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lambilegs · 2 months ago

Text

strawberry lip gloss

where you and lee, one of your close friends, decide to have a totally platonic and super friendly sleepover (wink wink).

contains: bestie!lee, reader who owns makeup, brief discussions on the expectations of makeup in the workplace (set in the nineties, so going off those expectations), contemplations on femininity, slight nsfw content towards the end (so minors dni!!)

“you know, your house would make for a perfect serial killer movie,” is the first thing you say upon lee opening the door to you.

“well, even if I managed to forget it, I’d be reminded by you saying it… every time you come over,” she dryly replies, opening the door wider to let you in.

you nearly skip inside. sure, you had been at lee’s place tons of times during the months you two have been friends, but today is different. today, you’re sleeping over. god, you’re still not completely sure how you had managed to bring such a daydream to life. it had all started two weeks ago, when you had stayed over particularly late, watching movies with her and arguing with her as to why her theories on the killer in the show you’re watching made no sense, with her not missing an opportunity to rebut and drag in all of her extensive fbi knowledge.

when it was time to leave, she insisted on driving you back home, seeing as it was midnight and she thought it too late for you to take the bus back on your own. despite the half hour drive it would take, she, as always, fulfilled her promise, the two of you listening to the radio as the windows were rolled down, the chilled autumn breeze refreshing and invigorating.

your mind had been pinpointed on one thing, one question, the entire drive, but your stomach was a mess of webs at the idea of asking her it. but, right as you had placed one foot out of her car, ready to leave, you turned back. “lee?”

she quietly turned to you, eyes curious.

“would you be comfortable if I slept over sometime?” at her slow blink, you rushed to erase any possible connotations to your question. “I-I mean, just because, you know, I stay back late sometimes, and this would be easier on you. but, yeah, only if you want.”

she glanced away, staring past the window for a few seconds, before turning back to you. “sure.”

jesus, it unnerved you when she did that. sometimes, the most contemplative look would settle on her features, as though she’s searching her mind for some explanation of where atlantis is. then, she’d turn back, and reply as coolly as ever.

you knew she wasn’t one for jumping up in her seat and letting her voice reach several notches higher when in agreement of something. but, still, the casual way in which she replied made you worry she had perhaps just taken pity on you, or felt pressured. you knew she was a wholly honest person most of the time, and couldn’t lie for shit, but still. maybe she felt bad for you since you’re a friend, or just felt less enthusiastic about the whole thing in general.

a week later, she had called you to talk over an article she had read in the newspaper that she thought you’d be interested in. a month ago, she had started doing that, after once giving you a newspaper clipping she had cut out, to which you insisted she could just call you. in all honesty, your insistence was really just an excuse to call her and hear her voice. not that the gesture went unnoticed. when she had first handed you the thin flap of paper, awkwardly explaining that she thought you’d like it, you nearly melted into a puddle on the spot from her kindness. when you thanked her profusely, she just nodded quietly, avoiding your gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the bouts of verbal affection.

during this phone call, you had asked her when she was free next, and when she admitted to friday evening being her only time available for a longer hangout since she got off at 7:00PM, you whined on the phone, complaining that’d only give you two so much time, since she wouldn’t reach home until 7:45PM.

on the other line, lee’s lips had curled up at your petulant tone, and her stomach flipped at your honest, exposed want to see her. she couldn’t help but like it — how you didn’t try to diminish your desires or mince them up into digestible slices for anyone. how she could have confidence in your friendship.

mind reeling back to your words, she had hesitated, before saying, “you could sleep over?”

and, duh, you said yes. which led to your exact position now, with you kicking off your shoes at her front door, a backpack pinching at your shoulders, duffel bag gripped tightly in your palm. lee immediately stretches her arm out, fingers brushing yours as she takes the duffel from you, hoisting it onto her shoulder and silently padding through her wooden home to the living room, setting it down. she’s out of her shoes, in a dark pair of socks, remnants of her work clothes still wrapped around her body. her fbi badge is rolled up and lying on her desk, belt hanging on the chair, leaving her in her dark slacks, a deep maroon shirt and mused ponytail. your fingers twitch, itching to comb down her brown hair, which is practically a glowing halo on her head from the golden light filtering through her windows.

you set your backpack down near the couch, which you flop down on. “how was work?”

“good.” she slowly approaches you, gingerly seating herself upon the arm of her couch. when you give her a pointed look, she looks away. “tiring. everything in this case is dependent on the minute details.” she hesitates, sucking in an exhausted breath. “I feel like I’m racking my brain every moment of the day to figure it out.”

you nod, shifting your body so you’re turned to her, the side of your torso pressed into her cream couch. “that’s understandable. it’s like a puzzle.”

her lips press together. “it is. but, one that feels like I can never put together perfectly. there’s always one piece misshapen.”

you frown. “that sounds really fucking frustrating.” she nods, eyes downcast. the bags under them are darker than usual, and something in your stomach squeezes softly at the sight. “it’s really admirable, though, how hard you’re working to fit and find all the pieces.”

she blinks at you. “it’s my job.”

