#or maybe he doesn't... you'll never know... unless i draw it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (1/?)

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat. Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.” Or the one where you fall in love with the widow of an ex-lover you never knew was married.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6k+ | Warnings: None for now | A/N: I wrote about 30k words of the Succession Wanda but hit a wall in terms of plot progression. So that's on hold. Allow me to apologize with this two-shot. P.S. I've always wanted to write for Leigh, and this idea came out of nowhere. Loosely based on canon.

Masterlist | Next Part

Leigh wakes up in a bed that’s not hers for the first time in months, and the unfamiliar scent of freshly cut grass and cedarwood almost immediately overwhelms her senses, suffocating her with its cloying sweetness.

“Jules?” she croaks out, her mind clawing its way through the fog. When it lifts a few seconds later, Leigh realizes where she is and what she’s done.

And how she’s very, very naked underneath the sheets.

The person lying next to her in the bed starts to move. Right away, she knows it's not her sister, unless she's somehow caught up in a prank she doesn't find amusing at all. And so, she braces herself for her dead husband’s brother's voice to shatter the silence.

But it never comes. Instead, an arm drapes itself across her stomach, pulling her towards warmth. Leigh gets the sudden urge to vomit, except she skipped dinner and there isn’t anything to bring up. Last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Matt's absence, she had reached out to someone she shouldn't have. Someone Leigh didn’t even like to begin with. A knot tightens further in her stomach as she considers what her husband’s ghost would think.

Would he approve? Would he feel betrayed or disgusted as she does?

Careful not to disturb Danny, who still sleeps soundly beside her, Leigh slips out of bed with the grace of a cat. She gathers her clothes from the floor and dresses herself with heavy limbs, each garment reminding her of how Danny had taken them off her body.

As messed up as it sounds, Leigh can't help but draw parallels between him and Matt. They share the same blood, but there's not a single trait in Danny that triggers memories of Matt. With Danny, it's all about his own desires, his movements reflecting his wants. But with Matt, it's like he's always bending to Leigh’s will, submitting to her.

It tears Leigh’s heart anew.

As she finishes dressing, Leigh glances around searching for her watch. She second-guesses whether she even wore it last night, the disarray of her thoughts mirrored in the disarray of the room. Her eyes scan the bedside table, the floor, and the dresser, but there's no sign of the timepiece.

A sudden sound from Danny startles her, and she freezes in place. She doesn't believe she can prevent herself from literally bolting out of the house if he so much as breathes her name. She’s rooted in her spot however, waiting for his breathing to steady, her heart pounding in her ears. Only when she's certain he's in a deep slumber does she release a pent-up breath, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. In that moment, she mentally curses herself once more, acutely aware of the mess she's created, before tiptoeing towards the bedroom door and abandoning the search for her watch altogether.

As she considers her options, she entertains the idea of escaping town altogether. Maybe if she leaves, she can avoid Danny for the coming days, possibly forever. Leigh wonders if she ever made Matt feel this trapped, inadvertently pushing him to leave in the only way he knew she could never follow.

Several days after ignoring Danny’s calls and attempts to talk to her, he retaliates by telling her the most absurd thing about his brother.

He tells Leigh she wasn’t the only one. There had been two others in the last year.

And the last one, he fell for hard. Or at least that’s what Danny believes.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her eyes beginning to sting a little. “If you think making me hate Matt would change my mind about us, then—”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Leigh,” Danny interrupts calmly, shaking his head. “I just believe you deserve to know the truth. Maybe it'll help you stop blaming yourself and move on.”

“It just seems a little too convenient that this 'truth' works in your favor to tarnish Matt's reputation, doesn't it?” Leigh points out with a humorless smile. She’s always thought the worst of Danny, but she never imagined he’d go as far as fabricating a story just to get her on his side.

“I understand your skepticism, I do. I couldn’t believe it at first either,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the transgression he’s confessing were his own, not Matt’s. “But think about it. Have you ever walked in on Matt just as he's ending a call? Noticed how he's suddenly started spending more time at work, consistently twice a week? And what about his sudden interest in going to the gym and being conscious about what he eats? These are all signs, Leigh.”

His words push her to think about it, even though she doesn't want to. Leigh starts to reflect on how Matt had stopped leaving his phone unattended during showers, how he had suddenly logged off his social media accounts from her laptop, or the noticeable enhancement of his physique—all juxtaposed against a lingering decrease in his appetite for intimacy with his wife.

“I…” Leigh hesitates, searching for a rebuttal but finding none. Then Danny gives her a look—one of pity and longing that makes her want to crawl out of her skin—and suddenly she finds herself vehemently denying all of it.

“I still don’t believe you,” she says, desperately clinging to the last shreds of the illusion she had crafted around her marriage.

Danny's expression remains unreadable and it drives her further up the wall. “Fine. Believe what you want, Leigh. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Leigh's jaw tightens. “Regardless of what you say—whether it’s real or not—I know what I want, and it's not to be with you.”

He keeps up the stony facade, opting instead to pull a card out of his wallet and hand it to her. Leigh accepts the card, her fingers quivering, as a solitary tear finally breaks free and trails down her cheek.

Danny begins to reach out, intending to brush away her tear, but hesitates at the last moment, withdrawing his hand.

“See for yourself. Goodbye, Leigh.”

Just two days later, Leigh finds herself in front of the small animal clinic you own, situated a short walk away from Beautiful Beast—the fitness studio her mom owns and where she works.

Though the sun hangs low in the sky, she's been awake long before it began to rise. She waits for the receptionist to flip the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Come in, we’re open,” ignoring the curious glance directed her way when the receptionist notices she isn’t accompanied by a furry companion. With a determined smile on her lips, Leigh pushes open the door and steps into the clinic knowing she'll leave it with answers—whatever they might be.

The receptionist looks up from her computer, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern when she sees the look on Leigh's face. “Can I help you?”

Leigh clears her throat, trying to steady her voice. She tells her she’s looking for you, her words coming out in a rush.

The receptionist furrows her brow. “Do you have an appointment?”

Leigh shakes her head, blinking rapidly as she comes up with an excuse. “No, it's... it's urgent,” she stammers. “I need to speak to her right away.”

The receptionist appears mildly annoyed, but it doesn’t faze Leigh in the slightest. “I'll check if she's available. Please take a seat,” she says.

Leigh nods mutely and sinks into one of the chairs. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, trying to quell the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She imagines Matt’s ghost watching her this very second, frowning at her doubts about their relationship by coming here in the first place.

And what if she’s wrong? What if Matt wasn’t cheating on her after all? But Leigh had to come here to put the issue to rest. Matt would understand why she needs to do this. He always did.

A few moments later, the door behind the reception desk opens and the receptionist emerges from it, motioning for Leigh to enter.

Leigh finds you standing behind your desk, your back to her, arranging a stack of medical records on the shelf.

“Dr. Y/N?” Leigh calls out softly.

You turn around at the sound of her voice, and when she sees you for the first time, Leigh immediately knows.

Danny was telling the truth. It takes everything in her not to break down in front of a stranger her husband fell in love with.

You, however, don’t recognize the woman standing before you, thinking perhaps she's simply one of your past clients. You offer Leigh a contrite smile. “You wanted to see me? Miss…?”

“Leigh Shaw.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell either, but you keep a friendly smile on your face.

Leigh hesitates for a moment before continuing, her voice sounding fragile. “I need to talk to you about my husband,” she says, studying your clueless face. You're stunning and accomplished—a doctor and a businesswoman. You have a smile that could brighten even the darkest room.

Matt never stood a chance, did he?

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat.

Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.”

After leaving your clinic, Leigh heads straight to Matt’s grave, stomping angrily on the sparse sheet of grass that has begun to sprout from his resting place.

“You're such a fucking liar!” she spits out at the unsusceptible headstone, the heat of fury spreading through her veins and to every molecule in her body. The cold wind lashes through her hair as Leigh drops to her knees, feeling like the entire world is bearing down on her. She reaches out to touch the cold marble of the headstone, still seeking solace from the one who caused her so much hurt.

“Why, Matt?”

She knows there will be no answers—only the cold silence of death.

Leigh feels a surge of anger rise within her once more as she recalls the way you looked at her—the pain in your eyes when she revealed to you that Matt had died. What you two had was real, as real as what she had with him. She had been hoping it was at least just a fling, but alas, she couldn’t be further from her assumptions.

“I can't believe I ever loved you,” Leigh mutters bitterly. She wants to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. But all she can do is clutch at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the earth as if trying to anchor herself against the torrent of pain crippling her chest. Tears stream down her face as she finally collapses to the ground, assuming a fetal position, whispering, “I can't believe I still do.”

You continue to stare at the space that Leigh previously occupied for a good ten minutes, not moving an inch from where you stood—shocked, hurt, confused. Matt, the man you had been seeing, was dead. And not just dead, but married. Married to someone else, someone named Leigh Shaw, a name so important but he managed to hide from you for weeks.

Matt had never mentioned a wife, never wore a ring, never hinted at the existence of someone waiting for him at home. If he had, you would never have let him get as close to you like he did. You've always respected boundaries and families—and now you've discovered that unwittingly, you've destroyed one.

