#l: musing

[twolovelyberries]

and now i know how joan of arc felt!

[justwinginglife]

I think maybe I'll never stop writing Rafayel. God I love this man. Anyway, here is a little piece I wrote after my shower today, ft partial but brief mature (not explicit) content.

You always shower with Rafayel.

At first, it's just because he insists on it. At first, you laugh and say, "It's just an excuse to get me naked, isn't it," and at first, it is. At first, he can't keep his eyes off of you, like you're a masterpiece that God made solely for his viewing. At first, he can't keep his hands off of you, like you're a wonderland that God made solely for his exploring. At first, the shower is hardly for any showering at all; rather it was just another location he used to take you into his arms, meld to you with his lips, and show you Heaven like you've never seen before.

But now, now the shower is something even more precious. Now, it's where he gets to hear your laughter bubble up when you scold him for dabbing more soap all over your body after you already told him you had finished washing up, just because he wants to stay like this for a moment more. Now, it's where he gets a private concert because he's learned that you just can't help yourself from singing in the shower, and now, it's the only location that bears witness to your duets, as he joins in your harmony.

Now, you feel lonely when he isn't by your side, wiping shampoo from your eyes, or trailing soap down your back, or pressing kisses to your shoulders.

Today, you feel particularly lonely, as you wait for him to come back from his trip. Usually, you do your best to go with him on his travels, relishing in your time together abroad, but this time, work was in desperate need of your services, and this time, you couldn't join him. So you shower alone today. At first, it's eerily quiet. Even the sound of the running water splashing against the shower tiles seems too quiet for your comfort. So you test out the acoustics in the bathroom once more, singing timidly at first, and then, imagining he's here beside you, singing louder. You even start to get into the rhythm and do a little dance underneath the showerhead, letting the water cascade down your shoulders as you sway your hips.

Then you hear it.

At first it's just faint humming and you think you're imagining things. Then it's clapping to the beat, then it's singing so sweet that you can almost hear his tender smile as he harmonizes with you. You yank open the curtains, not caring that the water has now begun to escape the confines of the shower, and there he is, stripping down as quick as he can so he can join you.

He's finally home.

[comatosebunny09]

Sylus has a penchant for strays—just ask Luke and Kieran.

Maybe he takes in so many because he knows what being alone feels like. How it feels to be undesired and aimless. And perhaps that’s why he took you in all those years ago.

He wasn’t in the market for more henchmen/women/people, yet he didn’t turn you away when you asserted your way into his life, insisting you could be of value to him. He didn’t really need you at the time, yet now, it vexes him to imagine a day without your fruitless flirting and eccentricities coloring the atmosphere.

It’s fitting that, years later, after you unwittingly poked around in his mind and heart, he takes in the stray cat you insist on keeping. He pretends to be indifferent about it, the regal black feline roaming around his mansion like it owns the place. But he has yet to get rid of it, even long after its ribs are no longer visible, hidden by attentiveness, care, and lustrous tufts of fur.

Perhaps he keeps it around because it reminds him of you—mischievous, persistent, disarming. Maybe you’d be sad if you came by the mansion one day only to realize your precious little stray was gone. He couldn’t have you giving him the silent treatment for that, now could he? He figures it’s not so bad, keeping a piece of you around when you’re far from his side, swept away by missions and negotiations (his doing, by the way).

As much as he feigns disdain for the pretty little feline, his lips quirk when it hops onto his desk, slow-blinking and acknowledging him with the smallest, most pathetic “meep.”

He doesn’t chuckle fondly as he pets through the cat’s fur, and it bunts its little cranium against his knuckles, quietly demanding more pets. Marking him with its scent. And he’s certainly not enamored by the thing whilst he draws it onto his lap, the cat purring like the steady hum of a motor. It curls into a little ball of soot against his thighs, topaz eyes sliding shut, tail lazily swishing, displaying its trust in the big, bad wolf of a man it’s napping on.

Sylus has a thing for strays. And one day, he knows, it’ll be his undoing.

