#and.. uh... i think it should be talked about more

[meamiiikiii]

5% of a color headcanon.... two versions since b&w emphasizes the dagger more i think but i still like the warm tones ASFSADA

i am not biased towards rainbow daggers whatsoever i promise (lie)

((also friend is streaming now and im there too!! bit more info linked here, its rated mature tho))

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (14/?)

Part Summary: Leigh reconciles with Jules and then receives news from Danny that could potentially disrupt her new beginning with you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.200+ | Warnings: Spicy phone call | Author's note: The date will happen in the next one, and then after that, 1-2 chapters to 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

-

The date doesn't happen as quickly as Leigh expected. You don’t bring it up again for several days after your grand, against-all-odds declaration of love.

In the meantime, you text constantly. Sometimes you call, just to ask about her day. The first time, she’s so confused, waiting for the real reason behind your call. But there isn’t one—you simply wanted to talk, and texting wouldn’t do it.

She’s rarely on the phone with anyone these days. For her, phone calls are usually reserved for urgent requests from Drew or her mom, or from companies trying to sell her something. The last time she was on the phone just to talk was with Matt, during the stretches when work kept them apart for days. Before that, it was high school, chatting with friends and boyfriends about everything and nothing.

Talking to you on the phone feels like stepping back in time. There’s something intimate about it, something that modern-day texting can’t capture. She finds herself looking forward to your calls, the sound of your voice at the end of a long, tiring, or listless day.

Days stretch into a week before you finally ask her out, armed with the when and where. Leigh will never admit it to anyone, but the wait is excruciating.

The butterflies swarm in her stomach as she lies on her bed, fresh from a shower, in an oversized shirt and boy shorts, biting at her fingernails. She's already restless by the time her phone rings at the usual hour.

She picks up almost immediately, trying to keep her voice as blasé as she can manage. “Hey.”

“Hey, Leigh,” you reply breathily, not realizing how that tone makes Leigh press the phone harder against her ear, as if she wants to hear more of it. “How was your day?”

She rolls onto her back, stretching her hand out and drawing patterns in the air against the ceiling. 

“It was okay. Nothing too exciting. How about yours?” she says.

“Pretty good. Just busy with work stuff. I was thinking about you, though.”

The simple statement sends a new wave of warmth through her. “Is that so?”

“Very much so,” you whisper, and Leigh can almost see your smile, just like the one forming on her lips. “So, uh, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” Leigh prompts, her heart picking up speed. She hears some shuffling on your end and waits with bated breath.

“Maybe we should finally go on that date,” you suggest,  hopeful and a bit nervous. 

Leigh’s heart leaps, and she tears the phone away from her ear, burying her face into her pillow as a squeal escapes before she can contain it. Catching herself, she quickly schools her expression, tosses the pillow aside, and sits up ramrod straight.

“We should,” Leigh blurts out, still feeling her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. “When were you thinking?”

“How about this Saturday?”

Leigh pauses, mentally counting—one, two, three—before replying, “Great. I’m free then.” 

Wanting to lock in the details, she asks, “What time?”

“Could I, um, have you for the whole day?” you ask hesitantly, and then quickly realizing how it sounded, you clarify, “I mean, could we make it a day-long date? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Leigh hums, pretending to mull it over, but inside, she's practically screaming yes.

“What do you have planned?”

“It's a surprise,” you reply, the playful secrecy in your tone drawing a grin from Leigh. 

Unable to contain her intrigue, Leigh tries to coax out some clues. “Anything you need from me? Dress code? Anything I can help you with?”

“No, just be yourself,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer, more intimate cadence. “Wear whatever makes you feel most like you. You're beautiful in anything.”

Leigh feels a warm blush spread across her cheeks. She's grateful you can't see her, can't see how your words reduce her to a pile of mush.

“In anything?” she asks coyly.

“Or nothing,” you whisper back, almost without thinking.

Leigh nearly chokes on her breath at that, biting her lip to stifle a moan that threatens to escape owing to the boldness of your flirtation. She doesn't immediately realize she's drifted into a stunned silence until you apologize, worrying that you might have crossed a line. 

“I'm sorry if that was too forward,” you say.

Leigh shakes herself, trying to clear the haze of memories—the soft moans, the way your body yielded to her touch that night. “No, it’s... I still think about that night,” she shares.

“O-Oh?” you stammer, your grip tightening around the phone. You're driving home with one hand, thinking it would be a short call. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, you quickly pull over to the side of an empty street, realizing you might not make it home safely if you don't.

“What do you... think about, specifically?” you venture, slowly unbuckling your seatbelt.

It’s as if a switch has been flipped in her. Her mind races back to that night—the way you touched yourself under her gaze, how she guided your movements, the feel of her finger inside you while she rode your thigh. 

“Leigh?”

Leigh's breath hitches, and she feels heat spreading through her body. She kicks off the covers, finding herself lying flat on the bed, her fingers inching teasingly at the hem of her shorts. She closes her eyes, letting the memory of that night trickle into the forefront of her mind.

“I think about the way you looked under me,” she says softly, “The flush of your skin, the sounds you made, how your lips felt against mine.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine. “Leigh,” you murmur, “I-I think about that night too. How you took control, how you made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.”

Leigh's fingers slip beneath the waistband of her shorts, teasing herself as she remembers the feel of your skin against hers. “I remember guiding your hands,” she continues, her voice growing huskier. “Watching you touch yourself, seeing the pleasure in your eyes. It was intoxicating.”

You can hear the desire in her voice, and it sends a surge of arousal through you. “I remember the way you moved against me,” you reply, your voice low. “Your skin was so hot against mine, it felt like I was on fire.”

As Leigh's fingers dip lower, brushing against the wetness between her legs, she gasps. She tries to contain it but fails, letting out a guttural moan—a sound of pure want—right into your ear. The rawness of that sound snaps you out of your lust-filled reverie.

“Fuck, are you... are you touching yourself? I-I'm so—” you start, your voice shaking.

“Don't apologize. Just keep talking. It's okay,” Leigh cuts you off sharply, switches the phone to speaker mode, and swiftly removes her panties. For a brief second, she thinks she probably shouldn't be doing this, not before the date they'd just planned. But the overwhelming urge washes over her, making rational thoughts blur into the background. She can't control herself; she needs to come, needs you to make her come.

“Tell me what you'd do,” she chunters, no longer concerned about sounding needy. “Please.” 

“Shit,” you hiss, quickly connecting your phone to your car’s speakers and then tossing it onto the passenger seat. You then adjust the driver's seat to give yourself more legroom and hurriedly begin to unbutton your jeans. Though you're embarrassed to admit that you've never had phone sex before, you're not about to let inexperience stop you. Not when Leigh was practically purring in your ear, begging for it.

“Y/N?” Leigh’s voice rumbles through the confined space of your car and you hurriedly close your eyes as you formulate a response, your head buzzing with several things you want to do to Leigh at once.

“I'd start by kissing you,” you begin, your voice low and deliberate, though you feel a bit foolish at the tentative start. “Soft, teasing kisses, tracing a path down your body. I'd take my time, Leigh, tasting every inch of your skin.”

“Where would you kiss me first?” Leigh breathes.

“Your neck,” you reply, your fingers brushing against your own skin as if you’re tracing the path your lips would take on hers. “I’d kiss right behind your ears…then down your throat, lingering at your collarbone.”

Leigh’s breathing becomes more ragged, and you can almost feel her anticipation. “And then?”

“Then I’d kiss my way down to your breasts,” you say, your own arousal building. “I’d take each nipple in my mouth, sucking gently, then harder, feeling them harden against my tongue. I’d circle my tongue around them, flicking the tip, just like so.”

Leigh listens, her breaths becoming shallow, her body trembling with need. She closes her eyes, lost in the sensation, in the vividness of your description. She traps a rosy bud between her two fingers, mimicking the rhythm you describe, the tension in her belly coiling more tightly.

Meanwhile, your own hands are busy on your body. Despite the cramped space even with the car seat reclined, you manage to slide two fingers inside your pants, rubbing your clit, while your other hand tweaks your nipple.

A soft moan escapes Leigh’s lips, and you know she’s imagining your mouth on her. “I’d keep moving lower, kissing down your stomach, tracing the lines of your body with my tongue. When I finally reach your thighs, I’d spread them open and kiss the inside, so close to where you want me but not quite there yet.”

“I’d breathe you in,” you murmur, “taking a moment to just enjoy the scent of you. Then I’d lick, just once, a slow, teasing lick from the bottom of your slit to the top, tasting how wet you are for me.”

“Fuck,” Leigh groans wantonly, her fingers undoubtedly mirroring your words on her own skin. You can almost see her hand moving against her clitoris, fingers collecting her own wetness and spreading it all over until her inner thighs are glistening with it.

“I’d part you with my fingers,” you continue, your own breath coming faster now, “and then I’d dive in. I’d lap at you, my tongue moving in slow circles around your clit, feeling it swell under my tongue. I’d drink you in, Leigh, tasting every drop, getting lost in how sweet you are.”

“Don’t stop,” Leigh pants, and you can hear her movements quickening, the unmistakable sound of wetness and skin in frantic motion, as if she's placed her phone near the epicenter of her impending climax.

“I wouldn’t,” you promise. “I’d suck on your clit, gently at first, then harder, using my tongue to drive you crazy. I’d slide a finger inside you, curling it to find that perfect spot, the one that makes you see stars. I’d keep licking and sucking, adding another finger, thrusting them in and out, matching the rhythm of my tongue. I wouldn’t stop until I felt you trembling, until I heard you crying out my name as you came.”

Leigh’s moans grow louder, more desperate, and you can almost see her, writhing on her bed, lost in pleasure. “Y/N, I’m close,” she gasps.

“I’d be looking up at you, watching your face as you c-come for m-me,” you say, your voice faltering as you slide a finger inside yourself. “Fuck, Leigh, baby, come for me.”

It's the endearment and the mental image of your deep brown eyes, brimming with hunger and worship, that sends her spiraling into ecstasy.

“Oh god, Y/N!” Leigh moans, her back curving as an intense orgasm overtakes her.

You’re not there yet, but you close your eyes, letting the image of her climax burn into your mind.

Leigh lies there, basking in the afterglow, her body still trembling with the remnants of her orgasm. She’s about to check in on you, perhaps return the favor, when the front door opens and closes with a bang.

“Mom? Leigh?” Jules yells from the living room.

Panic surges through Leigh. She scrambles to her feet, hurriedly pulling on her underwear and shorts. The phone slips from her grasp, landing on the bed, the line still open.

Leigh reaches the top of the stairs, breathless and flushed, just as Jules appears at the bottom, looking up with a mix of worry and curiosity. 

“What's going on?” Leigh asks, wincing as she feels the stickiness between her thighs. She silently curses, wishing Jules could have shown up after she had a chance to shower.

“Where’s Mom?” Jules demands, her eyes scanning the hallway. “And Logan?”

“She took him with her for a grocery run,” Leigh replies, coming down the stairs. “Is something wrong?”

Jules sighs. “I was just worried. The door was unlocked, and I couldn’t find anyone. Thought something might’ve happened.”

Leigh relaxes a bit, though the adrenaline from moments before still courses through her veins. “It’s fine. I just didn’t realize you’d be coming home tonight,” she says.

“Yeah, about that…” Jules trails off, tilting her head toward the kitchen with a meaningful glance. 

Leigh follows, her bare feet whispering against the wooden floorboards. Striving for nonchalance, she asks, “You hungry?” Her hand hovers over the fridge handle, betraying none of her recent distractions.

Jules stops in her tracks and turns back to Leigh. “I’ve been thinking,” she starts, hesitating slightly. “I’d like to move back in.”

“That’s… great,” Leigh says flatly, unsuspecting of her sister’s announcement. She catches the sharp drop of Jules’ brows and hurries to cushion her words. “I mean, we never actually wanted you to go. You’re welcome back anytime, you know that.”

Jules' eyes sharpen, her lips pulling into a tight line. “But only if we talk first.”

Leigh nods, a hard lump forming in her throat. “Of course,” she says.

-

They end up ordering take-out when Leigh's nose wrinkles at the unmistakable stench wafting from the numerous boxes of leftovers crammed in the fridge. She can't recall how long they've been there, only that their rightful place is now the trash bin.

It's Jules who picks the restaurant, and Leigh bites her tongue over the choice of Vietnamese. The last time they'd ordered from there, Jules had barely picked at her food, pushing noodles around her plate more than eating them. Leigh tries not to think too much about it.

The dining table is overtaken by a clutter of takeout boxes, each one wafting a blend of lemongrass and ginger into the room—a scent so rich you could almost scoop it out of the air. Leigh watches her sister with that look—the one that's all walls and wariness, like she’s guarding the last piece of herself she can’t afford to lose.  Jules, on her part, looks a little restless, her fingers skirting the edges of a white takeout box like it might offer some kind of sanctuary.

“So, talk,” Leigh prompts,  twirling her chopsticks to pick up a fresh vegetable roll and dipping it into peanut sauce.

Jules takes a breath, a deep one. When she meets Leigh’s eyes, it’s with a resolve that seems to pull her upright. “Fine, since I’m the one who kicked this off, I’ll lead. I’m sorry. I know I tossed around some pretty nasty words last time I stormed out, and I meant them—then. But calling you a sociopath? That was me going off the deep end.”

Leigh’s face hardens, a quick, involuntary tightening of her features as she recalls the sting of that last confrontation. She pushes her noodles around her box, the chopsticks clattering softly. Jules waits, the steam from her own untouched meal rising and disappearing into the air.

“I appreciate your apology, Jules, really, I do. But you can't just throw words like that around, whether you mean them or not. Words stick. They fester,” Leigh says, meeting Jules’ gaze squarely. 

Jules looks down, tries to mask the hurt that flickers across her face, biting down on her lip. 

Leigh continues, “When I criticize you, it’s not meant as an attack. I’m not someone who likes to beat around the bush, especially not with family.”

The word ‘family’ hits differently this time—at least for Jules it does. Her heart aches at the mention, dragging up memories of a recent painful conversation where she had confessed to feeling like an outsider in her own family.

“Sometimes it's not about what you say but how you say it,” Jules mutters.

Leigh looks at her expectantly, clueless and curious at the same time.

“Not everyone can handle being talked to so bluntly. Not everyone’s as frank as you, okay? Sometimes it feels more like you're pushing me away instead of trying to help.”

Leigh goes quiet, letting the silence stretch just a bit before she nods. “You’re right,” she concedes, the words slipping out almost thoughtfully. It’s almost surprising, the lack of her usual quick-fire defense. “I think I got so wrapped up in the idea that being honest meant being harsh. I can work on that. I should work on that.”

Jules blinks, taken aback by the calm acceptance in Leigh’s tone, the ease with which she receives the criticism. It’s a side of Leigh she hasn’t seen much of—this reflective, almost gentle version. It's a welcome change, a sign of growth that feels both sudden and deeply necessary. 

“I didn’t expect... I mean, I’m glad you took that the way you did,” Jules says.

Leigh gives a small, almost sheepish smile, a rarity on her usually stoic face. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About how I say things, not just what I say. It’s been... a lot to unpack. But hearing this from you, it really helps. It does.”

She means it. Ever since you’ve stubbornly eased your way into her life, she’s done a lot of thinking. She’s done a lot of grieving too, realizing that if she had seen the changes that needed to be made earlier, things might have been different for her—for Matt. She’s learned to accept that life is always going to be filled with regrets, but she’s grateful now to recognize that she still has the chance to change, even if it came a little too late.

Better late than never, right?

She looks at Jules, her eyes earnest and a little bit haunted. “I’m sorry, Jules, for everything I said, everything I made you feel. I love you. You’re my sister, always. I know I can be too hard on the people who mean the most to me, but I’m going to try, really try, to balance that love, to understand how you need to be loved.”

Jules sits frozen, speechless for the first time. Their confrontations usually spiral into heated exchanges until one of them storms off. She hadn't expected this to be so... civil and mature. 

So unlike them. 

Finally, she manages a small, shaky smile. “Yeah, this... this went way better than I played it out in my head.”

Leigh’s laughter is a quick splash of reprieve, a burst of surprise at how well things have turned.  But it fades as quickly as it bloomed, her smile slipping into a frown as she catches the shadow creeping over Jules’s face. 

“What is it?”

Jules fidgets, nervously twisting a napkin between her fingers. “I... need to ask you something that’s been eating at me for months... well, almost a year now. And I need you to be brutally honest with me, Leigh. Can you promise that?”

Leigh feels a slight tremor of worry, but brushes it off and nods. “You’re scaring me, but sure. I promise.”

“Here we go,” Jules says, taking a deep, faltering breath. “Remember that night? When I was so drunk you had to come and get me? It was the last night Matt was... before he... you know. Do you ever resent me for it? I did such a horrible thing, robbing you of his last moments because I couldn't keep it together—”

“You know I’ve never blamed you for that. Not during our last fight, not when Matt died, just... never, basically,” Leigh says, leaning back on her chair.

“But some part of you must have hated me, because—”

“No—”

“—maybe he needed someone.”

Leigh just shrugs and denies it which only frustrates Jules even more. “No, Leigh,” she tries, “I need you to listen to me. I was very drunk that night—”

“You were really drunk a lot of nights and you’ve done a lot of crappy things,” Leigh states frankly. “But none of them had anything to do with Matt’s death.”

Jules swallows hard, her eyes stinging. “But what if it did, though?”

Leigh, clearly frustrated, responds, “You really think that?”

Jules looks down at the table and stays silent.

“Jules,” Leigh sighs, searching for the right words to reassure her sister. Eventually, she opts for honesty. “Look, I can’t tell you how to feel, but that’s not how I feel. Okay?”

It takes a second longer for Jules to say, “Okay.”

Leigh stares intently at her sister, noting the way Jules's eyes avoid contact. She knows the soft okay from Jules isn't a signal of acceptance or peace, but a white flag in a battle mostly with herself. Jules is grappling with her own guilt, a feeling that has little to do with Leigh but still consumes her. Leigh wishes, not for the first time, that her sister could see the truth as easily as she reads into misconceptions. It’s the same thing she wishes for herself.

Feeling slightly vindicated to have aired her feelings, Jules turns her attention back to the food spread between them. She reaches for her bánh mì, grips it firmly, and takes a hearty bite. As she chews thoughtfully, she manages a muffled, “Thanks, Leigh.”

Leigh just offers a small, understanding smile.

As they continue eating, Jules suddenly grins, crumbs dotting the corners of her mouth. “You're probably wondering why we're having Vietnamese tonight,” she says.

Leigh raises an eyebrow, curious despite herself. “I was wondering.”

Jules chews quickly, then, with her mouth still full, blurts out, “Well, I've got one more piece of news for you.”

