#leigh writes

[realwitchieshit]

She's Workin' at The Pyramid

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

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

Word Count: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bye Mama! I love you more!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That she is, hon."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ava, I'm not letting you—"

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

"What about Barb?" Melissa asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know her?" Melissa asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your manager smiled gratefully, "Room 4."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why'd she request me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#leigh writes #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfic

[jenowithjaem]

word count: 1103 | warnings: centered around reader being upset because of their father, reader cries, allusions to alcohol/alcoholism, mentions of grief and the death of an unnamed family member (reader’s brother), hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity (they take a bath), trauma dumping except it’s me who’s trauma dumping lol *reader wears makeup but no pronouns or gender indicators are used; Seungcheol calls reader baby a lot

Seungcheol knew that something was wrong as soon as he stepped over the threshold of your shared apartment’s front door. It was unusually quiet- normally bustling with music or noise from the kitchen. Not even the TV in the living room was on.

Once his shoes are off, he navigates his way through the dark apartment, heading straight for the bedroom. He finds you tucked under a pile of blankets, initially thinking that you're asleep.

But when he hears your quiet sniffles, he immediately drops his coat from his arms, the leather falling to the floor carelessly.

“Baby.” You hear your boyfriend's voice call out softly, yet filled with concern. Then the blankets are being pulled off of you and your body is exposed to the cool chill of your bedroom. The bed dips under Seungchoel’s weight, and his hands are rubbing your back gently. “Baby, what's wrong?”

You stay quiet. Seungcheol knows it'll take a few minutes for you to calm down enough to speak- as you don’t usually speak when you're crying- so he patiently waits until you're ready, continuing to rub comforting circles on your back.

A few minutes pass and you finally lift your head from the heap of pillows. Your makeup is smudged and it stains one of the pillows.

Seungcheol carefully reaches out to wipe the crusty mascara from under your eyes. He pulls you into his chest and you have to keep yourself from crying again. You take a few deep breaths and then you pull away, finally deciding to speak.

“I was supposed to see my parents today, but it fell through.” Was all you had said.

“Did something happen? Are your parents okay?” Seungcheol asks, a frown on his face.

“They're okay.” You assure him.

He nods, confused. “Okay... So what happened, then?”

“Well-” you kind of hesitate. It's not that you don't trust Seungcheol, and it's not that you're not comfortable telling him. It's just that- you know that speaking it out loud makes it that much more real. You let out a breath and hand your head. “Dad’s been drinking again,” you say sadly.

“Ah,” he says, immediately understanding why you're as upset as you are.

“I was really looking forward to seeing them today. And I know that I can drive over there myself, but when mom told me that-” You stop to take a breath. “That dad said he's not driving anywhere because he'd been drinking, it completely ruined my mood. Hearing that made me not even want to see them anymore today.” Seungcheol takes your hand in his, softly running his thumb over your knuckles.

“I feel bad because I hung up on mom. And I know it's not her fault, but it was either hang up and just text her or cry while on the phone. And you know I don't fancy crying in front of people, so I hung up and texted her that we could just wait until tomorrow. I don't have the heart to tell her that I didn't want to be around him if he'd been drinking.” You blink away the tears that threaten to spill, using your free hand to wipe your eyes. This just smears your makeup even more.

“I hate to be like that because I know he's only like that because of ..what happened, but sometimes I feel like he forgets that he's not the only one who lost someone that day.” Someone being your older brother who passed away when you were a teenager. It's something that you've come to terms with over the last few years, and although it'll never be something you get over, it’s something that’s slowly become easier to live with as time passes.

And you know that everyone grieves differently- you know, because you’ve seen it differently in your father and your mother and your other brother- but it's just like you said; it's almost like he forgets that he's not the only one who lost someone that day.

You sniffle before speaking again. “I feel like- like I'm just being sensitive and-” but Seungcheol cuts you off.

“Your feelings matter. And if you feel like you can't, or that you don't want to be around your father when he's like that, then that's completely valid. Don't discredit yourself for having boundaries. Whether it's your parents or not.'' His voice is stern, and you know he's right. You also know that it's pointless to try and argue back. So you don't. You just nod your head and thank him.