[yukinohiko]

something about zayne and quiet evenings together. its dark out; moonlight washes the room in shades of blue and silver, though it isn’t cold. it couldn’t be, with the warmth of the hearth and your robe as you lay on your stomach, skimming through a book. your robe that’s being slipped down your back — at the slight chill, you glance back, not quite upset, but startled.

you don’t get the opportunity to question him. he’s already dipping his head; soft lips pressing to your shoulder blade.

“zayne?”

he hums. the stars trace his glasses. green, green eyes, warmer than the earth, lusher than the forest, meet your gaze as he delicately sweeps your hair aside.

“aren’t you tired?” you whisper through the dark.

“only as much as expected.” his kisses pan lower, tenderly tracing the curve of your spine. your silken robe pools in the yolk of your lower back, baring you to his embrace. “not more than the night calls for.”

“what does it call for?” you breathe.

“you and I, I think.” he presses closer, cradling you underneath him warmly, as intimate as the moon to its most treasured planet. “shall we indulge in a starry nocturne, my love?”

[scriptastra]

[wihellib]

You can’t see the first letter on Beel’s underwear. But an H would make the most sense. Hallow Be Thy Name. From one of the most well known prayers in Christianity, the Lord’s Prayer. Though, it should be Hallowed Be Thy Name. Which means ‘may your name be honored as holy’. It is a statement of reverence and praise, recognizing God’s name as holy and should be honoured.

However, since I can’t actually see the first letter, what if it was two letters instead, sw?? Swallow Be Thy Name. Well… first, blasphemy. But swallow would in character for Beelzebub, the King of Gluttony. Swallow— eat and swallow— sex. I don’t really think it says that, but thematically it would work and also be funny.

[manikas-whims]

it's his birthday yet you're the one getting the princess treatment 🥺

this is why i say, Xavier is for the eldest daughters 😩🤌

WE ELDEST DAUGHTERS HAVE BEEN FILLING THAT ROLE OF A SUPPORTER, CARING, NURTURING AND STRONG FIGURE FOR SO LONG.

AND PEOPLE LIKE XAVIER WALK IN, TAKE CARE OF US..TAKE THAT ROLE AND RESPONSIBILITY FROM US AND GIVE US THE CARE AND LOVE WE CRAVE AND BECOME THAT STRONG FIGURE TO LEAN ON..♡

[emmatriarchya]

X-Treme X-Men V1 #18

[justwinginglife]

Let’s just ignore for a minute if this is in character or not- I just think this is so funny to me for some reason. (NSFW thoughts included below)

What if you’re like on vacation with Rafayel on some secluded beach and you go into the water to swim together but then things get heated and you start making out heavily and then he just kinda flushes and pulls away after he catches his breath, telling you that he’ll do it with you anywhere but here. Like he’s ready to take you back to the hotel room, he’s fine with doing it there, but he just can’t do it right here in the water. And you’re like what? Raf, baby, it’s fine. It’s a private beach, let’s just have sex on the beach. And he clears his throat uncomfortably like “actually my aunt (or cousin or mom or whatever Lemurian relative) lives around these parts.” And you’re like what- we’re in the middle of the ocean on a private island? And he’s like yeah but she lives like a wave or two away, just by that coral reef, and what if she sees us?

Like it’s just so funny to me to think about being like “Baby let’s go to the Bahamas!” And Raf is like shaking his head like “No cuz I know you’ll wear that bikini you always wear and I’ll wanna devour you whole but my grandpa retired and lives at the bottom of the bay in the Bahamas and we’ll give him a heart attack if he sees us fucking.”

[rita-roquette]

I know this type of Lawlight fanfic is common and has been done numerous times already but idk I always love it either way when I see stories of Light being left haunted after L's death. How L's death actually did affect him. L was a part of Light whether Light wants to admit it or not. Killing L was like killing off a deep profound part of himself. They had become so intertwined, a symbiosis where they can't thrive without the other. But Light's ambition as Kira was too great, too powerful.

Now in the aftermath, there are still some mornings where Light finds himself absentmindedly making a second cup of coffee for a person that is simply not there.

Or when he's at work and is given a file with new evidence. Light turns to his side, mouth opening to go over the evidence only to realize he's alone. He's not here.