-

It’s almost midnight when Leigh returns to her bedroom. 

As soon as her eyes land on her cellphone, carelessly tossed on the sheets, guilt floods her. She remembers she didn’t even say goodbye to you. Horrified, she realizes she left you hanging, high and dry.

She grabs her phone, her heart pounding in her chest, and checks for any messages from you. The screen lights up, but there are no new notifications, no missed calls.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” she mutters to herself, running a hand through her hair. She takes a deep breath and dials your number, her fingers trembling slightly as she presses the call button.

It rings once, twice, and then you answer. “Leigh?”

“Hey. Sorry, did I wake you?” Leigh asks, picking up on the sleepiness in your voice.

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

She lets out a relieved sigh before rushing into an apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you like that. Jules came home and then I—”

“It’s okay, Leigh,” you whisper soothingly, grateful that she called you back at all.

That doesn’t alleviate Leigh's guilt, though. She racks her brain for a way to make amends. 

“Can we… Can we pick up where we left off?” she suggests hesitantly.

You let out a kind chuckle. “I’d like that. But maybe we should save it for… later. Honestly, that was a bit reckless, Leigh.”

Leigh's brow furrows, even though you can't see it. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“I want to do this right,” you explain earnestly. “If taking things slow helps us build something real, then I’m willing to wait.”

“Well, clearly patience hasn’t been my strong suit either,” Leigh admits, her lips curving into a grin at your attempt to be chivalrous.

“I know,” you whisper, traces of a smile audible in your voice. “But I didn’t want you to think that’s all I’m after. And believe me, I want you—it’s driving me crazy.” 

Leigh runs her tongue along her teeth, feeling the familiar tug of desire low in her belly.

“I just don't want us to get so caught up in the physical stuff that we miss out on really getting to know each other,” you say.

“Me neither,” Leigh agrees, tucking the blankets up under her chin, pretending it's you keeping her warm.

“While I obviously enjoyed our…conversation earlier,” you say, pausing to maintain your composure. You can still hear the echo of Leigh's moans in your car, the memory likely to revisit you on sleepless nights in the coming days. “I'm really looking forward to diving deeper into things, like your favorite book, on Saturday.”

“Maybe I'll bring you a whole list,” she teases.

“Guess I’ll have to find that library card I signed up for then,” you joke.

“A library card, huh? Dork,” she retorts affectionately.

You feign a wounded tone, “Ouch.”

The laughter that follows is light and easy. You sigh contentedly and say, “I should probably call it a day. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Leigh.” I love you. “See you on Saturday.”

The call ends with both of you reluctantly hanging up, smiles fixed on your faces as you lie back. Leigh is an addictive rush, coursing through your veins like adrenaline. You've excused yourself out of habit for sleeping early, but you doubt you’re going to get much sleep tonight.

-

Leigh nudges open the door to the crowded bistro tucked near the Basically News office. It’s the thick of lunch hour, and the place pulses with the chatter of midday patrons. It’s exactly the sort of public, non-intimate setting you'd want for meeting an ex. She weaves through the crowded room, spotting Danny at a corner table, his focus tethered to his phone as he absently taps on the screen.

“Hey,” she greets, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Danny looks up, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. “You know, I could’ve just dropped by your house later.”

Leigh shakes her head. “It's better to meet somewhere public from now on.”

His expression darkens, and he scoffs. “Why? So Y/N doesn’t get jealous?”

Leigh leans back, crossing her arms. “Yes,” she says, deliberately blunt.

Danny's jaw sets, a muscle twitching slightly, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he reaches into his bag and retrieves a folder, sliding it across the table toward Leigh. “Matt’s publisher wants to release his comic posthumously,” he starts, “but there are strings attached.”

Interest sparks in Leigh's eyes as she opens the folder, her eyes quickly scanning the contract. 

“What kind of strings?” she asks.

“They want either you or me—or both of us—to join a group of artists to promote the comic—”

“That sounds fair and exciting,” Leigh interjects a bit too soon.

“—across the country,” Danny finishes, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance. “It’s a tour, Leigh.”

Leigh's fingers stall at the edge of the paper, the reality of the proposition sinking in. 

“A tour?” she echoes.

“Yeah,” Danny nods. He flags down a waiter and orders a beer. “Early next year. Matt’s comic is in the final stages of editing, and it should be finalized in about three weeks. They’re aiming for a release in February, and the tour will follow right after that.”

“That sounds soon,” Leigh remarks. “How long is the tour supposed to last?”

“About two months,” Danny replies. “We'll be traveling across different states, attending conventions, signing autographs, meeting fans. It’s a big commitment.”

“We?”

Danny shrugs, the hurt briefly flickering across his face before he can hide it. “Yeah, we. Though I'm not sure I can join because of the new job in Vegas. There's a good chance you might be doing this solo.” His attempt at nonchalance doesn't quite cover the sting of her reaction—how distant the concept of 'we' seems to her.

Leigh chews on her lip, her thoughts drifting to her own commitments—her column, her classes at the Beautiful Beast, and you. The idea of leaving all that behind, even for just a few months, feels like too great a sacrifice.

“It’s a lot to take in,” she says, pushing the folder back towards Danny. 

“He deserves this kind of recognition,” Danny implores, as if suggesting that Leigh thinks otherwise.

“I'm aware,” she snaps back, “I just need a bit of time to think it through, to sort out the schedules and everything.”

Danny raises his hands in mock surrender, indicating he doesn't want to escalate the argument. But Leigh knows him well enough to see through it—it’s a tactic. Danny has a way of guilting her into decisions without saying much, letting assumptions and insinuations simmer until Leigh finds herself making the choice he wants.

Leigh stands up, slipping the folder into her bag. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Fine,” Danny says with a tight nod. “Just don’t drag your feet. The publishers are waiting on an answer soon.”

-

Saturday comes soon, but not soon enough.

All week, relentless rain showers have scattered across the days, and though the forecast promises sunshine today, Leigh wakes up to the soft splattering of rain against her window. The gentle patter seeps into her consciousness, easing her from sleep. The room is filled with a cool, damp scent, and is bathed in a soft, diffused light as the morning sun is muted behind thick clouds. 

Leigh gropes blindly beneath the pillow to her left, retrieving her phone and squinting at the time. It’s 9:30 AM. She blinks, trying to shake the sleep from her mind, and her heart drops slightly as she notices five missed calls from you, each one timestamped progressively: 7:45, 7:55, 8:15, 8:30, and finally 8:45.

Guilt twists in her chest. She sits up, brushing sleep from her eyes, and dials your number back, hoping she hasn’t missed something important. 

You answer on the first ring. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Leigh sighs, running a hand through her tousled hair. “Yeah, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I just woke up. What's going on?”

“It’s Saturday,” you say rather awkwardly. “We had plans to meet this morning, remember?”

Leigh sits up, suddenly fully awake. She’s been looking forward to Saturday all week, eagerly anticipating this date. The realization that she slept through most of the morning fills her with shame. She’s been so restless the past few days, and it was only the gloomy, sleepy weather last night that finally allowed her to get some decent rest.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed your sleep, but since it’s an all-day affair, I thought we could start with breakfast,” you continue, breaking the silence that had been filled only with Leigh’s soft breathing.

“Where are you now?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment before replying, “I’m actually parked outside your house.”

Fuck. Shit. Damn it.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, uhm, can you give me five minutes?”

“Take all the time you need.”

Leigh ends the call and throws off the covers, scrambling to get dressed. She rushes to the bathroom, splashing water on her face and running a brush through her hair, muttering curses under her breath. Her hands tremble slightly as she picks out an outfit, the anticipation of the day ahead propelling her forward.

As she heads for the door, a small smile forms on her lips. This might not have been the flawless beginning she imagined, but just knowing you’re on the other side makes it perfect already.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part five max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

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Max felt like he was going to throw up when he read your newest messag

y/n — call! i can't believe what just happened

He's just dropped you off at your hotel 5 minutes ago, at this point you should be in your room packing for your flight. The ducth was anxious for a several amount of reasons. He didn't think he could call you so soon without you recognizing his voice.

And two, the thought of logging in as Amilian again was making him feel like he's seriously sick. He can't go back to hiding behind a name and a fake profile. He wanted to be normal the way you were with him.

amilian — i can't speak, but i can listen if you still want to talk

Max was glad he was back in his apartment, phone disgarded on the floor with the unsent message as he threw up the creps you had made in the morning. He felt like shit. One, he was lying to you. Two, he felt like Amilian was an imposter in his life that was slowly eating him.

And three, he threw up the food that you put effort in and was so happy to eat. He stared at the half digested food, feeling like he was going to cry. He dreamed about eating your cooking for two years and a half and when he finally does he throws it up in addition to wasting food.

Max sat on the floor of the bathroom, wiping his mouth and flushing the toilet as he sent the message, the 'you're getting a phone call' icon appearing sooner than he'd like.

"I made a friend." You say relieved as soo as the man picked up. Max nodded to himself even though you couldn't see. "You were right about clubbing. I shouldn't have went alone." Something bad would've happened but it didn't thankfully." Max sighed in relief even though he knew the whole gist because he was there.

amilian — are you okay?

"Yeah, I'm okay." you breath out. "Someone stepped in." Max nodded again and wiped his eyes. "He uh, he's a good guy. He let me stay at his for the night and gave me a bed. I was passed out so he got his sister to put me in something comfortable. I'm . . . I really appreciate him."

amilian — im glad you're safe

amilian — where are you now?

"I'm in my hotel room." You sighed, putting the phone on speaker as you looked around your room. "My flight's in three hours so I have to leave in a few."

And now Max felt even worse. He didn't want you to leave and be so far again from him. Now that he's gotten a taste he want's the whole serving. He needs you in a way that pains him. His apartment that's empty for more than three quarters of a year felt even emptier once your lively energy showed him what could be.

he stayed silent, pressing the phone to his ear as he listened to you, wiping the occasional tear as one of his cats came to lay on his lap. At least he wasn't fully alone in this world.

Max has to put Amilian away. This is not right. He's lost touch of the real world.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 13

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 1.8k | Warnings: none | Masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author's note: everyone say thank you to @sarawritestories for bullying me to get me to write and to @milswrites for the NEW HEADER LOOK IT'S SO PRETTY

Ten minutes to the dot from getting to your door Azriel was walking into your apartment with a bowl of popcorn and several bags of candy. He brought chocolates, gummy worms, cookies, and several other sweets in the crook of his elbow, several being held by random fingers. You really weren’t sure how he was carrying it all. 

In your absence he also changed into some black sweatpants and a black tee, his arms flexed with all the snacks in his hold. He looked great at mini golf, but now he looked attractive in such a different way. 

“What are you doing?” He looked a bit ridiculous, as if he just raided a candy store. He looked even more ridiculous trying to toe his shoes off before making his way over to you.

“I know you don’t have food here.”

“Yes we do - Cassian was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday!” You whip your head to the kitchen, as if you could see the inside of your pantry from where you sat. “Besides I ordered a pizza.”

He gives you a look, “Cassian’s version of grocery shopping is stopping at our apartment and taking what he wants.”

Your eyes widen, “no he does not! He said he goes to the store for food.”

He scoffs, setting down the candy and snacks on the table in front of you, lining them all up so you could see the label on each bag, “the store of Rhys and Az, maybe. A 24 hour convenience store Cassian has a lifetime membership to.”

You think back to all the times Cassian told you he was going grocery shopping, but you’re not sure if you ever did see him come back with bags of groceries. All the food and supplies just showed up. “Well, I’m sorry he does that. It does explain his luxurious tastes though…”

“It’s fine,” he says sitting next to you, your legs touching. “Rhys’s dad pays for the groceries, so..” 

His sentence lingers as he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s what’s worked for us for a long time. Rhys couldn't care less. Actually I think he prefers getting to spend money on us.”

“So things with Rhys’s dad are weird?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose. His dad sucks. Gives Rhys a- basically an unlimited credit card. Rhys has played with the limits on it before. We all know he’s rich, we just don’t know how rich. He’s spent a ridiculous amount of money on that card with no response. Once he bought all of ours and Cassian’s furniture in one trip - bought ridiculously priced shit too. Didn’t even blink over it.”

He scoops up a handful of popcorn, popping some into his mouth. “Well, all the furniture except their ridiculously sized tvs.”

You giggle, grabbing the bag of sour candies he brought and opening them, popping some in your mouth. “Mm, you’re too good to fall victim to their childish antics?”

“I’m more evolved than them.”

“So it was a different Azriel that Cassian was talking about going racing with him on some backroads a few weeks ago?”

A beat passes and he refuses to look at you, his eyes straight forward. “I think Cassian has face blindness.”

“Oh yeah, mhm.” You pick up the remote, scrolling to look through potential movies to watch. “Maybe we should get a decal for your bike so he won’t get confused again. I’m thinking of something that makes you seem distinguished.”

“Oh?”

“Something that makes you seem intimidating.”

“something scary?” His eyes dance with amusement, crinkling in contained joy.

“Something terrifying. So they know you’re a menace.”

You scroll through the movie options, Azriel’s arm making its way across the back of the couch behind you. He spreads his legs a bit, and you nestle into his shoulder as you put on Jurassic Park, picking a movie you’d be okay with missing some parts to it.

The two of you had watched at least three quarters of Jurassic Park, several parts of the movie missed because the two of you couldn’t keep from making out on your couch. 

You watched the entire trilogy, staying up late with him. By the time the second movie came on, the two of you talked through most of it, until you’d reach the scenes with the pterodactyls in the third movie. Then you had forced your hands over his mouth, not letting him talk over your favorite scenes. Once you had pulled them away, he immediately dove on top of you, pushing you into the couch and nuzzling his face into your neck.

The two of you stayed up until somewhere around 3 AM, the third movie long forgotten as you asked him to stay the night. Nothing happened, except you did wake up the next morning with his arm slung around your waist, making it very tempting to completely ignore your alarm clock.

Unfortunately, Azriel had work to do, kissing your temple before he snuck back into his apartment to get dressed.

He had been gone for all of twenty seconds when your phone buzzed and he asked if you’d like to get coffee the next day before class. Your classes lined up at the same time each day, so you two would meet up at a local coffee shop in the morning. You’d park your car in the grocery store lot afterwards, Azriel holding out his spare helmet for you before helping put it on your head before he’d zip you two through campus, one of his hands always on your thigh. 

The two of you would separate once he’d walk you to your classes, and then you’d meet back up at the library. It was a bit concerning to you how quickly the two of you fell into a routine, most of your free time of the week either spent with him or texting him.

“I got you something.”

You rummage through your bag when Azriel walks up to the table, his jacket being thrown onto one of the extra chairs. He sets down his helmet as you continue your search. You slide the envelope across the table, his scarred fingers touching yours as he grabs it from you. He opens the envelope, pulling out the note.

‘To be more menacing’ is written on pink stationary, a sticker falling from the paper. He picks it up, a smile on his face as he turns the sticker in his fingers, the cartoon goose with a knife in his mouth looking back at you.

His smile is captivating in the harsh lighting of the library, the LEDs making his skin several shades too light.

But it made his smile all the more blinding. 

“Thank you,” he slips the sticker into his jacket pocket, sliding into the seat across from you.

He pulled out his laptop, his bag neat and tidy, a far cry from Cassian’s paper cluttered bag. You go back to reviewing your notes, as Azriel begins typing on his computer. The silence is comfortable between you two, and as you feel it start to settle, Azriel’s foot grazes your own, sticking itself between your crossed ankles. 

You peer at him across the table, but his tortoiseshell glasses don’t move towards you, his computer screen reflecting through them to show he was working on some form of coding you had no desire to understand. You smile back down to your books, trying to get all your work finished before Friday, the six of you spending the weekend at Rhys’s dad’s lake house. 

Cassian had been moaning and groaning for several weeks about wanting to go to the lake, but Rhys’s dad was having renovations done on the house and on the private dock until roughly two weeks ago. Since its completion, Cassian has been relentless, worming the word ‘lake’ into every conversation he’s had, not being very subtle about what he wanted.

Every morning he texted your group chat about his ‘cornfLAKEs’ or about how he just loves ‘snowfLAKEs’. He had just run out of words two days ago and now resorted to making up words that had ‘lake’ in them. Rhys immediately texted everyone to ‘please for the love of my sanity, be available this weekend or else I’m petitioning we murder Cassian’. 

None of you wanted to be stuck doing any kind of work this weekend - Cassian and Azriel already had the weekend off, Mor and Feyre were free, and your plans revolved around the work and the man in front of you. All of you were desperate to finish any work that was due on Monday before the six of you left.

“So this weekend.”

He holds up a finger, typing furiously before he stops, looking up at you. He closes his laptop slightly, pushing it away from himself. 

“This weekend.”

You put your chin in your hands, looking at his tan face. You loved seeing him wear his glasses - they made him look so endearing and soft. “Are we um going to tell anyone before we go? Besides Mor, obviously.”

You had texted Mor at some point during the second or third movie, asking her if she had mentioned your date to anyone. She had said no and that she’d be willing to keep it that way if you remembered to thank her profusely for ‘setting you up on the best date of your life’. 

You had agreed, but now this left you with a bit of a dilemma - when do you tell everyone? Does he want to tell everyone?

“You don’t understand how annoying they can get when it comes to my love life.”

You giggled, certain you could figure it out based on how nosey and meddling Cassian was. 

He clears his throat, “besides I’d like to figure things out with you before they know. I don’t want them to scare you off.”

You laughed, “I walked in on Cassian trimming his toenails the other night. I think anything worse than that violates the Geneva convention.”

His smile is bright as he watches you giggle at your own joke. “How about this,” his hands move across the table, laying them palm up so you can sit yours into them. Your fingers lightly trace the lines on his palms as his voice picks up again. “I’ll take you out for lunch tomorrow, and it will be the official end of things… until we get back.”

You raise your brows, but he’s not finished. “Obviously, not really the end of things. But just.. We’ll come back from lunch as the people we were last week. Before mini golf.”

Your voice is a bit unsteady as you ask, “do you want to stay those people? The before mini golf versions of ourselves?”

“No.” His reply is fast, voice full of conviction.

“You’re not just saying this because Rhys’s lake house has a hot housekeeper, are you?”

He blows out his lips, laughing at your waggling eyebrows, “Sonya’s been about eighty years old for the past fifteen years.” His fingers quickly snatch yours, holding them tightly. “So she’s perfect for me.”

You throw your head back, about to laugh, but he pulls your fingers forward, bringing you in for a soft kiss you can’t help but giggle through.