“You're welcome, baby. Now let's get your face cleaned of all that makeup. Do you want to take a bath?”

You nod your head and Seungcheol pulls you up from the bed and towards the bathroom.

He helps you clean the ruined makeup from your face, gently wiping it away with a cloth and micellar water. Then he lets you wash your face while he runs the water, making sure it's just the way you like it. He lets the tub fill while he goes back to the bed to collect the linen to be washed, grabbing two towels on his way back in. You're stripped out of your clothes and in the water by then, and Seungcheol soon joins you. He sits behind you, with your back pressed against his broad chest.

The two of you stay silent for the most part, occasionally speaking here or there. But after a while, you break the silence with a quiet call of his name. Your hands are swishing around the water in front of you and you sound timid, almost nervous. He answers with a hum, and you crane your neck around to look at him, only to find him looking at you lovingly.

“Thank you. For always being there for me, and for never making me feel like I'm being overly dramatic or sensitive.”

Seungcheol kisses your temple.

“You don't have to thank me, baby. But I do think you should try and talk to your parents tomorrow and tell them how you feel. It's Saturday so I'll be off- I can go with you if you need some mutual support.”

“I really appreciate the offer, but I think this is something I need to do by myself.”

Seungcheol understands that this is something personal and doesn't necessarily concern him, so he just nods and lets you know that he’ll be there if you change your mind.

“I’ll sleep on it.” You tell him with a small smile.

And you've never been so thankful to have such a strong yet gentle support system like him.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

Thank you for reading! I’m sorry that this one was so much darker than the other two blurbs I’ve put out. Let me know if I’ve made any mistakes or left out any warnings!

Please remember that it’s okay to reach out for help if you’re struggling with any kind of addiction. And remember that you’re not alone <3

#choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #READ WARNINGS #leigh writes #cw: alcohol #cw: grief

[fantasticalleigh]

New work alert! (Bridgerton: Polin)

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

#leigh writes #polin #polin bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #polin fanfiction #there will be smut in this!!

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Midsummer Nightmare

AI-less Whumptober Day 1: Drugging

Masterlist

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

#AIlesswhumptober2023 #leigh writes #midsummer nightmare #arne the farmhand #ikalos the spare #whump #whump writing #human whumpee #fae whumper #drugging #noncon drugging #hunting mention

[leigh-rambles]

cupid's arrow

pairing: billy russo x archer!reader

summary: in which the former spec ops sniper you're absolutely smitten with randomly drops by your local archery range. it's definitely cool that he's gonna see you shoot and you're not freaking out. totally. 1.1k words.

warning/s: none. it's just very self indulgent. also reader uses she/her prns and refers to herself as a woman at one point and gets referred to as a "girlfriend".

a/n: hi! this is my first fic ever & i wasn't going to originally post this bc it's super self indulgent & borne out of my frustration of not getting a trick shot right, but i made my friend who knows nothing about the punisher and/or billy russo read this & she said it was good and i trust her judgement more than mine. also reader shoots recurve & barebow bc i shoot recurve & i wanna shoot barebow & also bc i think compound bows aren't very fair to the deer.

-

"Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?" Avery, the seven year old with dark hair and a green sweater, asked.

Her face was scrunched into a frown as she stared at the offending man beside you. In the 3 months you've been volunteering to help the kids out at your local archery range, this is the first time Billy Russo showed up with you.

In fact, you're not even exactly sure why he's here. You were helping a kid pick a bow with the right draw strength when he showed up with his stupidly perfect hair and stupidly perfect suit.

The CEO of Anvil probably had better things to do on a Saturday morning but for now, he's at an archery range with you.

You stumbled over your words, not expecting the kid to be so blunt. "Oh, uh- he's just m-my... Billy. This is Billy." Billy raised an eyebrow.

"Your Billy?" Avery said slowly, questioningly. She glances at the two of you with squinted eyes. She was about to say something else when a whistle was blown from somewhere and she ran off to collect her arrows from her target.

An arm snaked around your waist. "So... I'm your Billy, now?" he asked playfully. You swatted his arm. If he touched you any more you were most probably gonna spontaneously combust.