Near asks him once about his relationship with L. Thoughts of pale hands roaming his body and holding him until he bruises Light's skin flash across his mind unbidden.

He can still hear that voice of his whispering in his ear one night. "You can never hide. Not from me."

But Light only says in a detached polite tone that hides his turmoil almost well, "L was an interesting man to work with. He could be eccentric at times but there's no doubt he had a brilliant mind. It was an honor to have worked with him."

Light pretends not to see the form in the corner of the room, those dark eyes watching him, their lips drawn in a taunting smile that keeps repeating, "Liar."

[starlit-eudemonia]

Has anyone seen the dessert trend on TikTok where the intensity they open their mouth, dance, or get closer to the camera is amount they like the dessert? That would be on mhin’s fyp. They wouldn’t do the trend but they would silently think abt their answers while watching. I feel like they would be so close for carrot cake or apple pie.

[purplink8]

I think it's worth noting just how much Light detests being called evil. Which is likely due to his father's morality being strictly ingrained in his personality.

On Lind. L. Tailor's appearance, Light was surprised, sure, but he also took him lightly:

He was amused really. I don't think Light was thinking about killing this guy at this point. Lind. L. Tailor was, after all, a 'moron' as far as Light was concerned, and wasn't much of a challenge.

Contrast this with the striking kneejerk reaction Light has when the aforementioned 'moron' uses Light's trigger word ('EVIL'):

...wow. ('L' went from a regular moron -> too damn stupid haha)

In all seriousness, the worst thing you can call Light is probably 'Evil'. He CANNOT stand it.

This is because Light spends his whole life trying to live up to his father's ideals, to be righteous, to incorporate his dad's morals to every fiber of his being.

So look at how emotionally conflicted (and hurt) he is when Soichiro indirectly calls him (Kira) evil. He is much more affected by Soichiro being the one saying it (compared to when Lind. L. Tailor said it) as he can't bring himself to completely dismiss it (compared to Lind. L. Tailor: Light didn't give a damn about his opinions).

His father would not ever bow to evil (said in reference to the Kira case, but it holds true universally for Soichiro).

Being Kira complicates matters since his father very obviously doesn't agree with Kira's morals- so Light draws a line in the sand for himself.

He would not, under any circumstance, cause any harm to his family as Kira.

But since Death Note is a Tragedy, we know that Light being Kira indirectly puts his family at risk and then we come to this heartbreaking scene:

This, as can be expected, CRUSHES Light. Not only does it mean that Soichiro had doubts against Light being Kira even after the mock execution, it also means that he still views Kira as evil, as he's glad that Light isn't Kira, inadvertently disowning Light (who IS Kira) on his death bed.

And the worst thing is, Light would never get a chance to change his father's mind.

[not-that-dillinger]

"We're married"

《 from Raye Penber @first-frost-fallen-snow because that would be the funniest route to me also sorry for like disappearing I was focusing on moving out and now my fatigue is killing me 》

Ed awoke for once not slumped over his keyboard, yet also not in the empty apartment he'd moved into when he first moved to Japan. Though he supposed technically, the apartment he was in belonged to him, as did the bed he lay in, though both truly belonged to the man laying next to him. He squinted at the clock on his nightstand, at red LED numbers so blurry, only years of practice allowed him to decipher the time without having to put his glasses on. He still had time before he had to get up, a couple of hours before he had to get to work.

A flash of gold on the nightstand drew his eyes from the clock to the ring next to his glasses. It was the only piece of jewelry he owned, and far more expensive than anything he would ever purchase for himself. There was a similar ring on the other nightstand on the opposite side of the bed that belonged to the other occupant--Raye Penber.

Ed... still didn't know what to make of his new situation, let alone the man he was now legally bound to. He didn't hate him, certainly, though whether he trusted him was yet to be decided. Their marriage hadn't been Ed's idea, nor had it been Raye's. A necessity to facilitate the Kira investigation, it had been called, and Ed had only begrudgingly agreed to it for fear of opposition somehow being used against him as evidence and landing him in prison.