Leigh's departure was swift, just as soon as you confessed to having feelings for her husband and how Matt reciprocated those same feelings. Leigh, ruthless in her questioning, demanded to know if you had slept with Matt. You swore you never did, detailing how Matt abruptly ghosted you after your first kiss, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and missed calls.

You wanted so badly for Leigh to believe you, and you think she did. However, none of it mattered in the end. He cheated all the same. He hurt the woman he made a promise to love and stay faithful to.

Because of you.

You feel sickened by your own naivety; by the way you have allowed yourself to be fooled by his lies. And yet, amidst the anger and self-recrimination, there is a profound sense of loss. Despite the circumstances of your relationship, you had cared for Matt deeply. Maybe even loved him.

But how much of it was real? How much of it was not about him running from his problems with his wife and using you as a distraction? The ease with which he slipped out of your life suddenly fits into place.

While his passing deeply rattled you, it's now largely overshadowed by thoughts of his widow.

Leigh Shaw.

Earlier, even though you said sorry over and over, it felt like it wasn't enough, and you wanted to do more to make her feel better. What stopped you was the realization that you're likely the last person she would want comfort from. A sense of helplessness washes over you as you come to the conclusion that there's nothing you can do to undo the damage that's been done. Matt is gone, and Leigh's world has been shattered in ways you can't even begin to imagine.

Moving on from Matt is something you know you could do. He wasn’t the first person to break your heart, be it through deceit or demise. But the situation with Leigh is unfamiliar territory.

How do you fix this for her?

Will she even let you?

When Leigh tells Jules about Matt’s infidelity, her sister fixates on the detail that she slept with Danny. It’s not the response Leigh expected. She anticipated shock, and maybe even a bit of outrage on her behalf. But instead, Jules latches onto the one detail that seems to pale in comparison to the enormity of Matt's betrayal.

“But how could you?” Jules asks, her voice incredulous as she chews on a dumpling. “How could you sleep with Danny?”

Faced with her sister's disapproval, Leigh finds herself clamming up. “Are you kidding? I just told you that Matt was cheating on me, and your response is to judge me for hooking up with a single guy while I'm single?” Leigh retorts, hastily wiping her lips with a napkin.

Jules just shakes her head, putting down her chopsticks. “Leigh, I get it. Matt’s betrayal is awful, and you have every right to be angry. But the ‘single guy’ you hooked up with isn't just any guy, and you know it. You don't think it's weird? What would people think? That all this time, sleeping with your husband’s brother has always been an option?”

Leigh's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she's speechless. She hadn't—didn't want to entertain the idea of what sleeping with Danny would imply. She was chasing a feeling; any feeling that wasn’t emptiness. And with Danny, she did feel something, even if it was regret and shame. At least it proved she was still capable of feeling at all.

“It… just happened,” Leigh murmurs, rubbing her temples. Hollowness and migraines, she's almost forgotten.

“And? Is it going to be a ‘thing’?” Jules probes, eyebrows raised.

Leigh lifts her gaze, biting back a defensive retort. Instead she simply says, “Absolutely not.”

Jules seems satisfied with that, knocking back the rest of her beer. “Good.”

But as Jules moves on, Leigh’s left stewing in her own thoughts. Telling Jules felt like yelling into a void—exhausting and utterly pointless. Now she’s dreading the thought of breaking the news to Drew. If Jules’ reaction was any indication, she’s in for another round of disappointment.

Being a young widow already sets her apart, but nothing makes her feel more alone than her family's inability to truly grasp her grief. She guesses she's been feeling alone for years, long before Matt came into her life and subsequently left it.

Jules, catching the tail end of Leigh's distant look, leans in and asks, “So, what's the plan now? You still going to that grief counseling group? Danny's been showing up there, right?”

Leigh's gaze sharpens, a bit taken aback by the sudden shift back to practicalities. “Are you asking about my plans with Danny? Because I already told you, that's over. I'm never seeing him again.”

Jules raises her hands in a placating gesture, mindful that one wrong move could tip Leigh over the edge for good. “Not really, no. I'm asking if you're still keen on processing your grief. Now that it turns out Matt was... well, a snake.”

Jules calling Matt a snake doesn't sit well with Leigh even with his cheating coming to light. But she supposes it's Jules' way of being on her side every once in a while. It's a clumsy attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm still going,” Leigh finally says, her gaze dropping to her lap before meeting Jules' eyes again. “Not for Danny, not for anyone else, but for me. Turns out, finding out your rotting husband was living a double life does a number on you. Who knew, right?”

Jules cracks a small, rueful smile at that and says, “Who knew indeed.”

Leigh thinks back to the time when she believed she knew Matt inside and out, a belief so deeply ingrained it felt like a cornerstone of her identity as his wife. She prided herself on their connection, convinced that they shared everything—every thought, every fear, every dream. It was a pride rooted in the belief that she knew him better than anyone else could, and he, her, in the same intimate manner.

It was the kind of recognition that’s not only about knowing his favorite color or the way he took his coffee. It’s deeper and more layered. She knew the exact tone of voice he'd use when he was about to apologize, the look in his eyes when he was holding back tears, the subtle shift in his posture when he was trying to be braver than he felt. And she thought he knew her just as intricately—the silent language of her sighs, the meaning behind her quietest smiles, the small, everyday details that they believed only they could understand about each other.

“It's hard, you know? Feeling like you're mourning someone who never really existed,” Leigh mumbles after a long pause.

“Yeah, I can't even imagine,” Jules responds, reaching across the table to give Leigh's hand a brief squeeze. “But I'm here, okay? Even if I don't always get it right.”

Jules, Drew, Danny, her mom—all of them—rarely get it right. It has always been Matt.

He has always been all she has and needed.

Even if Leigh wasn't aware that she was probably just getting his scraps.

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps thinking over the next several days. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It doesn’t help that there’s a new member who has also been widowed, and she’s sharing about her late husband who had quite a number of mistresses throughout their eighteen years of marriage.

Leigh listens, her fingers twisted together in her lap, as the woman talks about the signs she missed, the lies she believed.

“I just keep thinking,” the woman's voice breaks, “if I'd been more attentive, more... I don't know, less demanding, maybe things would've been different.”

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps screaming inside. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It took Leigh a long time to return to the apartment she shared with Matt after his passing.

Mostly, it's because Leigh found it difficult to confront the scattered remnants of him that would remain untouched in his absence. No longer would he be picking up his favorite shirt or completing another page of his crossword puzzle book. Yet, these belongings would remain his, just as Leigh felt she still belonged to him.

So it’s ironic that now, surrounded by the same belongings in her bedroom at her mother’s home, she's being overwhelmed by the impulse to turn them all into ashes. In a sudden frenzy, Leigh grabs a box and begins to throw everything inside. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, only matched by the soft thuds of objects landing in the cardboard.

“Stupid fucking toys!” she shouts, tossing a figurine with more force than necessary.

“And this shirt—what were you thinking?” She grabs a garishly patterned fabric, shaking it at the empty air as if expecting an answer.

Her voice cracks, “You're not even here, and you're driving me crazy!”

As Leigh's wrath burns through the remnants of Matt’s life, her thoughts take a dark turn. The things he owned, the pieces of his life flying from her hand—it all leads her back to the one person who had a piece of him, a piece that was never hers.

The thought of your face, the one that belonged to him too at one point, flashes in her mind, and she's on the edge of losing all control.

If only Leigh could throw you into the box too.

Finally, she finds the book he gave her for her last birthday, the one she never read, and for a moment, her movements pause. Then, with a cry of anguish, she tosses it in as well. When the box is full, she kicks it. Once, twice, thrice—each kick releasing a burst of pent-up fury until she's gasping for breath.

A knock at the door startles her. It's soft but persistent, making it obvious that whoever is outside has heard the commotion in her room. “Leigh, honey, are you done in there?” Amy's voice seeps through the wood.

Leigh wipes at her eyes. “Almost. I, uh… just give me a minute,” she calls back. She’s not done—not really. But she’ll probably set the house on fire if she doesn’t stop here.

Pushing herself up, Leigh opens the door. She knows the sight she presents isn't pretty—eyes swollen red, nose a mess, and those dark circles. But her mom has seen this look more times than either would care to count.

“You okay?” her mom asks, though the answer's written all over Leigh's face.

Leigh shakes her head, no energy to pretend.

“Want some breakfast?”

Again, “No,” slips out.

Then, “Need a ride to the studio?” her mom tries again.

“Yes,” Leigh finds herself saying, clinging to the offer like a lifeline, a small acknowledgment that life, somehow, must go on.

The following day, Leigh looks at the box, then at everything around her. She mutters, “Screw this,” and starts pulling everything out of the box, putting it all back where it came from.

Leigh's back at running, not because she loves it, but because the sun insists on poking her awake before the rest of the world stirs. It's an old hobby, dusted off to fill the gaping mornings before her first yoga class.

It’s easy to do because she realizes she’s good at it. Leigh’s only been at it for just a couple of weeks and already she's feeling fitter, faster. She likes the pain too, not being aware before that there are different kinds of pain, and some of them do feel good—addicting even.

Mid-thought, her routine jog takes a wild left turn: stranded in the middle of the bustling traffic is a French Bulldog, looking decidedly out of place. Ignoring the honks and the near misses, Leigh bolts across the street. It's a bit of a mad dash, dodging cars that are swerving and braking hard. She scoops him up in her arms and doesn’t stop to think about the close calls.