Series taglist: @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @impossibelle @hayrunnwr @just-a-social-casualty-1 @thisisew @brieflyclassymortal @glitterypirateduck @marshmummy @bookishbroadwaybish @azsteris @doriansgf @footyandformula @mybestfriendmademe @od-anon @judig92 @luvmoo @marina468 @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @acotarobsessed @maryssong23 @acourtofbatboydreams

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading <3

[rumisgf]

“GET MY F**** NAME TATTED SO I KNOW IT’S REAL” - DENKI KAMINARI x BLACK!READER

summary: your boyfriend has it all: tattoos, blonde hair, nice sleeper build, can dress, funny— he’s on the way to becoming one of the top 5 heroes for lord’s sake. but, even with all that, he can’t help but feel some type of way when he sees other dudes trying to get as his girl. he doesn’t know what comes over him, and he always starts thinking a little irritational.

includes: college!au eventual smut, tatted!denki, little plot (i sorry), females pronouns used once or twice, jealous!denki, denki calls reader ‘mama’, denki refers to himself as ‘daddy’ once, penetration, dom/sub undertones unprotected sex, recording, squirting, spit!kink, implied relationship, assumed that denki and reader record themselves fucking a lot, possessiveness, breeding kink if you squint, mentions of potential pregnancy, nasty sex

this isn’t fair. he’s finally got a hot, amazing girlfriend and everybody wants her. it makes him sick.

“woah kaminari, that’s you? how’d you bag that?” all his friends always seem to ask this same question in different variations, and their laughs afterwards seem to be filled with malice in his ears. and what’s worse is that you have no idea. you post all these pretty pictures and thirst trappy tiktok’s for random people in your comments to fawn over you. so, denki could not possibly be seething with more anger right now when someone he only sees in the dorm hallways come up to you.

“hey, um, you… seeing anyone? sorry i just saw you in class and couldn’t stop thinking about you, you are gorgeous.”

he watches as you smile, looking over to where he is as he’s supposed to getting his lunch. “o-oh, uh… thank you but i’m taken.” you shyly respond. the dude follows your eyes, and he only smirks. “well, he doesn’t seem like too much competition.”

you roll your eyes at the corny ass guy talking to you, and cross your arms. as you tell the guy he has no chance, you fail to notice denki look down at his own feet as he contemplates causes a scene at this very moment. but clearly, he didn’t care to think logically. you’re his.

suddenly, you feel a set of haste footsteps followed by two hands slowly find your waist. your movements halt as they massage the skin and pull you closer to the figure’s chest. “hey cutie, who’s this?” your boyfriend asks so innocently, making direct eye contact with the guy who’s face is beginning to flush. “mm, some dude who won’t leave me alone..” the guy furrows his eyebrows as he struggles to open his mouth. “woah, it’s like that, bro?”

“don’t know what you’re talking about.” denki says, responding for you. he softly kisses your shoulder, “she’s mine though, so you should go on somewhere.” with that, the guy reluctantly walks off, failing to hide his embarrassment.

you slowly push denki off of you, giving him a quick peck on the lips as a thank you. then, you both head back to your dorm to get away from the crowd of people at your university’s cafeteria— the habitat of horny, and corny men.

denki closes your door and plops onto the edge of your bed, holding his arms out. “c’mere mama.” you find your way on his lap as you face his grumpy face. he looks down at your body as his hands massage the sides of your waist. “so tired of that, i wish everybody would leave you alone…” he pauses, and it’s the same pause before he’s about to say one of the most outlandish things you’ve heard.

“tattoo my name on your neck.”

you smack your lips, lightly pushing his chest as you roll your eyes. “boy, i am not chrisean rock.”

“well how else are dudes gonna know you’re fucking mine?” he slowly dives into your neck, teasing the skin with his mouth as your lips part, threatening to let out a moan. “kami, you know i don’t want anybody else.” you say shyly, beginning to writhe in his lap as he’s know placing full mouth kisses on your neck. “but they don’t know that,” he mutters. he pulls away and immediately grabs you by your neck, bringing your face centimeters away from his. “if you won’t get me tatted, i’ll find another way to make sure they know you’re mine.”

he closes the space by kissing you fiercely, yet slowly. you drag your hips up on his lap, his hand gripping your waist once more as your back arches with the kiss. you wrap one arm around his neck while your other hands finds his chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat. his other hand doesn’t leave your neck as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. you moan into his mouth, making him subconsciously buck his hips upwards. with that, you slowly start grinding on his lap and he begins to grind on your clothed crotch himself. you move in rhythm with each other, chasing the burning feeling of lust in your stomachs. then, he shoves his hand under your shirt and you finally gasp into his lips. he fondles with your soft breasts, wishing your bra wasn’t it the way. this makes you grind on him harder, and you’re sure he can feel the throbbing pulse of your now soaking pussy even through his pants. denki goes back to your neck, licking and biting your skin until several hickeys begin to show. he was serious, he was gonna find a way to mark himself on you one way or another. his hands now find your ass, squeezing both cheeks as he moves you faster on his laps and his own soft moans begin to spill out his mouth.

kaminari pulls away, both of you breathing heavy. “i’m about to fuck the shit out of you, you know that right?” he says in a direct tone. looking at him half lidded, you nod. without another word, he lifts you off of him and moves fully onto the bed. you follow him and immediately get pulled under him by his tattooed arms. his lips crash back onto yours, your hands frantically grabbing at his body. he grinds onto you, making sure you feel his hard bulge on your cunt that’s close to soaking through the panties under your jeans. “kami, please…” you whine, not knowing entirely what you’re begging for— you just know you need him in every way possible.

he quickly discards of own your jeans, then his own. immediately, his eyes meet the thong that perfectly displays your arousal dripping out and staining your folds that are halfway shown. he nearly drools, running his finger through your clothed slit. “mm-!” you moan, wincing at the pleasure flowing through you just at how eager you were for him to touch you. wasting no more time, he lifts off the bed and stands at the side next to you, pulling you on the edge of the bed in front of him. he pulls down his boxers and slides off your underwear. you gawk at his long, hard dick right in front of you, and he smirks. then, he reaches over to pick up his jeans, pulling his phone out his pocket.

he unlocks his phones, then points his camera to his dick in front of your sopping cunt. he rubs circles on your clit with his tip, “mmm, so wet baby.” he hums, before slowly sliding himself into your entrance. your walls give him a warm hug as your slick squelches once he enters them.

he wastes no time giving you every inch of him, and you cry out. “oh- shit! babyyy!” the pace is almost too much, him pumping into you like he was mad at you. “uh huh, love this dick don’t you?” he uses his free hand to grips your thigh, pushing it back. instinctively, you hold your legs back for him as close to your head as possible. “good girl, let me see that pretty pussy.”

you’re almost embarrassed, your helpless state on display as he ruins your pussy. your normally sweet boyfriend is deep-stroking the brain cells out of you with a dark, sinister smile on his face. but.. you can’t complain, he’s fucking you too good right now. “ohmygod please… i can’t..” he slaps your thigh, making your body jolt. “yeah you can, c’mon. you got it.” you throw your head back, moaning his name like a prayer. “yeahhh, my good girl.” the praise sends your head spinning as the room grows hotter by the minute. “say you’re mine. *smack* say you who belong to.”

“i’m yours- shitttt- i’m yours! i’m all yours” you say, the command causing a white ring to form around his dick from you creaming. “yeah, you like that shit? love being my good little whore?” he slaps your thigh again, making you whine. he relishes in the state you’re in, completely vulnerable to him. he loves nothing more than showing that he could really dick you down when he gets this frustrated. all the anger he gets from all these guys constantly hitting on you- he takes it out as he examines your soft, sweet body that’s all for him: down from your pussy to your mouth, “open up.” he demands. before you can even fully open it, he spits in your mouth from above you. it takes you by surprise, but he gives you not time to think even if you could…. which, you can’t, from the way he ms fucking you. “swallow that shit.”

you lick the excess spit off your lip and swallow, looking him in the eye when you do so you can see him smile. “such a good girl.. so good f’ me.” denki picks up the pace, the camera shaking with his movements. your voice jumps with every thrust as you moan out for him. his breath huffs with every thrust, sweat beading up on the both of your bodies as you fuck like dogs in heat. your body is littered with hickies and red marks that were intentionally painted on your body by your boyfriend. although they’re not permanent like tattoos, they still holding the same meaning that you belong to him and him only.

he grips your waist as he fucks you into pure bliss. you feel a strong knot threaten to burst in your stomach. “i- fuck! ‘m gonna cum~”

“yeah?” he taunts, immediately rubbing your clit. “you wanna cum already? ‘m fucking you that good?” his ego grows by the second as you become putty in his hands, legs threatening to give out. you let out a drawn out moans as he punctuates his hips, abusing your g-spot over and over. your eyes roll to the back of your head as your toes stiffen in the air, losing control of your body.

“go ahead, nut all over this dick.”

you scream his name as your juices squirt out of you and onto his stomach. he continues fucking you as you making a mess on the floor, the bed on him, and yourself. your body shakes violently as your orgasm takes over you, him pulling out and smacking his dick on your clit as you violently squirt on him. then, he slides back into you, groaning at how soaked you are. “my good little slut… all mine— nobody can fuck you like i do. say you’re my little slut.”

you let out a slurred “i’m your little slut” as you feel another orgasm build up. in a matter of seconds. he pulls your body closer, leaning forward so he can fuck you deeper. in another minute, you’re squirting on him again as he fucks you, moaning so loud your housemates can definitely hear you by now. “fuck baby… so fucking messy.” he moans, now chasing his own high. “fuck- where you want it baby? huh?”

“in me- please!” you beg, looking up at him with doe eyes as he relentlessly bullies your cunt. his eyes spark up, slightly taken aback from your response. “yeah? dick so good you want me to give you a baby?” you nod eagerly, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks from the overstimulation. you both know you’re out your right mind and this is not a logical decision to make on a whim, but you pray that maybe god is on your side just this one time— even though this is such a sinful act. “yes please put a baby in me!”

“daddy’s gonna make you a mama- fuck- gonna fuck my kids into you.” he pants, thrust becoming frantic and rigid. and though he doesn’t wanna admit it, he’d love nothing more than for you to be swollen and soft because of him. the though of you carrying his child with an large stomach that contrasts your smaller figure brings him right to his own orgasm. with a hard, deep thrust, he lets out loud strings of moans matches with the thick ropes of his seed seeping into your cunt. you moan at the warm feeling, eyes threatening to close shut. he pulls out of you, rubbing your clit as cum leaks out of your used hole.

setting his phone down after quickly adding it to his special folder, he grabs a spare towel from his closet to clean the both of you up. then, he lays down next to you after you scoot into your covers, legs still shaking. he looks down at them, letting a chuckle out his mouth.

“damn, i fuck you that good?”

you smack his chest, only causing him to laugh more. “bitch i had you whining to cum in me, hush.”

“oh really? cause if we watch that video back right now you’ll clearly hear you begging for me to-”

another smack lands on his chest, as you hush him frantically. “hey, at least if you have my baby they’ll really know who you belong to.” you sigh, sinking onto his chest. “then, i’ll have as many babies as you need me to.”

@ rumisgf

[theroundbartable]

Now I want more awkward crush Arthur.

Merlin *about to retire*: is that all, Sire?

Arthur *suddenly captivated by the fire dancing in Merlin's eyes*: uh... Of course. Yes. Always, as you said.

Merlin: what?

Arthur: what?

...

After a long, awkward dream, during a game of never have I ever:

Gwaine: have you ever had gay dreams?

Arthur: *chokes on drink from last round*

Gwaine: you okay, mate?

Arthur *coughing* who'd ever have dreams about THAT? With Merlin? Don't be ridiculous, Gwaine.

Gwaine: I never mentioned Merlin?

Arthur: *blanks* but it was implied

Gwaine: noo... I'm pretty sure I would not imply such a thing if I knew it made you so flustered.

Arthur: well, anyways. I'm not going to drink on it because this never happened. *Chucks a whole glass of wine*

...

Lancelot suggesting at an inn that Merlin and Arthur share a room.

Arthur: what? No, we - this is inappropriate!

Lancelot: *jesting* Merlin is not a fair maiden. You don't have to protect his virtue

Arthur: that- but he's - i didn't mean - he couldn't have-

Merlin: Arthur, are you alright?

Arthur: did you? Lose your virtue?

Merlin: when I was 16. Jeez, Arthur, what the hell are you on about? We can share a bloody room, don't be a prat! Unless you have any virtue we need to protect?

Arthur: *sputtering nonsensically* maybe a little?

Lancelot: what do you mean, a little?

...

*Merlin dressing as a noble to fool some bandits. He and Arthur exchanged clothes and now Arthur is wearing Merlin's tight jacket that smells like him, while Merlin looks like a regal King. He even walks like one*

Gwaine: Oi, princess, you good?

Arthur: *in a daze* uhu

Gwaine: *waves hand in front of Arthur's unmoving eyes* I think we broke him

...

Princess: *trying to flirt with Arthur* maybe we should go somewhere else? to talk?

Arthur: *watching Merlin from afar* hmm? No, I'm good

Princess: you, eh - *follows gaze* oh my. That servant of yours is quite attractive, isn't he?

Arthur: yeah. *Realizes what he said* eh - what? Sorry, I wasn't listening. What were you saying?

Princess: I believe I've lost this battle, my Lord. *Leaves*

Arthur: uh - what?

...

Arthur: *undressing for bed*

Merlin: *stares*

Arthur: what is it, Merlin? Would you like to request a painting, it'll last longer.

Merlin: hmm... Would you do a nude for me?

Arthur: *voice breaking* now?

Merlin: i was - joking

Arthur: oh *chuckles awkwardly* yes, of course. Sure. ...

Merlin: go on - get ready for bed

Arthur: yes, sure, sure, of course *sweats*

[yuri-is-online]

Criminally Smooth (Floyd Leech x Yuu)

Floyd might have a concussion, but that doesn't mean he can't recognize true love when he sees it, and that halo the bisexual lighting of this cop car is giving you makes him think he might have a chance.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, based off a meme I saw and the song Bonnie and Clyde by Dutch Melrose. Vaguely modern au, hints of a mafia au? Yuu and Floyd are implied to be adults and full of bad decisions. More fic can be found on my masterlist.

“Hey baby, what's your name?” Floyd's teeth are sharp and his smile is weirdly wide, like he's trying to display his mouth for you. “You come here often? I swear I've seen ya somewhere before…” You take a deep breath trying to ground yourself, the metal of the handcuffs should be painful enough to do the trick but the ridiculousness of Floyd asking that question when you're both going to jail is overriding the discomfort.

“We've met before, yeah.” You grumble trying to shift to get a bit more comfortable as Floyd's eyes get wide as saucers in a way that would be cute if that meeting hadn't been him shaking you down for “interfering” with Azul’s business model.

“Really?” He sounds so happy, and tries to move his hands to do who knows what but gets stopped by the cuffs, which wipes away the facade of kindness as he glares down at them. “Well I must have introduced myself-”

“You did yeah.” You try to cut off whatever it is he has to say and try not to die of embarrassment when it doesn't stop him from babbling.

“I've got your number then right?” Floyd begins wiggling to reach for his back pocket and glares when Officer Clover tells him to knock it off. “You're just so fucking pretty please tell me that wasn't just a dream and I got your number.” Are you even talking to the same person?

“I don't think so?” He whines, whines! When you say that and looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “We uh. We weren't. Didn't get much of a chance to talk.” You shouldn't be flustered by this. Shouldn't be thinking that it's sort of cute how he presses up against the bars separating you in the back of the cruiser to try and get as close to you as possible.

“Aww well let me do it again please?” You nod and try not to fluster when he brings back the dreamy smile places his cuffed hands against the bars. “I'm Floyd, sorry I totaled your car, baby.” It wasn't your car but you know better to say that in something rigged for audio. “You free this Saturday? I wanna make it up to you and I know a real great place-”

“I don't think either of you are going to be free this weekend,” Officer Clover isn't even hiding how much he's enjoying this you really wish you could get away with punching him “sorry Floyd.”

“Ignore Sea Turtle, oh hey I don't know your name do I?” Surprisingly Floyd isn't annoyed at all, he's still keeping his mouth wide and gets even more excited when you begin to subconsciously mimic him. “C'mon what's your name pretty?”

“It's Yuu but you kept calling me-”

“LITTLE SHRIMPY!!!” He shouts so loud Officer Clover slams on the brakes out of shock, Floyd laughs as he tumbles around and you try to brace against the wall. “Dawww ya should have just led with that baby, I wouldn't have rammed ya. Not with a car anyway.” The police cruiser lurches again as you feel the tires hit something, slamming Floyd against the door and tumbling you towards the floor. He bites down on the metal of his cuffs making sure to keep eye contact with you as he chews through the metal, winking like he's putting on some sort of show and not at all surprised or afraid that your ride is spiraling out of control. “Remember, Saturday ok? And don't worry about dressing nice I'll take care of it ♡” His door flies open as Officer Clover scrambles for his radio and Floyd jumps out of the tank into an awaiting vehicle laughing the entire time, yelling a few choice expletives at the police commissioner as he goes. You curl yourself into a tiny ball and chew on the inside of your cheek as you try to process what just happened over the angry squaking you hear on the radio.

There's no way a judge is letting you make bail after this.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 11)

When N entered Uzi's room what he was expecting to see was her sitting on the bed, annoyed with him for taking so long talking with her dad, or even practicing lightly with the solver out of boredom.

What he was not expecting was the absence of her beanie and her hoodie, leaving her in only her purple undershirt, and her wings and arms stretched up, her tail stiff and straight.

N felt his internal temperature skyrocket and a golden blush consume his face. Should he leave? He was probably not supposed to see this, when the hell had she gotten so attractive?!

“There you are! What did my dad want?” She turned to him before looking confused at his flustered face and looking down at herself.

A small blush crept up to her visor. She hadn't done this on purpose, she'd just thought she'd overheat less if she'd ditch the beanie/hoodie combo. Plus the fleshy parts of her tended to itch if left unused for too long, so a good stretch was needed every now and then.

She tried not to read too much into it, it had probably just startled him, seeing her like this as soon as he walked in.

“Uh, I can put them away?” She quickly willed away her wings and tail as they tucked away back into her chassis, the first time it had felt odd, now though she was used to it.

“I-it was fine! Just uh… didn't expect it is all.”

See?

“What did dad want?” She asked again, putting a hand on her hip. N refused to look anywhere but her face, crap crap crap crap!

“He uh, knows about Tera.” He admitted, taking the chance to look away and gather himself. It’s Uzi! Stop being a creepy weirdo who stares!

“Seriously?! Aw man I thought I was keeping it from him pretty well.” She crossed her arms, looking upset.

“Was that it? You were out there awhile.”