Thought of their marriage left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He'd sworn when he got his job at Encom, and finally escaped his father's control that he would never put himself in any sort relationship where there was a power imbalance and they were not equals. He wouldn't put himself in a situation where he could be abused again. And yet here he was, a foreigner, far from anyone he could call a friendly face, barely understanding the language and culture, and though their partnership was supposed to be one of equals, it didn't feel that way.

Not that he had anyone on the other side of the Pacific he could call for help if he was able, anyway. His therapist, maybe. Though he didn't trust that the call wouldn't be monitored. Or an old rival, if he was desperate.

He felt trapped. He was relying on a man he barely knew to keep him from being falsely accused of mass murder. He was at risk, not just from his partner, but from the people in charge of the investigation as well, People he felt like were treating the investigation as nothing more than a game, where both his and his partner's lives were nothing more than disposable pawns.

How strange it was, that such a tiny band of metal could hold so much meaning. To others, it would have been a symbol of joy as bright as it's polished surface, but to Ed it had just replaced the physical handcuffs that had bound him to his legal partner to with a symbolic one.

[grandisknight]

ykw seeing the stuff about zayne and his parents reminds me of how when they were younger, zayne would come over to grandma’s to have dinner with caleb and mc before… so guess what

headcanon time ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎

a scenario where young fem!mc, young!caleb, and young!zayne end up spending the weekend together under particular cirumstances

(semi)tags: mostly fluff, a pinch of angst if you squint, light-hearted, she/her pronouns for mc, takes place when they’re kids, not beta read bc it’s just a lil drabble

standing at the doorsteps of a familiar residence, zayne was quieter than usual, gaze downcast in harmony because once again his parents have to go overseas—it’s another case of them needing doctors in their speciality so of course they answered the call, though it would be for a couple of days…

normally zayne wouldn’t mind too much, is used to his parents traveling the world for their work but this time it’s closer to his birthday, and for once he was hoping they could sit down together to have presents and whatnot

but he understands all the same, his parents promise they’ll have a weekend of fun once they come back so it’ll be alright, they’ll make sure to call him on the day of (also have prepared his gift in advance for him, though he’ll find that out later)

so they decide leave him in grandma’s care for the duration they’re gone, it’s in the neighborhood and grandma josephine is basically second family at this point

zayne’s parents give josephine a knowing look of apology once more when the elderly woman greets them at the steps, but she only waves them off and welcomes zayne in with open and warm arms as usual (they know he’ll be in good hands through and through)

zayne’s parents send him off with one last hug and kiss, a slightly ruffle to his hair before they had to catch their flight and zayne just quietly waved at them as josephine leads him inside

“come now, i’m making dinner so the food won’t be ready for a bit; leave your bags at the stairs, we can bring it to your room later,” josephine would gently tell him, patting his shoulder before heading back to the kitchen to continue her meal prep

zayne nods, heads towards the bottom of the staircase where he hears two voices from a distance, muffled at first before it draws closer

“you cheated!” a girl would pout, a tinge of hurt in her voice

“no waay pipsqueak, it’s not my fault i had the better cards” and the boy, closer to zayne’s age, would snicker

finally, mc and caleb come into view from the top of the stairs, both which are excited to see their friend has a paid visit (they only found out today, having eavesdropped on josephine’s phone call)

“zayne! you’re really here?!” mc bouncing down the stairs, almost tumbling from excitement and caleb carefully walking behind, making sure she doesn’t fall

“mhm,” zayne would confirm calmly, watching the two stop just a step before him

“i heard from gran your parents are goin’ away for a bit,” caleb points out, revealing he knew more than what mc had heard and her brows raise in ‘ooh!’ realization

zayne’s hands around his bag tighten at the mention, after all he’s still a young boy and a bit emotional so naturally being reminded of the circumstances makes him a bit sad

“yeah. so i’ll be here for a while.” zayne does his best to be nonchalant, but mc noticed all the same

mc, tilting her head and reaching out to press the cheek that seemed to be sulking, “don’t worry, we’re here for you! i’ll teach you how to play these new cards gran got me”