It hits her then—she's surprised at her own gutsiness, not even pausing to think that she could've been clipped by a car not paying attention. Maybe all this time spent wrestling with thoughts of death has brought her to a strange peace with it and is no longer scared of it. It's like she's danced with death so much, it's just another shadow she passes by—not something that paralyzes her in place anymore.

Leigh’s not sure if being this fearless is actually a good thing though.

After cooling her heels on the sidewalk for half an hour, with no owner in sight, she shrugs and decides he’s coming home with her.

Jules gives her a scrutinizing look the moment she walks in. “What, you went out for a run and decided to get a dog?”

“Rescue mission,” Leigh shoots back, setting the dog down. “Found him in the middle of Second Street. Seems he’s lost.”

Jules doesn't miss a beat, heading straight for the newcomer. She kneels, her hands gently petting the dog, her eyes softening in a way that Leigh rarely sees. The dog, clearly pleased with the attention, wags its tail vigorously. Her eyes are practically giving her away, so it sounds almost funny when she looks up at Leigh and says, “Just don't get too attached, okay?”

“I won’t, which is why I named him Visitor. It’s temporary,” Leigh says with a smile, looking very proud of the name she came up with.

Jules chuckles, standing up and brushing off her knees. “Nerd. Matt would've gotten a kick out of that.”

The room just freezes at the mention of his name. Talking about Matt is like walking into a glass door you didn't see.

Jules tries to backpedal, “Hey, sorry, I—” But Leigh's quick to brush it off with a shrug.

“Don't worry about it. Let's just figure out where Visitor here belongs, okay?”

As they refocus on Visitor, Jules can't help but notice the way the dog favors one leg as he trots over to sit snugly between Leigh's legs, looking up at her with those big, trusting eyes. “Looks like he's got a bit of a limp,” Jules points out.

Leigh frowns and leans down to get a closer look, her fingers gently probing around Visitor's leg until she finds a tender spot. The moment she applies a little pressure, Visitor yelps, pulling away sharply and retreating a few steps.

Jules winces at the reaction. “Yeah, that's not good. Maybe we should take him to a vet?”

Leigh can barely hold back a grimace as her brain immediately links you to the situation.

“What's wrong?” Jules notices the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood. “There's St. Mary's Animal Clinic nearby. I heard they're great.”

That's your clinic. Leigh's throat tightens at the thought, the memories of her visit flooding back. “Are there others around here?”

Jules looks puzzled at the question. “I mean, I can look it up, but what's wrong with St. Mary's?”

Leigh considers whether she should tell Jules about meeting you. Part of her really knows it’s unfair to dislike you, especially if you genuinely didn't know Matt was married. But she knows Jules too well—tell her, and it'll turn into a whole thing. Leigh's not sure she's up for that drama.

Despite her reservations, Leigh decides to bite the bullet, her curiosity getting the better of her. Besides, if she can’t be brave enough to talk about this in her counseling group, she should probably at least tell Jules.

“Actually, Jules,” Leigh begins, “St. Mary's Animal Clinic is where... where she works.”

Jules's eyes widen in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait, you mean... you mean her, as in…?” she stammers, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yup,” Leigh confirms, smacking her lips forcefully.

“Oh my god—that bitch,” Jules spits out, her voice dripping with disdain before Leigh can even brace for impact.

“She didn’t know Matt’s married,” Leigh clarifies quickly.

“And you bought that?”

“I had a feeling she was telling the truth. Besides, I can’t imagine Matt being that brazen to pursue someone while married. He can be a little self-righteous sometimes,” Leigh says, only half-sure of her statement. Recently, she has to remind herself that maybe she never really knew him at all.

Then, an idea sparks in Jules's mind. “You know what?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe this is a good opportunity. After all, she owes you one, right? Maybe she'll treat Visitor for free, to make up for being... well, you know.”

Leigh rubs her nose, skeptical of the idea. “I don't know, Jules. I don't want to impose…”

Jules leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if she's the reason you're hurting, maybe she should make it right?”

She isn't hurting because of you, not directly. That's why Jules’ suggestion hangs in the air, unappealing. Leigh remembers the pity in your eyes from that morning, and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything from you at all. Her resolve instantly hardens like ice.

“No,” Leigh finally says. “I don't want her charity. I'll pay for Visitor's bills myself. And I'll keep the receipts for when his real owners show up.” It's a decision that feels surprisingly empowering, a small reclaiming of control in a world that's felt off-kilter for too long.

Jules merely sighs; she knows better than to push Leigh when her mind’s made up.

“Have it your way.”

Leigh brings Visitor to St. Mary’s the very next day.

There's a certain set to her jaw, a readiness for something less than pleasant. She doesn’t need to go through reception this time because she spots you right away, escorting a client to the door, cradling their puppy in your arms. Seeing you with a pet makes Leigh realize why you’ve chosen this profession. You fit right in among the animals, she muses bitterly.

It's with a sense of satisfaction that she watches your smile dissipate as soon as your eyes land on hers.

She strides confidently towards you, dog in arms, forcing you to quickly hand off the puppy back to its owner. Yet, you recover with a swiftness that's begrudgingly admirable as you give her a look that’s equal parts professional and friendly—like you were actually looking forward to seeing her again.

“Good morning, Leigh. How can I help you?”

Without a word, Leigh extends the dog she’s carrying towards you, a silent transfer of trust, or perhaps, necessity. You gesture towards the consultation room, an invitation she accepts with a terse nod, following you into the space where you effortlessly shift into doctor mode.

As you begin to charm her dog, she can't help but narrow her eyes. It irks her, watching Visitor take to you instantly, as if you were old friends. “What's his name?” you ask, looking up at Leigh.

“Visitor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the name, just in time for your irises to capture the light seeping through the office blinds. They glow a hazel-brown, disarmingly so. Leigh forces herself to focus back on the purpose of her visit.

Leigh continues, “He’s limping on his left hind leg. I’d appreciate it if you can prescribe him something. I'll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Ignoring the undercurrent of Leigh's insinuation, your attention remains undividedly on Visitor. The well-being of the dog before you eclipses any personal sentiments, as it always does.

“I'm sorry, but before we can consider any medication, I need to examine him thoroughly. It's possible he might require some lab tests to rule out anything serious,” you tell her. Despite sounding apologetic, Leigh interprets it as your polite way of telling her to fuck off and let you do your job.

As you palpate the dog's leg carefully, you begin your routine questions. “Can you tell me his birthday? Any vaccination history?”

They’re basic, but they seem to catch Leigh off guard anyway. “He’s not mine. I found him on the street yesterday,” she reveals with a reluctant sigh.

The news prompts a more detailed response from you.

“I see. In that case, we should definitely line up some tests for Visitor. We need to ensure he doesn't have distemper or any other airborne virus that could be affecting his mobility,” you suggest, already mentally cataloging the necessary procedures.

You start detailing the tests you intend to perform, explaining their purposes and associated costs. Leigh is clearly deluged by it all and you decide to take pity on the poor woman by adding that it’s still up to her which tests to proceed with, if any at all.

“Your call, Leigh,” you tell her.

Leigh can't shake off the vibe that you're throwing a gauntlet down in front of her. It's like her inner competitor wakes up, refusing to back down. “Do all of them,” she declares, tipping her chin up towards you. “Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s a good decision. We’ll take care of it right away,” you say, already picking up the phone to call the reception for assistance.

Leigh's still trying to get a read on you. Was her arm twisted into this choice, or did you genuinely have Visitor's best interest at heart? She's not about to hand out trust like free samples, especially when she could end up misjudging you. It’s a tricky spot, especially because she’s clearly been wrong before.

The tests take their time, roughly an hour, after which Leigh finds herself pacing the lobby. An additional quarter-hour trickles by before the receptionist finally calls her back into the consultation room.

“Good news,” you start, making sure to catch her eye. She meets your look briefly before her attention shifts to Visitor. “It's only a sprain. The X-ray revealed no breaks or other issues. But,” you pause, checking to see if she's still fully engaged, “his blood tests indicated a low platelet count and evidence of an infection.”

Leigh listens intently, nodding along.

You explain what this means in a clear, concise manner, avoiding medical jargon as much as possible. “It's something we can manage with medication. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for the infection and pain medication to help with his discomfort. It's important that he completes the course of antibiotics to clear the infection completely.”

You watch Leigh closely, gauging her reaction and ready to answer any questions she might have. “We'll need to keep an eye on his platelet count, so I'd like to schedule a follow-up visit next week. This will also give us a chance to check how his leg is healing.”

“Will he be okay?” she asks without looking up from Visitor, busy scratching behind his ears.

“He'll be just fine,” you reassure her, adding, “Any questions about what we discussed?”

Leigh stays silent and you take it as your cue that she doesn’t have any thoughts on the matter. As she wraps up without saying much more, you realize it's time to wrap things up too. But there's something niggling at you, something that's been on your mind since the last time she was here. You're about to let her go, but then, out of nowhere, you feel this urge to clear the air about that whole mess with Matt.

“So, uhm, about the other week when you…” you trail off, suddenly feeling like you're balancing on a tightrope without a net. You’re not so easily spooked by confrontations, but Leigh makes you nervous in a way you can’t explain. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry… for your loss, and for—”

“Does he really need to take pain medication for seven days?” Leigh cuts you off suddenly. It’s sharp enough for you to shut your mouth and abandon your attempt to get personal.