(He ignored your attempt and instead pulled you closer. You were certain you were gonna explode from his fingers grazing the patch of skin under your shirt that rid up.)

"They have the attention span of a goldfish, Russo. They're gonna forget about this by next week," you said, rolling your eyes, trying to hide the blush rising up your cheeks. You started to fiddle with your arm guard to distract yourself from your racing heart.

"But I won't."

You elbowed him in the ribs, basking in the light laugh he let out. His eyes crinkled and his mouth quirked up. Your heart started beating faster. Oh, God is this what a heart attack feels like?

"What are you doing here?" you asked, looking up at him. He gave a noncommittal shrug, like it's perfectly normal for him to be in a rundown archery range in your neighborhood at 9 in the morning.

"Frank said you were here Saturdays," he replied in a matter of fact manner, as if it was obvious.

You were about to volley back when suddenly, a little boy ran towards you, yelling your name. You caught him before he crashed into you and bent down to look him in the eye. "Hey, buddy, Jacob, no running or horseplay in the range, remember? What's going on?"

"Davy doesn't believe that you can Robin Hood an arrow!" Jacob panted, pointing an arrow at another boy who looked on, slightly embarrassed. "I never said she couldn't! I just said I've never seen her do it!"

Jacob nodded furiously. "He's only been coming here two weeks. Can you please show him, pretty please?"

"First, don't wave your arrow around like that. Put it in your quiver. Second, I'd love to, kiddo, but all the targets are taken right now. I'll just show it to you guys next week," you hesitated.

For some reason you're slightly nervous shooting with Billy around. You're not sure if it's because of the Spec Ops sniper thing or the "he's stupidly attractive and you don't wanna look like an idiot if you miss" thing.

Davy waved his arms frantically, his bow lying forgotten on the concrete. "Use my target! I wanna see you Robin Hood an arrow again!"

"'Robin Hood an arrow'?" Billy asked, suddenly interested. "It's basically- well I guess I can just show you."

You stood up on slightly wobbly legs and grabbed your bow from its stand. You stuck your hand in your pocket and pulled on your glove. ("What the fuck's wrong with you? You've done this shot at least ten times before. Why are you nervous?" you scolded yourself.)

It's not just nerves; it's excitement too. Archery was your first love. You spent so many years practicing until you can hit a target as far as 50 yards without a sight. And the fact that you're gonna share this part of you with Billy for the first time?

Yeah, you're in deep.

Walking towards an excited Davy, you placed your feet parallel to the shooting line. The other kids stopped to watch. You've shown this particular trick the first time you helped them out and they loved it. The little girls called you Merida for a month.

Taking an arrow from the quiver on your waist and notched it on the string, you can feel Billy's eyes on you. Thank fuck you've got stabilizers and your shaking isn't that noticeable.

You shook your head and inhaled, bringing the string to the crook of your mouth. You picked the arrow closest to the bullseye to shoot and aimed it just about there.

1

Okay, yeah you've done this at least 10 times before. Albeit the first couple times were an accident, but still.

2

Why are you shaking so badly? You've been doing this for years, woman! Keep your back straight and eyes ahead. Why are you being so weird?

3

Because Billy is here. And you care about what he thinks and you want him to be proud of you. Oh my god, you're in love with him.

Startled, you let go of the string, the hen leaving a small scratch on your cheek. You held your breath as the arrow flew towards the target.

Blink.

The arrow perfectly embedded itself on the notch of Davy's arrow.

Jacob screamed and shook poor Davy. You laughed as the kids ran to the target and oohed and aahed.

"That," Billy paused. "was impressive."

You smiled and rolled your eyes, ignoring the pounding of your heart. "Wow, the Billy Russo calling my shooting impressive?"

He smirked.

You smiled again and turned to look at the kids. Your cheeks are starting to hurt. He thought it was impressive.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Hm. I first held a bow when I was 6 but I've only been training semi-regularly since I was 8." He makes a thoughtful noise and you turn around to see him staring at you.

"What?" you asked, eyebrows stitched together in concern.

"Nothing it's just... it's really obvious you love archery. You're taking time off your day just to hang out with these kids and practically give them lessons for free and whenever they ask you questions your eyes light up. You just... care. A lot."