“He asked if I wanted to adopt her.” N replied, that prospect still hanging in his mind even now. He wasn't the best choice for it, there would be so many more better options then the murder drone who lived in a pile of corpses. Tera deserved to have a normal upbringing, something he couldn't give even if he wanted to.

And a part of him did really want to.

Uzi went silent, something he only noticed because he'd expected some sort of reply like: “oh that was a dumb question, you're like 19.” Instead she looked like she was deliberating something.

“I mean… we're kids. And I live with my dad and you live in a mass grave. I don't know why he even thought that.” Ah there it was.

“But I can't lie… I'd thought about it.” She admitted, looking sheepish. That made him jump, he wasn't expecting her to even entertain the idea. Much less give it that same amount of thought he did.

“Just as a hypothetical!” She quickly added, a voilet blush on her face. She rubbed her shoulders and looked away before starting again.

“There are so many better options than me. I… don't know if I'd be a good parent. It's not like I had much of an example.”

“I live… in a pile of corpses. I grew up in a manor where every minor mistake could get me killed. I didn't have parents… unless you count Tessa. But she was just a kid too…”

They were both quiet, not knowing how to continue the conversation without it turning even more depressing.

“I think you'd be a good dad.” She said softly, unsure but absolutely genuine. “Maybe not… like right now. I think we're both in agreement Tera needs more than you or me…But, if you want them eventually.” Why was she blushing? She was just trying to make him feel better, not offering to have his damn kids.

Although… No! don't you even think about it!

“I think you'd be a good mom too.” He replied, equally as soft and unsure, “You're really good with Tera. And I saw you making silly faces at her this morning.”

If anything she blushed harder, both at that he'd noticed and at the compliment. She wasn't sure how to take that, but she felt warm and fuzzy anyway.

“Bite me…” She mumbled, making him laugh. That usually signified she was done with the conversation. He was fine with that, considering how warm it had gotten him. He wasn't sure how to take her compliment either, but it still gave him butterflies.

“You wanted to practice right? Did you have an idea on where to start or…?” He blessedly changed the subject, thank Robo-God, she didn't know how much longer she could think about Dad N without melting into an embarrassed puddle.

“I got a bunch of pens from J’s nest. I was going to try and work on duplicating them.” She showed off a handful of pens that she'd gotten from her bag, N smirked.

“You stole them?”

“She's dead!”

“Stealing from the dead is worse!”

“Bite me! I do what I want!”

They both dissolved into laughter, nerves disappearing as they settled back into what felt natural for them, N felt a warm smile fix on his face and couldn't make it leave, this was better than being nervous by a long shot. Just the two of them, being goofy idiots.

And so that's what they did, N watching as she used the solver on each individual pen, spining it, making it float, before attempting to duplicate them like Doll had done with her knives.

The first two broke in half, spilling their contents out onto the floor (and themselves). The third one exploded, showering everything in plastic shrapnel and ink and making them both jump before they laughed at each other's startle.

Her visor beeped, telling her that her temperature was rising, and she took a deep swig of the large container of oil sitting between them. Wiping off what was left in her hand before turning her attention back to what she was doing.

He saw her fangs glisten for a moment, and something in him jumped before he settled it back down. Right, she has fangs now. She was more like him and V now then her fellow worker drones, her need for oil and her wings and tail both copied theirs almost identically, even her tail had a venom similar to their nanite acid, only less nanite and more just acid.

On the fifth one N was less focused on what the pen was doing and more on Uzi, one eye bright with the solver symbol and the other in deep concentration, her tongue out again and her eye squinted, keeping all of her focus on the currently spinning pen.

He was still concerned, he knew Uzi was strong on her own. And that her mastery of this was a good thing. But these powers were the same as Cyn’s, his little sisters. The same one who murdered an entire gala with it.

The Cyn he knew wouldn't have ever done that, she had been the sweetest little girl he'd ever known. She was strange yes, with her partly broken voice box and motor control issues. But not murderous.

Had the solver caused that change? Or had it been the Elliots abuse of her, of all of them, that had finally caused her to snap? He didn't know, after the gala, all of his memories consisted of blurry nothing, punctuated by the taste of iron in his mouth.

“Oh come on!” Uzi let out a sound of frustration, and N was brought back into the moment, there were several more destroyed pens laying about. And clearly she'd begun to get impatient, she held the arm using the solver with her other one.

“Hey now, don't try and force it.” He tried to calm her, hand resting on her shoulder before she swatted him away, looking more determined than ever, it stung in his core a little, but he shook it off. This was just how Uzi was, determined, if nothing else.

“Doll made it look so easy! She just flicked her wrist and boom knives.” She grumbled, taking another gulp of oil and finding another pen, which she flicked into the air effortlessly with her solver.

“We don't know how long Doll had those powers. She may have years ahead of you.” He replied, getting more concerned when he saw the digital sweat begin to drop in her visor.

“Which is exactly why I need this. What if we get into another fight with her? I can't just be throwing pens at her!” Her frustration was only growing, her visor beeped again, telling her her temperature was rising, but she didn't seem to notice, too focused on trying to duplicate the pen.

“I'll be there to protect us!”

“But who's going to protect you N?! Not V if she gets incapacitated! I n-need to be able to do this!” Her breaths turned to pants and her visor beeped again more frantically, telling her she was beginning to overheat, this time she did notice. But didn't care.

“Just… one more try.” She spun the pen, clearly straining, and flicked her wrist.

The pen vibrated, slowly getting faster as it seemed to reach it's peak. Uzi made a noise of strain, as if something inside of her chassis was vibrating as well.

Then two more pens popped out of the sides, spinning in place along with the original.

“I did it! N! I did it!” She squealed happily, jumping once for joy before her solver turned a vibrant gold.

She gasped. Before there was the sound of shattering glass and she suddenly doubled over, all three pens falling to the floor.

“Uzi?!” He was immediately at her side, touching her back before ripping his hand away. She was boiling.

“Ah…n….wha?” Her voice box glitched heavily, sounding like it was coming through miles of white noise. N crouched down and lifted her up before his eyes hollowed and all the oil in him turned to ice.

Her visor had shattered, the source being a massive hole where her solver eye would normally appear, oil poured from it openly, her other eye looking terrified out of her mind. Her breathing was erratic, her hand trying it's best to staunch the oil flow from her visor.

“Uzi!” His hand was bigger and did the job much better than just her own when he laid it over hers, she whimpered, instinctually gripping his coat as her other eye squeezed shut.

Already it was repairing itself, small puffs of smoke coming off from where her solver sealed the wound shut, he slowly took her hand away along with his own as the repairs got closer, until her visor was fixed and he was gripping her hand as tightly as she was gripping him, and he didn't care if the heat radiating off her hand was going to make his plating warp.

Her purple eye flickered back into place and she let out a shuddering breath, one of his hands found the oil container and brought it to her mouth. He all but made her down it, all of it. Until she was trying to cough some of it back up.

The steam wafting up from under her chassis slowly faded, but they stayed in silence, processing what the actual hell just happened.

N pulled her into a hug. His breathing sounding like he'd just run a marathon and his core running similarly.

“Don't you ever do that again.” Was the first thing out of his mouth, sounding deadly serious. His hand combed through her hair as he felt her core running as hard as it would go, he felt her nod quickly but wordlessly.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry…” She gasped out, holding him tightly, using the fur of his coat as a pillow.

“You didn't do anything wrong… you just scared me…” He replied, answering her affection with more of his own, resting his head upon hers, completely enveloping her as if he could protect her from herself.

“I ignored the warnings. My fault.”

“Not your fault. You got excited.”

“It's still-”

“No It's not.”

All she did was embrace him even tighter. His tail wrapped around her and he closed his eyes, trying to steady his core. She's okay, it's fine, you're fine.

He looked back at the pens she duplicated as if they would somehow come alive and harm her or both of them. But they just continued to sit there, just as normal as any other pen.

“N…?” His head flicked back to face her, she was blushing heavily and looking down at the floor.

“Yeah? You good?” He asked quickly. Hands traveling down from her shoulders to her hands, clasping them gently.

“T-thank you.” She choked out, obviously still shaken up by what just happened. “For like… everything.” She finished, squeezing one of his hands slightly tighter.

“Always.”

[cottagec0relover21]

(This is my first time writing NSFW, and a over 2k words, so I'm excited to see if you guys like this)

"Hungry Love. Let us Feast"

[Laios Touden x gn!reader]

Warnings: NSFW content below - long fic? - mentions of reader having AFAB genitalia - mentions of cannibalism (nothing gory don't worry)

Laios liked monsters. And he liked eating them. He had an... odd fascination with them, but who were you to judge, when you liked the idea of cannibalism as an analogy for love? Exactly, you were in no position to judge your partner.

You hadn't told him that, though. That you liked the idea of "consuming each other", or that you wanted him to bite each other as you were in bed, treating each other like a fine dish.

—Is everything okay, love?— Laios placed a gentle hand over (y/n)'s shoulder, stirring them away from their thoughts.

They nodded, smiling up at him softly.— Yeah, just thinking— he sat by their side, crossing his legs. He had taken off his armor, wearing the clothes from underneath. They couldn't help their eyes traveling down towards the v-neck of their shirt, the strings loose for comfort.

—Thinking of what?— he asked curiously.

—Just...— should they tell him? No...— about us— they kept their soft smile as they talked for a while about different topics, relating one with another, love, food, monsters. Ugh, monsters. Don't eat them, eat me (y/n) thought to themselves, unable to hide the expression of slight annoyance on their face as the topic was brought up.

He noticed this and mid-rant stopped— Are you alright? Are you tired? We've been walking a lot today, maybe you should rest— if there was something he liked more than talking about monsters in this world, that would be you. He cared about (y/n) more than anyone could imagine or describe.

—Ah, yes... well— they hesitated, looking at their hands, then at his face, and then back at their hands as they fidgeted with their fingers in an attempt to calm their nerves.

They wanted to say how much they wanted to be... consumed, devoured. But would it be weird? Maybe for Laios not too much?

—I've. .. wanted to tell you something for a long time— they mumble— I– It's nothing bad... I think— they waved their hands as they tried to not scare him with their seriousness. Laios looked at (y/n), silently waiting for them to speak.— Have you ever heard of cannibalism as a metaphor or analogy for... love? Or sex even?— they closed their eyes as they said that, bracing for something bad that never came.

Laios put a finger to his chin in thought— Well if I'm being honest, I think I heard of it once or twice, when I was younger and studying literature, but I never delved in much deeper than the fact that it's a thing— he answered with their usual tone.— Why do you ask?— Laios looked at them for an explanation, curiosity clearly sparked in his honey eyes.

(y/n) gulped, trying to ignore how their cheeks started to burn with an incoming blush. Were they really gonna talk about this? They had already told Laios and piqued his curiosity, and he probably would try to pick up the subject sooner than later if they decided to just leave it at this. So gathering courage, they spoke.— I would like for us to– uh– how do I put it?— (y/n) searched for the right words to voice their ideas— to treat each other like a meal when we have intimacy— they blurted, trying to finish the sentence as soon as possible.

—Treat each other... like a meal...— he echoed, raising an eyebrow— so you mean you want me to eat you?— he concluded.

—Ah– well, yes and no, I mean it not in the literal sense, but in a figurative one obviously— they explained— you see, I'd love it if you spoke to me more...no– I...— they sighed again. Gods above was this difficult.— I want you to describe or treat me like a meal. I want us to enjoy ourselves as if we were... "feasting on each other"—.

Soon enough their explanations worked their way into Laios's brain, and he understood exactly what (y/n) was asking for. He smiled, already coming up in his brain with a few ideas. He'd have to think more about the subject though, after all, he always wanted the best for you.

That night, when everyone had gone to sleep in the rooms of the abandoned house they had chosen to pass the night in, Laios approached (y/n) from behind as they were getting into bed.

—Sleepy?— he whispered in their ear, their strong arms hugging them by the waist. They froze at the sudden interaction and slowly relaxed.

—Not really, but we need the rest, don't we?— they smiled, trying to turn around to hug them back, but Laios didn't budge in their hold. —Uh, dear?— they mumbled, this time trying to look behind them.

That's when they felt his lips softly spread kisses on their shoulders, going to the back of their neck and ending their path under their ear. His breath was warm as he spoke— I'm hungry...— he mumbled against their skin. His voice didn't sound like it usually did. This time it sounded... dominant almost.

(y/n)'s breath hitched at this, suddenly feeling themselves grow hot in the cold of the night.

—Should I see if Senshi has any leftovers?— they asked despite their nerves.

—What for? I've got a whole meal right in my hands already...— he let his hands wander, one going down to grip and squeeze at their thigh. The other one traced its way over their neck and up to touch their lower lip.— It would be a waste if I didn't eat you, don't you think? ...so much to delight myself with—.

He let go of them and guided (y/n) to lie down on the bed. They obliged, excitement and pleasure already cursing through their veins as Laios crawled and watched from on top of them how they looked at him with a shy expression, their hair all messy over the soft pillow, a few strands on their face.— Oh how beautiful you are...— Laios whispers, licking his lips and moving the strands of hair away from their pretty face. His lips softly collided with (y/n)'s, who returned the kiss as they tangled their fingers at the back of his honey haired head.

Licking at their bottom lip, silently asking for permission, (y/n) parts their lips, allowing their tongues to dance lovingly. One of his hands stays by the side of their head to keep himself up, while the other moves the spread their legs a bit further, allowing him to come closer, his chest now pressing against theirs.

A string of saliva connects their lips when they break the kiss, and they're both left already panting, thinking about what's next. Laios stutters for a moment as his fingertips touch slightly under (y/n)'s shirt— May I?— he looks up at them through lidded, yet soft eyes.— I'm dying to discover what my meal is for tonight— he let's his hand further under their shirt once (y/n) gives them the okay to go ahead.

His big and somewhat calloused hands cup one of their breasts, massaging it for a moment, his index finger reaching for their nipple and flicking lightly at it. —Mhh... you're so perfectly soft, my love— he uttered, peppering kisses all over their collarbone.

(y/n) sighed, a hand coming up to their lips to contain the moan that wanted to escape from their lips, caused by all the attention they were suddenly receiving.

—Don't...— Laios said firmly, looking up at them from their collarbone.— I want to feast your flesh, and I want to listen to the way you feel when I'm devouring you. So don't— his hand traveled slowly down from their chest to the hem of their pants, feeling the goosebumps on their skin.

Laios felt his erection twitch in the captivity of his own pants, but he bit his lip, focusing once again on the task at hand. Eating.

He slid their pants off easily, underwear gone along with them, taking the opportunity to get rid of his own shirt as well. His breath already agitated, he gulped down the sudden urge to just dive in between their legs and taste them without a word. He continued to gently massage one of their breasts and kissing their neck. Lips starting to trail downwards, he pinched softly at one of their nipples, kissing his way down towards the other breast and sticking his tongue out to play with the nipple of the other.

When their legs twitched, threatening to close in the slightest around him, he moved his hand to hold their thighs open with a strong grip. It wasn't enough to hurt, no. But it was strong enough to let them know, without a word, that it was not happening under his watch.— Can't have a feast without the main course, can we?— he chuckled, trailing kisses down their body and finally positioning his face in between their legs. (y/n) looked away, but quickly looked right back down at him, embarrassment and excitement mixing in their stomach.

He slid a finger over the slick of the entrance, watching mesmerized at their juices as he heard a soft gasp of surprise come from their lips.

Kissing both of their thighs for a few moments first, he looked up to them and whispered— Thank you for the meal, my love— and closing his eyes, his tongue stuck out to lick in an upward motion, testing the waters. Once he heard another gasp, accompanied of a soft whimper, he pressed his face right into their cunt, tongue lapping at the juices as his nose pressed against the soft bundle of nerves slightly above.— Gods, I've been starving— he mumbled against their clit, his warm breath making them shiver.

Sticking his tongue inside of them, then swirling it around their clit, their flavor stuck to Laios's tongue and lips, smearing itself around part of his cheeks and nose as he hummed eagerly against their pussy.

It went on for a while, a long while. And he seemed thrilled at their reactions. What if he licked like this? What if he bit their thighs? What if he raised their legs and pressed his face as much as he could into the sweet liquor of their pussy? What if he held your hips in place with enough strength to make you unable to stop yourself from being completely devoured by him?

He shifted his gaze up towards their face— Gods you sound divine. You're so perfect— lidded eyes looked at them, as one of his hands moved towards the entrance his tongue was just exploring.— Can I?— always so polite, he asks for permission to keep exploring more.

— You shouldn't play with your food— (y/n) says in a breathless whisper. Looking back down at him— but... I'll allow it— Laios smiled softly at their words.

His finger teased the clit first, procuring they were even more wet than before as he slowly pressed kisses all the way back up their abdomen and across their chest until they reached their lips.

Gently teasing the entrance and then pushing his middle finger in, he was met with the warmth and the tightness of their insides as they moaned into his mouth.

—Relax sweetheart...— he whispered near (y/n)'s ear, moving to press a kiss on the space between their ear and their jawline— We're going to be here a while. I like taking my time to enjoy a good banquet— his finger pumped in and out of their pussy beautifully, their slick only providing them with lewd sounds everytime he dipped his finger back in or out. Laios bit down onto their neck, procuring to leave a hickey that everyone was most probably going to be able to see in the morning, and (y/n)'s hips stuttered upwards against his fingers.— You sound so delicious sweetheart— he praised, moving a second finger up to their entrance and penetrating them with both now, eliciting a rather loud moan to escape from them.—Take your time, I'm not stopping until I get to taste your sweet release— Laios mumbled against their jaw.

Gods was that night going to be a beautifully long one.