“Yes, the full course is important to ensure he's comfortable and that the inflammation goes down properly. It's just as crucial as the antibiotics for his recovery…”

Leigh nods, carefully scooping Visitor into her arms, preparing to leave.

You try one last time. “Leigh, I really am sorry–”

“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Y/L/N,” she says dismissively and then she’s gone.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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lunememes · 11 months ago

Text

🌙 * ― 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐓 ( a collection of sentence starters from season one of amazon's fallout show. feel free to adjust the wording and pronouns as needed! do not add to the list. )

❛ and in that respect, he could be a cannibal or just like, crammed full of tumours. ❜ ❛ flesh is weak but steel endures. ❜ ❛ unless you know what to find and preserve, you're more useful as a corpse. ❜ ❛ how do we know they're not feral? ❜ ❛ well what makes you think i give a good goddamn about that? ❜ ❛ well what the fuck would you know 'bout where i'm from? ❜ ❛ but for me, well, i do this shit for the love of the game. ❜ ❛ you come from a place of rules, of laws. this place is indifferent to all of that. ❜ ❛ question is, will you still want the same things when you have become a different animal altogether? ❜ ❛ you earn the suit through acts of bravery. this is an act of bravery. ❜ ❛ and i'm telling you you're gonna go through a whole lot worse if you stay 'round here. trust me. ❜ ❛ clean hair. nice teeth. and all ten fingers. must be nice. ❜ ❛ the vaults were nothing more than a hole in the ground for rich folks to hide in while the rest of the world burned. ❜ ❛ you know your kind ain't welcome here. ❜ ❛ you gotta be fucking kidding me. ❜ ❛ you'll be lucky if you can make it to fucking breakfast. ❜ ❛ i'm sorry for yellin', been shot in the leg. ❜ ❛ do you have anyone else you can trust in this town? ❜ ❛ do i really have to kill him? ❜ ❛ well, if you like the taste of lavender, why not just drink a bottle of perfume? ❜ ❛ that's the worst thing i've ever put in my mouth. that's horrible. ❜ ❛ do unto others as you would have done unto you. ❜ ❛ thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. ❜ ❛ water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink. ❜ ❛ where do you think you're going? you ain't going nowhere. ❜ ❛ there you are, you little killer. ❜ ❛ no! what a disgusting idea. i'm simply going to harvest your organs. ❜ ❛ i may end up looking like you, but i'll never be like you. ❜ ❛ i really wanna believe you but practically every person i've met up here has tried to kill me. ❜ ❛ listen, hey. you don't get this medicine, you're gonna pass out, okay? and if you lose consciousness, we're both gonna die. ❜ ❛ i've seen these in old engineering manuals but never in real life. ❜ ❛ now, seeing as everyone on earth seems to be after that thing, i'm guessing that's what you're looking for too? ❜ ❛ and you could've killed me when i collapsed back there and you didn't. ❜ ❛ i get that trust doesn't come easily up here. but you can trust me. ❜ ❛ i hate it up here. ❜ ❛ the things i'm willing to do for you never cease to amaze me. ❜ ❛ hey, hey, hey. come here. i'm sorry. i know you always try to do the right thing. that's what i love about you. ❜ ❛ trust doesn't come easily to those of us with a guilty conscience. ❜ ❛ in my experience, the apple tends not to fall too far from the tree. is that true in your case? ❜ ❛ these people are hiding something from us, and i'm gonna prove it to you, okay? ❜ ❛ there's always some new little faction, ain't there? brand new team of believers with their own dumbass ideas about how they gonna save the world. ❜ ❛ so what d'you think [name]? am i really walking out of here today, or are you gonna try and draw on me for what i did? ❜ ❛ a good bad guy doesn't see themselves as the bad guy. ❜ ❛ and yet power is taken, not given. a lesson you seem to have learned. ❜ ❛ war never changes. ❜ ❛ you look out at this wasteland, looks like chaos. but there's always somebody behind the wheel. and that's who i wanna talk to. ❜ ❛ maybe you can stop them. maybe you can't. maybe all you can do is try. ❜

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #inbox meme #sentence starters #sentence memes #fallout memes #fallout prompts

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daenysx · 11 months ago

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hi love ! i know you did one kind of similar to this so don't worry about it if you don't want to do this request but could you maybe do something with a reader who wakes up annoyed with just james? like she doesn't even cry until later but she's just annoyed? i feel like he'd be so good at giving you space but still letting u know he was there for u :) once again no pressure at all lovie !

hi, angel, thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy <3333

james potter x fem!reader

your head feels like it's full of cotton when you first open your eyes.

you don't like waking up feeling useless, like every bone of your body is ready to give up the second you leave your bed. funny thing with bad mornings is that you never know when you'll have them. they just come and ruin your day until it's at least the afternoon.

sitting on bed, you reach for your phone to get it from your nightstand. there's a piece of paper under the phone. you open it.

leaving for the training, angel, i'll be home before noon ♡

james likes drawing hearts around his name when he leaves a note for you. you smile a little no matter how terrible your head feels. it's almost half past 11. you force yourself to leave the bed.

the shower may help. you try so hard to shake off the anger you feel. summer mornings are not so easy to get through without a cold shower, you also like washing your hair and leaving it wet on your bare shoulders. you don't take long, after 10 minutes you go back to your room to get dressed in plain shorts and a small tank top.

you don't feel like eating or drinking a huge iced coffee which is basically your favorite every morning. waiting for james is better, you sit on the couch, watch water drops fall on your skin from your hair.

james opens the door silently, thinking you must be sleeping. you like calling him when you wake up when he's not home, it has become an easy habit. instead he sees you spread your legs on couch, you look exhausted, he doesn't know why. you look at him with widened eyes, no energy, no spark.

he takes off his shoes, leaves the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. he comes to your side, sitting on couch with a hand on your leg. "morning, angel." he says, kissing the side of your head. "slept well?"

you shrug. "not really." you tell him. his brows come together.

"are you tired?" he asks, rubbing his hand on your leg affectionately.

"a little." you say. you'd tell him what's wrong with you if you'd know it yourself. "how was training?"

"same as every time." he answers. "there are two new guys, i think coach wants them in the team."

"that's nice." you say silently. james's eyes have a pinch of worry in them.

"is everything alright, sweetheart?" he asks, gently. "can i get you anything? have you eaten breakfast?"

you don't know the answer of the first question. nothing's wrong actually. you feel like you can throw a tantrum for no reason, you also feel like you have no energy for it. you don't wanna ruin james's day, he was happy in training and he came home to an upset you. it doesn't feel fair. you wanna bury yourself to your pillow and scream until your lungs hurt.

"i just-" you start, not knowing the rest of the sentence. "i don't know, jamie, i just feel off today. please don't worry, i'm sure i'll feel better in a few hours."

it's hard for james to see you like this. like you have no will to do anything. you look like you can't even lift your finger, your eyes lack their usual spark. he doesn't push it, though. you'll come around when you're ready. his hand lingers on your leg.

"it's okay." he says. "i'll prepare something for lunch. come to me when you feel like eating, okay? or for coffee. for anything, i'll be there."

you nod. he leaves after giving you a perfect kiss on your forehead.

you can hear the sound of plates and forks from kitchen, james washes a few things, he cooks something simple for himself. he thinks of making you a plate of your favorite breakfast but he knows you won't eat it unless you want to. he's not gonna force you into eating or drinking something, a bad morning is a bad morning. he eats in the kitchen to give you some space. he cleans up the dishes, talks to remus on the phone with a silent voice, replies some texts as he drinks a cup of tea.

you rub your eyes with your fingers. your anger has been washed away by something different, kinda like an exhaustion, something that makes walking hard and talking harder. you manage to go to the kitchen. james looks at you with a soft pair of eyes.

"can you-" you start, tears clog your throat but you don't mean to cry over nothing. "can we cuddle, please?"

james stands up from his chair. "baby." he says, cooing. "of course we can. anything you want." he hugs you in the middle of the kitchen.

"i don't know what's wrong with me." you say. you hate how desperate you sound.

"nothing's wrong with you." james says. "it's okay to have a bad day."

"i don't want to feel like this, jamie." you tell him. "i feel annoyed for no reason and my head keeps pounding, and- i hate it."

"angel." he cups your cheeks to dry your tears. "look at me."

he patiently rubs two gentle thumbs on your tears.

"let me make you something to eat. you can have a painkiller after that, okay? and maybe a cup of coffee. and then we can cuddle all day in bed. you just gotta eat something first."

he makes you a toast after you agree. it's quick and delicious, you eat as much as you can with a glass of cold water. james kisses your head as he takes your plate. you decide you don't need a painkiller. you feel better after eating anyway, and even though you don't really like it, crying helped.

james takes you to bed. he opens the window for some fresh air before joining you.

"better?" he asks. you nod, settling down on bed next to him. he holds you closer, you put your head on his chest to listen his heartbeat.

james doesn't talk until you say something. it's not that he doesn't want to or that he doesn't have anything to talk about, he just feels a tenderness in the air. you don't close your eyes, not sleeping at all, just breathing softly against his chest.

he feels so affectionate towards you, it's like his heart will explode. it makes him more protective, more attentive, more anything to keep you safe and happy. he rubs a big hand on your back until your tight muscles feel a bit relaxed. you get closer to put your head on the crook of his neck.