“should he really be learning from someone who lost twice in a row?” caleb would snicker, earning an elbow to the side and a frowning mc

“what matters is that we’ll have fun together,” mc ignores the taunt entirely, reaches out her hand to zayne in earnest “and that’ll start now, c’mon!”

caleb would take zayne’s bag then, tossing it over his shoulder and offering him a grin, “yeah, let’s go, see if we’ll have a new reigning champ to add to pipsqueak’s losing streak”

“ugh, caleb!” mc would yell after the boy who had already began ascending the steps once more, and when they see zayne stood there, frozen in slight disbelief, she would tug his hand forward and firmly clasp it with hers

“lets go, birthday boy, i’ll go easy on you, it’ll be my present to you,” mc would say, gently tugging zayne along

to which, zayne hadn’t noticed how warm his hand felt until then, and the smile on his face that slowly began to unfurl as he nodded, led by mc and into a night of playing games and banter until the kids were called for dinner by josephine

[etherealperrie]

The Chart (pt. 1)

"...like a bullet in between your eyes, she is fully loaded & pressurized"

Shane Mccutcheon x OC (Original Character) | The L Word

Word Count: 1.8k

Contains: Queer OC | Reader is a PhD Student in LA | playboy era Shane Mccutcheon | "Solid" by MUNA inspired | Mentions of secondary L Word characters |

Warnings: explicit language, references to drinking/alcohol, and explicit sexual activity

...

The club is hazy, a cloud of nicotine blowing past her nose as she saunters through the door frame. She breathes it in, the smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sex eliciting a near Pavlovian response. Jules’ body is alight with excitement, the stress and nerves she’d bottled up throughout the week in desperate need of a release. What kind of release, though, she’s not sure. Is it something or someone she’s in need of? It doesn’t much matter to her, for the next forty-eight hours she’s free. Free from the library archives and the incessant nagging of her professors and advisors. Free from the writer's block that’s been plaguing her for nearly a month preventing her from making any progress on her dissertation.  

She perches herself on a barstool on the outskirts of the room, her eyes roaming the sea of bodies before her, every one of them here to escape something, to exchange their stressors for a vice. 

That’s why Shane Mccutcheon is here, anyway. A vice. Her biggest vice surrounds her where she stands at the center of the club, her tall frame leant against the bartop, a pair of leather pants accentuating the shape of her body. She doesn’t have to move, women flocking to her side, whispering in her ear. She raises an eyebrow, entertaining their whims, her smile lifting seductively. 

Jules takes a sip of the martini she was handed, the dark haired woman flashing her a smile from the nearby table. It’s dry and Jules doesn’t like olives. In fact, she loathes them. She’d much prefer a vodka cranberry, something easier to get down. But the martini is free. And as a struggling graduate student, the martini tastes like heaven. She winces as she swallows, the gin burning the back of her throat, but she feels her body relax in the same instant. 

Whatever had been on her mind slips away with each sip and soon, the drink is gone. The woman’s eyes widen, her smile growing, an image of her and Jules flashing across her mind, but Jules is already gone. She weaves her way through rhythmic bodies, the bass pumping through her shoes up to her chest so strongly that she can no longer decipher her own heartbeat. And, god, it’s heaven to disassociate, to leave her body and mind behind and move to the music. 

Shane doesn’t dance. Unless a pretty woman initiates, of course, but even in that case the dancing doesn’t last too long before Shane finds herself in the club bathroom with the nameless stranger. Or the alley behind the club. Or a parked car. Shane’s not picky. 

So, she just watches her friends frolic around her, drink in hand. It’s the usual sights for her, she’s here almost every weekend with Alice or Helena or Tina but she almost always leaves them behind. Shane recognizes some familiar faces, waving to some and totally avoiding others. 

But a new face in the crowd draws Shane’s attention. Though, she didn’t notice her face first, if Shane’s being honest. It’s the sight of long tousled hair flowing like soft silk between exposed slender shoulder blades as she moves her body side to side with the beat. It’s the lights reflecting off of her nude back. It’s the way she doesn’t seem to realize just how magnetic she is. 