[skywqlkergf]

getting high with sam for the first time

f!reader. suggestive moments but no smut, fluff if you squint, angstish, childhood best friends to strangers to lovers? idk i just love him. veronica ( a character i made up) is used to replace alyssa bc she's a weirdo lol. lotta emotions, pals. 3.8k

you'd known you wanted to try weed for a while now, it was just a bit intimidating. there's also the fact that you're 18 and you still haven't tried it, some might call you a pussy, but you just like to be precautionary.

there was the anti-drug commericals and your father breathing down your neck about being a functioning member of society. the pressure has become too much. you can't help but remember some of the stoner movies you've seen and they seemed so carefree.

so you started to concote the perfect plan, you'd never gotten in trouble, never even tardy for school. when your parents monthly business trip comes up, you knew exactly what you had to do.

invite sam monroe over for the first time in four years, and ask him to teach you how to get high.

so you think about your childhood best friend turned stranger, sam monroe. he wasn't the nicest, especially after his parents’ divorce. but there was also the fact that he had a soft spot just for you. and supposedly everyone knew, you hadn't witnessed this soft spot in a long time, so you hoped it made him a little nicer. you can't even recall why, maybe a kid crush or something. maybe you never knew at all.

you cleaned your room, made it all nice and hid some of your stuffed animals. if you were to invite sam over, you couldn't look like even more innocent than you already did.

on that fateful friday afternoon, you kissed your parents and bid them farewell. the pair completely oblivious to what their perfect little girl would be up to. a somewhat devious smile played on your lips.

you had harboured some kind of school girl crush on sam, since the two of you grew distant. he was mysterious and quiet now, you wish you knew him. wish you never would have let him slip out of your hands.

maybe that can change, maybe you can sew up the tattered thread of a connection. you wanted to laugh at yourself, you're so worked up about sam fucking monroe. the boy that you used to play in the mud with, but then again you're not just little kids anymore. things were definitely complicated. maybe more than you realized.

you couldn't help but start to pace around your room a bit, what if he said no? what if he just refused to come over? maybe you should cook something enticing, give him a extra reason? you had the weed and rolling papers already, courtesy of josh. you hated talking to him, but he had what you needed.

you walked over to the home phone hanging on the wall, and then to the clock on the stove. 6:30 p.m. the green digits stared back at you. this was a once in a lifetime chance so you swallowed your anxiety and picked up the receiver.

you dialed sam’s mom’s number, having it memorized like it was your own mother's. there was always some part of sam in your head, always stuck with you like a lover slain.

you waited patiently for someone to answer the phone, your heart beating louder than your ears could stand. you were sure this was the dumbest you'd ever felt.

“hello, kimball residence, who am i speaking with?” robin kimball, sam's mother, sounded tired. the kind of exhaustion you onlly get when you hate your life.

“hi robin! it's y/n! i was wondering if you could, uh, get sam for me?” your voice was shaky, but you hoped that she wouldn't pay it too much mind. or that she didn't notice it all.

“oh y/n! it's so nice to speak with you, how have you been?” her voice perked up once she realized who you were. always having been like a second mom to you, during your friendship with sam, guess the whole family has a soft spot for you.

“oh, I'm okay! i was just thinking of sam, and wanted him to come hang out, maybe have a sleepover like we used to!” you tried not to sound so childish, but perhaps it was working in your favor. excitement bleed into your tone, maybe hope too.

robin sighed a little, a mix of sadness and apprehension, “i can try to get him on the phone, but I can't make any promises.”

that confused you. but considering how sam acted at school, you couldn't imagine he was any easier at home.

“what do you want?” his voice felt like venom and ice, but you tried to ignore it.

“i, uh, i have some, uh, i have some w-” your stuttering didn't get you very far, sam was a very impatient boy.

“would you just spit it out,” he sounded less mad, and more just irritated. you imagined he probably dragged a hand down his face.

“sorry, I'm sorry. i just have some weed and wanted u to come over. you don't have to, I don't wanna bother you. bye, sam.” you rambled this out as fast as you possibly could and hung up just as quick.

your nerves and his mean tone became just a little too much, you'd never heard him talk to you like that. you didn't know him anymore. that hurt your heart, much more than you would like to admit. it was a fact, had been for quite some time but something about witnessing it with your own ears. it was real now.

sam stomped up the stairs to his room, closing and locking the door with a slam. he ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the black and blue strands.

“who the fuck does she think she is?” his voice was mingled with various emotions, he couldn't figure them out nor did he really want to.

“doesn't talk to me for four fucking years and then one day just calls me up and asks to hangout?” he's trying to keep his voice to a low mumble. as to not bother his younger siblings, even if he couldn't really stand them.

“tells my mom she wants a sleepover?” he almost wanted to go over there just to give her a piece of his mind. he kicked a box on the floor, and it shot across the room against a wall. he heard peter stomping down the hallway to yell at him, and slipped out of his window. a common practice these days.

he was dressed in cargo pants, his boots and a sweatshirt with the rolling stones logo printed in black and white. he was cursing under his breath, as he made the walk.

he couldn't believe her audacity, but then why would she call him unless he was the only one she could call. that had to be bullshit, she had plenty of friends. ten times more than what sam had.

he kicked a rock and lit a cigarette as he continued down the street, he hated that he could still remember the fastest way to her house. her perfect little house, with a perfect little family.

it was only just then that her words settled, like rain through a fog. i just have some weed and wanted u to come over. you don't have to. why would she have weed, unless her perfect little life wasn't so. course, could have been a lie to get him here. could be a prank, but she was never one to be nasty like that. or at least he hoped she wouldn't steep so low.

he had about a million questions that are going through his head, but the one that stuck out the most, why me? why would she call me out of everyone? it's not like sam was the only stoner in their school, but she still wanted him to come over. it made him puff on the cigarette a little faster.

sam stopped in the middle of the street for a moment, staring at the moon and sun that were now able to be seen at the same time. there was some poetry in this but he didn't want to fucking hear it.

he tried to shake his head of all these thoughts as he walked up the stairs to her front door. at the very bottom, you can still see paint marks of her and his handprints from when they moved in. sam was the first friend she made, he remembers her telling him, they'd be friends forever. feels like a cruel joke now.

you sat on your bed looking anxiously at the baggie that stood out on your bedside table. the nightstand a white wood with a pink lamp, and covered in literature. the weed looked weird and out of place next to them.

the slam of the front door and stomps crawling up the stairs brought you out of thoughts, sam standing in your doorway. he leaned against the wood, just looking at you. he looked pissed, but you were unsure if that was just his neutral expression at this point.

“you called.” he barely uttered two words to you, but you couldn't help the growing smile that stretched your lips.

“i wasn't sure if you'd actually show up!” you wished you didn't sound so happy, it was weakness he was bound to attack. you hoped your best friend, sammy was still in there, somewhere.

“what can i say? free weed, can't let that kind of offer go.” he chuckled as he spoke, and it was almost like you knew him again. but you didn't, he was a stranger in your bedroom, while your parents were hours away at this point.

he almost wanted to break something, he had so many questions, so much to say but now that he was in front of her, he wanted nothing more than to push it all aside. this wasn't like this normally, usually anger was so easy to hold onto. this time, it was like he never had any to begin with.

he slowly wandered into the room, looking over everything you had displayed. you prayed he didn't open the closet and get assualted by plushies. the thought almost made you want to giggle.

he was stuck, stuck holding a picture in his hand. he hadn't seen the polaroid in four years. a cheesing sam stared back at him, so free and fun. your arms were tight around him, couldn't be older than six and you were smiling just as big.

as you came to stand next to him, you looked at the picture in his hand. you were being torn between crying and laughing. it's such a cute picture, one that you thought you'd show your kids one day. but those thoughts were one of a silly little girl who believed that sam would always be by your side. you felt stupid, mad and sad all at once.

“i remember this day,” sam's voice sounds faraway, like he is scared to talk at all. like the picture and you would disappear, and he'd wake up from another dream.

“it was the day our dad's built your pool, and we played all day long.” he finished, looking from the photo to you. it was the first time he's really looked at you. his blue eyes peering into yours, you felt naked under his stare.

“yeah, and we had ice cream and it got everywhere,” you chuckled sadly, this felt like a reunion with a lover rather than a friend. you looked away back to the picture in his hand, taking it you put it back on your mirror. as he watched your hands, he noticed it wasn't the only picture of the two of you. you kept every single one, always one to cherish every memory, even if it hurts more than it helps.

“why do you still have them?” his voice is barely above a whisper like he's scared to hear the answer.

“i always hoped you'd come back, that we'd go back to old times. feels kinda stupid to say out loud” you laughed, bringing your arms around yourself trying to bring yourself some comfort.

you're looking at all the pictures, too scared to see what expression is resting on sam's face now.

“well, I'm here, aren't I?” you finally turned to look at him, your eyebrows creased in worry or concern. you weren't sure. his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, it's awkward and comforting all the same.

“would you have ever came if I didn't call? if i didn't have weed?” your voice might break if it shakes anymore, your tongue sucks over your teeth in anxiety.

“wait, don't answer that. i don't want the answer. i don't think you miss me the way i miss you.” you interrupted him. the second half of your words came out mumbled as you walk away from him and sit on the bed. a tear slid down your face, and it makes a bitter laugh come out of you. you've never wanted someone so close and so fucking faraway from you. you wioed it away and hoped he didn't see it. weakness was not an option.

“you don't get to do this,” his voice is quiet, but you were sure that it wouldn't stay that way.

“you don't get to cry and put words in my mouth, you have no fucking idea how i feel.” he raised his voice a bit and you just rolled your eyes at him. he came to sit opposite to you on the bed.

“yeah, you're right. but you also never fucking talked to me. you were my best friend one day and then avoiding me the next. how the fuck do you think that's gonna make me feel? hell, how the fuck can you just do that to someone.” you were yelling too now, staring at him with so much anger. you weren't even really that mad, you were just hurt.

“that is not what fucking happened. you became friends with josh, that's what happened,” his eyes narrowed at you and you wanted, well you don't know what you want but this is definitely something that needed to happen. josh had been a bully in middle school, i guess much hasn't changed.

“excuse the fuck out of me? i did no such thing, i was friends with veronica. i was friends with her, and then you left. and i know, yes, i know that you fucked vee. you left me, and that wasn't enough.” you were seething at this point, barely able to remember why you even missed him in the first place. you got off the bed, not even being able to look at him.

“i did not fuck veronica. who told you that? let me guess, veronica?” your head whipped in his direction, you stopped in your tracks.

your cheeks warmed as you realized you may have been fed incorrect information, “you didn't? but she and josh both told me on seperate instances.” you felt stupid, you came to sit on the bed again. a sheepish look on your face.

“no, i didn't fuck veronica. are you stupid?” the anger in the room begin to fizzle out, and you smacked his shoulder, “don't say that, I'm not stupid.” you gave him a fake angry look and looked at your feet.

you'd been lied to for four years, four years where sam didn't have be alienated. four years where your best friend could be beside you.

“why’d you stop coming around, then? if it wasn't cause of that? ” the fear of rejection injected to your veins. your lip was tightly pulled between your teeth, an anxious habit. your eyes looked from him to your hands as you waited for him to answer.

“somebody told me you hated me and didn't want me around anymore.” his voice was distant like he couldn't believe his own words. “told me you were just friends with me out of pity.”

“now you're the stupid one.” you laughed dryly, trying to make light of the situation. you bumped your shoulder into his.

“hell, i might be. i doubt if you hated me you'd keep all those cheesy momentos.” he chuckled and you could have savored the feeling that went through your chest. he might be better than any high that weed could give you. if you didn't have a bit of love for him before, you definitely do now.

you felt like a tornado of emotions, you didn't know what was to happen now.

some time passed in silence, you both unsure of what was to happen next. years of pushed down feelings that no longer have a sense of direction.

anxiety creeped up your back, looking at sam he's just looking at you. a slight smile on his lips, it's a sight you could get used to.

“what?” you laughed a bit out of embarrassment.

“you’re just pretty.” his voice was soft and you kinda wanted to throw up. how could all this happen and he can just have the audacity to compliment you. you dropped eye contact but a similar smile could now been seen on your face.

“so, we're good now?” you spoke, eyes glued to the floor. you didn't think you could keep from kissing him, if he kept looking at you like that.

“we’re so good. you ready to smoke?” sam smiled some, and layed back on the bed. his arms falling above his head, he stared at the ceiling. life is just some game, and he's pretty sure he just won big. he felt somewhere between being on cloud nine and being the dumbest motherfucker he's ever met. he can't believe he believed josh about some stupid rumor, instead of just coming to you.

“so, actually the thing about that, i don't know how. i called you so you could teach me because i trust you.” warmth gathered on your cheeks again.

he leans up on one arm to look at you, and he smiles real big, teeth and all. his tongue crossing his lips as he laughs a bit. it was clear though, he wasn't laughing at you, just laughing at the situation. but still you must tease him, make up for lost time.

“sammy, don't laugh at me.” before you could stop yourself, the nicknames spilled out of your lips. a nickname sam hadn't heard in some time and it made his heart skip a beat.

“babe, it's not my fault, you make it so easy.” there he was again, undressing you with his eyes. whether it be intentional or not, you weren't sure. his cheeks glowed a little pink and you couldn't help but giggle. it's fair game at this point. you never knew sam as someone to use alot of pet names, is he trying to pick you up?

“yeah, well, you're blushing, dork.” it was a dumb retort, and on top of it all you stuck out your tongue at him. crossing your arms like the brat that you are. it seemed your question answered itself. you were somewhere between friends and lovers, and that scared the shit out of you.

“no I'm not.” he said incredulously, like it was something that was physically impossible. he quick to get off the bed, pushing at his cheeks in the mirror.

you're happy to skip up beside him, “yeah, you are, it's like you have a crush on me or something." you giggled. another thing that should have been left unsaid, spoken by you again. it was necessary, you had to know the truth. it felt like life or death, at this moment.

he stands up beside you, and it's only then that you notice he's got at least half a foot on you. it feels intimidating when he smirks at you.

“what if i do? maybe i like to make cute girls squirm,” his hands come to rest on your hips, and you were sure you were gonna faint, have a heart attack, or maybe die.

“sam, what are you doing.” it wasn't a question, cause you didn't want the answer.

“i'm touching you, is that okay?” you can't help but dumbly nod. he leaning towards you and you let him. his lips are soft against yours, and he pulls you closer. his smell and taste was intoxicating. you were sure if you were dead, this would be what heaven felt like.

your hands come to rest on his chest, letting him kiss you a bit longer before pushing him away.

“i-i think we should smoke, yeah, i think we should do that.” you weren't even sure what you were saying at this point. but you didn't want to just get him back and immediately jump into bed. you're not ready for that yet.

“whatever you want, doll.” he presses one soft, chaste kiss to your forehead and walks towards the weed and the rolling papers. you were almoat confused as you followed him back to the bed, who is this man? you wanted to kick your feet and acream into your pillow.

you watch as his skilled, ring-clad fingers pushed the weed into the white papers. you thought you might have a health issue when his tongue dipped over his lips to wet the paper. your reaction doesn't go unnoticed by him, so he just chuckles and finishes sealing the joint.

“now, what you're gonna do, and I'll demonstrate too. put the paper between your lips,” he explained everything in excruciating detail, and it made your legs clamp together a little. you needed more self control, maybe, but you weren't going to let all this get to you. not this fast, it wasn't fair.

setting the paper between his lips, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket, it was white all the plastic wrap has been picked off of it.

“when you hit it, take small puffs, breathe in and then exhale, like this okay?” he making eye contact with you as he does so.

he hands you the joint and you hope it helps you recollect yourself. you do exactly as he said and did, and somehow still end up coughing up a lung. irritated eyes making contact with his playful ocean ones.

“try again, it'll get easier, you're just a baby stoner.” he rubbed your back a little, and you tried again. this time it went down smoothly and you could feel something as soon as you exhaled. you hand him the joint and watch his expert smoking habits.

you never knew how hot someone smoking could be, but here he was. sam, your sam, looked like some bad boy in a teen cliche film. you never knew why girls would go for guys like this, but now you got it.

the two of you spent the rest of the night recalling stories, watching comfort films and laying in his arms. he held you tight, and smoked you out until you were nothing but a giggly, high mess. he got decently stoned himself and you feel asleep like that.

[tgmsunmontue]

850 word ficlet for the topgunalternativeuniverse Bingo which I realised I should start ticking off so I can hopefully achieve at least one Bingo... Also for @thyknife for doing their editing!

Hangster - for the squares Stripper and Handyman. Teen+

Not here for you. Maybe next time?

                Long denim-clad legs, tight white t-shirt, low-slung leather tool belt with actual authentic looking tools. He definitely looks the part, he can see muscles in all the right places and even if the stripper isn’t booked for him he’s definitely going to appreciate the show. Part of Bradley is impressed, except for the fact that the guy has the day and time completely wrong. Or maybe the guy has the wrong house.

                “Uh, hey man. I think you have the wrong house.”

                “Three-forty-one Riverview Terrace?”

                “Uh. Yeah. That’s us, but we didn’t…” order a stripper he wants to say, except they did, but not for tonight. “Did you get the date right?”

                Now the guy is looking confused.

                “Uh. Usually when people call me they want me over as quickly as possible.”

                “Really?” Bradley asks, because he didn’t realize that emergency strippers was a thing.

                “Yeah, really. I had someone named Natasha call me? And as pretty as you are, I don’t think you’re Natasha.”

                “Uh. I thought Callie booked the stripper.”

                “A stripper? I am not here to take my clothes off…” the guys says, but he does sweep his eyes down Bradley’s body like he’s mentally undressing him and Bradley is pretty sure he’s blushing. “Not this time, anyway.”

                Before Bradley has time to reply Natasha is behind him, pushing him to the side and Bradley just stands there, gaping a little because the very hot stripper just made a pass at him. Maybe.

                “Oh! Are you Jake?” Natasha asks, and Bradley realizes then that he’s probably made a severe error of judgement, and it is mortifying on several levels.

                “Yes ma’am.”

                “Great! Can you come through and take a look?”

                “Of course,” the guys says, shooting Bradley an amused look. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him. Knowing that isn’t going to happen he needs to go and hide; why the hell hadn’t Natasha warned him? Also what had needed someone else’s help with, usually he handles all the odd jobs around the house, he’s a carpenter, he knows how to fucking fix things. He loiters within ear shot to find out that the two-phase oven they have in the kitchen, which apparently has two fuses, has somehow tripped something else and okay, if it’s wires and electricity then he isn’t touching it. He can stop feeling bad about her calling in a professional for that at least.

                The guy is making small talk, and his ears prick up at hearing his name.

                “Oh no, Bradley can’t do wiring. He knows his own limitations at least.”

                “Good thing to have in a boyfriend, some guys are too egotistical to admit when they don’t know.”

                “Not my boyfriend, or anything else other than my best friend. And you’re as subtle as pink pantsuit at a white party”

                “Wasn’t trying to be subtle. And it’s all fixed by the way. You can get back to toasting your tater tots.”

                “That was fast.”

                “Well, I’m good at my job. You have anything else that needs looking at? You’ve got me for the minimum hour callout…”

                “I wouldn’t know, but Bradley will. One second.”

                Then she’s right there, eyes alight with mirth and laughing silently, because she obviously heard him before she interrupted and he could kill her.  He tries, with his eyes, right then and there, but it only makes her laugh more, and if it continues she’s going to start snorting, which is going to be another level of humiliation. Who needs enemies when you can have friends that laugh at your pain like this?

                “Anything you need help with?” Natasha asks, and Bradley shoves her. He’s annoyed, because there actually is something, and he steps past her, heads into the kitchen where Jake is waiting, and yeah, he still looks like a fucking stripper, but now that he’s looking properly he can see the multimeter, tester, wire strippers all hanging off the leather apron tool belt.

                “Hey man, uh, sorry about before. I’ve got a live switch to outside that needs to be made dead.”