"i'm okay." you say suddenly. "i'm sorry for worrying you."

"i'm not worried." james lies. you know. "i know you'll be okay."

he knows but it's not the same as seeing you okay, seeing you happy and content in his arms. you are in your head more when it's summer, the weight of not having as many routines as winter is a bit heavy on you some days. james rubs your arm, you wrap it around his waist. your hair smells amazing, he buries his nose against the scent and breathes deeply.

you think it's still nice, having time to spend on bed with james with the summer breeze on your legs. he falls asleep shortly after your generous neck kisses, he must be tired from the early training. you draw shapes on his skin, admire his pretty face. your love for james runs deeper than any kind of anger you could have, he has your heart in his hands and he takes good care of it.

you don't fall asleep, only watch his chest as he breathes, his curled lips and blushed cheeks from the warmth of the nap he's taking. you smile genuinely for the first time that day. a coffee doesn't sound so bad now. james likes waking up to the fresh coffee scent anyway.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james x you #james x reader #james x fem!reader #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine

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ackerink · 14 days ago

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ׅ ◞ detest ׅ 　𐚁̸ ㅤׂ l ackerman ׅ ⁄⁄͈

⠀ ༨ ﹒ cw 𓈒 attempted murder. remastered.

l ackerman is able to join your ranks, reaching so high in such a short time that his knife finally meets your throat but hange's plan seems to have deceived him, or so you think. he's more than happy to be your doting little husband.

ׅ ༢ ii. previous ﹒ next ﹙ acosmist ﹚

levi presses his knife close to your neck, the cold blade drawing blood as your face flushes. "commander," he rasped. "good to finally meet you." there was no warmth to his words, only a cold, sharp edge that seemed indifferent. "commander?" your eyes make out the expression on his face, stern and serious with a hard sense of duty. you prepared for this moment, not just yourself but your soldiers, staying calm was the best course of action—other than implementing hange's plan. "i have no idea what you're talking about." your voice shakes with uncertainty, an act you build up to try and deceive him. "lost your memory?" levi asks, though he doesn't expect you to answer. "good." is all he follows up with before he threw you into the wall, sending you stumbling without a second thought.

"no sudden moves. . ." levi warns, his knife never leaving his tight grip.

you almost gag on your own saliva, shirt sweat soaked. never had you thought you'd be stuck in this sort of situation. levi is quick to pull you back up and press you against the nearest wall. "i won't really hurt you," he said, there was some truth there, at least. "not unless you give me a reason to." you subconsciously battle against yourself, trying to wrap your head around levi's actions. everything had happened so quickly, by the time you'd realized his infiltration he had already taken down a pack of scouts. you were sure the infamous ackerman had killed left and right, even met many, many different people. having indulged in feasting on their flesh and fear. this once before, well trained lapdog for marley, now standing in front of you; stripping himself of his cloaked demeanor.

"i'm your husband. . .these people, they want to hurt you but i won't let them." levi grumbled in your ear, his breath making the hair on your neck stand up tall. husband? these people? what could possibly be going through his mind, you even questioned your own thinking. was he playing with you, as you played with him? was this hange's master plan all along? was this some sort of dream?

no, you had to focus and play along. no matter the cause you had to draw this out as long as possible until you had the proper timing to figure him out.

"just sleep, for now." levi advised, but his words brought you no comfort as the cold embrace of unconsciousness held you close. he wasted no time in knocking you out.

"wake up, cmon. . ." levi's voice croaks as he walks onto the cramped room, he stares at you, his eyes a stormy grey that you could recognize anywhere even in your current state. he watches you struggle in slight amusement, maybe infatuation. even using a candlelight to illuminate the dirty dark. your body stiffens but you remind yourself to stay calm no matter what would happen next. the dim light from the candle reveals more of levi, standing nearby, his unsettling figure framed against the cruel darkness.

you tries to speak, but the blood rushing to your head makes it hard for you to form words much less hake off the dizziness. "what. . ." you manage to gasp after a few attempts at dressing your breathing, your voice coming out hoarse but stern…in a sense. it's a silly question, you know exactly what he is; a monster made by marley to do their dirty work.

"ah, ah, ah." levi shakes his head. "if you move too much you'll give yourself a headache, honey." he says in a mocking tone. "don't worry about anything else but me, i won't let those filthy people get to you." he continued, haven taken your uniform jacket and other equipment. then did you realize his plan, he's holding you here instead of killing you, it's no secret that marley wants you dead but here levi is. . .disobeying his superiors orders to have you silently executed for whatever reason.

🏷️ ﹕ tags ﹒ @aphroditaeon @mayyhaps

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chrrychills · 6 months ago

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hi ‼️‼️ can i request the sbg characs with a high achiever s/o?? hope you're doing alright, and you get out of the slump soon 💯💯💗 also, i absolutely LOVE LOVE your wirting stylee, and the headcanons are rlly accurate ‼️

if i only could, i'd make a deal with God .

main six « academic weapon s/o!

ashlyn banner:

•while she doesn't strive for academic excellence the way you do, she understands your thought process and supports you in how hard you work.

•she likes the concept of a study date— except you're the only one actually studying because she gives up about fifteen minutes in and ends up laying down somewhere while you study. she won't interrupt you though!

•while she doesn't show it outwardly, ashlyn's really proud of you. she knows how hard you work and loves watching it pay off.

•she's also the first to reassure you after you don't get the results you want. if you're upset about a test grade, she'll suggest grabbing some food and taking a nap to get your mind off of things.

•ashlyn's big on making sure you're taking care of yourself. if you get too caught up in studying for her liking, she'll force you to take a break to eat, drink, shower or just rest.

aiden clark:

•aiden is naturally smart so studying was never really a necessity for him, so he doesn't understand why you're bent over a desk for hours on end. i mean he gets it, but he doesn't get it. y'know?

•unlike ashlyn, he does not like the idea of study dates. if you invite him over to study, he won't even bring his school stuff. and if you try to get an ounce of studying in he'll pester you until you eventually give up and pay attention to him.

•you don't know it, but he does this because he wants to make sure you're taking breaks and not overworking yourself. also because he likes to annoy you, but it's mainly concern.

•like i said before, the little fucker is naturally gifted, so he'll usually end up with a low A or something along those lines. you always end up getting better scores than him, though. the studying really does pay off.

•he lowkey boasts about how smart you are as if it's his own achievement... but it's just because he's proud of you and likes to show you off. he'll stop if you tell him to. maybe.

ben clark:

•ben can't really get himself to lock in and study unless it's a topic that interests him, so needless to say he's impressed by how immersed you seem in the most boring of topics.

•instead of studying together, you guys will take a day or two of the week to just be together and enjoy the other's presence. sometimes you'll be studying and he'll be drawing, sometimes you two will be taking a nap or getting food. it just depends on how you feel that day.

•another one that's adamant that you take proper breaks. especially when midterms/finals roll around, ben gets worried that you won't give yourself a break and get burnt out.

•he makes sure that you understand how proud he is of you. he sees how hard you work to get to where you are, and he wants you to know that it's impressive. he's actually so whipped it's crazy.

•overall, ben's very attentive and he just wants the best for you.

tyler hernandez:

•another academic weapon. tyler's naturally smart, but the difference between him and aiden is that he actually studies. best believe you two are top of your class and you're constantly competing one-up each other on grades and test scores and whatnot.

•study dates are a must. they're not an everyday thing, but once or twice a week you two will spend hours cooped up in one of y'all's rooms with food, drinks and homework.

•we all know it's difficult for tyler to recognize when he's pushing himself to hard, and taking breaks is the bane of his existence. if you want him to take a break from homework/studying, it'll have to take a lot of convincing.

•on the flipside, he'll force you to drop everything and eat/drink/nap if he sees that you're overworking yourself. what a hypocrite.

•he's the first one to pull you out of a burnout or slump. he knows you're smart, and he knows you know it too. sometimes a bit of motivation is just what you need and he knows it.

taylor hernandez:

•while taylor is smarter than the average person, she's much more of a hands-on learner. there's a lot of times where she'll be tinkering with parts or welding some types of metal and you'll be doing homework at a desk a couple feet away. it's a way for you guys to stay close while still getting things done.

•when she gets bored, though, taylor isn't above pulling you away from your schoolwork to come hangout/cuddle with her.

•another one who is loudly proud of you and your accomplishments. taylor is and will forever be your #1 fan, and you're hers too.

•she trusts you to not push yourself or burn yourself out, but she'll step in if she has too. she doesn't want to see you crash and burn because you worked too hard.

•she rambles to tyler about how cool & smart you are, and he doesn't have the heart to tell her that he doesn't gaf.

lacey's notes:

thank you for requesting, i sorta combined it w another similar request bc i didn't wanna write 2 separate posts about basically the same thing...