"and? that doesn't mean everyone in your position would have your goodness and integrity. they should, of course they should, but still, give yourself some credit for being so invested and determined, lee."

her lips part, words catching in her throat, before closing them again. she doesn’t know what to say. it isn’t the first time you’ve praised her so earnestly, but she still doesn’t know how to handle it. she isn’t used to it. most of her coworkers see her as a mixture of passive and emotionless, while simultaneously being someone who cares too much. there had been all too many times where a partner of hers just wanted a quick arrest, but she insisted on more, pushing for all the details to be flushed out and explained, no matter the toll it'd take on her. she knew it wasn't ideal for them, but she didn't care about what was ideal and easy to wrap up. she cares about what’s right.

she knows this, but to be complimented for it unnerves her. she doesn’t think of herself as some sort of extraordinary, let alone admirable, person, and she doesn’t expect compliments to come her way because of her work. so, to receive them, and be face to face with how someone else sees her actions, gives her a rush of surprise and embarrassment.

she shrugs. "still, it's just the right thing to do. that's all."

you smile fondly at her. her downplay of her actions makes them all the more admirable to you. she's humble to a fault – sometimes, you think it endearing, and other times, you want to shake her and scream at her about how good she is. she doesn't seem to realize it enough.

after silence hangs between you two for a few minutes, she clears her throat. "so, how do we do this?"

"do what?"

she stares at you, perplexed. "the sleepover."

laughter immediately bursts from you, arms crossing over your stomach. "do you want a rulebook or something?"

she rolls her eyes. "I mean, what do you want to do right now?"

you flutter your eyes at her mockingly. "oh, I don't know. let's play truth or dare and talk about boys."

she scoffs. "sounds fruitful."

seeing her reaction only heightens the urge to annoy her more. "truth or dare, harker?"

she glances at you, lips pursed in unamusement. when you continue grinning, goofy and wide, she sighs, eyes sliding away. "dare."

you whistle. "oh, wow, I'm impressed. someone has guts."

"you do remember my line of work, right?"

you ignore her. "hmm... what's a good dare?"

even though she knows you're just playing around, she can't help but hold her breath in anticipation. she can tell that you love pushing at her buttons, almost as though you want to test how much she’ll deal with if it’s you in question.

"I dare you to drive me to the grocery stores, so we can get snacks." you throw your legs off her couch, grabbing her keys and tossing them her way.

she catches them with ease, not even flinching. the sight has you gulping – god, that was damn attractive.

as she bends to retrieve her shoes, she looks up at you. "you know, I do have some snacks here."

you raise a doubtful eyebrow at her. "cereal is not a snack."

"yes, it is. you can eat it with your hands, and it comes in small proportions.”

"same with peas," you swiftly remark, pulling a face with her. "do you consider peas a snack?"

she nods, her face the epitome of seriousness. "yes."

you giggle, opening the door to the cool evening, sun dipping into the horizon. the sky is painted with streaks of blush and peach, kissing the trees surrounding lee's home with warmth, the yellowing leaves glowing.

she walks ahead of you, tugging the passenger door open for you. you feel butterflies swarm into your stomach at the gesture, quietly thanking her and sitting comfortably.

at the grocery store, you two languidly roam around, drifting in and out of conversation as you fill your shared grocery cart to the brink. lee picks up a pack of spicy instant noodles, and despite your wince, she smiles and tosses them into the cart. you grab two bags of chips and some sodas. when you guys enter the sweets' section, your mouth nearly juts into an enamoured pout at the sight of her eyes lighting up.

she picks up a box of brownies, showing them to you, hesitation slowing her moves as though she's a child at show-and-tell. "my mom used to get me these."

gratitude swims in your chest at the piece of information she shares. it took months of knowing her before she started offering tidbits of information regarding herself, especially those having to do with her mother.

you snatch the box of brownies, plopping it into your cart. "get them."

"are you sure?"

you guffaw. "lee, I'm not going to withhold you from a pack of brownies."

her lip quirks up. "how would I know? you might have very specific regulations for your sleepovers."

you roll the cart away, relishing in how she immediately falls into step with you, her shoulder brushing against yours. "that sounds more like you, lee."

she snots. "I don't think I've attended enough to qualify as a connoisseur."

you groan. "god, 'connoisseur'? you really are a dork."

her eyes crinkle at your words, almost as though she enjoys your playful insult. "still sure about coming over?"

you bump her shoulder. "yeah, don't worry, you being a dork doesn't make me wanna hold back on a sleepover."

"well, actually, I was asking it more for my own sake."

"oh, fuck off, lee."

when you both return home, you immediately set to taking out your skincare from your duffel bag, heading into her bathroom to wash your face before you get too tired. when you place all your products next to hers, you pause, a part of you feeling nearly giddy with delusions at the sight of your guys' bathroom products next to each other. there’s something so domestic about it.

when you come out in your PJs, lee clears her throat at the onslaught of shyness beginning to worm its way through her. she's already nervous for the sleepover as is, but seeing you in this state, in the clothes you sleep in, feels all too intimate for her to handle. she rubs her hands together from where she's seated on her couch, trying hard to think of the right way to proceed.

after her eyes dart between your finger and the coffee table in front of her a few times, she stands. "I'll go shower and change. you can, um, order the pizza."

when she re-enters the room a half hour later, it's your turn to feel your face heat up, forcing your eyes to remain locked onto her television. god, how the fuck does she make wet hair look good? it isn't your first time seeing her in such a casual state, but it still gets you flustered nonetheless to see the ever-so professional agent in such a cozy change of clothes.