                “Sure thing, lead the way.”

                Bradley leads him to outside to where the pump to the outdoor fountain is, the pump itself long gone, wires just loose and tucked back into the concrete plinth of the now defunct base. He gestures at it, can immediately appreciate that Jake is reviewing the scene, poking around a bit before he gets to work. He tests the wires and socket, then pops the switch cover off, then he’s unscrewing things and cutting things; jogging to his van, muttering about a torch and Bradley just watches. Then he’s slipping a sheath over wires and using a blowtorch to make it shrink to cover the wires.

                “So, interesting fact for you. I was a stripper when I was younger. Good money. Electricians generally have better working hours though.”

                “God, I’m sorry,” Bradley says. “I didn’t mean any disrespect…”

                “Well, that’s okay. If no disrespect was meant. Anyway. Here’s my card. If you’re ever looking for a private show… Call me.”

                “Okay, I will.”

[darylas]

Chapter 4 - Moonlight Serenade

John “Bucky” Egan x singer!fem!reader first ♫ previous ♫ next ♫ ao3

After the events of the last chapter, you are given an opportunity to speak to Bucky about what happened.

2.8k words

Warnings: Language, References to non-consensual drug use and attempted sexual assault

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

Buck Cleven sat in the front row in the briefing room, listening intently as Colonel Harding described the flight path for the day's mission. His best friend sat next to him, evidently not as focused as he’d normally be during a briefing. Buck looked down to see Bucky tapping his fingers on his leg in a quick, continuous rhythm. He knew it wasn’t the anticipation of the mission making his friend so restless. 

Returning his gaze to the front of the room, Buck whispered, “I don’t think she’ll thank you for worrying about her if it makes you miss half the briefing and fail the mission.” Bucky said nothing but stopped tapping his fingers. He adjusted his sheepskin jacket and ran a hand through his hair.

Bucky had told him what happened a few nights ago at the pub. How he’d known as soon as you stood up from the table that something was wrong. He’d gone to Millie Vance to ask about you and she’d immediately asked him to help her find you. She had asked him with playful annoyance in her voice but urgency in her eyes and a tight grip on his arm. He’d told Buck about finding you drugged six ways to Sunday and gripping Tom Foyle’s arm like it was the only thing keeping you upright. 

Buck thought that Foyle should count himself lucky he got away with only a broken nose. 

The only other thing Bucky had told him about that night was that Millie took you back to base and said you’d recover after a day. Buck had a growing suspicion that there was something Bucky was leaving out, but perhaps it was to respect your privacy. 

Outside, after the briefing, Bucky looked toward the Clubmobile. Millie was handing out coffee and doughnuts. “I’m hungry, you hungry?” said Bucky, making a beeline toward the Clubmobile without waiting for an answer. Buck followed, walking more slowly. By the time he caught up, Millie was leaning out the window talking to Bucky.

“...fine, just taking the morning off. She’ll be here tomorrow, but I doubt she’s singing tonight.” Bucky thanked her and turned to go without a doughnut or coffee. Millie said, “Wait, Bucky!” She turned to say something quietly to the girl serving coffee next to her and nodded toward the back of the vehicle. Bucky went back there, hands on his hips. Buck couldn’t hear what they were saying, but saw Millie place a gentle hand on Bucky’s arm while smiling sympathetically. Bucky nodded, taking his hands off his hips and putting them in his jacket pockets. 

Bucky rejoined his friend and they headed toward the jeeps. “Wanna tell me?” asked Buck. 

Bucky looked down as he answered, “She was just reminding me that anything she said that night meant nothing. That it was, uh, an effect of whatever that prick put in her drink.” Buck watched his friend’s face contort in rage for a moment before relaxing again. 

“Did she say something to you?”

His friend finally met his eyes. “Yeah. I guess she got confused. Or maybe the damn pill or whatever brought out her honesty. I don’t know.” 

“Maybe you oughtta talk to’er.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Bucky smiled bitterly. “Just gotta drop some bombs first.” 

═════ ♫ ═════

Bucky walked slowly toward the barracks, his feet crunching on the gravel. He could hear the distant cacophony of the maintenance crews working on the planes a ways away, and briefly thought about joining them. He had no idea how to fix a fort that had been torn apart by gunfire, but he knew if he went straight to bed, sleep would not find him. 

He squinted at his watch in the darkness. 0200. He’d gone with the boys to the pub after the mission, but couldn’t find it in himself to join in the fun. He’d sat there, distracted, gazing at the empty piano across the pub. Suddenly he’d had the urge to get out of that place and return to base. Now, Bucky felt aimless as he walked alone, thinking of you and hoping you were alright. Thinking about the men–boys–he’d lost today. It wasn’t what top brass would consider a devastating loss, but he couldn’t imagine the families of the fallen would feel the same way. These were lives; human lives. Gone in a second, if they were lucky. Did anyone care? Did anyone realize? He certainly hadn’t known the extent of it before experiencing it himself, and it was only getting worse. 

Perhaps he’d left the pub too early. He needed another drink.

Before these thoughts could drag him further into…whatever it was he was feeling, the faint sound of music quieted them and made him stop walking. He glanced upwards and noticed the warm light and music pouring out of the officer's club through one of the windows. It should have been closed by this time; someone must have been in there cleaning up. 

Somehow, Bucky knew. His legs carried him toward the music before the idea even materialized in his head.

═════ ♫ ═════

You gathered black and red pieces off the floor beneath the checkers table, humming along to the gramophone in the corner. As you stood up to place the pieces in their designated containers, the song ended, the gramophone filling the room with a crackling sound before beginning the next track: Moonlight Serenade. 

You approached the billiards table and began collecting the long wooden cues, singing softly as you worked.

I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight

I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night

The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade

You set the cues on racks attached to the wall, swaying your body to the music as you continued to sing.

The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming

My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?

I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade

You ran your hand across the soft green felt of the table before reaching into one of the leather pockets to retrieve a ball. You had just pulled out the white cue ball when a low voice came from the doorway.

“I didn’t know that song had lyrics.”

You jumped, startled, and dropped the ball. It fell to the floor before you could catch it, the sound of the impact resembling a shotgun blast.  

“Whoa! I’ve never been much of a billiards guy but I’m pretty sure those aren’t the kind of balls you throw. You alright?” Bucky asked, walking into the room.

You leaned down to pick up the ball, your nervous surprise at seeing him briefly replaced by exasperation. “I’m fine. You really do have a habit of sneaking up on me, don’t you?” You stood back up and looked at him. Just the sight of his face filled you with waves of guilt and embarrassment.

Bucky put his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. If only I could have that same luck with the Germans.”

“I’d like to think I wouldn’t have been startled if you’d approached me in a flying fortress,” you said, leaning against the billiards table.

Bucky snorted softly and nodded. “What are you doing here so late?” he asked. “And by yourself? Are you…feeling better?”

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“What can I say? I’m a curious guy.”

You collected another ball from the pocket you were leaning next to. “I’m feeling fine. I needed to get moving again. I try to request a cleaning shift whenever I can. I like the peace and quiet. I can just put on a record and, I don’t know…unwind, I suppose.”

“I think I can understand that,” Bucky responded, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. A new track began playing, Blue Orchids. He cleared his throat and asked, “Can I, uh, can we talk?” 

At the same time, you said, “I think we should talk.” You both chuckled awkwardly before you nodded. 

Bucky walked further into the room, stopping to lean against the ping-pong table across from you. You moved to turn off the music, but he quickly said, “Don’t. I mean, it’s nice.” He didn’t elaborate further; you returned to your spot across from him.

“I owe you an apology,” you blurted out. Bucky started to shake his head but you continued. “Yes, I do. Millie told me what happened. What you did for me and…how I responded. I guess I owe you a ‘thank you’ on top of my apology. I can’t believe I…I can’t believe he…” You turned your head to the side, feeling angry tears threatening to appear. You didn’t let them. 

Bucky waited a moment before speaking. You heard him take a deep breath through his nose. When you looked back at him, his body was tense, his face tight with what looked like anger. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize. Foyle is the one who needs to apologize for pulling what he did.” He scoffed before adding, “Then he can choke for all I care.” 

You weren’t convinced. What you’d said that night had to have hurt him. You had no memory of saying it, but you had. What you did remember from that night was Tom’s handsome smile, singing in the pub, and staring into the grey eyes that watched you now. “He must have put it in my drink when I was singing, or when I was—“ You looked at him then quickly looked down. “Distracted.” As your eyes lowered, you noticed his bruised knuckles. He followed your gaze and his lips thinned. “Does that hurt?” you asked, the guilt in your voice ruining your attempt at nonchalance.

Bucky shook his head and attempted a reassuring smile, but it came across as more bitter than you were sure he’d hoped. He lifted his hand between you, stretching and flexing his fingers a few times. “You should see the other guy.”

You watched his fingers curl and uncurl, momentarily transfixed. You blinked and looked up. “Part of me wishes I could see him. Might be a little satisfying; Millie said you broke his nose.”

“Yeah, well, asshole deserved it,” replied Bucky, quickly followed by, “Sorry.”

You made a dismissive gesture with your hand. “No need. He is an asshole.” Bucky snorted before you continued. “And…so am I.” His eyebrows shot up. “What I said to you—”

“Hey, forget it. Don’t you even think about putting yourself in the same category as that guy.” Bucky took a step closer to you. 

Your brow furrowed. “Of course, his actions were worse, but I said such awful things. I’m so mortified I can barely look at you. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “What you said…did you mean it?”

“No!” you replied without hesitation. “Especially not after what you did for me. I don’t remember what was going through my head but I do know that I don’t think those things under….normal circumstances.” 

He shrugged, arms still crossed. “Then you got nothin’ to be ‘mortified’ about.” You gave him a skeptical look. He mimicked your look, then eventually conceded with a sigh. “Okay, fine, yeah.” His arms seemed to tighten further around himself, and it nearly broke your heart. “It, uh, it did hurt. Millie told me you didn’t mean it but I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was the drink and how much was really in your head.” He gave that same humorless smirk. “Not like you’ve ever been my biggest fan. As a matter of fact, I know this has gotta be the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

You sighed, looking down at the cue ball next to you, rolling it back and forth with the tip of your finger. “I won’t insult you by pretending not to know what you mean. You’re right, I…” You bit your lip, trying to summon the courage to be honest with this man. This confusing, surprisingly sweet man who deserved the truth after what happened at the pub. You found it to be just as difficult as expected, and you were silent for several moments.

“Sorry, did saying I’m right give you a stroke or somethin’?”

You huffed a small laugh, your shoulders relaxing slightly. You looked up to see him grinning at you, and your traitorous heart skipped a beat. 

“Are you going to let me talk or would you like to make another joke?” you said with a smile. 

Instead of a cheeky retort like you were expecting, you saw Bucky look at you with what appeared to be both wonder and relief. He was dumbstruck, a soft smile gracing his pink lips. 

“What’s that look? Are you having a stroke, Major?”

His smile only grew wider. “Might as well be. That’s the first time you’ve ever smiled at me like that. Like you meant it. Gotta say, it was worth the wait.” You felt yourself blush, unsure of how to respond to that. The music continued softly from the corner of the room. Bucky chuckled with amusement and said, “Sorry, you were saying?”

What you were about to say would seem ridiculous to anyone who could tell how he now affected you. “Right. I…well, it’s true, I didn’t like you at first.” Your hand went back to the cue ball as you cleared your throat. “Or second. From what I saw and heard, you were arrogant, immature, and a womanizer. I honestly couldn’t believe they would put someone like that in such a respected position. It bothered me, and apparently, it affected the way I acted around you.” You shook your head. “I’m quite the professional, aren’t I?” you said sarcastically. 

Bucky smiled. “Trust me, you were very professional. A credit to the Red Cross if I’ve ever seen one. You were so damn professional that I just about lost my mind.” You both smiled again before he looked down and tugged at his sleeve. “So,” he said, elongating the vowel, “is that still how you feel? About me?”

“No, though I can’t help noticing you didn’t deny anything I said.”

“And I won’t. I am all those things.” He looked back up at you, his gaze nervous but resolute. “But that’s not all I am.” 

You stared back at him, a smile growing on your face. “No, I don’t believe it is.” It took about a second for you to make up your mind. You stood up straight and reached out your hand. “Can we put this behind us and begin again?”

Bucky looked at your hand and then stood up as well. He went to reach for it before suddenly lifting his hand into the air and quickly saying “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.”

You kept your hand where it was, wide-eyed. “What?”

He crossed his arms and tapped a finger against his lips, feigning thoughtfulness. Then he looked back at you, eyes twinkling. “I’m gonna need proof.”

You scoffed. “Proof?”

“Yeah, proof. That you don’t hate me anymore.” You narrowed your eyes and lowered your outstretched hand to rest on your hip. He tapped his lips once again. “Let’s see…tell me something no one on base knows about you.” 

“I’m sorry, have I been transported back in time to grade school?” 

“Nope, lucky you. C’mon, anything! Something easy!” This time he actually appeared thoughtful. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “What was your favorite book as a kid?” 

You smiled at him in disbelief. “Of all the…it was Peter Pan.” 

Bucky grinned from ear to ear. “No kiddin’! And now look at ya, surrounded by flyboys.” 

Many boys who, like Peter Pan, never get the chance to grow up. You kept this thought to yourself. Instead you said, “Well, I tried working on a pirate ship, but I couldn’t pull off the look. I decided an airforce base was the better choice.” 

Bucky’s grin somehow grew wider. “That’s real funny. Alright, I’d say that’s proof enough.” He lifted his hand once again; you took it in yours and shook it twice, smirking back at him. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize you still had his hand grasped in yours, and you quickly let go. 

Bucky’s smile had grown soft again. “Want some help?” he asked, gesturing to the chairs still needing stacking.

“No, that’s alright. Thank you. You should go before anyone catches you in here.”

Bucky nodded and headed toward the door. “Right, right. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t professional,” he said teasingly before turning around and giving you a salute. “Goodnight, madam!” He resumed his path toward the exit. 

Just before he was out the door, you said to his back, “Goodnight, John.” 

You could have sworn you heard a whoop of joy come from outside the club after he left.

[corrodedbisexual]

The original plushie

Steddie | G | ~4.1k | AO3 link

This fanart of Eddie sleeping with a bunch of stuffed toys by @baleful-blurbs infected my brain and refused to leave until this ridiculous fluffy thing got written 😭 Please make sure to reblog those wonderful sketches to support the artist who inspired the plushie silliness♥️

Featuring: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, seriously beware of cavities, Light Angst, Plushies, Childhood Memories, POV Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Requited Love, Cuddling, Getting Together, Boys In Love

The mortifying ordeal of Eddie's crush discovering his secret plushie cuddle nest turns out to be not so mortifying after all. Steve even starts borrowing said plushies to take back home with him; some time later, Eddie finds out why.

Snippet under the cut

“Who’s this?” Steve asks, grinning as he pokes at the teddy’s ridiculous smiley face. 

“Oh. That’s… that’s Mr. Boogers.” Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. “Please don’t ask.”

Still grinning, Steve turns to him. “Well, now you know I gotta.” 

Eddie groans, rubbing a hand across his flustered face, and figures he might as well tell the story now that he’s dug his own grave. “He was, uh… kinda defective from the start, there were some stitches loose around his nose and there was stuffing coming out of it, like… well…”

Steve giggles. “Boogers. Gotcha.” 

“Yeah. Wayne grumbled about it and wanted to ask for a different one, but I was already in love with this one and clung to him and refused to trade. Cos like, you know how plushies of the same type are supposed to be identical but they’re really not ? And one of them has that perfect face and the others just seem off?” 

Eddie blushes, thinking now would be the moment he finally gets ridiculed for being twenty years old and having strong opinions on plushie faces of all things, but Steve just smiles and nods.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I once spilled some gouache on a Mickey Mouse I owned and instead of washing him, mom just bought me a new one of the same series.” Steve sighs. “It was obvious 'cos his eyes were a little closer together and his smile wasn’t crooked to the left. I knew he wasn’t the same Mickey.” 

Again, Eddie’s heart aches for little Steve, like pretty much any time the boy reveals stories from his childhood in a tone too lighthearted for the words spoken, in Eddie’s opinion. Rich people really don’t value anything, huh. (With Steve being the obvious exception.)

“Yeah, see? You get it!” Eddie exclaims, pointing at Steve and putting more excitement into the words than he feels. Mostly, he just feels relieved and pleasantly surprised at how unexpectedly he and Steve managed to bond over their shared fondness for their childhood toys. “So anyway, Wayne relented and we took this funny guy home, my uncle patched him up, but the nickname stuck. Mr. Boogers. Boogie for short.”

Steve laughs again, but there’s nothing malicious about it as he looks back to the teddy in his lap and flicks his ear.

“Nice to meet you, Boogie,” he says with an affectionate smile that makes Eddie want to burrow his face into the mattress and giggle like an idiot. 

And maybe scream a little, because what the fuck. It should be illegal for your crush to talk cute to your goddamn childhood plushies.  

Whole fic on AO3

[chloegirlgay]

Cold Sloan Creamery

A charming cutie steals your attention at your boring coffee-shop job. Turns out they've got a food service gig as well - a much sweeter one. Modern AU.

Another experiment I did with first-person stuff. Sex is alluded to but not present. Word count: 2253. Enjoy!

Five A.M. Entirely too early to be doing anything, let alone having to drag myself into work for another day; yet here I was, miserably reading the back of a shampoo bottle in the shower. Mornings like this, I would idly wonder if it was worth quitting my job. Technically, I could probably survive college without it if I took out more loans. There were benefits to working at a coffee shop as well. I just had to push through it.

I turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Working on campus was pleasant at least, even on the weekends it felt like I was part of a community. I had a few regulars I knew and enjoyed talking to. I was hyping myself up as I dried myself off, hoping to make the day a little less miserable. It worked slightly, as I was at least able to muster up the energy to get ready and make it there.

The lights were already on, and I mumbled “good morning”s to my coworkers as I kept preparing myself mentally for the day ahead. I made myself a small coffee - one of the perks of the job was a free drink per shift, and I needed it now - and drank it entirely too quickly for something that hot. With that, I was finally ready to start the drudgery of commerce. It was Saturday, so there was no rush of people coming to class, but there were still a few customers. Just get into the groove, it’ll be fine. I thought to myself.

I was able to dissociate and lose myself in filling orders and making drinks, and by the time I looked at the clock again I had made it to eleven. Not too bad so far, just a few hours to go. The next customer came up, looking a bit frazzled, and I couldn’t help but notice how cute they were. Cute brown hair, an eyebrow piercing, a dazzling smile - they had it all. And they would have their caramel latte with extra whipped cream they ordered in that beautiful high-energy voice.