#notedited

tdy's my birthday guys isn't that crazy i'm lowkey reaching unc status

title:

#sbg #sbg x reader #x reader #sbg ashlyn #ashlyn banner x reader #sbg aiden #aiden clark x reader #sbg ben #ben clark x reader #sbg tyler #tyler hernandez x reader #sbg taylor #taylor hernandez x reader

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luvingjeanie · 14 days ago

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Hi saw your post about doing match ups, i wondering if i could get a jjk match up :3

I’m 16, an intp 5w4, a gemini, and i use they/them pronouns, but i tend to dress more feminine and i dress pretty nerd/alternatively. I’m very much an introverted person however if people come up and strike a conversation i easily become the friendliest person.

I tend to keep people at an arms distance, and i tend to distance myself from people, though im trying my best to work on it! My love language is either gifts or quality of time. My hobbies are drawing, movie watching, making small films, playing videos games, and reading. One of my favorite movie series is saw, and i’m currently reading fight club. I have very much brainrot humor sometimes my friends don’t even know what i’m saying. I dislike crowded places, i hate when people point out how short i am (i genuinely feel hatred when people make it my whole personality), and people who listen to deaftones (more of a joke)

An ideal date for me is maybe somewhere away from the public whether it be a secluded place or just a homemade dinner at home. An ideal person would definitely be a person who’s very open minded and is able to match energy!

your jjk match is geto suguru!

you're here that's the thing by beabadoo is now playing....

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

✮ i think you and suguru would work extremely well together! you're both quiet, reserved, but around the right people, those you're closest with, you open up immediately. you both aim to match the energy of those around you, which he appreciates greatly.

✮ when around gojo, he spends his time teasing shoko, laughing, going on little adventures. he enjoys this, being an ordinary teenager, doing things that may get him in trouble with yaga, but sometimes he'd appreciate a quiet night. when with you, his sweet partner, sometimes he really just wants to wind down, which you allow him to do.

✮ in terms of love languages, suguru is also a person who isn't very hands on with the likes of PDA. that's not to say he isn't ever physically affectionate, because he most definitely is. you'll often have him place a hand on the small of your back, or perhaps just standing closest to you in a group setting, or ensuring your thighs touch when sat down.

✮ suguru's love with you is quiet, gentle, endlessly devoted and eternal. it's a sweet kind of love that doesn't need loud, flamboyant gestures to be understood. when apart from you for longer than he would like, he returns with little gifts, offerings of his love. books he saw that he just knew you would enjoy because he knows your preferences all too well, your favourite medium for your drawings because he noticed you were running out or your current supplies just weren't holding up anymore, those small, silly blind bags of key chains because they had some for your favourite video game, or a movie series/show you had both been binge watching together. they're rarely flashy or expensive gifts, not unless it's your birthday or anniversary, but instead just thoughtful reminders that he had missed you.

✮ and quality time? suguru gives you so much of that, any quiet moment is cherished and captured on a digital camera, which is then printed out and hung on his wall or put in the back of his phone case. these are his favourite moments. both of you in your element, watching a movie, or him watching you draw, watching you do anything really. suguru just sits there, he could be watching you watch paint dry but his eyes would swim with the infatuation, love and fondness only heard of in jane austen novels.

✮ and your horoscopes? match made in heaven. a gemini and aquarius, your intellectual and emotional compatibility is strong, with both you and him appreciating freedom and mental stimulation greatly. your conversation never runs dry, with both of you bouncing thoughts and ideas off each other late at night when you're both certainly meant to be asleep.

✮ although, despite having his quiet side, suguru is an unexpected shit stirrer. his wit, charm, and taunts are much more lowkey and covert that gojo's, but that doesn't mean he can't tease or crack a joke, and being the tall guy he is, he has unfortunately cracked a joke at the expense of your height before. he honestly can't help it, but at the end of the day, he's a good boyfriend and the moment he realised your quips back were out of genuine irritation and not just banter, he stopped.

✮ now that he knows it's a sore spot for you, anyone who points out your height or teases you for it is met with the most devastating insults, that they don't even realise were insults until they reflected upon what he said hours later.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

it was late, a quiet day followed by an even quieter, calm night. you were in your door, lit by just a desk lamp and a few sparse fairy lights used to decorate your dorm which was still a bit too plain for your tastes. a nearly full, leather bound sketchbook laid open upon your wooden desk, pencil in hand you sat cross legged in your desk chair putting pencil to paper. you hadn't decided what to draw yet, the inspiration hadn't quite hit you yet.

an archangel, perhaps? no, no, not that.

maybe some simple anatomy sketches to occupy yourself? that's too boring

a random pinterest sketch? too cliche.

amidst your thoughts, the softest click of your dormitory door grasped your attention, followed by the gentle padding of slipper clad feet. suguru. you turned to him with a smile, craning your neck, the grip on the pencil- that he had bought- never letting.

"sugu', hi," you crooned, voice ginger and fond, and eyes slow blinking.

his narrow eyes drew even tighter, nearly crinkling fully close, as he smiled down to you, "hey there, pretty," his voice was honey thick and low and utterly penchant.

"drawing?" he bent down, his hunched posture slicing his tall stature in half. he was closer to you now, chin almost propped on the softness of your sweater covered shoulder.

"trying." you said dryly, face scrunched up with distaste, staring down the empty page of your sketchbook as if it had personally defended you- which it may as well have. "artist's block, dunno what to draw... but i'm bored, so i wanna draw something."

brows raised, he hummed in acknowledgement, as if the issue you currently faced was the world's greatest conflict, and he would move mountains to fix it.

"just draw something you like, pretty." suguru said simply, the idea was plain and admittedly quite boring.

mocking him in good jest you gasped, "oh my, why didn't i think of that? has anyone ever told you how smart you are?"

he poked your cheek, clicking his tongue whilst the corners of his lips twitched, pulling upwards into the faintest of smiles. "someone's feeling rude."

"not rude, just pointing out how boring your suggestion was." your voice was a playful taunt, and you gently knocked your head against his.

"it's not boring. nothing you draw is ever boring." he stated it like it were plain fact, irrefutable and objective. to suguru, your mind was a complex, wondrous labyrinth. everything you did was simply remarkable, far more intricate and detailed than hand embroidered lace, more beautiful and divine than the greatest greek tragedy, and more lovely and pleasing than any symphony composed by a single one of the greats.

"you make anything and everything seem beautiful, i'd create a museum for just your art if i could." he kissed your temple with reverence, with the ginger care of a man who loved and worshipped.

"sap," you mumbled, but your futile attempt at nonchalance could stop the warmth spreading through your body, nor the stuttering patter of your heart against your sternum.

he laughed, low and melodic. "mhm, a sap."

you bit your cheek as you felt him move, near gliding to your bed with the grace he always carried himself with, and made himself comfortable like he always did. cracking open a book you had left on your bedside table, he leaned back and didn't look up, "get to work and surprise me, yeah?"

#kacey talks <3 #matchups #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk #jjk geto #jjk x reader

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scoutsbabygirl · 2 years ago

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I would like to see headcanons from you about how your favorite mercenaries realize that they fall in love with the reader :333

🎷🐛

my first request! hi my little meow meow! i wrote for all the mercs bc why not?! fluff below the cut! also written in headcannon form! idk how to write for soldier (i just don't see the appeal)

scout:

-why did ms. pauling have to be lesbian???

-when you came along he was immediately drawn to you, maybe it was because you were new and young

-he's way too cocky around you and acts like he doesn't care about you

-after a stern talking to by spy, jeremy decides to ask you out

-other than sports, jeremy loves to paint and draw and is surprisingly good at it. he asks you to make some art with him and of course he draws you

-this melts your heart and you've fallen for him. he's just waiting for the right time to confess and ask you to be his

soldier:

-man has zhanna

pyro:

-hearing you say "you're all good! no worries!" after he lights the hem of you shirt, almost burning you alive. he feels a spark...literally

-pyro slinks around you where ever you may be. in the kitchen baking? pyros throwing flour all over the kitchen. working out? pyros cheering you on. got some spare time? pyros got some crayons, colored pencils and a bunch of coloring books

-spending time with a masked man that the team fears has him drawn to you. the mercs warned you about him, you never felt intimated by pyro yet understood yet you could understand why he was treated differently

-if you're ever sad he will give you the best comfort. he's never shown himself to the mercs but once he sees you cry the mask is coming off and expect kisses to be planted over you

-its a very intimate moment and he just admits it then. he's never had anyone love him back, he's always been depicted as a monster.

heavy:

- won't approach you first. he waits for you to make a move. he knows his size is intimidating in itself and doesn't want to scare you away.

-he's a gentle giant. he's very careful with his words and movements. he's so paranoid that you'll view him as something he's not on the inside.

- one night you cooked with him and he told you all about his life back home, showed you photos of his sisters and taught you basic russian (assuming you don't know any already)

-if you speak russian he'll be over the moon or if you use the simple russian he's taught you he loves you just a little bit more. he adores your accent when you stumble over certain pronunciation. he knows you're the one for him

-when he decides to confess he handwrites you a long poem with an russian to english translation on two separate pages. after he signs his name he writes that he won't bring this up unless you do

-please don't break his heart. he's so sensitive

demo:

- when he confesses he's drunk as fuck. he doesn't even remember when you bring it up the next day.

-is so embarrassed. he's hungover and groggy. he plays it off by acting defensive. "i was just drunk! i meant nothing by it!"

-in the inside he's freaking out. he wanted to plan it out. it's only been 7 or 8 months since you've been at teufort but he fell so quick for you.