"let's watch Scream," you say, trying to maintain some normalcy amidst your thumping heart.

from where she pats her hair down with a towel, she warily watches you walk to her television and set up the movie. "okay, but I'm not driving you back home at 4:00AM if you get scared from all my windows after."

you pout at her, walking back to the couch and grabbing the remote. "you're so mean. you wouldn't do that for me if I was really scared?"

she gulps, feeling something in her knees buckle at the sight of your lips softening into a frown. she hates to admit it, but she'd probably go so far as to give you a piggyback ride back home if you truly needed it. "well," she mumbles, trying not to give too much of her feelings away, "you wouldn't have to be scared. I'm here."

the proclamation makes you swoon internally. "oh, yeah? you'd protect me?"

"well, I'm not in the habit of letting friends get stalked and harmed in my presence, so, yeah."

you nearly glare at her as she continues wringing her hair out in the towel, bare feet softly thumping against the floorboards as she approaches the couch. she isn’t wrong – of course she wouldn't let any of her friends get harmed. she wouldn't let anyone at all get harmed in her sight, period. but, her admission only means that your attempt to flirt has crumbled into the wind, and she totally missed it.

you try again. "yeah, but, you know, are you that protective over all your friends?”

she seats herself down on the couch, crossing her legs at the ankle. “I guess so.”

you nearly roll your eyes. “all?”

“yes?” she glances at you with knitted brows. she doesn’t understand why you’re pressing when it comes to such an insignificant question. her answer is true – she would protect anyone she could, and that includes friends. “why?”

“no, no, just asking.” you try to avoid her gaze by switching on the television. it’s so unfair – how the moments when lee does make eye contact, it’s the sharpest, most intense act in the world. maybe it’s just her fbi skills or her natural tendency to observe coming into play, but when she looks at you, you feel like she can crack open your mind and read every thought.

“why did you ask more than once?”

“well, I,” you splutter, “I was just curious if it was a me thing or an all-your-friends thing.” the words feel so weak to your ears, and you wince. it’s true, but you’re definitely trying to play up the nonchalance as opposed to what you really feel inside.

“it’s for all my friends.”

internally, you deflate. you give her a small smile, feeling immensely pathetic. “ah, okay.”

lee’s eyes rove over the side of your face. your lips are pinched down, and you blinked faster at her words when she spoke them. she wonders if what she said hurt you. she doesn’t understand why – she cares for more than one person, and caring comes with wanting to protect them. it wouldn’t be reserved for any singular person, it’s an automatic for her as soon as she cares for anyone. so, then, why does she feel guilty? she sighs. she supposes what she feels for you is strong enough to have her feeling bad even when it makes no sense.

lee glances at you again. you’re quiet, and staring blankly at the television. okay, so it seems like you might indeed be upset. tentatively, she says, “but, that doesn’t mean you’re not, um, important.” after a pause hangs, she adds, “to me, I mean.” the confession is one that has an uncomfortable heat reaching her ears. it’s not often that she says something so honest and open, and well, affectionate to you. the words taste foreign on her tongue.

but, it’s worth it when you give her a wide grin. “yeah?”

she nods quietly, hoping you’ll drop it and not tease her.

apparently, she’s an idealist, for you shift closer, cooing at her, “awe, so you care about me?”

she sighs. “please turn on the movie.”

with a chortle, you obey her request, switching on the film. inside, you’re still overwhelmed by what she just said. lee wasn’t one to mince words, so if she said you’re important to her, she must mean it. and that does something to you – it makes you warm and flushed inside out with delight.

as you watch, you find your gaze drifting to lee, who watches the film with intent focus, eyes honed in on the screen. she’s not the hugest fan of horror films, you know that, but still, it’s her innate instinct to observe and, if applicable, solve any film you have to show her. and you have shown her many. she’ll sometimes complain and grimace if you propose to her one she doesn’t find appealing, but she always gives in. you smile at the thought. you don’t know if she returns your romantic feelings, but even if she doesn’t, her natural care is enough to give you some fulfillment. at least right now.

you continue to stare. her lashes are so long and pretty. even without the mascara she usually puts on for work or going out. her brows are dark and bold, just like her sharp eyes, and her nose is long and pointed. her lips, thin and pink, look so soft. she’s beautiful.

lee can feel you watching her. there’s a heavy weight bearing on her from your gaze, and she tenses up, fiddling with the loose threads of her sweater. she wonders if you’re judging how she looks or simply observing her. after a moment, she can’t take it anymore. her head tilts towards you. “what is it?”

you internally curse. god, why did all your sense of subtlety completely vanish when you have a crush? you cross your arms over yourself, trying to shrug off the question. “nothing.” you know you can so use this opportunity to your advantage, as a way to flirt with her, compliment her, but you hesitate. you already got caught staring at her, so complimenting in addition to that might be too much. but, still, you can’t resist. you want her to know how pretty she is. “you just… you look really nice right now.”

the corner of her lips flinch and she blinks harder at the television. no smile, no laugh – you know she must feel awkward or embarrassed with the attention. with a tight nod, she mutters, “thanks.”