They took their drink and sat themselves on one of our tables, pulling out a laptop festooned with stickers. A few pride stickers, including a nonbinary flag in a cute heart, as well as a litany of representations of historic places. A column from the Parthenon, a pyramid from Giza… this was clearly someone who was well versed in the wonders of the world. Exploring sounded nice right about now, trapped in work. At least it was lunchtime. Maybe I should talk to them? No, that was weird. I took another small coffee - one small coffee plus another still added up to one free drink, right? - and sat down at a table near enough to the mysterious cutie without being so close that I’d be anxious. It didn’t work. I was still anxious, hearing them tap-tap-tap away at their keyboard. I hadn’t had an infatuation this powerful or instant in a long time, and it had me sweating.

“Howdy!” They’d directed their attention to me. I was careful not to get my hopes up, but there was an outside shot that this was my chance. “That latte was really good. You seemed kinda down so I figured I’d uh, swing by?” They had taken their laptop over to my table, and were smiling that adorable chipped smile at me again. 

“Oh, thank you.” I said. Don’t fumble now, I thought to myself. “I was just thinking about an assignment I have due next week.”

They nodded. “Ugh, I feel that. I was actually working on a paper about the classical structures of Rome, which I love, but the writing still gets to me.”

“That sounds unique. What degree is that for?”

Their eyes lit up and they started to ramble a bit. “Archaeology! It’s been one of my favorite topics… well, my whole life! It’s been so fun to study. Still not into the writing though.” They sighed. “I wish I could get out of the classroom and out into the field, but digsites won’t take you without the degree. Lame.”

“Where are you hoping to get to work at once you get the degree?”

They paused for a moment in thought, then continued with their mile-a-minute responses. “I mean my favorite place in the whole world is Cairo, and I’d love to get to find an undiscovered part of the Pyramids, but I worry that staying in one place will mean I miss out on all the other places I could explore! I guess my answer is that I want to travel a lot? It would certainly be better than now, where the farthest I travel is from my dorm to the gym.”

Their figure did look as if they were into working out - not too much, but they certainly looked like an arm wrestling contest with them would not be particularly close. Hot. Averting my eyes, I checked my watch. Three minutes left on my lunch break. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to work. It was really nice talking to you…” I realized I hadn’t got their name.

They realized too. “I’m Sloan! Nice to meet you too! Hopefully I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah! Best of luck on your paper. When in Rome and all that.”

They stuck their tongue out playfully as they packed up their laptop, and left with a wave. I spent the rest of my shift hoping I’d see them again soon. That said, I think I was the only one who was going to drink two coffees in one day, so I guess it’d have to wait…

---

Two P.M. I was finally free from my job for the day. Most of the time, I only worked weekends, so in a way I was already halfway through the week. Despite this, I was still willing to spend a bit to get myself a little treat. A new ice cream shop had opened near campus, and it did sound relaxing to get a cone and relax in the courtyard in the summer sun. 

A small bell rang on the door as I entered, and I heard a surprisingly familiar voice greet me. “Welcome to Lindholm’s Ice Cream, where sweet treats are always…” They trailed off. “It’s you! Hello!” Sloan was there, on the job, dressed in a cute but admittedly somewhat tacky red and white striped outfit adorned with a hat and bowtie.

“You work here? I promise this is a coincidence.” I said sheepishly.

“Aw shucks, I mean you’re allowed to come visit just for me.” They said with a grin. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, um…” My order was suddenly gone from my mind, lost in their eyes. “Whatever you recommend? Dealer’s choice.”

“Not something I hear often, but I can dig that.” They said, getting a scoop out and taking a hunk of pink dessert. “This one’s a simple combination I like. Strawberry and vanilla.”

“That sounds good. Thanks!” As they took the second scoop and placed it into a cone, I took the treat. “Is it alright if I hang out here? I’m not sure how busy you guys get.”

“Of course you can! As for business…” They put their hands on their cheeks in exaggerated disappointment. “You’re the first customer we’ve had today. I don’t know if the owner doesn’t do any advertising or what, but it gets pretty boring.” They perked back up a bit. “I still get paid the same either way, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“So how long have you worked here?” I asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream. The strawberry flavor was really refreshing after today.

“Like a month. It’s honestly not that bad. Nobody comes in, so I’m not bothered. Plus, they let me mess around with my own uniform for, uh, gender reasons. Let me wear this snazzy bowtie.” They stepped out from behind the counter with their own ice cream and sat down across from me.

“This is good! My compliments to the scooper.”

“‘Course! My taste is always good.”

---

The next few weeks, stopping by the ice cream shop on days when Sloan was working became something of a ritual. It was always nice to give them some company, chat about what was going on in our respective classes, and just… soak in their energy. Their bright smile, their cheery laugh, even down to their regularly changing nail polish, they just exuded positivity and light. Soon, they started coming to get more coffee more regularly, and we spent my breaks there talking as well. It turned my feelings on work around to know I’d get to see Sloan around midway through the day.

It was about a month before during one of our conversations over ice cream that I noticed Sloan was acting kind of strangely. Their eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine, their hands trembled a bit as they served out our desserts, and they nervously tapped their fingers on their side. They sat down across from me, eyes staring straight at their ice cream. There was no one else in the store, as usual - I’d seen maybe two other customers in the last month. 

“You okay, Sloan?”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Their downward gaze still didn’t change. They muttered under their breath. “¡Demonios!”

“If something’s bothering you, I’m happy to listen. Professor being a jerk again? Argument with someone?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” They breathed in deeply. “Could you come with me to the back for a second?”

“I know I come in here a lot, but I don’t actually work here.” I said with a laugh.

“It’s fine, nobody else will come in anyway.” They grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the storeroom in the back.

“Did you need me to like, do inventory?” I said, befuddled.

“Will you go out with me?” They said, finally meeting my gaze. “I know this is sudden, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

I stood stunned for a moment, overwhelmed by what had just happened.

“This was a bad idea. I knew it. I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause trouble-”

“Of course, Sloan!” I interrupted. “I’d love to, I just - I’ve thought about this for so long, ever since we first met. I was just afraid to ask too.”

Sloan smiled, a big grin showing off their chipped tooth, and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” They mumbled into my shoulder. It was so comforting, their frame wrapped around me, the warmth of their body making the momentary anxiety fade away, their eyebrow piercing shining in the light, their goofy paper hat sliding off as they leaned into me.

“Do we need to go back out front? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Nobody’s going to show up, and I want to go further. I need you.” They cupped my face in their hands.

“Okay. Take the lead then.”

Sloan took a moment to summon their usual optimism and courage, freeing themselves from their earlier fear; then, they pulled my face in for a kiss. Their lips gave in to mine with ease, and I melted into their embrace. I could taste a hint of sweetness on them. They reached an arm around me and gently lifted me, letting me fall deeper in. This was bliss. My tongue met theirs and my mind started to go blank. The rest of the world seemed to fade out; I was focused on them exclusively.

After an amount of time - I couldn’t tell how much - we pulled apart a bit, still in an embrace but not quite as close. “Still doing good?” Sloan panted out.

“So good.” I said. “If you want to go farther I’m willing.”

Sloan thought for a second, then shook their head. “Not here. That’ll have to wait for after my shift. I don’t want to get THAT much in trouble with my boss.”

I laughed, managing to get to my feet. They did as well, and I helped them smooth out their uniform to try to hide the evidence of our little escapade. Their hair was well mussed from my hands grasping through it, so I attempted to fix it. With a few brushes of my hand in a more orderly fashion, it almost worked. 

Sloan took out their phone to look at themselves. They laughed too. “Sloan Cameron, back in action, baby!” They mimed finger guns at me.

Clutching my heart in faux pain, I blew them a kiss and headed back out to the front. Just as they predicted, the ice cream shop was barren. “Looks like your job’s safe, Sloan.”

“Of course! You didn’t doubt me, did you?” They said. 

As the flood of emotions faded from me, I suddenly started to notice one thing that I can’t believe I hadn’t up until now. I was freezing. “How cold is it back there?” I said, starting to shiver.

“It’s an ice cream freezer! I’m just used to it.” They said with a smirk. “I’ve got an idea, though…” They threw their jacket at me. “Just bring it back to me later! I just keep it here just in case, I’m not using it much anyway. It’s hot out.” Grabbing a scrap of paper, they quickly scrawled in messy handwriting a note and handed it to me. It was their dorm room, their phone number, and a heart. “See you soon!”

[lily-fics-11]

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 7 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here

Tag list: @avocifera, @academiareid, @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12

(feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

Sorry this took so long, I just graduated college, was briefly dating a new girl that I hung out with like 5 times in one week, and this chapter is longer than usual. Def not my best work either, but I hope you guys still like it!

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 7

You have some intimate moments with Hazel when you do her makeup, and even go on your first date. 

Word count: 5.3k

CW: Profanities, a little suggestive kind of? Changing clothes in front of each other and sitting on her lap to do her makeup, mentions of counting calories (nothing compared to negative body talk in the movie), not beta read 

A few days after your movie night you start teasing Hazel on the car ride home. “You still haven’t given me one of your sweatshirts like you said you would.”

“Shit, you’re right. You can come over whenever and pick one out.”

“I can pick it out?” You question with curiosity. 

“I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted if I could.” She murmurs. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear and clear your throat. “Well I will keep that in mind, but for now I think I’m okay with getting to steal one of your sweatshirts.”

You pause for a moment and it’s silent.

“Wait, remember you said we would dress eachother up in our clothes? We should do that, tomorrow.”

Hazel peers over, looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll come over to your house before school tomorrow so we can get each other ready.”

“Come over at 6:30.”

“6:30?” She groans, “You seriously take that long to get ready in the morning?”

You jokingly roll your eyes. “I’m going to need extra time if I’m going to do my makeup and yours.”

“You can’t wear makeup if you are trying to fully embody Hazel Callahan.”

You gasp dramatically, purely to be dramatic. “How could you do that to me Haze? I don’t want to look like a zombie!”

Hazel punches your arm softly. “Are you saying that I look like a zombie, because I don’t wear makeup?”

“God no, the way you look, it’s literally perfect. I, on the other hand, need it to look like a normal human being.” You bite your lip when you realize what you said. 

“Would you please shut up? If I’m perfect, that makes you extraordinarily flawless. There’s not a single girl at our school that could even try to compare to you. I can’t even think of any girl on this planet that is more beautiful than you are. I just wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you.” She takes a shaky breath, looking straight ahead. 

“I, uh, thank you.” It’s like all the thoughts in your head have been picked up and thrown around by a tornado. 

Hazel clears her throat. “I’ll still come over at 6:30, that way we can spend some extra time together.”

“You are going to wake up that early just to hang out with me?”

“I’ve already lost so much sleep thinking about… well I haven’t been sleeping well anyways. Might as well make the most of that extra time.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning Hazel arrives at your house with your go to coffee order and favorite doughnut from Dunkin’.

“Hazel, you didn’t have to do that.” You could almost cry because she remembered this little detail and went out of her way to do something special for you. 

“I wanted to,” she assures you. 

“You treat me so well,” you murmur, gazing longingly at the girl you are in love with. 

Hazel puts her hands on your shoulders and her blue eyes bear into your soul. “You deserve the best, never settle for anything less than princess treatment.”

Your lip quivers when you whisper, “I hope I don’t have to.”

Hazel pulls away and crosses her arms without breaking eye contact. “I would never treat you… I mean I would never let anyone treat you badly ever again. As long as I’m around no one is going to hurt you.”

Having maintained a cautious mindset for so long, your brain refuses to process what she has said. Responding is completely off the table. “Well I guess we better get started, yeah? Put on whatever music you want. My phone is already connected to the speaker. My passcode is 3900.”

Hazel picks up your phone and scrolls through your music. “You got a text from Isabel, in a group chat with her and Brittany, do you want me to check it for you?”

You are about to say yes, but remember that you were telling them about how excited you were to get to wear Hazel’s clothes today. How it almost makes you feel like you are her girlfriend.

“No!” You shout at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to..” she stutters, her voice sounding weak and wounded. 

“No no no, that’s not it at all.” You explain more tenderly. “It’s just that- Isabel has been talking about something personal. Just want to respect her privacy.”

Hazel lets out a long breath that she must have been holding in. “Of course.”

She selects a playlist and locks your phone, placing it face down on the. 

“Which one do you want to wear?” You ask her, gesturing to the 3 different ensembles laid out on your bed. Hazel looks over the options and goes for the outfit you assumed that she would. It was the least girly of the 3, and the closest to something she would normally wear. A simple white tank top and some casual khaki shorts. Though the shorts are much shorter than anything she owns, and the tank top is rather tight, the outfit is overall within her comfort zone. You knew she would wear whatever you chose for her without complaint, but you wanted to make sure she was comfortable, while still making it clear that she isn’t in her normal clothes. That she is wearing your clothes, that she is yours. 

Hazel pulls a few articles of clothing out of her backpack. “I didn’t think to bring you options, I hope that’s ok.”

You giggle, “I trust you Haze.”

You turn away and start to pull off your pajama shorts, fully aware of what you are doing. 

Hazel coughs in a way that sounds like she is choking. “Do you want me to leave while you change?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. We used to change in front of each other all the time. If you want to leave though you can.”

“You’re right, I’ll just change here.” Her voice trembles.

You continue to change, but you hear nothing, which means that Hazel has not moved to start changing. Most likely because she was watching you change, just as you had intended. You allow your long t-shirt to cover up just enough while changing the clothes on your bottom half.

When you pull off your top, exposing your bare back, you hear Hazel start to shuffle around and pick up the clothes off your bed. However, you can feel her eyes on you and the thick tension in the air.

When you finish changing and turn around Hazel is already in her clothes and her eyes are glued to you. 

“Haze, you look great!” You smirk at her. She looks down at the clothes she is wearing and laughs. “Yeah I do look good. But not as good as you do.”

You glance at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. A white short sleeve button down under a tan argyle cardigan, paired with some loose fitting jeans. You two wear the same size clothes, but everything Hazel wears is oversized. Your clothes are mostly tight, and you know she is only wearing them because they are yours. “I do not look good, I look like somebody’s grandpa.”

Hazel pretends to be insulted. “Do I look like a grandpa to you?”

“You look good in this stuff, it just works. But me, not so much.”

“You would look good in a paper bag,” she casually throws out and then you watch her wince at what she just said. 

“You need to get your eyes checked.” You giggle, “sit down so I can do your makeup.” You gesture to your desk chair, and Hazel makes herself comfortable while you pick items out of the drawers and off the shelves. 

You stand slightly bent over, hovering above her when you promise her “I am not going to go crazy.” 

The first step is sculpting out Hazel’s dark eyebrows. They are already nice on their own so it wasn’t too difficult.

“For your face I’m going to use blush and highlight, is that ok?” You hum switching out the products in your hands. 

Hazel’s head turns to the side and concentrates for a moment. “I have no idea what that means.”

You smile as you cup her chin in your hand and she stares back in wonder. “The pink stuff and the shiny stuff. I’ll make it look as natural as possible.”

“I trust your judgment,” she mumbles, lost in your eyes. 

The brush delicately adds a sweep of color to her already perfect face. She looks unbearably adorable after dabbing a hint of pink on her nose. When switching out the blush in your hand for highlight you notice a twinge of pain in your lower back from hunching over. You stand straight up and place a hand where you feel the pain as you flex and stretch.

Hazel’s delectable lips curve into a frown. “Are you ok?”

“Bending over, it's just a little uncomfortable. I would move the chair and sit on my bed but i don't want to accidentally get something on my blanket.”

“Sitting down would be better?” Hazel inquires, looking around the room for a solution. 

“Yeah but it's probably easier to just stay over here.”

“You could just sit on my lap, right? Would that help?” She bites her lip, eyes wide and expectant. 

Help. Most definitely. In more ways than she knows.

You nod casually, trying to hide your excitement and play it cool. “That would actually help a lot, are you sure you don't mind?”

The way she looks you up and down hungrily makes you want to check your pulse because it can’t be at a safe level. “Mind? Of course not. It's ideal actually. I prefer to keep you as close as I can.” You nearly pass out when she says that. Scratch that, you nearly drop dead and ascend into another plane of existence. This isn’t a side of Hazel you are used to but damn, you are loving it.

You sit down on Hazel's lap facing her with one leg on each side of her and the chair. You shift a little to balance yourself properly  and she puts her hands on your waist to help steady you. “Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” she chuckles. 

You bite your lip as your head spins and Hazel just smiles patiently until you tell her “I’m going to to do eyeliner now.” She nods her head along to the music.

You catch her chin in your hand to stop her from moving her head. Hazel’s eyes go soft and flicker between your eyes and lips. Or are you just imagining it?

“Close your eyes,” you tell her and she does. You needed her to do so in order to apply the eyeliner, but not having her beautiful blue eyes looking at you temporarily minimizes the urge to kiss her. 

“I’m just going to do a tiny little wing. I don’t want to bother with your waterline, it’ll be uncomfortable since you’re not used to it. Your eyes don’t really need any help standing out anyways.” Before switching from one eye to the other you stop to admire her divine features. As if she knows that you are watching her, and is trying to make you squirm, she licks her alluring lips. You feel like she’s inviting you into them but that’s not a signal you can risk misreading. You are so shocked that you drop the eyeliner on the floor. Hazel’s eyes open when she hears it hit the ground. You go to reach for it, but Hazel stops you. “I got it.”

She wraps one arm around you while her other reaches to the ground. She passes you the eyeliner and you mumble a thank you. Hazel then wraps her other arm around you and holds you tight around your waist. She closes her eyes again and you draw on the other wing. 

In preparation for her opening her eyes again, you take a deep breath before instructing her to do so. Hazel’s eyes flutter and they are looking right in yours, as if she knew where they were, through the power of your connection. You tell her to look up, so you can apply mascara, but she doesn’t do it right away. Her gaze lingers on your face, like she is studying your features before she has to look away. 

“I know that staying still isn’t usually your thing but I’m going to need you to for about a minute, is that ok?”

She looks over your face one last time before saying, “anything for you.” Then she looks up. 

“I’m going to be super careful. I promise I won’t poke your eye out.”

She runs her hand up and down your back before holding you tighter. “I know, I trust you more than anyone else.”

You carefully apply the mascara, leaving Hazel's dreamy eyes unscathed and well defined. 

“Do you have a lipstick color preference?” You ask, looking over at the vast collection. 

She looks over at the array of colors and she points at one. “That one that you had on that day, with the coffee cup.” Did she remember the color from looking at your lips or her own?

You are extremely familiar with the shape of Hazel’s lips, you spend enough time looking at them, though you wish to become acquainted with them in other ways. You effortlessly trace their shape with lip liner and then swipe the lipstick over top. The addition of color only draws attention to her lips and you hope that they don’t catch anyone else’s eyes. 