You frowned. "What's wrong with caring a lot?"

Billy shook his head. "Nothing wrong with that, obviously. It's just really cute."

You nodded in response as you turned to the kids again.

Wait.

What?

Your head snaps to look at Billy "Did you just call me cute?"

As if on cue, the phone in his pocket buzzed. He smiled at you. "Well I guess I'll just see you tomorrow then. Have a good day."

You watched as he walked away. What the fuck.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo x female reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo drabble #billy russo the punisher #marvel x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x y/n #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fic #leigh writes

[ginnsbaker]

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

[whats-todays-hyperfixation]

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

#how dare leigh bardugo write the best y/a novel ive ever read #i love them so much its a problem #six of crows #the crows #wylan van eck #nina zenik #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #inej ghafa #kaz brekker

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Okay maybe I’m just late to the party realising this but you guys when Kaz talks about Geels and his girlfriend in chapter 2 of Six of Crows is it meant to be implicit reference to him and Inej as a set up for the rest of the duology???

This is the quote that made me think this just now:

“You love her, don’t you? Of course you do, no-one that fine should have ever looked twice at Barrel scum like you but she’s different. She finds you charming. Sure sign of madness if you ask me, but love is strange that way”

And then that’s followed by Geels giving up on all the planning and scheming he’s done to be able to kill Kaz so that Kaz won’t hurt Elise!?

The entire scene is about Kaz trusting Inej blindly to get to the other guard on time and save his life??

They talk about *geraniums* in the window box of 19 Burdtradt!!?????

The more I think about this the more I love it but idk maybe I’m reading into it too much? Lemme know what you guys think

#writing the next scene of my script and this occurred to me #maybe I’m just crazy who knows #grishaverse #six of crows #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #kanej #kanej brainrot #i love kanej so much #*cries in kanej* #kanej supremacy

[thoughtkick]

Stop treating your pain like it’s something you imagined. If you see the wound is real, then you can heal it.

Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

#Leigh Bardugo #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[coryosbaby]

top adam x bottom fem reader? tumblr is lacking 💔

—ᴀᴠᴀ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ !

Adam Stanheight x fem! Bimbo! Reader

✯ Content Warning . semi public sex (in an alley), club scene, choking, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, mild anal, p n v, degradation & praise, creampie, a lil bit of punk Adam with nipple piercings <33

Staring off across the room could not have been as helpful as it is right now.

A man’s hands are grabbing your hair, pressing you between his warm body and a brick wall behind you. He smells good, like some cheap cologne and soap but in the best way possible. He’s got some kind of eyeliner on his lower lashline and a curve hugging t shirt that makes you swoon. You had watched him from across the room under the strobe lights. He had saw you, approached, talked. His name is Adam.

You don’t know him— not really. You know who he is, thanks to a news article you read a few months ago. You know what had happened to him, after he had escaped a viscous serial killer and somehow got out alive. You know that taking a girl in an alleyway is probably his way of blowing off steam. But he was nice enough to strike up conversation before he jumped your bones— even asked to take your picture.

“Trying to remember the scene,” he had said, chuckling nervously. “especially you. You’re the prettiest view here.”

And after that, you had both somehow made your way to the back alley and he had set his camera down and sooner or later you had shoved your tongue down his throat. And okay, so this seems a little trashy, but so what? You would’ve fucked him either way, whether it be at home or at his apartment. And besides— something about this boy has you willing to be fucked like a cheap slut in the middle of an alleyway. And who can blame you, honestly.

If you didn’t know any better, you would ask Adam out.

But you don’t think about that possibility right now— can’t think about that. His crotch is grinding up against yours, his lips consuming you until he pulls away.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asks. He wants you, but he wants to make sure that being fucked in an alleyway is something you’re into.

Nodding, you ignore the pain in your heels as you lift on your tippy toes in your stilettos. Biting teasingly at his neck, you let out a small breath of air.

“‘S perfect. Now why don’t you shut up and fuck me?”

His eyes are glazed with lust, and his hand reaches down to grab the flesh of your ass.

“Yeah?” He mutters. “Right here?”

At your nod, he shakes his head and chuckles.

“Never met a chick like you before.”