Shane knows she has to move. A woman like this doesn’t stay on the dance floor for long. She pushes herself from her perch at the bar, eliciting a playful sneer from Alice that she ignores. 

The world is a blur for Jules, every face and body around her morphing together under the purple lights of the club. She laughs at nothing and only to herself, high on feeling. The music shifts to something softer and only then does Jules take a breath, slowing her movements. She closes her eyes for a moment feeling the erratic beats of her heart, grinding her hips to the slow, sensual beat. 

She gasps at the feeling of a body close beside her, a rogue hand grazing her hip. Jules leans into the feeling, reaching back to grasp the hand and pull it closer to her, encouraging the stranger to linger near her hip bone. There’s a breath exhaled before skin meets skin, the warmth of the stranger behind her, holding Jules as she grinds against the woman. 

The touch is heavenly, eliciting a soft moan from Jules as she leans back, resting her head against the woman’s chest. She takes another deep breath, the scent of whisky and cigarettes filling her lungs. When she opens her eyes, looking up at the woman, Jules is met with a pair of hazel eyes shrouded by an artful mess of dark hair, framed with a jawline chiseled by god herself. Shane’s eyes move down to admire Jules’ lips and chest – her imagination running wild with thoughts of what she would do just to feel Jules’ body underneath her own – then back up in a quick second.

Shane lowers her lips to Jules’ ear, holding back a groan as Jules’ grinds herself against her, both of their hands wandering new territory, eager to explore. 

“C’mon,” Shane breathes, sending chills down Jules’ spine. She wouldn’t typically do something like this, but she’d been so hyper focused with work the past few months that she couldn’t exactly remember the last time she’d been touched. She craves it now, especially with Shane’s hands on her body. She’s never felt so alive. Somehow, this woman she’s known for no more than a few minutes knows exactly where to touch her. 

Jules doesn’t protest when Shane laces her fingers between her own, a warm feeling spreading in her stomach as she rubs small circles into her skin as they weave through the crowd towards the back of the club, slipping through the bathroom door. 

Shane’s lips are on hers in the next second, warm and wet, Jules’ hands skimming the length of Shane’s back to tangle her fingers in the ends of her dark hair as they deepen their kiss. Every inch of Jules’ body is on edge, electricity running between the two of them, both hungry for more.

Shane breathes in the faint vanilla scent of Jules’ perfume, peppering kisses across her collarbones and back up to her jawline. She nudges Jules’ back gently against the door frame of one of the small stalls, bracing against it, her expression smug, drinking in the sight of the woman she doesn’t know but so desperately wants to touch, to taste. 

It’s here where Jules really takes Shane in, watching as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze slipping down to the oversized white button-up shirt adorning her torso, the thin fabric making it abundantly clear she’s not wearing a bra. Jules swallows harshly, not sure if she wants to touch or be touched. Both, she decides as Shane leans forward to toy with the hem of her top – definitely both. 

She reaches underneath the hemline and eases the fabric up and over Jules’ head, ruffling her long tresses. Shane exhales at the sight of her nude chest, a moan escaping the back of her throat as her eyes rake over Jules’ breasts. It’s a view Shane loves, one she sees often, one she never tires of showing her appreciation for. She steps in, dropping her head to press a kiss to Jules’ sternum, but Jules stops her, placing a hand underneath Shane’s chin tilting her head back to look at her. 

“I want to touch you,” Jules breathes. Shane chuckles, shaking her head. It’s rare someone should think about her before themselves, but the only thing Shane can think about is tasting this woman for herself. That alone might be enough to get her off, no hands needed. 

“You first,” Shane asserts, her voice low, her eyes dark. She needs this, needs to feel her. Jules groans, her whine quickly turning into a whimper as Shane presses her body hotly against her own, kissing back down her chest. Shane sneaks her hand between their bodies, her fingers brushing over the button of Jules’ jeans. Her breath hitches and Shane smirks, popping the button open in one swift movement. Shane slips her fingers underneath the denim and lace, getting a real feel for just how much of a pool had collected between Jules’ thighs. 

