompress. Clasping your hands behind your back, you stretch, trying to release the day's tension. A dull ache climbs up your spine, reminding you how tight your muscles are. Unable to hold the position for more than a few seconds, you relax, the discomfort too much to bear. It's hard to tell whether it's from the long-haul flight yesterday, your age creeping up on you, poor posture, or all of the above. 

On a whim, you book a late-night yoga session at the Beautiful Beast, hoping to relieve the tightness in your back. It’s been a while since your last visit.

Afterward, you head to the small bathroom in your office to get ready. It's basic, not meant for much more than washing hands and changing scrubs, but it’s all you've got. Stripping off your day's clothes, you step into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on your back. The steam fills the tiny space, and the heat melts a bit of the stiffness away. After a quick rinse, you towel off and slip into your yoga gear. The stretchy fabric feels liberating after being in stiff work clothes all day. You roll up your yoga mat, tucked behind the office door, and switch off the bathroom light.

As you're about to head out of the clinic, you check your phone, hoping to see something from Leigh. There's nothing—she hasn’t even read your last message. The stonewalling feels all too familiar, and you're tired of it.

You slide into your car, letting out a weary sigh. As you start the engine, thoughts of Suzie's suggestion to hire Sara sneak back into your mind. You can't help but chortle at the idea—it’s so unexpected, almost comical, considering how you know Sara and her standing friends-with-benefits proposition. It feels far-fetched, and knowing Suzie, she was likely just teasing.

The drive to the fitness studio is as mechanical as it gets. You're hardly aware of the turns you take until you park in front of the building. You step out, mind still elsewhere, and open your car door—right into someone walking by.

“Ow!”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” you start to say, cutting yourself off when you see who it is. 

Leigh, of all people, is rubbing her elbow, wincing. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a plain white shirt under a jacket, paired with simple black tights. 

“See me? Lovely excuse,” she quips, her eyes fixed on her arm rather than you. Her expression is primed to unleash more frustration when she finally turns to meet the source of the blunder.

 “I—” Leigh stops, visibly surprised to see you. Quickly, her face smooths into something more neutral. “Y/N. You…you really should watch it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Are you alright?”

She rubs her elbow once more, then nods slowly. “Just startled me a bit, but I’m fine.”

Once you both regain your bearings, you unconsciously begin rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, hesitating despite the things you’ve rehearsed in your head all week. Your text message inviting her to meet tonight lingers at the forefront of your mind. But before you can bring it up, Leigh catches you by surprise.

“So, you’re heading in for a class?” she asks casually, as if the last time you saw each other didn’t end with a kiss and a confrontation that put the aforementioned kiss on hold.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I am,” you reply. Then you remember Leigh doesn't work here anymore, but with her mother owning the place, it's no surprise to see her around occasionally. 

Still, you ask, “How about you?”

“You mind if we walk while we talk?” Leigh suggests.

You nod, a little thrown off but managing to say, “Sure, just let me grab my stuff.” 

She waits a few seconds as you gather your belongings, and then you both start walking toward the building. Leigh sets a brisk pace, always a step ahead, and you find yourself almost hurrying to keep up with her.

“I just got back to working here again,” she says after a beat.

Surprised, you ask, “Oh, how did that happen?”

“Long story,” she replies with a slight shrug, her eyes focused ahead.

Unsatisfied with her vague answer, your eyes drift to her lips. Memories of that last kiss flood back—their soft, velvety feel and that distinct taste that’s all hers, like fresh water after a long, grueling hike. It's a taste that's unmistakably Leigh, nothing else like it. As you walk together, you struggle to stay present. This isn’t at all how you pictured your reunion with her would go. Not by a long shot.

“Leigh,” you call out, stopping abruptly. Your voice comes out higher than intended, quivering a bit. You clear your throat and try again, “D-Did you get my text yesterday?”

Leigh glances back over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “No.”

The bluntness leaves you momentarily stunned. You wait for her to follow up, to ask about the text, but she doesn’t. As you both step into the Beautiful Beast studio, you start to ask if you can talk later, but Leigh gets there first.

“We can pick this up later, Y/N. We should really get to class,” she says, heading into the room full of waiting students without waiting for your answer.

You're left more stumped than ever. Last time, she was almost on her knees, begging for forgiveness. Now, she's acting like nothing happened. How did everything change so much in just a week? With a head full of questions and doubts, you roll out your yoga mat and try to focus on the practice ahead. You can't help but wonder if the kiss you shared with Leigh really happened or if it was just a mirage of your desires.