He dives back in for another taste of your lips. His tongue strokes your bottom lip, wet and filthy and oh so delicious. You run your hands up his shirt, feeling the warm skin and the light patch of hair on his chest. Running your hands over his chest, you’re met with the sensation of cold metal.

Nipple rings.

“Been wanting some of these,” you mention to him, and he grins against you.

“Hurt like a bitch. Wouldn’t recommend if you have a low pain tolerance.”

“Mmmm..”

You continue to kiss him again, this time flicking over his nipples and playing with the barbells. It drives him crazy, and he becomes more sex crazed and desperate. After a moment he pulls your face away from him. Without warning, he turns you around and shoves your face against the wall. Letting out a tiny gasp, your pussy aches as he pushes your legs apart with one of his own and moves down to his knees. He kneads your ass with his hands, lifting up your pink latex dress to expose your soft ass to him. Groaning, he takes notice of the tiny black thong that’s settling in between your cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispers solely to himself. You smirk. You knew that the lace would come in handy if you got laid tonight.

“Like it?” You say, amused. His hands move up to spread your cheeks. The slightly chilled night air makes your eyes scrunch shut in pleasure.

“So fucking sexy.” Adam praises, and he leans in, using his thumb to move away the thong’s string. Watching your dripping pussy from this angle, his cock is so hard that it hurts. Your little clit is settled between two swollen lips, hole clenching and unclenching. Adam takes sight of you under the street lamp a distance away that serves as your only source of light. He thinks you’re beautiful.

He brings his lips to your clit; pressing a soft kiss there, he lets out a small mewl. He kisses all over you, moving up to the globes of your ass to leave wet ones in a trail. And unexpectedly, his finger finds your puckered asshole, running it along on it. He slips his thumb in, gentle, and with his other hand he reaches around to play with your aching pussy. He finds your hole and he probes it with the tip of his tongue, while his finger slides inside your ass. He thrusts one, in, out, in, out, and it’s not long before he adds a second as he begins to devour your cunt like a man starved. Groaning against you, he makes sure to get your pussy nice and wet, makes sure to drool and spit on it as much as he can. You like boys like this; boys that are desperate and messy but still manage to somehow make you submit. Because this whole time, your mouth is spewing so many vulgar phrases, begging, pleading.

“Please! ‘S good, Adam, it’s so good, wanna be good for you…”

“Want you to make me cum, want your cock…”

And Adam’s got this hunger as he hears these words, as your hole feeds him your delicious arousal. He wants to fuck you until you stop breathing.

It’s not long before he presses down on your clit and rubs while his tongue is still probing your walls. Instantly, white hot heat licks up your spine and you can’t help but cum all over Adam’s pretty mouth. You shove your wrist in your mouth to keep quiet but it’s so hard. You haven’t had your pussy ate like this in a while.

Wiping his mouth, Adam grins from behind you as he lifts himself back up to his feet. He begins to undo his belt, the skull shaped buckle glinting in front of his eyes. He unzips his fly, pulling out his hard cock. He strokes himself as he watches your ass grind back desperately against him.

“Still so needy…” He grunts. “God, you’re a slut, aren’t you?”

You mewl, hands reaching behind to spread your cheeks and present yourself to him again. You’re like a bitch in heat for this perfect stranger. He takes notice, instantly shoving his cock against your clit and tapping a few times. He’s being such a tease.

“Adam, cmon..” you whine, trying to adjust your hips so his mushroomed head can catch on your dripping seam. He just shakes his head, rubbing his cock up and down your folds.

“Beg for it,” he whispers against your neck. “Beg for this cock.”

“Please,” you instantly moan out. “Please fill me up. My pussy needs your cock so bad…”

And Adam isn’t a patient guy, so of course he gives into your demands and slides his throbbing cockhead into your entrance. He tilts his head back, mouth falling open, as he enters your warm canal. You mewl against him. He’s big, not too much that its incredibly painful but just enough to give you that delicious stretch.

Adam’s face buries itself into your neck, small sounds leaving his throat as he finally sinks in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Are you always this tight?”

“Mhmmmm,” you say, feeling confident. Your hands reach behind you to run through his dark hair. “Been needing a cock inside me for weeks.”