-3am outside pointing at the constellations, telling you about old celtic, scottish myths and folklore, shit talking the other mercs, and an accidental kiss on the lips he caught feeling for you right then and there.

- he's willing to give up scrumpy just to have you reciprocate the same feelings for him. 🤞

engineer:

-lord, he used so many pet names with you; "check this out, sweet pea", "you look beautiful, darling", "i made pancakes, you want any hon?"

-he knows his voice with a combination of his pet names do something to you. he loves when you call him those names back!

-compliment his cooking! bbq is his specialty! he'll gladly eat up anything you make. hungry boi :3

-he loves when you spend time with him in his workshop, working on his little metal trinkets warms his soul. he tries to teach you about the intricate parts of engineering. it's okay if you don't understand, he's more than willing to break it down for you and teach you a bite-sized version quantum mechanics

-friday night. a few beers in. a lot of work finished. "(y/n), i know i'm a bit older and dusty at the whole romance thing but" he pauses "you ain't seeing anyone right now, are you?"

medic:

-he either falls in love with you the second he lays his eyes on you or it takes many, many months for him to catch feelings for you. regardless, of how long the process takes his love for you becomes an obsession.

-you begin lingering around his office, inquiring about his tools and weapons. he finds it very interesting that you're not startled by him and his... unethical ways of "doctor assisted suicide"

-internal battles with his conscience. does he want to rip your organs out and shove them in the wrong places? he wants to slice your arteries one by one. yes, he wants to cut your jugular and see how much you bleed before dying. alas, he won't. you're too beautiful to be cut up into pieces. he doesn't want you to die by his hands, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

-"guten morgen, wie gehts?!" has him weak. just a simple phrase you've rehearsed a few times. you though he would appreciate you taking time out of your day to learn his native tongue. he thinks this is your way of flirting with it (and perhaps it is).

-occasionally he'll call you into his office, not for a checkup by any means but rather just to chat (on company time). he removes the gloves and runs his hands over the scars on your face and neck. "schätzelein, i have been feeling some way for a while."

sniper:

-he is such a cunt. he's so rude and bitchy to you. his attitude causes you to avoid contact with mick at all costs and he avoids you like the plague. he spends a lot of time in his van anyways so staying away from you isn't too hard.

-seeing you hurt breaks his heart. he decides to visit you in medbay after your broke your arm. the baboo uterus experiment procedure wasn't finished by the time you got hurt. you notice how out of character it is but appreciate it regardless. he brings you a little necklace made with animal teeth (him making jewerly with animal bones is the most canon-noncanon headcanon.)

-after you get a cast you ask him to sign it. next to his name he writes a little heart. then scribbles it out. and draws a skull underneath it.

-butterflies in his stomach when he lays eyes on you. he hates that he's gotten feelings for you. you're his teammate, not his partner. not yet atleast. no? why is he thinking like this.

-it's obvious that mick is touch starved of attention, he want to be validated and appreciated. he's also getting shit from his teammates so when you begin to stand up for him and complimenting him he looses his mind.

"scout, you're being mean. no wonder you have no dad, i would leave too. " "he's not ugly at all. you're old and its evident enough in those wrinkles of yours."

-oh god. who knew a petite little thing like you could spit venom. he wants to tell you how he feels so badly but he doesn't want to loose you as a friend.

spy:

-he'll flirt with you before even developing feelings for you. always trying to court you, inviting you over at late hours. he just wants to get laid tbh.

-you're playing hard to get. it excites him a bit but he's much older now so if anything he's annoyed that you won't sleep with him. he tries being more romantic and pushes idea the idea of getting with you sexually and takes a different approach.

-smoking on his red velvet couch until the sun begins to rise, sharing cigs together. he has a small stash of weed (he stole it from scout) but coughs when he smokes it, earning a plethora of giggles from you. now he's smiling and laughing with you despite his lungs being filled with smoke.

-stacks of guy de maupassant on his table near the red couch, he reads the love poems to you and translates it to you. please snuggle up into his chest and try to read the french words yourself. your pronunciation is horrible and your accent is awful. you sound so cute yet so pathetic at the same time.

-he tries to keep his feelings hidden for as long as he can. of course, it slips out. he's stopped wearing the balaclava when around you (and only you, even his own son doesn't know what he truly looks like) so the bright red blush is evident on his face. he tries taking back what he said but there's no use as your already face first into his chest.

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just-a-little-cellist · 9 months ago

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Hiii could you write about Fíli with a very dominant and assertive Fem!partner?

And some Nsfw headcanons for that hihihi

(And maybe p3gging him🤭)

Whaaaat who said that

(yesss of course! fili needs a girlboss in his life honestly :D this is so much longer than I thought it'd be, enjoy!)

(Fili x fem reader - some NSFW marked at the end :P )

Fili, as prince under the mountain, has his fair share of responsibility. This means one of the things he values the most in a partner is their ability to be independent.

Your headstrong nature is something that draws him to you right from the start, long before he starts courting you.

The way you hold yourself with such confidence is magnetic, and when he first hears you snap at someone for disrespecting you he's practically making heart eyes.

And if you're snapping at someone to defend him? Oh boy he is gone.

While he's still finding his footing as heir, he can doubt himself occasionally, and will look to you for support once you've drilled into him that he doesn't need to bottle anything up.

He highly values your opinion, so confides in you often, and trusts you to be truthful with him regardless of the situation.

Fili loves that you know what you want and aren't afraid to ask for it. Sometimes it's nice for him to have clear instructions instead of having to be the one to decide.

(And he might not admit it readily but he'll bend over backwards to get you whatever you want.)

He truly feels as though he has an equal partnership with you. You do not rely on him entirely, just as he does not rely on you, but you are strong enough to support each other. It's a relationship he's always hoped for - one out of choice rather than necessity, and fuelled by love rather than obligation.

(If he just so happens to find your assertiveness incredibly attractive, then that's just a bonus. A bonus for you as well, since you get to watch his cheeks flush slightly pink whenever you get the chance to boss people around. :P )

🌟~NSFW~🌟

As outwardly confident and occasionally flirty as Fili may be, he'd melt into the ground if you told him to.

There's just something about your voice when you give commands. It's just... entrancing.

After a long day of important tasks and having to take authority, it's a relief for him to be able to fall apart knowing that you'll put him back together.

He's a very obedient sub most days. He has odd days where he feels like riling you up just to see how you'll react, but usually he's content to let you do as you please.

He is pliant and eager to do what you ask of him, just please tell him how good he's doing. Fili never says it out loud, but you can tell from the choked whimpers that he needs the praise.

Being the good boy that he is, he always wants to show you his appreciation - a service sub through and through. It would take a lot to pry him from between your legs and, unless you command him otherwise, he will happily stay there for hours as he drifts into subspace.

This does mean he's hesitant when you tell him you want to spoil him for a night. Not reluctant, by any means, but he often feels selfish when all the focus is on him.

Which is exactly why you decide to spoil him, knowing he deserves to be a little selfish sometimes.

He's even more hesitant when you show him the strap on you bought, but with your soothing voice explaining that it will feel wonderful, my love, I promise, he couldn't possibly turn it down.

Fili looks ethereal splayed out over the bed, teeth sinking into his lower lip and face flushed, and you wonder why you hadn't tried this sooner.

After prepping him so carefully for so long that he thinks he might combust from sheer need, you slide into him, and the gasp as he clings onto you is almost enough for you to cum on the spot.

You start at a slow pace, watching his face as he gets used to the feeling, and you're content to keep the pace slow until he pleads with a whine for you to go faster.

And who would you be to deny your prince?

He cums with a cry, and you're there to guide him through it, telling him how well he's done for you, and that he's been such a good boy. You kiss him lovingly and let him catch his breath before you gently clean him up, and you deny his attempts to return the favour, insisting that tonight was about him.

The night ends with him laying against your chest, with your fingers stroking through his hair, completely boneless and softly murmuring his thanks against your neck.

#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #fili durin #fili x reader #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x y/n #fili imagine #fili x you

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minlahzz · 2 months ago

Text

A little Lunchbox Love.

synopsis: alain leaves for a trip, but not without a stack of homemade bentos and a note for every meal, all from his beloved partner. word count: 1k+

you can tell why this took long i put my whole pusay power into this:p I cringed a bit, but yknow

alain never asks for much. that’s just how he is.

he lives quietly, travels around the kalos region often, and keeps things to himself in that typical alain way—soft spoken and unreadable, so when he told you he had errands that’d keep him away for a few days, it wasn’t with drama or complaint. just a simple “i’ll be gone for a while.” you expected it, he was the winner of the kalos league and made a big name for himself.

you nodded.

and then you got to work.

because sure, maybe he doesn’t say much, but you listen closely. you remember the way his eyes light up when he eats your tamagoyaki, the way he hums under his breath when a soup’s been perfectly seasoned, how he picks the vegetables out of certain dishes (rude) but eats them anyway if he knows you cooked it.

so no, he didn’t ask for anything—but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t send him off properly.

when he walks into the kitchen the morning of his trip, it's to the sight of a neatly stacked collection of bento boxes, labeled and color-coded with little sticky notes fluttering on the lids like post-it confetti.