A shared gasp escapes both of their lips at the same moment as Shane swipes her fingers in a slow, bold stripe, tracing a feather light touch up and around her most intimate parts. Shane looks up, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her from the feeling, from the sight of Jules gasping with pleasure, her head thrown back, eyes shut. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Shane sighs. She runs her fingers in the same pattern, eliciting another moan. Jules inhales sharply, grinding her hips, desperate for more. 

Three sharp taps on the bathroom door force them apart, Jules covering herself, rushing to the opposite side of the stall. She’d forgotten where she was, her focus on chasing the high and god, she’d been close. She wants nothing more than to finish what she’s started, Shane standing across from her still watching her with the same intensity and desire. 

“Hurry the fuck up in there!” a voice shouts, muffled behind the door.

“We don’t have to rush,” Shane says, closing the space between them again, her hands on Jules’ hips. 

“I think, uh, maybe I should go.” It’s the clearest moment Jules’ had since stepping foot in the club. 

“For what it’s worth, I really wanted to fuck you,” Shane sighs, raking a hand through her hair, leaving the strands perfectly rumpled. Her gaze drops to Jules’ naked torso, as if working to commit the image to memory. 

“I know,” Jules laughs, bending to pick her top up off the floor. She slips it over her head and squeezes past Shane, the stall door swinging as she steps through. Jules takes one last look at herself in the mirror, fixing the smudged lipstick at the corner of her mouth. Shane leans against the doorframe, watching intently. Shane considers for a moment, asking for the woman’s name, but thinks better of it. No point in changing old habits now. She’s probably only passing through town anyway. That, and Shane’s not the relationship type. She knows better. 

Jules turns on her heel and pulls the door open, her eyes widening at the line of women standing outside, each one of them glaring. 

“Tell Shane to fuck you in the men’s room next time,” one of them sneers as she pushes forward into the room. Jules furrows her brow, tugging at the neckline of her top. She moves past the line and heads for the exit, the name echoing in her mind over the image of the woman smirking up at her mere seconds ago. 

Shane. 

— 

A/N: Hey hey, if you got this far -- thank you! This is my first time writing anything for Shane &/or in the L Word universe, so I hope you enjoyed despite any inaccuracies, etc. I've been wanting to write for Shane for quite a while & when this multi-part idea came to me, I couldn't tell my mind no. Anyway, I hope you stick around for part two and even if you don't, I hope (for what it's worth) you enjoyed part one! :)

[justwinginglife]

I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry. But I just have to poke fun at the whole “pipsqueak” thing because it’s so funny to me. And honestly I actually don’t mind it as much as everyone else does, but it just cracks me up. Because like, imagine MC trying to wean him off of the “pipsqueak” thing.

Caleb: *starts to kiss MC’s neck and squeeze her boobs* *moans* piiiiipsqueak

MC: *pulls away suddenly* No, no. No. We’re going to try that again. I will take darling, I will take love, I will take sweetheart, I will even take just something as simple as my own name; as a matter of fact, I will take anything EXCEPT pipsqueak. Cmon. Try again.

Caleb: *rolls his eyes, laughing, but obliges* *starts to kiss her again, trailing up her jaw this time* that better baby?

MC: *moans* so much better… don’t stop….

Caleb: *starts to slip his tongue in her mouth*

MC: *can’t help herself so she starts grinding on his cock*

Caleb: Fuuuuuuck, Pipsqueak!

MC: *immediately pulls away again* Excuse me, what did I JUST say?

Caleb: *blushes and gives a sheepish smile* Sorry, force of habit.

MC: *sighs* it’s alright, I get it. Okay, start from the top. Kiss me again.

Caleb: *eagerly grabs her and kisses her deeply*

MC: Need you…. Need you to touch me.

Caleb: *starts to trail his hand down her abdomen, when he reaches her thigh, he spreads her legs slightly*

MC: quit being such a tease…. Touch me already

Caleb: *grins* *slides two fingers in* *bites his lip* shiiiiit you’re so tight pipsqueak

MC: *snaps legs shut* Okay, you know what, I think we’ll try again another time. Yeah, not doing this tonight.