You struggle through some of the poses, wobbling and nearly toppling over more than once. Leigh, however, doesn't chide or correct you as she used to; she mostly leaves you alone, focusing instead on helping others who are struggling more than you. It makes you feel strangely isolated, even though you know she's just fulfilling her role as an instructor and there are plenty of beginners in tonight’s session.

As the hour winds down, Leigh's soft “Namaste” signals the end of the class. She bows gracefully to the students, and you don't waste a moment, rising immediately to make your way to her as she rolls up her mat.

“Leigh.”

“Hey,” she responds breathlessly, not looking up. Other students pass by, thanking her, and she responds with smiles and cheerful “see you next times.” You stand there, feeling awkward as you wait for a turn.

When the last person leaves, Leigh finally looks up at you. “What's up?” she asks.

You find yourself stuttering, still fixated on the text message. Feeling a bit pathetic about how much it’s affecting you, but you shake it off, remembering why you cut your visit to Camden short. It was because of this—because of her.

“Leigh, can we talk? About... you know, how we left things that night?”

Her face remains jarringly impartial as she wipes down her mat. “Talk? Here? Right now?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I don't mean right this second,” you clarify, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. Are you the only one feeling like you're on a tightrope? 

“You haven't had dinner yet, right?” You try to sound nonchalant too, but it's a struggle.

She looks around the emptying studio as if she needs a moment to consider. After a few beats, she nods. “Sure, why not? I’ll just change and meet you out front.”

You can't help but smile, mainly out of relief that she said yes. “Great, see you in a minute,” you say, realizing you need to change into drier clothes too.

Fifteen minutes later, Leigh steps out, looking refreshed as if she didn't just burn through a few hundred calories leading a rigorous yoga session. She's wearing a cozy gray sweater and cargo pants, a much more laid-back look compared to your jeans and cardigan.

As she draws near, she tilts her head slightly and says, “I actually brought a car. Have you thought of where we're going to get dinner?”

You scramble to think of a suitable place. In-N-Out pops into your head—quick, easy, but completely wrong for the kind of talk you need to have. You can't imagine hashing out your feelings under the harsh lights of a fast food place, over burgers and fries.

“Um,” you stammer, looking around like inspiration might hit you in the face. 

“How about we head to your apartment?” Leigh suggests out of nowhere. “It's closer, and we could grab some drive-thru on the way.”

You blink at her suggestion, surprised she'd even consider it after everything that went down last time at your place.

“There's only one parking spot,” you say blankly. “And the street has no parking after 10 p.m.”

Leigh seems unfazed, offering a quick solution. “Then we’ll just take your car. I can leave mine here.”

Your nerves flare at the thought of having her back in your apartment. Your tongue feels heavy, and you can't think of a single reason to tell her why it’s a bad idea.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Let's do that.”

You head to your car together, fumbling with the keys as you unlock it. Leigh slips into the passenger seat, and you take a deep breath before starting the engine. You pull into a drive-thru of In-N-Out and Leigh scrolls through her phone, picking out what to order. 

You know Leigh well enough to recognize that she never acts without intention. She must have agonized about this too—about that kiss, about you. And she's making it difficult for you to guess just what conclusions she had come to in the time you were apart.

-

The takeout is spread across your dining table, a small feast that Leigh ordered for the two of you. Boxes of fries, nuggets, and burgers crowd the surface, enough to feed a group. You barely nibble on a fry while Leigh is already finishing her cheeseburger, wiping her fingers with a napkin and eyeing the remaining food.

“You weren’t hungry, huh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Guess not,” you reply, wiping away the residual salt from your fingers.

Leigh takes a sip of her drink, washing down the last bite before looking at you with purpose. “Mind if I go first?” she asks.

You narrow your eyes. So, she's eager to dive right in. “Sure, go ahead,” you say. You observe Leigh closely for the first time in what feels like ages. Concealer cakes beneath her eyes, settling into the natural wrinkles there. She’s still undeniably beautiful, but there's a tiredness to her now that’s hard to miss. Her cheeks, usually lifted by her prominent cheekbones, seem hollowed out more than usual.

“I guess I want to start by saying that I'm…” Leigh trails off, her eyes darting around as if the right words might be hidden among the packets of ketchup and silverware. “...a horrible person.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she cuts you off smoothly.

“No, listen. You were right. I ignore you out of nowhere. I take advantage of your kindness. And it’s not just you—I’ve been doing this with everyone around me for a while now. I haven't cared about what others think or feel because I was focused on being true to myself, always playing the ‘dead husband’ card. I’ve taken everyone's patience and understanding for granted, and I’m really, really sorry.”