Wishing you could ignore it, every queer girl in school notices Hazel in the tight, low cut, tank top. PJ eyes Hazel like a predator stares down its prey. Fortunately, you get the chance to pick first at that afternoon’s meeting. 

“I think I’m finally ready for a rematch, princess,” you coo at PJ. And that was true, this wasn’t an impulsive decision driven by jealousy, though you aren’t above that. It’s been a long time coming. 

However, your rage has you quickly taking the offense. PJ dodges your first punch but your second one hits her square in the jaw and sends her stumbling backwards. Her eyes squint and her lip curls as she regains her balance. You just smile at her and it makes her even more angry. 

PJ charges at you and is met with much more force than she was expecting. Your hands are on each other's shoulders, trying to push down your opponent. You head butt her instead of continuing the power struggle. It hurts, but it’s obvious that it hurt PJ more when she looks dizzy, holding her hand to her head and says “fuck!”

You don’t show her any mercy, she’s pushed to the hard gym floor before she knows what hit her. PJ sits up on her hands like she is about to continue, but she just shakes her head in defeat. You have to bite back a smile as you pull her to her feet and she sneers at you. 

PJ spends the rest of the meeting glaring in your direction and in all honesty, it makes you feel great. 

At the end of the meeting Josie announced that tomorrow is going to be a bonding day. 

“You looked so pissed at PJ today,” Hazel laughs on the car ride home. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear. “I might have been.”

“Did she do something?” She sounds protective and ready to fight. 

Yes. “No. It’s just that she… she’s just PJ.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Hazel laughs, sounding relieved. 

“How do you feel about having a bonding day tomorrow?” You wonder out loud, the question for the both of you. 

“It was actually my idea,” she announces confidently. 

“Josie made it sound like it was her idea. Her and PJ are starting to get popular, well less unpopular, and it’s really starting to go to their heads. Like I get it, they are the ugly, untalented, gays, and never got any positive attention before now, but they need to get their egos in check.”

“I hadn’t really noticed it until you pointed it out,” Hazel mumbles. 

“They also don’t appreciate you enough,” you spat, disgusted by the thought of someone mistreating Hazel. 

“Maybe,” she whispers. 

“You deserve better, Hazel, the best.” The reminder is stern. “You should stay away from people like them. Stay close to the ones who treat you like the special person you are.”

“Well you do,” her puppy dog eyes are looking at you like you make the world turn. 

“Of course!” You put your hand on her thigh. “No one is more important to me than you are.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel like she’s the only one in the world,” Hazel laughs shyly. 

“That’s because you are.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

The members of the fight club sit in a circle. You are sitting next to Hazel, and when she isn’t looking Brittany gestures for you to get closer to her.

You slide closer to Hazel and when she notices she moves her knee so that it's touching yours. She smiles at you and you return it, but you know you must be blushing hard. 

The discussion starts off a bit awkward, but it’s not too long before everyone gets comfortable and begins sharing. After Brittany vents, Hazel starts to share. She talks about what she has been going through with her mom and you are surprised, why hasn’t she talked about this with you? As sad as you are to hear about it, she is so cute when she talks about how happy she is to have made a bunch of new friends. Then PJ, being the dick she always is, cuts Hazel off. You keep your anger contained but you will not be forgetting about this. You put your hand on Hazel's leg to show her that you are listening and that you care about what she has to say. 

The meeting gets cut pretty short after an interesting story from Josie about juvie, that for some reason sounded vaguely familiar. You, along with several other girls, didn’t even get to share. 

When you go over to your backpack you pull out your water bottle to take a drink. You notice that PJ’s bag is right next to yours. So you ‘accidentally’ dropped the bottle, spilling out the full contents on PJ’s bag. You quickly grab your own bag and go to find Hazel. By the time you are standing next to her you hear PJ yell “What the hell! My fucking bag is all fucking wet!”

Everybody turns to look and Hazel notices the shit eating grin on your face. “Did you…” she questions and you just laugh. She starts to laugh too, but covers her mouth with her hand so that it isn’t obvious. You can still see it in her eyes though and it’s adorable. 

“We should probably get out of here, right?” You ask her and she just grabs your arm to pull you away, the two of you stifling laughter. 

As you walk towards your car in the parking lot you hear Isabel yell “Hazel! I have something for you!”

She tries to run after you and Hazel, but she ends up shuffling with little steps because of her high heels.

Isabel hands something small to Hazel and it’s a… Chili’s gift card?

“You mentioned craving chips and salsa the other day and I figured I would get-give this to you. Someone, um, gave it to me, but ya know, I’m watching my calories,” Isabel explains.

There is no way that anyone who has ever met Isabel would give her a gift card to a restaurant that didn’t have at least 1 Michelin star. And watching her calories? Yeah her mother was constantly pestering her about it, but she literally just had ice cream the other day. 

Hazel is so endearingly gullible that she buys it all.“Thanks Isabel, that’s so nice of you.”

Isabel can hardly contain herself. “You two should go together, wouldn’t that be like, so fun?”

“That’s a great idea. I think it would be a very fun d-“ Hazel pauses for a moment, “a lot of fun.”

After thanking Isabel again, you and Hazel get into the car. She starts fidgeting with her rings. “Would you maybe want to go out to eat tonight? I know it’s Friday so you might have plans or something but if you’re free…”

Isabel had said she had something fun planned for tonight, but you know now that she must have been referring to this.

“I would love to.”

“How does 7 sound? I can drive.”

You nod with a shy smile, though bubbling with excitement. 

You don’t want to assume anything, but this might actually be a date, so you are treating it like one. Preparing the way you would for any other date, you get started early to make sure everything looks perfect. You lay out a go to date outfit, one that you know you look hot in, and you do your hair and makeup the same way you always do, it looks good but also like you didn’t put too much effort into it. 

You are buzzing with excitement when you walk outside to meet Hazel. She’s already sitting in her car. Her expression makes it look like she feels absolutely defeated, but it melts away into a dreamy daze as soon as she lays eyes on you. 

Hazel puts on a playlist that she says she made just for the two of you, and it makes your heart flutter. 

As Hazel drives you notice her glancing over at you every chance she gets. It makes you wonder if something is wrong with your hair and makeup.

“What?” You ask her nervously.

Hazel raises one eyebrow and tilts her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Did I forget to brush part of my hair or something?” You anxiously bite your lip.

“No!” she yells and it makes you jump a little.

“Not at all!” She says in a softer tone, trying to recover. “You just… you just look, like, amazing.”

You play with your hair to distract from the warm blush you feel creeping across your face. “Awe, thanks Haze. I just wanted to look nice I guess.”

“It’s just Chilli’s.” God, this girl is so oblivious. 

“I know, it’s just that…” you huff and decide maybe you shouldn’t say anything. “Never mind.”

“Cmon, just tell me,” Hazel groans dramatically to make you laugh. Then she pokes your arm. “You can tell me anything.”

“I just wasn’t sure if this was like, I don’t know, this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, a date?” You cover your face with your hands because you are so embarrassed. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Hazel’s comforting voice reassures you.”I was scared to call it a date, but I really really want it to be a date.” You uncover your face as your jaw drops all the way to the floor. The anticipation is killing you until she finally says “so if you want this to be… it’s definitely a date.”

“For real?” You are practically bouncing up and down in your seat. 

“Yeah of course babe,” she smiles looking over at you, putting her hand on your leg. It makes you so happy that you aren’t even concerned about how that might make her bad driving even worse. 

You put your hand on top of hers for a reality check, to know that this is actually happening, and not a dream. “I can’t believe this is really a date.”

“Me either. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Hazel really should be looking at the road more but you are enjoying her attention too much. 

“Probably not as long as I have.”

Her face is lit up by her smiling and laughing, she is shining like the sun. “I doubt it. Let’s just say it’s been a really long time. But no need to compete here, right? I know I’m winning either way.”

You nod in agreement. “Very true.”

The rest of the car ride isn't awkward per say, but you're both very nervous, in a cute way. Instead of trying to force a conversation while processing everything,  you take the time to appreciate the playlist that Hazel made, and sing along to the familiar songs. The songs that you don’t know are poetically sweet. 

This is actually happening. You absolutely wanted this to be a date, and you prepared by looking good. But emotionally? You never bothered to hype yourself up for this, like a FOOL. You start nervously picking at your cuticles. 

When the car comes to a stop you finally have the nerve to look back over at Hazel. She’s already looking over at you, her face is excited more than anything else, but she still has a death grip on the steering wheel. 

“Are- are you ready to go inside?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, looking at Hazel's white knuckles. She finally realizes what she’s doing and quickly places her hands in her lap and nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

Hazel walks a few steps ahead so she can hold the door open for you, and when the hostess brings you to your table she pulls out your chair. 

You start looking down at the menu to see what you want. When looking up at Hazel to ask if she has any ideas, she hasn’t even picked up her menu yet, she’s just watching you, starry eyed.

You giggle and point to the menu “aren’t you going to look at that?”

“I’d rather look at you,” she mumbles and leans her head on her hand. 

You put down your own menu. “Oh come on Hazel, really?”

“I’m totally serious. I’m finally on a date with the most amazing, beautiful, girl in the world. How am I supposed to focus on anything else?”

You study her face, making sure that you can picture her like this from now on and forever. “You really are just the cutest human to ever exist.”

Hazel sits back up and drops both her hands to the table. “Me?”

“Yes you! Just look at you! You are so sweet and funny and compassionate and empathetic, just anything you could ever want in a...” The waitress cuts you off. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” She asks and sets down a bowl of chips and salsa. 

It’s very difficult to even think about what you want to drink.  You almost called Hazel your girlfriend. No matter how bad you want her to be, you are happy that you didn’t. It’s too scary to say out loud, even though you’ve been married for years in your head. Verbalizing it would make it real, and real things hurt much worse if they don’t work out. 

Hazel is looking at you, clearly hanging on to every word you say, wondering how that sentence was supposed to end. 

“I’ll have a, uh, lemonade,” you tell the waitress without looking away from Hazel, your eyes wide and your lips slightly parted, dying to utter one last word that would change your life forever. 

“And for you?” It doesn’t even seem like Hazel heard that.

You smile awkwardly at the waitress and tell her “sprite.” She nods at you confused, “I’ll have that right out for you.”

When she is walking away Hazel finally notices that the waitress was there at all, and she looks a little embarrassed. 

She starts adjusting the collar of her shirt, even though it looks fine, so you ask, “do you uh, want an appetizer?”

You can tell she is still longing to continue your previous conversation, but you just aren’t ready for that right now. She doesn’t even bother to look at the menu. “I’m good with chips and salsa. But if you want something I’ll share it.”

“I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.” That’s because nerves are fluttering in your stomach. 

“Me neither,” Hazel smiles shyly. 

You shift around the way you are sitting to try and expel some of the nerves. Hazel mirrors you, moving around as well, settling with one knee tucked under her. You start to eat some chips and salsa, trying to collect your thoughts, before looking back at the menu. 

“I can’t decide between the honey chipotle  chicken tenders and the chicken bacon ranch quesadilla,” you sigh. 

“Why don’t you just get both?”

“I’m not hungry enough for an appetizer Haze,” you giggle, “I’m definitely not hungry enough to eat two dinners.”

“I don’t know what I want so we can just get what you want and share it.”

“Hazeeeeee,” you drag out, sounding almost a bit whiny. “Don’t be silly, just order what you want, I can flip a coin or something.”

Hazel slides her menu over towards you and looks away from it. “I just want you to have what you want. Besides, we always like the same things anyways.”

You place your menu on top of hers. “Fine, but you have to pick next time so that we are even.”

“Works for me,” she hums in approval. The two of you are just staring at each other, wondering where to take the conversation from here. 

Next thing you know the waitress is putting down your drinks and taking your dinner order. 

Hazel finally looks like she’s gotten herself together after your earlier conversation. 

“I can’t believe you dumped water on PJ’s bag,” she laughs after the waitress takes the order and walks away. 

“That bitch had it coming. I hate the way her and Josie brush you off, like they are better than you. They take you for granted, who do they think they are?”

Hazel bites her lip and looks down glumly. “I guess I’m just used to being treated that way.”

You cross your arms over your chest and sneer, “Well anyone that treats you like that has to answer to me now.”

Hazel laughs, even though you are very serious. “Are you going to beat up everyone that doesn’t treat me right?”

“Yes, actually.”

“If that’s the case I will punch your ex in the face if I ever get the chance.”

“That’s a deal.”

You wouldn’t call it gossiping, it’s more like discussing, when you start talking about the unfortunate relationship circumstances of other girls in the club. Like how does Isabelle put up with Jeff? Is Brittany single because she is too attached to Isabelle?

The rest of dinner goes well, and you listen to the playlist Hazel made on the car ride home.

She walks you to your front door and gives you a hug. With her arms still wrapped around your waist she pulls the upper part of her body away from you to take a good look at your face. Hey eyes wander over you dreamily until they stop on your lips. As she leans in you close your eyes, only for her to press her soft lips to your cheek. 

[ccstiles]

(moonrise au: whether things got spicy or not is up to you)

Seth wakes the morning after his first transformation. It takes a moment for him to register the fact he’s lying on his side and isn’t still chained up. There’s a quilt cover draped over him, mildly musty from sitting in Doll’s closet for who knows how long.

The events of the previous night come back. It’s kinda foggy, seeing as he wasn’t really all there, but he remembers some stuff. Like how Doll laid down a futon and a couple sleeping bags for him to sleep on so he wouldn’t wake up on the cold hard floor.

He sits up and realizes his clothes are torn up. Shit. Probably should have thought about that. Dammit, he really liked this jacket. At least his dog tags only came undone and didn’t completely break.

Seth looks to his left. Right, Doll insisted on staying down there with him. Good thing for that day bed. Looks like they’re out like a light. He can’t necessarily blame them, they were up for hours. They’re just lucky the shop was closed that day.

Omg, more sillies!

When Seth first woke up, he didn't know where he was for a moment. All of last night was a blur as his brain was still catching up to him. Looking down, he sees that underneath the old quilt that was covering him, his clothes were torn to shreds.

'oh great' he thought to himself, assessing the state of his clothes, and cringing as he realized the state his jacket was in. 'dammit, this was my favorite jacket'

When he tried to get up, though, his arm bumped into something solid. Turning to see what was laying next to him, he froze.

Peacefully sleeping right next to him, was Doll. And right as he realized that, was when the memories of the previous night came flooding in.

His face burst into color before he hid it behind his hands. He couldn't believe what had happened! He had been trying his hardest to stay away from them so that way he didn't accidentally hurt them, but it seems like luck wasn't on his side.

"stupid mutt" he sighed into his hands, cursing the werewolf that he could hear laughing at him in his head. He wanted to kill that stupid thing. Sadly though, he wouldn't get the chance.

Doll started to stir right next to him, yawning as they sat up. Looking up at Seth, they smiled.

"good morning! How did you sleep?" Doll smiled at him as they stretched out their arms.

Seth couldn't understand how they could act so normal after all... That! It was surprising to him that they weren't teasing him or asking any questions.

Before he could say anything, Doll had stood up from where they had been sleeping, turning to face Seth and noting the state of his clothes.

"I'll go grab you something to wear and then start on breakfast, ok?" Doll smiled at him before turning to leave the basement, leaving a very confused Seth behind.

"what just... Happened??" Seth asked out loud, before getting a not so unexpected answer.

"that, boy, is what happens when you actually let people in" Seth grumbled as his werewolf answered him.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Seth wished that werewolves were more like in the movies, so that he didn't have to deal with a super old, super annoying werewolf that always made comments to him.

"whatever. You know I did a big favor for you" the werewolf mused, "if I didn't, you would have never told them how you felt"

"yeah, I know," Seth sighed as he started to take off his jacket and peel the remnants of his shirt off of him, "and I wanted it to stay that way."

"you know, we aren't as dangerous as you think. And they're not as fragile as you think either" his werewolf continued to reason with him.

"you don't know that," Seth snapped, "I don't trust you. Sure, you were nice to them last night, but don't think I fully believe you."

"Seth?" A voice came from the stairs. Looking up, he could see Doll had returned with a change of clothes.

"I tried my best, but they might be a bit tight on you" Doll said as they handed the clothes off to Seth.

"oh uh, thanks sugar" Seth thanked them as he began to put the shirt and sweatpants on.

"I'll start on breakfast now, how do you like your eggs?" Doll smiled at him as he finished getting dressed.

"oh, you don't have to do that-" Seth tried to stop them, but his stomach interrupted him with a loud growl. "... scrambled is fine."

Doll only giggled as they led him back up into their house and sat him down at the kitchen counter while they started on breakfast.

"see? They're perfectly fine, there's nothing to worry about" never the type to let go, Seth's werewolf continued to pester him.

"will you shut up?" Seth whispered, trying to keep Doll from hearing, but they heard it anyways.

"is something wrong Seth?" Doll asked him as they started on the sausages.

"oh, nothin. Just that stupid flea bag" he huffed.

"oh is the werewolf being mean?" Doll giggled, "tell him I said to stop it, maybe that'll help"

"thanks sugar, but nothing shuts it up" Seth sighed, putting his head in his palm, "trust me, I've tried"

"well," Doll said as they placed the plate in front of Seth, "have you tried working with your werewolf instead of against it?"

"huh?" Seth asked, "why would that make any difference?"

"Because, from my understanding, the werewolf is supposed to be a part of you," Doll spoke as they ate their breakfast, "if you fight against it, you're only fighting against yourself. So it's only going to be a losing battle"

Seth thought about what they were saying before they went on again.

"if you accept the werewolf, and let it in, you won't have as many problems with it," Doll smiled, "or at least, that's my theory"

"hmmm," Seth hummed as he finished his food, "I guess I never thought of it that way."

Now that he was actually thinking about it, Doll was right. Even though it felt like they were two different beings sharing a body, it was really only Seth, just two versions of him. The more he fought against it, against himself, the harder it was to control.

"thank you sugar, you might actually have a point" Seth looked at them and smiled.

"thanks! I don't get paid to just sit at the desk and look pretty, I do have some smarts" Doll giggled as they too finished their food.

Seth just smiled at them as they took both of the plates to the sink to wash them. As he watched them, though, something else started to bug him.

"hey, uh, sugar?" Doll looked up at him as he started to talk. "About last night. I... Uh"

"we don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to" Doll gave him a soft smile as they spoke, "I can tell it's hard for you, so we can wait till you're ready to talk about it."

Seth didn't know what to say before he just smiled at them. "Thanks sugar. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Doll just smiled back before they both went back to sitting in a comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence.

(dang that was way longer than I thought it would be-)