“you know, you don’t even need the mascara, your lashes are already so long.”

the lashes in question flutter as her eyes flicker about. “I just wear it for formality’s sake.”

you nod slowly. you had assumed as much. and with that thought, comes a new idea. one that has your lips curling up in mischief. “would you ever let me do yours?”

“do my what?”

“makeup.”

she seems deeply confused. “why, what’s the point?”

“for fun.” your lips quirk up, turning fully to her. “besides, haven’t you heard? this is a quintessential part of sleepovers.”

“hm, is it?” a slight smile rises to her lips, the laugh lines at the corner creasing beautifully. like gift wrapping paper. folding and pressing to hold something tender within. “I guess you won’t take no for an answer, then, right?”

“nope.”

she snickers quietly, shaking her head. “fine. just this once.”

with an eager squeal, you hop off the couch, racing to where your backpack lays in her bedroom. you rummage through for your makeup bag before dashing back to the living room, where she’s carefully twining her hands together in her lap, watching them.

“I’m guessing we won’t watch the movie.”

you still at her voice. despite having chosen the movie yourself, and her not enjoying horror, it sounds like she’s actually disappointed at the idea of ending it early. the thought makes you both touched and momentarily saddened. “no, no, we’ll keep it on. you can watch, and I’ll listen.”

as you seat yourself cross-legged on the couch, facing her with your right side to the television, she glances at you wryly. “except this is a film, not radio.”

you snort, unzipping the bag. “I’ve seen this film before, I won’t miss anything.”

lee’s eyes peak at all the products, widening a bit. she was never one for makeup herself. she just never had an interest in wearing it, and a lot of it usually made her feel uncomfortable due to the stimulus of it. the only reason she dabs some on for work is merely because it’s protocol, the way her badge and uniform is. she knows it’s expected of her, and she’s fine to apply just a faint amount of it if it means she can head to work and start on her assignments without complaint.

“not a lot, though,” she says, feeling a tad intimidated by all you have. all she owns is one tube of mascara, one lipstick that nearly matches her exact natural colour, and foundation that she rarely uses. “it doesn’t feel comfortable on my face.”

“okay, okay, I’ll just do eyes and lips, then.” you couldn’t really care less, in all honesty. you’re just happy to have free reign on her face in any capacity. for at least now, you have an excuse to ogle her. “okay, turn to me.”

she frowns. “you said I could watch.”

“ugh.” you roll your eyes, lips pinched as you try to think of a solution. one starts blinking in your head, but it’s going to require a lot of proximity. your mouth twists in both amusement and shyness. it’ll be closer than you’ve ever been to her, but again, the makeup is working miracles with how perfect of an excuse it is. you might as well utilize it. “okay, then, can I just…” you stretch one leg over her lap, foot resting against the arm rest. it gives you the chance to be close enough to her that you can keep your back facing the television, while she can continue watching.

lee’s breath hitches at the casual display of intimacy. she knows friends do this kind of stuff – even her own friends do it. but, with you, it’s different. because not only does this physical link create the same awkward tension it does with most people who she’s unaccustomed to sharing such intimacy with, but mixed in is a pit of desire, craving for you to get even closer. maybe press your chest to hers, sit fully on her lap, tuck your head under her chin. these longings – she’s been having more of them lately, and they grip her so fervently she’s not always sure what to do with them.

“is this okay?” you ask, your eyes imploring.

she nods, not trusting her voice.

you pull out a brush with a small bunch of bristles at the top. “you’d look good with these tones.” you point your brush at the brown shades, looking at her expectantly.

except lee doesn’t know anything about makeup, so she’s unsure as to what kind of input she could provide. “I wouldn’t know any different.”

“which makes you the perfect victim for this.”

she raises an eyebrow. “victim? should I be concerned?”

“maybe just a bit.” with a smirk, you lift the brush up, feeling tingles in your hand when you press the side of it to her cheek, lifting the brush. “close your eyes.”

she delivers you a pointed look before shutting her eyes. “I don’t know how I feel about being at your mercy like this.” her voice is hushed in a light, teasing tone.

“don’t worry, the brushes aren’t the most efficient weapon,” you giggle, swiping the light, cream coloured base along her eyelid. even this part of her is so pretty, glowing under the orange light of her cottage.

she mutters, “it’s not very reassuring that the reason I should feel safe is because your brushes aren’t a weapon rather than due to your decision-making skills.”

you burst into a loud bout of laughter, stilling the brush for a second. “hey, listen, they always say living with a friend can make or break with what you guys have, so I don’t know, maybe you’ll piss me off tonight and I’ll get some wandering thoughts.” you continue dabbing the power on her other eye, brush stroking in smooth, gentle sweeps.

“might I remind you whose house this is? and who’s the fbi agent here?”

“no, you may not.”

a small huff of laughter puffs from lee’s lips. she doesn’t think she’s ever told you this, but it’s easy to have this back-and-forth with you. it’s not often that that happens – not that she has many long term bonds to use as reference points. but, she usually struggles, even with coworkers she’s known for years, to lose herself to an easy, effortless conversation. it took time, yes, but with you, it feels as instinctual as brushing her teeth in the morning. lest for the few tense moments that arise from her attraction to you. she usually tries to ignore those.

you swap brushes, patting the new one gently into a darker shade of brown. you hesitate before gently grabbing her chin, keeping her steady. you can see the way her throat bobs at the touch and it sends a surge of pleasure and itching curiosity within you. does your touch ignite something in her that hers always does for you?

you start dipping the brush into the crease of her eyelids, and you stifle a laugh when she hums quietly. “enjoying it?”

“it feels okay.”

“just ‘okay’?” you press with a coy smile.

“mhm. you’re too unsteady for it to feel truly good.”

your eye twitches, refusing to give into the amusement bubbling in you. “oh, fuck off.”

a few minutes later, you pull back, admiring your handiwork. “open your eyes.”

she does, and her eyes pop out a bit more than usual with the shadows surrounding them. she blinks tentatively, looking a bit like a startled deer caught in the middle of the road.

“very pretty,” you laugh, patting down her warm cheek affectionately. and it’s true. it’s different from her usual look, that’s more than evident, but she still looks beautiful.

lee hums thoughtfully, shifting her gaze back to the television. this is an embarrassing position for her, to say the least. and she’s acutely aware of the anxiety beginning to rise within her stomach, giving it a dull sort of ache. she’s not necessarily insecure about how she looks, but there’s something deeply exposing about having your face so close to hers, and having every minute detail of hers fully revealed. the touches you’re giving don’t help either. the brushes of your fingertips against her skin, the warmth of your breath on her chin, the lingering of your gaze. each miniscule movement you make on her face has her shoulders unintentionally tensing.

when you start drawing a faint, brown line along her lash line, her closed eyes immediately squeeze.

“lee!” you whine loudly. “stop moving.”

“I’m not.”

“yes, you are! your eyes keep flinching.”

her eyes open and flick towards your eyeliner. “you’re poking me.”

“I’m not!” you laugh, leaning in close again, the thigh of your extended leg pressing against her stomach. feeling the soft firmness of it makes your gut turn, and you try to ignore the contact, praying the effects of it don’t show on your face. “just try to relax your eyes.”

you start pressing the point of the pencil in, drawing the eyeliner carefully. you bite your lip in concentration, moving carefully.

her eyes pinch together again.

“lee!” you scoff in exasperation. “I am begging you, please stop your damn eyes from moving.”

she cocks her head at you. “it’s out of my control. besides, it’s uncomfortable when you draw it.”

you snicker, muttering, “oh, strong fbi agent, my ass.”

“what was that?”

you flash her a sticky sweet smile. “oh, nothing.”

“mm.” as her eyes shut, and you continue your ministrations, trying to lighten the pressure of the pencil for her sake, she mumbles. “I am stronger than you.”

“oh, yeah?” you know it’s true. the girl across from you has been through years of training in police work, the academy, and a work out routine she’s stuck to since she was twenty and decided to go into law enforcement. but, you can’t help it, you just love challenging her. “prove it.”

without a moment’s notice, her hand darts up, latching onto your wrist and keeping your hand hovering above her face. you grunt softly, trying to shake your hand out of her grip, but her fingers clutch onto you with an unwavering strength, keeping the limb locked in place. her eyes are still closed, but a faint smile plays on her lips.

after a few more seconds of struggling, you sigh, voice slightly petulant as you say, “okay, okay, I get it, let me go!”

“do you get it?” lee taunts back quietly, grin widening. it’s satisfying, in a way. you’re always all talk with her, teasing her mercilessly, trying to get a rise out of her, annoying her. having moments like this where she gets the upper hand are amusing, to say the least, and she takes a secret pleasure in them.

and you? well, thank god her eyes are shut, because that little comment, and the tone she says it with, have you shifting in your place, trying not to draw attention to the movement by stiffening your leg on her lap. there’s something so attractive about it. lee has her insecurities, yes – as her friend, she’s revealed some of them to you during late nights spent at cafes and aimless drives. but, she also carries herself with a quiet, subtle sort of assertiveness that is wholly enticing. nothing too showy or obnoxious, but something. something that makes her just look so cool, even when she’s not trying. and now is one of those moments. with the way she doesn’t even struggle with holding you in place, how she’s nothing but silently humoured. the sight has a flood of lewd thoughts worming its way into your mind and you try to shake them from your head.