You sit back, stunned. The whole evening, you'd braced for a different kind of conversation. You expected Leigh to say the kiss was a mistake—just a result of nerves or a lapse in judgment driven by jealousy. You had been so sure she'd shut you down, just like all the other times. 

“You're sorry?” The words slip out unbidden, tinged with surprise and skepticism.

“Yeah,” she says, looking you square in the eye. “I know it's hard to believe, but I really am sorry for how I've treated you.”

It’s going well—too well. Your mind struggles to accept it, but your heart?

“I thought you were going to say that night was a mistake. That the kiss meant nothing,” you whisper so faintly, almost as if you don't want her to hear.

“It kept me up for nights,” Leigh replies just as softly, “and that doesn’t usually happen to me over a simple kiss.”

Your heart soars.

She doesn’t regret it. She’s sorry. This is all going too well.

“It was on my mind the whole time, even when I was all the way across the country,” you whisper wantonly. 

The corners of Leigh’s lips twitch upward, and you can't tell if it's a good sign. Her saying she’s just as affected blinds you to any other cues that might suggest otherwise.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Leigh says darkly, leaning back into her chair with a weary slump. “Because I’m done living in half-truths and half-realities. I can’t handle any more surprises.”

You feel a flash of confusion, trying to stitch together what Leigh might say next. She knows about your cheesy alter-ego on her advice column, the details of your past with Matt. But half-truths? What does she mean by that?

Leigh meets your gaze, and there’s something about her stare that tells you she’s coming apart, yet she's clenching every muscle to keep herself intact. You want to reach across the table, to offer a touch that might steady her, but her hands are hidden, clenched in her lap beneath the table. Her shoulders hunch, making her seem smaller, as if she's trying to fold into herself.

“Leigh, just tell me,” you urge, though not impatiently.

She exhales slowly, the breath you hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I broke up with Danny,” she finally says, and for a brief, absurd moment, relief washes over you. 

That's…it? 

Your smile starts to form, naive in its inception, but it’s quickly stifled as Leigh’s voice drops lower, and her next words cut through the nascent joy. 

“And then he said something I didn't think could drive the dagger Matt left in my heart any deeper,” she says slowly, like she’s having a hard time dragging every syllable.

Leigh takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling deliberately. “He told me he was pretty involved when you and Matt got together. That you first knew him as Nick, and he helped Matt reach out to you.”

Your heart sinks. You had almost forgotten that night with Danny when you discovered his real identity and how he fit into everything. He'd begged you to keep quiet, and in his desperation, you agreed—not because he pleaded, but because you believed Leigh was happy with him. It wasn’t your secret to reveal, not then.

You've known this all along and never said a word. Your throat tightens as panic sets in, your heart racing with the implications of having kept this from Leigh. Guilt pricks at you, cold and sharp.

“I…” Your voice falters, and you swallow hard, thinking, This is it, this is how I lose her. 

“I didn’t think it was my place to say anything,” you say. “I thought you were happy with him. I didn’t want to be the one to—”

“Y/N,” Leigh interjects softly. Her tone stops you cold—it's not angry, just… defeated. Which, somehow, feels worse. She looks down, twisting a napkin between her fingers. “I’m telling you this because I’m finding out that secrets can be just as hard to handle as loss.”

You nod absentmindedly, still processing, and move to clear the table in a daze. Wrapping up the leftover food, you tuck it into the fridge. The mundane task doesn't ease the tightness in your chest, but it gives your hands something to do.

“You’re not upset I didn’t tell you?” you ask, like you can’t believe you’ll come out of this conversation unscathed.

Leigh takes her time to answer. With your focus on tidying up, you miss the way her hands ball into fists. When she finally speaks, her voice has a steely edge for the first time this evening.

“At first, I was livid, of course. But Danny bore the brunt of it. He claimed he wanted me, but he was never on my side. If he were, he would’ve never helped Matt cheat on me.”

You finish tucking the last container into the fridge and lean back against the counter, your eyes on Leigh. She's staring out the window. How is it that she’s telling you these things, yet it still feels like she’s not revealing anything at all?

“I should’ve told you sooner,” you say softly. “I’m sorry.”

Leigh gets up and walks toward you. She stops so close that your breath catches. You remember the last time she was this near, how the world blurred, and how hard it was to think clearly. You can see the way her jaw tightens as she takes a breath.