He thrusts into you a bit harsher now, nipping at your jugular with his teeth.

“Yeah?” He breathes. “Should’ve met me sooner baby,” and then, with a much darker tone, “Could fill up this pussy every day if you’d let me.”

And now you know you need to ask for his number. Because you’ve never felt this needy and this hot for another human being in your life. Maybe it’s love at first sight— or fuck at first sight. It doesn’t matter. He’s beginning to pummel your guts like you’re a fuck doll, grunting into your ear as his hips slap loudly against yours. His hands wrap around your hair and he pulls you back towards his awaiting thrusts.

“Clenching so tight. Making my dick so wet, baby, fuck.”

Squirming in his grasp, you let out a squeak when he bites down on your neck harshly. Like a fucking vampire, the boy begins to suckle up the blood into his mouth. As he pulls away, his pace speeds up impossibly quick.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” He coos. “Who’s fucking this cute little pussy this good?”

“You!” You gasp. “All you, Adam, ‘m yours— shit!”

You’re about to cum embarrassingly fast once again. Just one little flick to your clit and you’ll be spilling all over his cock. Adam takes your ass in his palms and spreads you again so he can watch as you take him.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes. “Such a good, pretty slut. Gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard on me.”

Your eyes roll back, and he reaches around to rub your clit with his fingers. You seize up, letting out a choked sound, as you cum all over him. He whimpers as he feels your pussy spasm around him, and his fingers on your hips become bruising. You can’t help but have the desire to be filled up with his spend; it doesn’t matter if he might leave you after this, you want him to leave you used and dripping in his cum. You press your hand to his lower stomach from behind you, working your hips hard against him.

“Cum inside me,” You plead, overstimulated. “Need your cum to fill me up. Please, I need it—“

“Shit!” His hips begin to stutter, and with one last stroke he’s cumming.

He rides out his high until his cum is dripping down his balls, his eyes shut and a montage of delicious praises spilling out of him.

When he finishes he gently pulls out of your gaping pussy. Tucking himself back into his pants, he pulls your underwear up with gentle hands. He turns you around, fixing the straps on your dress.

“Okay?” He asks, and you smile as if you’re doped out and nod.

“Never better.”

He laughs, a light flush caking his cheeks now.

“Good,” he says, then chuckles awkwardly. “Uhm— thanks. For..”

He gestures to your body, fumbling with his hands.

“No problem.” You reply. “It’s late. I should be getting home.”

“I can walk you to your car,” Adam says quickly.“I mean, if you want.”

Something tugs in your chest, wondering how the once rough boy is so shy now. You lean up to him, planting a kiss to his cheek.

“I would love that, Adam. Thank you.”

Adam grins, helping you balance on your shoes as you wobble towards the parking lot.

“So… I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You’re relieved that he asked first. You look up at him, his neck caked in hickeys and bites from your own kiss bitten lips.

“Definitely.”

#Adam stanheight #Adam stanheight x reader #Adam stanheight x fem! reader #adam faulkner stanheight #adam saw #saw fanfic #adam stanheight smut #dom! adam stanheight #adam stanheight x bimbo! reader #saw #saw 2004 #saw x #leigh whannell #saw franchise #bunny writes ͟͟͞☆

[realwitchieshit]

Bad Idea, Right?

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

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

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

part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m tipsy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck it, it’s fine.

“Bedroom.”

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

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #leigh writes #melissa schemmenti imagine

[jenowithjaem]

Word count: 766 | warnings: a little bit of toilet action, but nothing too graphic (it’s crucial to the story, I promise), crying, reader goes through the five stages of grief in like ten minutes, Seokmin is trying, okay? It's the thought that counts

You sigh and close your laptop, standing up to stretch your arms above your head. The hoodie that you're wearing rides up your stomach a little bit, only falling back in place when you lower your arms. You quickly swipe your phone and headphones up, shoving them into the pocket of your hoodie.

You make your way into the bathroom, lifting the toilet lid and taking a seat. After you finish your business, you lean over the bowl and press the shiny metal button on the lid to the tank. When you lean over, you hear a clink and then a quiet splash.

Looking down, you realize that your headphone case has fallen into the toilet bowl.