“yes, yes, I do,” you groan, wrist tugging from her hand when she finally releases. you twist it tenderly, pouting at her. “you’re such a dick.”

she cracks one eye open. “for taking on a challenge you initiated?”

your eye nearly twitches. “yes, exactly. now close your eyes.”

her smile remains. “mm, okay.”

after finishing the eyeliner, your watchful gaze roves over her open eyes. her eyes are already so breathtaking as is, but the eyeliner makes them pop out even more. “good.”

the mascara is the easiest. at least, you think it should be for her, since she applies it everyday already. but, you? you have to lean your hand along her face in order to stop it from shaking. those dark irises are zeroed in on you, latching onto your face as she keeps her gaze steady to make your task easier. the silent gesture is kind enough that you internally melt, just a bit, while the focus she’s staring at you with makes you feel like all your nerves are prickling.

“do you like the mascara?” you ask, trying to break the awkwardness.

lee pauses before answering. “no. it took a while before I got used to the feeling of it.” she’s not fond of it, just accustomed to it. frankly, the first few times she put it on were unbearable. she kept accidentally blinking and getting it smeared, and would struggle to strain her eyes in order to keep them wide open for its application. she sometimes poked herself in the eye, too. it made her feel a bit embarrassed back then, to struggle like that. most women had learned this kind of stuff at an earlier age, but here she was, barely able to keep her hand from trembling at twenty-two. she’s just never felt drawn to it.

she sometimes wonders where this lack of desire comes from. for so many other women her age, it’s so easy, so natural, to engage in these rituals of femininity. but, for her, it just feels foreign and uncomfortable. even now, she’s only at ease with the situation because it’ll only be you who sees her. if it was any other circumstance, she’d be unravelling at the seams.

she supposes it’s just a matter of preference, for the older she’s gotten, the more people she’s encountered like herself. it’s a comfort of sorts. but, it wasn’t always this way. as a preteen, it made her feel lonely and even more estranged from her peers, to be a girl who didn’t like what they liked. to be a girl who felt shrunk into her body when she tried on her mother’s makeup as a desperate attempt to see if she could adjust to it.

“why do you wear it, then?”

she starts in surprise, the trail of her reminiscing breaking. “it’s what’s expected at work.”

“why?” you chuckle. “you’re an fbi agent whose job it is to get her hands dirty.”

the irony isn’t lost on lee. “I know. but, that’s just how it is. it’s, um… a small price to pay if it means I get to do my job without any comments. and I don’t mind it so much now.”

“still, it’s not fair. you should be able to wear none at work without dealing with comments or judgement.”

part of her softens at your fervent defense of her. “I know. I thought it was really unfair at first, too. but, older women in the field told me to just do it to avoid comments. so, I did.”

“how obedient of you,” you drawl out in a low, teasing voice, giggling when she flashes you an exasperated look.

lee hates how the words make something stir between her legs. sometimes, your teasing takes on a sexual note, and she’s well-aware that you’re just trying to annoy her. but, still, she can’t help but sometimes wonder how it’d feel like to make good on what you say. maybe do something to get you quiet after making one too many innuendos.

the laughter ceases, and you continue in an earnest voice. “but, yeah, I get it. you just want to be able to do your job without hearing shit.”

she nods, grateful you understand. as you continue, her fingers flex, for she feels like she’s under a microscope under your flickering eyes, which run along her eyeline and leave her feeling painfully aware of that part of her body. she tries not to move too much, but nervousness swells within her, so she focuses on rasping her fingers along the couch.

a few minutes later, when you get to her lips, you smile in pure mirth as you retrieve a tube of pink, glittery lipgloss.

she glances down at it warily. when you give her a questioning state, she sighs and mutters, “you’ve already gone this far.”

you nearly squeal in glee. but, the intense joy morphs into a slow burn of tension when you cradle her chin and start applying the product. her lips are so fucking pretty, and it is so unfair. they’re already pink and naturally shining, and your mind is whirling with thoughts of how they’d feel under yours. the sound of the film becomes white noise in your mind, fading into the background as you become consumed with thoughts of nothing but her stomach against your leg, her hand so close to your knee, and the little breaths parting from those lips.

when you’re done, you shakily pull back, feeling hot to the touch.

lee eyes you carefully. you look a bit nervous, eyes darting between her eyes and lips, and exhales coming out a bit heavier. the spot your gaze seems to keep shifting to has lee’s breath stilling, fingers digging deeper into the fabric of the couch. her stomach flips the more she thinks about it. you’re so close, your leg warm on top of hers. and your hands were so gentle in handling the lip gloss over her mouth. she can’t help but wonder if you’d be that gentle in other ways, too.

you swallow hard. perhaps this wasn’t a great idea. maybe it’s good that she’s always been someone who you were never too touchy with due to her aversion to it. because being this close to her now, her breaths close enough to tickle your skin, her lips impossibly shiny and tempting, is absolutely fucking torture. it has you wanting to throw caution to the wind, and close the gap, and potentially ruin one of the best friendships in your life.

you can’t. you shouldn’t. you just can’t.

but, then, her eyes linger on your mouth, and, probably without even realizing it, her tongue snakes out to lick at the gloss.

fuck. maybe you can.

you raise a trembling palm to her face, cupping it and letting your thumb linger at the corner of her mouth. “you–you look good.” if she rejects you, you can at least say you’re just inspecting her face.

she hums. after a beat, she murmurs, “so do you.”

you throb at the words, biting your lip. she looks down again.

your thumb swipes the corner of her mouth, and lee freezes at the brief touch. her eyes seek out some answer in yours, anxiety whirring in her stomach of what could happen if she’s reading this wrong. and even if she isn’t, what will happen to you guys, your friendship, if something happens?

“listen, promise me you’ll forget about this if the answer is no.”

she gulps. “okay.”

“but, can I, um, kiss you?”

her reservations crack. even if you guys talk about this later, even if it turns out you want different things, she’ll still have had the chance to kiss you. she’s wanted it for so long, and if she gets it, she’ll at least be able to have the satisfaction of knowing what it’s like. even if it turns out you don’t want her in the same way, the uncertainty will be quelled, the fantasy eased. she knows it’s the unwise choice, the impulsive one, but to say no feels impossible.

“yeah.”

your stomach lurches at the answer. you had hoped for it, ached for it, slightly suspected it, but to hear her, your friend, actually confirm it feels surreal. it feels like you’re half stuck in a daydream you had left at her door when you walked into her home this evening. the world around you seems hazy, just a bit softer at the edges.

when lee feels your leg tensing against her, she draws in a long breath, then inches in closer. “come here.”

the soft-spoken words, a gentle command, finally shake you out of your thoughts and you find yourself powerless to her, winding your arms around her neck and pushing your lips to hers. the first thing that hits you is the sweet, strawberry taste of the gloss, the sugary flavour wrapping around the tip of your tongue as it sweeps along her bottom lip. she opens wider, and you move deeper, your tongues moulding against one another. the wet, squelching noises of the kiss have your hips flinching against her, and you can only pray she doesn’t notice.

but, it’s lee – of course she does. she tries not to smile as she feels your body shifting against hers, using the opportunity to pull you forward and onto her lap. when she feels the solid weight of you there, an instant sense of comfort wraps around her body. it’s you, her friend. even if this is new and carries its risks, it’s still you. she trusts your guys’ ability to handle this, whether it be shifting your friendship into something different, or choosing to let this go, even if the latter would tear at her more than she’d like to admit. she tries not to think of it and focus on the present moment. as difficult of a task that is for her.

because, no matter what, god, do you feel good. lee’s breath hitches in her throat when you start grinding down on her lap. she lifts her thigh up, pressing it against your crotch, satisfaction running through her when you whimper against her. she does it again, rubbing the hard muscle of it against that spot you’re clearly trying to sate some feeling in. you practically hump against her thigh, lips moving faster, and lee’s mind becomes overrun with the soft, wet noises of your mouth, and the way such an intimate spot of yours is bouncing against her thigh in such a lewd manner.

and you’re so eager, too – something that gets her mind spinning. your tongue keeps lapping at hers, and your mouth moves with a fervent pressure, as though you can’t get enough. not that she can, either. her hands are splayed along your back, gently encouraging you to continue riding her thigh, and she feels like she can do this for hours.

pleasure courses through you at the touch, and you can’t hold in the moan that flies out. you immediately press your lips back to hers, quietly moving them together, your tongues meeting to roll within the sweet opening of her mouth. you lick deeper – you’ve worn this gloss countless times, but on lee’s lips, it’s addictive.

after a few more minutes, you pull away, immediately giggling upon the sight of her pink lip gloss smeared. you rub the pad of your thumb on it. “you know, it’s kind of strange to kiss you while you’re wearing a look you usually wouldn’t be caught dead in.”

she laughs lightly, and you want to drown in the noise of it. “you got your way in putting it on me, and still, somehow find something to complain about.”

“well, you know, there’s an easy solution for that.”

she snorts gently, pulling you in closer. “yeah, I know.”

and with that, you both lose yourself to the taste of strawberries.

{header by: @anitalenia}

#something to tide you gays over for now hehe 😌#promise I'm still working on the wolf!au and summer chapter but yesterday I just felt like writing smth a bit different #also pls give me validation... I worked so hard on this formatting LMFAOOOO #lee harker #lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #longlegs fanfiction #longlegs 2024 #maika monroe #s.writing

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inadeqcies · 1 month ago

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— THAT BOY IS A MONSTER ✘ ; a ricardo self para

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 | @redcreekfm !

a manila envelope sits plain and clear on your desk, your name printed in a neat scroll across the front, robotic even, devoid of any human touch. your curiosity about what lies inside will reveal a series of photographs featuring none other than daniela estrada, notably uniformed in the very clothes she wore the last time she was ever seen in red creek. closer inspection leads you to make out another figure - one bronte dubois, and she doesn’t look happy. in fact, neither girls do, their faces just clear enough you can make out what appears to be two people engaged in an argument, something that was never reported to the police. you can take the photos to the police yourself, or you can run with the exclusive story; the consequences of either path are unclear, but the choice is yours alone.