“It wasn’t your secret to tell,” she says.

“But—” you start to say, though the thought fizzles out as she steps even closer.

“You're okay in that regard,” she murmurs, her voice low. 

In that regard? 

You want to ask what she means, but Leigh shuffles nearer still, her eyes searching your face. She's so close now that you can see the faint reflection of the kitchen light in her eyes, specs of yellow in darkened green. It’s nothing short of dazzling.

“Do you forgive me for last time?” she asks quietly. 

A lump forms in your throat, and all you can think about is how desperately you don't want to mess this up. You had forgiven her long before stepping onto a plane back to Maine. It happened as soon as you let her walk away that night, but you just couldn't accept how easy it was. 

You nod, unable to trust your ability to speak. 

Leigh's eyes soften as she watches you. Her fingertips brush against your jaw, her touch feather-light. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you, then?” she asks, both careful and seductive.

Your resounding yes comes in the form of you closing the gap, your lips meeting hers like an arrow striking its target. Leigh’s arms wrap around your shoulders instinctively, her fingers brushing the back of your neck, and you pull her in even tighter, deepening the kiss. Her breath mingles with yours as she sighs softly against your mouth, and it’s only then that when you feel all of her that Los Angeles starts to feel like a second home.

There are still questions, an unending list that always surfaces around Leigh, but they evaporate one by one when her tongue flicks out, seeking entrance. You surrender, lips parting, allowing her to taste you. The kiss grows with a messy urgency in seconds. Her hands roam down your back, gripping tightly as she presses in, as if trying to melt into you. You draw her nearer, your chests flush together as the kiss becomes wet and breathless.

Your apartment is silent except for your soft pants and the slick sounds of your lips meeting.  Doubts about your ability to please a woman creep in after such a long hiatus. But before these thoughts can take hold, Leigh takes charge. She grabs your hips and gently guides you backward toward the bedroom, cutting off any chance for you to slow things down.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to slip your cardigan off your shoulders and whisper, her breath warm against your lips, “Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

It seems almost unfair for her to pose that question while simultaneously moving to your neck, drawing a soft groan from you. Her teeth gently graze a sensitive spot just below your clavicle, applying pressure that promises to leave a mark, then soothing it with her tongue.

Leigh smirks when she feels you struggle for breath, much less for words. Your knees buckle slightly, but she holds you up with a firm grip, guiding you back until you bump against the edge of the bed. 

You know you're on the verge of something that might change everything, but right now, you're entirely Leigh's. There's no space to consider the implications, to remember that she was Matt's grieving widow just months ago. Right now, she's just the girl who holds your attention completely, the one who couldn't get rid of you even if she tried.

Leigh tumbles with you onto the bed, her thighs straddling your hips. With practiced ease, she removes her shirt and bra all at once, leaving her bare above you. The sight strips you of any last coherent thought. She isn’t the image of perfection peddled in glossy and well-curated social feeds; her body is beautifully real. Her tits look heavy and asymmetrical, round as grapefruit; her nipples pinkish-brown, pebbled and inviting. There’s a soft fold in her belly, and an overwhelming desire washes over you to kiss it. You think you might die just from looking at her.

You look up at Leigh and tell her, reverently, “You’re so devastatingly beautiful.” 

Leigh's cheeks flush as she tries to hide her smile behind her hair. “You don't have to tell me that,” she whispers. “You already got me into your bed.”

You chuckle, nerves still humming under the surface. “You were just as beautiful when devouring a cheeseburger.” Both of you laugh, the sound light and easy, allowing some of the thick sexual energy to dissipate slightly. 

You find yourself relaxing just enough to admit, “I'm not sure how to touch you right, but I want to make you feel good.”

“Just do whatever feels good for you,” she suggests, her expression softening further.

You scrunch your face a little at her, letting out a small chuckle. “That’s the thing—I haven't been getting much action myself.”

Leigh’s smile spreads wider into something mischievous and you swallow dryly at the sight. She shifts off your lap and settles at your side, propping herself up on one arm to look down at you. “Let me help you with that,” she murmurs, her voice low.

You're no longer smiling, feeling your face flush as you ask, “What do you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, Leigh’s fingers trace down to the button of your pants, deftly unfastening it. She gently scratches the skin beneath with her fingernail before sliding the zipper down. You watch as she bites her lip at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear before glancing back up at you. Her pupils are wide, the deep green of her irises barely visible in the surrounding darkness.

“Take them off,” she instructs softly.

You swallow heavily and do as she says, trying not to cover yourself despite feeling incredibly vulnerable. You haven't been naked in front of anyone in so long, and you're embarrassed by how exposed and wet you are right now.

Leigh watches you closely, and you can see the desire burning in her gaze. With her free hand, she reaches for you, her touch gentle, coaxing your thighs open as she trails her fingers up your inner thigh. You draw a sharp breath and close your eyes, expecting her fingers to graze your wetness next.

But Leigh surprises you—and herself—by guiding your right hand just below your navel, her fingers warm and sure on your wrist. Her times with Danny were about dominating and taking, but with you, she wants to give, to watch, to soak up every moan, every breathy reaction, every shiver. She wants to see you take pleasure for yourself, deriving her own pleasure from it.

“Start there,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. “Tease yourself.”

Your hand hovers there, and she gives a slight nod of encouragement. As her touch slips away, you begin to explore the softness of your own skin, tracing light circles below your belly button. You utter a soft, “Fuck,” when your fingertips graze your slick, discovering just how turned on you really are. The filthy noises it creates make you whimper.

Leigh watches you hungrily. “You should be doing this more often,” she murmurs, eyes tracing the movement of your fingers now glistening with your own arousal. “You're so fucking hot. It's such a shame.”

The sound of her voice makes you arch your back further, hips bucking as you start a wide circular motion against your clit. Exerting every ounce of control not to come right away, you focus on the sensation of Leigh's eyes on you and the stimulation from your own fingers. You want to hold out, to let her watch you teeter on the edge. Your teeth dig into your lower lip, trying to curb the wave of pleasure building inside you.

Leigh's voice is a soothing command, whispering, “That's it, be patient. Don't rush it.”

“Fuck, Leigh, I’m—” Your words die in your throat as she lifts your shirt slowly, exposing your nipple to the cool air for a brief moment before her mouth engulfs it. The sensation of her sucking, then laving your nipple with her tongue, circling it, mimicking the motion you're doing on your clit, sends a jolt through you. Little flicks of her tongue to the tip of your nipple drive you crazy, and you gasp, your body responding eagerly to her touch.

Your rhythm stutters as she discards her pants and panties in one swift motion, leaving her gloriously bare. The sight of her naked body ignites a strong wave of desire to touch her instead, but Leigh pins you with a warning glare, silently telling you not to stop.

She straddles one of your legs, and you gasp when you feel her warm, wet pussy against your knee as she starts rocking against it. You position your leg to give her better leverage, and she starts sliding against you, her tits bouncing with each motion. Leigh's sucking on your nipple becomes sloppier, more frantic, until she can no longer concentrate and releases it with a wet pop.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N—” 

Leigh’s face contorts in pleasure as her drenched folds meet your thigh over and over, sweat dripping down between her breasts from the strain of holding herself up above you. The sight of her fucking herself against your leg is nothing short of mesmerizing. You increase the movements of your fingers, rubbing harshly at your clit as you watch Leigh, her breath coming in short gasps. Her eyes flutter closed, and a soft moan escapes her lips. The sound drives you wild, and you curve your spine, lifting your hips to meet your own hand.

Sex with anyone else has never felt this good before, and she hasn’t even properly touched you yet. It’s intoxicating, the way she takes her pleasure and gives it to you all at once. You’re lost in the haze of it all: the smell of Leigh’s arousal, her sweat-soaked skin, the sight of her tits bouncing and her face flushed with desire.

With your free hand, you grab the back of Leigh's head, guiding her down towards you. “C-Come here,” you manage to say, your voice breaking with need. 

Leigh obeys, her mouth meeting yours in a frenzied kiss. You swallow each other's moans, the taste of her lips sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. It's this simple, sweet connection of lips that utterly dissolves all your defenses.

A keening moan escapes you as Leigh slides a finger inside you, pushing deep to the third knuckle, causing your head to tip back and break the kiss as the tightness in your belly becomes too much. “Leigh, can I—” Your voice is a mere whisper, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Leigh's eyes meet yours, and she nods vigorously, her breath coming in short gasps. “Yes, come. Come with me.”

It's too much—the sight, the sounds, the feel of her—it’s all too much. With a final, shuddering whine, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and releasing as you ride out the intense pleasure. Moments later, Leigh follows, her body shaking as she comes, her moans mingling with yours. Leigh’s face is a picture of bliss, her eyes half-closed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. You try to memorize it before she collapses on top of you, a sweaty mess of tangled limbs and satisfied sighs.

Blindly, you stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath, feeling Leigh's hot puffs of air tickle your neck as she catches hers. Slowly, you circle your arms around her waist, keeping her on top of you, acutely aware of every point where your skin meets hers, the warmth spreading between you. 

You bury your nose in her hair and breathe in deeply. This act feels more intimate than anything you had done moments ago. The simple closeness, the quiet afterglow, the way you can actually feel her heart beating steadily against your chest.

Minutes pass in comfortable silence, your thumb tracing lazy patterns on her back. Her breathing gradually evens out, each exhale growing softer and deeper. Realizing she's fallen asleep, a contented smile spreads across your face. You press a gentle kiss to her temple, letting your lips linger there for a moment. Carefully, you reach for the covers and draw them over both of you. You hold her close until your own eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep as well.

[lesamis]

1810s dashboard but it's niche drama

💛 heartofanna Following

imagine cancelling someone for saying war is bad

🧵 sharethewoe Follow

#didn't expect better from w*rdsworth but some people i rly thought i could count on…… #anyway we will live to see this empire fall. can't stop history lol (via @heartofanna)

speaking as someone who was press ganged at the age of 17 to serve in his majesty's royal navy i couldn't be more grateful for your poem. young men like me are cannon fodder and you spoke for so many of us. fuck napoleon but fuck parliament even more.

86 notes

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

stable forgiving virtuous flourishing in my lane definitely not buying poison moisturized unbothered never been better

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

me when i lie

179302 notes

🏛 mynoseisfine Follow

Settling this once and for all. What does the public actually think about the Parthenon marbles debate:

🦉 realminerva Follow

lol i know it’s you lord elgin

🦉 realminerva Follow

like we joke and all but fully aside from the fact that removing the sculptures from greek soil was vulturine and opportunistic etc, it’s really just the tip of a frankly gigantic mountain of imperialist bullshit. let’s not pretend we haven’t been brutally killing hundreds who resisted oppression in india, LITERALLY BOMBED A NEUTRAL EUROPEAN CAPITAL, and embarrassed ourselves in the charge against napoleon for years now. pathetic ass empire & evil as hell to boot. @mynoseisfine the greeks who carved your marbles millennia ago would kick your tory ass so hard

3661 notes

🎀 emmawoodhousestan Follow

how do i still keep seeing thomas chatterton's final post being reblogged, wtf is wrong with you freaks??? he was seventeen it was tragic and horrible and happened ages ago. he was a kid just let him rest

294 notes

🍎 masque-off Following

callout post for @castleyeah @lordsidmouth @officialcoe @parliamentofficial: they oppress, murder and famish the british working people & also suck majorly

⛪ castleyeah Follow

sour cuz you’re unfit to have custody of your own kids huh

🍎 masque-off Following

proud to be the dad of a newborn who could already rend your pudding spine asunder with a mere glance

187 notes

🦆 mallardturner Following

finished this today 😊

44 notes

😎 chadeharold Follow

why is it always “you’re risking your life and legacy & will get yourself killed before the age of five and twenty” and never how was swimming the hellespont the hellespont looked fun was it fun

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

ohhh my god you swam the hellespont five years ago?? wooow should we tell everyone?? should we throw a party?? should we invite famous hero of greek myth leander who swam the hellespont

😎 chadeharold Follow

@loved-joanna look we never had any beef & don’t have to start this now. it’s cool that you’re sticking up for my ex, you guys were friends first, but just know that i’ve always trusted your opinion on my work & genuinely respect and admire you & would still be up for a collab whenever.

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

yea sure why don’t your lips collab with my ass

😎 chadeharold Follow

on it boss

1009 notes

#literally call me. down if you are

🍂 endymion Follow

sorry is it me or is the assassin who stabbed german bootleg wordsworth kinda…… 🥵

💄 biprincesscharlotte Mutuals

JOHN KEATS????????

2427 notes

#i'm p sure this is the author of lamia thirstposting on main??? help

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

romanticism this romanticism that why don’t you romanticise universal suffrage and rights for labouring people

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

anyone else in jail for seditious libel

🏹 axelaidtotheroot Mutuals

lmao i'm one of the “anyone else”s and i know you’re enjoying family visits and apparently some kind of cushy armchair situation, plus tons of books. try being in here as a spencean dude they won’t even let me learn how to write. worst of all some evangelical came by yesterday just to proselytize & put me “on the right path” fml

8341 notes

🗻 mounttambora Follow

y'all i don't feel so good :/

59 notes