“…what’s this?” he blinks, already sounding overwhelmed.

you turn from the stove with a grin, spatula in hand. “your lunch. and dinner. and maybe snacks. depends on how fast you eat, monsieur scarf man.”

he stares at the boxes. then at you. “…all of these are for me?”

“unless charizard wants to try sashimi,” you tease.

truthfully, it’s more than a little overboard. there’s grilled fish bento. there’s karaage bento. there’s seasonal vegetable stir-fry with soba and perfectly sliced tamagoyaki bento. the rice in one box has a tiny heart pressed into it, the pickled plum dead center. there’s even a dessert box with delicate matcha daifuku and sweet potato tarts. you outdid yourself.

and he knows that. it’s obvious in the way he hovers near the counter like he’s afraid to touch anything, like it’s too much to even accept.

“…you didn’t have to do all this,” he says, voice soft.

you flip the stove off. “i know. but i wanted to. just take them, okay? they’re easy to carry. and there are instructions.”

“instructions?”

you grab one of the boxes and pluck the sticky note off the lid, waving it like a flag. “see? reheating tips. reminders. and a few things to make you smile.”

he hesitates before reaching for one of the notes. he reads it once. twice. and then something in his shoulders eases.

“‘remember to actually chew,’” he recites quietly. “‘and don’t glare at anyone too hard unless they deserve it. love you, loser.’ okay the last part was not apart of the instructions...” he pauses. “…you drew me as a charizard.”

“it’s accurate,” you snort. “look at the hair.”

he looks at you unamused crossing his arms, he shook his head denying it. when he finally begins loading the boxes into his bag, you see the way he tucks the notes into his pocket. he tried to look sneaky, but failed. he stayed at the door a bit longer than usual that morning.

you don’t say much when he leaves—just a simple “come back alive!!” and a kiss on the cheek. he doesn’t say much either, but you knew he was happy from how much he kept staring at his bag.

—

he texts you a photo two days later.

it’s blurry and slightly off-center, but it’s unmistakably one of your bento boxes, opened on a rock near a field with charizard in the background. nestled between the compartments is one of your silly little notes: a cartoon drawing of alain and charizard angrily fighting a rogue piece of lettuce with a sword.

his message: the food’s still warm. the note’s stupid. i’m keeping it forever.

you don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

—

when he finally returns from his long errand, he doesn't immediately come to disturb you or wake you up. you'll wake up from your nap, your kitchen looks exactly the same. your spice rack’s still alphabetized. the dishes are still drying on the rack. but you notice something different despite that.

there’s a little paper stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

it’s a folded note. and in neat, sharp handwriting you know better than your own, it reads:

"everything tasted better than i remembered. thank you."

and under that, scribbled a bit messier:

“(also i did chew, stop slandering me.)”

you laugh, did you love a socially awkward idiot? yes, but that just made you love him even more.

#pokemon x reader #pokémon x reader #pokémon #pokémon alain x reader #pokémon alain #alain!!#pokemon alain #alain x reader #pokemon alain x reader

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morgandereks · 1 year ago

Text

This is a first that Buck has been waiting for with a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation. Because that's what happens when you date someone, right? At some point, if things go well, you'll see them naked.

And it's not like Buck's never seen another cock before, okay? He watches porn, he's been in the locker room at the station or whatever.

But this is different. This isn't just some random dick slip at the gym. It’s Tommy.

And Tommy's really big.

They’re lying pressed together on the too-small couch, Buck half on top of Tommy to accommodate the both of them. The movie they’d been watching is playing softly in the background, both of them having forgotten about it when one heated kiss had turned into two, three, his hands slipping up beneath Tommy’s Henley while Tommy’s fingers toyed with the drawstring of his sweats. And then, in a moment of reckless want, Buck had pulled back enough to free Tommy from the confines of his jeans.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Only now, Buck finds that he can't move, throat dry as he stares down at the length of Tommy's cock.

"Evan." He jumps a little when he feels Tommy's fingers thread through his hair, using the gentle grip to force him to meet Tommy's gaze. Tommy's brows are pulled together, lips turned down in a worried frown.

"You know you don't have to do this, right? There’s no rush."

"Yeah, I-I know. I want to." It belatedly occurs to him that maybe Tommy isn't ready for this—he thinks about teeth and suddenly isn't sure he'd want someone with no blowjob experience near his junk either—and he hurriedly begins to back pedal. "Unless you don't want—"

He doesn't get much further than that, Tommy pulling him up further to press a hungry kiss to his parted lips. It's a welcome distraction, and Buck feels his own cock throb in response, his hips thrusting infinitesimally against Tommy's thigh.

But it doesn't get much further than that before Tommy breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Buck's and breathing heavily.

"There is nothing I want more than to have your hands on me," he says, voice rough.

"Then let me do this for you. Please?"

"Fuck." He watches the way Tommy's throat works before he answers in a shaky voice, "Y-yeah. Okay."

Seeing Tommy look so wrecked when they haven't even started yet bolsters Buck's confidence some as he turns his attention back to Tommy's cock. It's long and so thick. Now probably isn't the best time, but Buck allows himself a moment to study it. The vein running up the length of the shaft, the way the foreskin has pulled back from the sensitive head, his balls hanging full and heavy between his legs...

Buck's mouth waters.

Steeling himself—C'mon, Buck, you rappelled onto a capsized cruise ship from a helicopter in the middle of a hurricane, get it together—he reaches out to take Tommy in hand.

He isn’t sure what he'd been expecting. It's a dick. He's got one of those and he's jerked off plenty. Brow furrowed in concentration, he gave an experimental stroke.

Above him, Tommy hisses. Okay, yeah, that is not encouraging. Buck peeks up at him, only to find Tommy staring at him intensely, his chest already heaving.

Huh.

"You like that?" Buck asks, a teasing grin curving his mouth as he pumps Tommy again, slow and easy.

"Christ, Evan." A muscle in Tommy's jaw jumps and he draws in a deep breath through his nose. "Do that again."

The bite of command in Tommy's voice makes him shiver. He does as he's told despite the awkward angle, his eyes darting between Tommy's expression and the tip of his cock is beaded with precum. Feeling daring, Buck rubs his thumb over the droplet, spreading it out over the sensitive head.

Tommy's hips buck into his hand.

Yeah, this is gonna be fun.

Buck laughs, twisting around to settle himself between Tommy's legs, the shaft only inches away from Buck's mouth. He bites his lip, hesitating, before deciding to just go for it. Holding Tommy's gaze, he leans in to brush a featherlight kiss on the underside of Tommy's cock.

His reaction doesn't disappoint. He curses loudly, hands winding back into Buck's hair and tightening almost to the point of pain. They've only just begun, and already Tommy's control is threatening to fracture.

He's beautiful.

Buck's not feeling brave enough to take Tommy into his mouth, not yet, but it's almost better like this. This way, he gets to watch Tommy's head thrashing against the arm of the couch, see the way his body strains towards the pleasure. Buck jerks Tommy off, rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock and through the precum accumulating there. With every second, his movements slowly gain confidence as Tommy gets closer to the edge. He categorises the other man's every reaction, filing it all away for the next time they do this.

Jesus, he's already desperate for next time.

"Evan, please, I—"

"What do you need, babe? C'mon, tell me."

But Tommy does something even better. He releases his hold on Buck's hair and reaches down to wrap one hand around Buck's, guiding his movements. Buck's breath catches as Tommy's fingers squeeze his, jerking Tommy's cock harder and rougher and—

"Fuck."

Tommy's body tenses for an endless moment before he breaks. Ropes of cum shoot up Tommy's belly and chest, and a few errant drops land on Buck's face. The sounds he makes as he comes undone, the helpless grunts and shudders that wrack his body are so fucking hot, that Buck has no choice but to get up onto his knees to give himself room to reach for his own cock. Tommy's come slicks the way for Buck's hand as he works the shaft

Tommy stares at him with hazy eyes, lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. Christ, he's so gorgeous like this, utterly debauched with his flushed cheeks and come splattered skin.

And Buck's just going to add to it. It's that thought that tips him over the edge. His orgasm rolls through him, taking his breath away as his own come paints Tommy's abdomen. And all the while, Tommy watches him, dark eyes warm and gentle and hungry for something Buck can't quite put a name to.

His knees give out under him, and he falls forward in a boneless heap, narrowly avoiding elbowing Tommy in the ribs. Tommy lets out a little ooof as he bears Buck's weight.

"Wow," Buck says after a brief, breathless silence.

“Yeah.” Tommy runs a shaky hand up and down his back, and Buck arches into the touch like a cat. He feels his eyes drifting shut, a bone deep satisfaction beginning to lull him to sleep.

“… go shower,” Tommy’s saying from somewhere above him. Buck frowns and burrows closer into his body. It’s gonna take a friggin’ crane to get him to move now.

“Evan.” A quiet sigh. “I know you can hear me.”

“Hng.”

The sound of his laugh makes Buck smile against Tommy’s skin. The hand that had been rubbing his back moves back up into his hair. Buck can’t hold back a shiver at the sensation of Tommy’s nails scratching at his scalp.

“C’mon,” he coaxes. “If you get up now, I’ll even wash your hair for you.”

That gets Buck’s attention. He lifts his head to squint at Tommy.

“Promise?”

Tommy’s smile makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s an expression that never fails to give Buck butterflies.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I promise.”

#i had fun with this #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #911 abc #my writing

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