~ 𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙾 𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙸𝙰 , 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝟻 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝚄𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃 .

ricardo takes brief pause at the envelope on his office desk . he glances around his closed off office , but nobody else has made their way into the register yet . in fact it's quite unlike ricardo to make his way in either . he's been in ‘ his office ’ maybe thrice since arriving at redcreek . he can't help but wander how long this envelope has been sitting here for . days ? hours ? minutes ? did someone , somehow , know he was coming in before he even did ?

distracted , he reaches for the envelope and slides his metal envelope opener expertly under it . ricardo is here for at the register this morning for one reason and only : to check billing and find out who he can fire with the least ramifications . the register is making him barely any money , which is ludicrous because the town is basically on fire . despite what true crime podcasts like to advertise , nobody gives a shit about murdercreek .

he sighs to himself and reaches over to his laptop to unlock it . it's clean and crisp , just like the rest of his office . BLATANTLY UNUSED , the way he likes to be seen and live . ricardo almost forgets about the envelope entirely as he brings up payroll and gives it a cursory glance . there's more names on there than he expected which means he has extra work to do . great . he clicks print and waits for the flashy , overly expensive new printer to blink to life .

IT'S THEN THAT HE LOOKS AT WHAT IS INSIDE THE ENVELOPE .

he immediately pauses .

it takes him a long time for his brain to click�� into gear and start whirring . his hands move deftly over the glossy photos now in his possession . he recognises one person in it immediately because he'd recognise them everywhere . their face has been strewn up all over town as soon as he arrived : daniela estrada .

the second person in the photo . . . ricardo does a double take . bronte dubois ?

he's seen bronte around town but never directly spoken to her . yet even he knows for a fact that there has NEVER been a mention of bronte and daniela talking to each other . and from the photos , it isn't just talking either . their faces are screwed up , hands waving . daniela looks emotional .

THEY'RE ARGUING .

ricardo quickly moves to the envelope and flips it over . the writing on the front had surpassed him the first time , and when he looks : all he can make out is his name in perfectly non-descript font . he feels his heart pick up its beat as he flips it over again , and again . there's nothing else on it .

FINGERPRINTS . fuck . ricardo drops the envelope like he's been burned , then looks at the photos again . he's touched the edges of the photos , but nothing else . he should , and could , realistically . . . take this to the police .

his mind flashes to daniela in the photo . to bronte . to the police and the way they'll whisk over , bag it up , and leave without a secondary word , besides their usual bumbling TOMFOOLERY .

his heart clenches in his chest . it moves like a fist , tensing and untensing . ricardo's eyes slide over to daniela in the photos again . he reaches a finger up , unable to stop himself , and brushes his thumb over the glossy covering of her . she was here . she was here . and now she's gone .

his finger moves , slow , steady . PURPOSEFUL over to bronte's face . he hovers and scrutinises her face . he can't quite recognise the expression . he doesn't know her well enough . ricardo doesn't know this TOWN well enough ( and he's worked hard to keep it that way ) . but one thing is clear : somebody sent him this on purpose . somebody saw bronte and daniela . somebody knows this is meaningful .

ricardo leans back against his chair , letting the photos fall onto his desk . he evens out his breathing . in . out . in . out .

his eyes move to his phone , right next to his laptop . the printer has stopped whirring . SILENCE ENCOMPASSES HIM .

the police will want this information .

ricardo picks up his phone and the time blinks back at him : 5.45AM .

this information is important .

a click . a slide . a realisation burrowing its way into his brain : he's the only person who can decide what to do with it . he's the only person who knows .

ricardo gazes at his laptop , at the open payroll . THE SINKING SHIP THAT IS THE REGISTER . but . . . not for long . not with this .

ricardo moves with speed then . enough momentum that kennedy and effie would stare at him aghast , probably . he's not the writer or the reporter that either of them are , but he doesn't care . first print goes out before 6am and he has 15 minutes to make it happen right now or his brain tells him it never will .

ricardo opens up the latest copy of the register . he erases whatever junk was on the first page ( probably some stupid fall recipe for pumpkins or whatever ) . ricardo's brain swirls , moves like a hurricane . he thinks of daniela . he thinks of the envelope . he thinks of bronte and the photos . there is a crashing noise inside of his ears that he hasn't heard in years .

ricardo uses his phone to scan in the images and upload them . then , rather hopelessly , he types :

WHY WOULD BRONTE LIE ?

new photos show bronte dubois and daniela estrada in an emotional argument . the police have not reported this for reasons unknown . how much do the police of redcreek really know about what happens in their town ? how many bodies have to pile up or go missing before sheriff demetrius and his dimwit officers do anything ? more importantly . why has bronte never mentioned anything about her heated ‘discussion’ (argument) with daniela before now? is this an innocent fight or something more sinister ? if the police or bronte are part of this coverup and crime , the register will always report whats happening to its faithful residents . at the register , we believe in honesty, transparency and finding out what is really happening in your town. we will follow any tips , advice , guidance or opinions you have . reach out to us today if you wish to provide more real news about what's happening in your town and don't trust the sheriff and his officers to do right by you. anonymous tips can be sent directly to [email protected].

#this is so cvnt #JKNDSKJNSDJK #anyways i love u so much admins id d word for u #redcreek.drop #anyways pls like this and give me validation its some of my worst writing #KJDSJKFNJNKFSB

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