A loud yelp escapes you and you have all but two seconds to consider sticking your hand in the toilet bowl to try and save them.

But before you can even think about it, the little white pod is forced down the drain by the water’s current.

“No, no, no, no!” You cry out and fall to your knees. Tears threaten to spill as your hands grip the side of the toilet seat. You just stare blankly into the toilet bowl for a solid five minutes before standing up and letting out a defeated sigh.

You walk out of the bathroom, head hung and eyes cast downward. You drag your feet across the floor, all the way to the kitchen where your boyfriend is. He immediately notices your gloomy state and is quick to ask what happened. You walk into him, pressing your head to his chest.

“Baby.” you say quietly, still in denial. “The worst thing just happened to me, and I need you to promise me that you won't laugh.”

Seokmin pulls you away from his chest and holds you by the shoulders, frowning. “Of course I'm not going to laugh at you! What happened?” His eyes are big and full of concern. How could he laugh at you when you just said that something terrible happened??

Those pesky tears prick at your eyes again, and this time, you let them slide down your cheeks. Seokmin starts to panic a little. “What happened?” he says again, a bit more concerned.

“I just-” you sniffle, covering your face with the palms of your hands. Your tears soak into the cuffs of the hoodie, and you press harder into your face. “I just flushed my headphones down the toilet.” You cry.

“What?” Seokmin shrieks. You remain quiet, quietly crying into your hands. A laugh starts to bubble up, and he can't help but let out a chuckle.

You cry harder, taking his laughter as him making fun of you.

Upon hearing your cries get worse, his chuckles die down a bit. “Why are you crying?”

“Why are you laughing at me?” You say, wiping your tears. “I just told you not to laugh at me!”

The hurt in your voice causes him to stop laughing completely. “I'm sorry, baby.” He frowns, tugging your hands from your face and pulling you into him again.

Seokmin holds you against his chest, the warmth of his body and his scent managing to calm you down a little. “I'm not laughing at you, I’m just wondering how in the world you managed to flush your headphones down the toilet. Dropping them, yes. But straight up flushing them?”

“I don’t even know!” Your voice comes out a bit louder than you intended, but you didn't sound mad– more like you were in disbelief.

(Which, to be fair, you were.)

“I used the bathroom, and then when I leaned over to flush, I heard a plunk! and when I looked down, I saw my headphone case in the bowl being swirled around. My poor headphones, I killed them.” You frown. He chuckles again at your choice of words.

Seokmin’s hand comes up to pat you on your head lovingly.

“It’s okay, we can just get you some more.” He tells you.

“But you got me those ones for Christmas!” You pull away from him and look at him like he’s crazy.

“It’s okay. I’ll get you a replacement pair.” He says again.

“Okay..” you say in defeat.

But then he speaks up again, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Just promise me you won’t flush this pair.”

You playfully hit his chest and pout. “Seokmin!” You whine, but then you laugh at how ridiculous the entire situation is.

To be fair, you shouldn’t have brought your headphones into the bathroom with you, and you’ll make sure that this lesson gets remembered for a long time.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! It’d help me out a lot. Thank for reading and I hope you all enjoy the rest of your day. (Don’t flush your headphones down the toilet like I- I mean.. like reader did……….)

#lee seokmin x reader #lee seokmin #lee dokyeom x reader #lee dokyeom #seventeen x reader #leigh writes

[fantasticalleigh]

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

#polin #polin bridgerton #leigh speaks #leigh writes #chapter three will take longer bc it's in a rough state and needs reworking #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #colin seems mostly tame rn but the unhingedness is coming i assure you! #polin fanfiction

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Kind Commander

AI-less Whumptober Day 2: Exhaustion

Masterlist

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Captain Ulysses Hawk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he was gone.

---

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

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leigh writes #the kind commander #private lex winch #private isaac lidgett #captain ulysses hawk #whump #whump writing #military whump #multiple whumpees #power dynamics

[arcalek]

I miss them :(

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #matthias helvar #nina zenik #jesper fahey #jesper and his goat #wylan van eck #Trope found family #quotes #spilled ink #thoughts #writing #literature #books books books #books

[perfectquote]

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

Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

#Leigh Bardugo #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic