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darkwolf989 · 15 hours

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Fix it, Vox. (Valentino x Daughter)

SHOUT OUT TO absolut3lyn0t for all the help with the Spanish and for being a FANTASTIC human in general. You are AMAZING!

The weight of her body jolted him awake. A tiny head against his chest, and muffled tears. The bright red clock flashed on his nightstand. Three thirty. He had literally gotten to bed less than a half hour ago. He tried to ignore the aching in his head as he struggled to talk to the sobbing child.

“Beibita, what’s the matter?” He mumbled as he wrapped his arms around the crying toddler. “Shush. Papi is here, niñita. Vuelve a dormir.”

“Papi, will the angels come and get me?” She choked out. “Daddy, I’m scared. I don’t wanna get ex..er…”

Now he had her full attention. ¿De que ella habla? What was she talking about?

“Princessa, no one is going to take you away. Who told you that?” He asked, trying to mask the fury in his voice. “Papi is here, bebita. Shush.” He rocked her as gently as he could as he tried to bite back his exhaustion.

Of all the weekends for her mother to go out of town.

“The tv said so, I heard it! I…I…” She sobbed.

God fucking damn it. He told that son of a bitch. He told him his daughter wasn’t asleep. He warned him not to change the channel for another half hour until they could be sure she was safe and sound in bed and not about to try to sneak out to curl up with them or try to con him into letting her watch just one more episode. After all, she did it every single night. But no, Vox insisted he put on the news right away. He insisted it would be fine. And now here Valentino was, paying the goddamn price.

“Shush. Papi won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” He said softly as he sat up. “Come on, bebita. Papi will make you a warm bottle and you can sleep with me, okay, pequeño amor?.”

She cuddled closer into his chest and he lifted her up effortlessly. He carried her cradled against him to the kitchen. With one arm supporting the weight of his daughter, the other carefully warmed up a bottle of milk and flicked it on his wrist before trying to hand it to the toddler.

“Drink up, mi amore.”

She refused to take it. “I want Mommy! “And Uncie and Auntie! The angels are gonna get them! Papi, we have to do something!” She burst into another round of tears.

God fucking damn it, Vox. He silently cursed as he set the bottle off to the side and tried to sooth the hysterical toddler. “Mommy will be back tomorrow night, shush,” he replied softly as he bounced her soothing

He looked at the clock. Four am. There was a good chance Vox was up and in his office. A twinge of anger made its way through Valentino. If Vox was awake, it was only fair that he helped clean up the mess he made.

“Let’s go see if Uncie Voxxy is awake, alright mi amore? Your mommy will be home tomorrow and Auntie Velvette is sleeping.” He shifted her weight and pressed the bottle to her lips, willing her to take it. A full tummy was the key to getting her to sleep- he learned that when she was first born. “Come on, bebita.”

She refused and he sighed in frustration. He nabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and walked towards the elevator, hoping that by the time they got to Vox’s office she would have at least settled down.

No such luck.

The sound of a crying, screaming baby tested every single bit of Valentino's last nerve. Even if it was his daughter, and he loved her with every single beat of his heart, he was absolutely at his wits end. There was no reason for her to be this afraid; it was absolutely uncalled for. Vox should have listened and then maybe, just maybe he would still be asleep. By the time he walked into Vox’s office, every single part of him struggled to maintain control. He stormed from the elevator and stomped over the shark tanks.

“You broke it, you fix it,” he growled as he tried to hand reader over to Vox. “I told you not to put on the news. I told you she wasn’t asleep yet, and now look!”

The anger in her fathers voice only triggered more tears. Desperately she clung to Valentino’s neck and dug her hands into his shirt. “Daddy!”

Valentino put a protective hand on her back and glared at Vox.

Vox was up on his feet in a matter of moments. “Woah. Alright, take a breath Val. What happened?” His eye began to swirl. “Babygirl, why are we crying? Come here, Val. Take my spot. Sit down. Breathe. You relax. She’ll relax.” He took the bottle from Valentino’s hand and set it off to the side.

“The angels are gonna get us,” Reader sobbed into Valentino’s shoulder. “I saw it on TV!”

Valentino shot Vox a look and guilt spread across Vox’s features.

“Shit. I mean, fuck. Sweetie. Baby. It wasn’t real, I promise. It was a story. Like..” he struggled for a moment and then his expression lit up. “Like a bedtime story your Daddy tells you. It was just a scary story, it’s not real. I promise. Now come to Uncle Voxxy, let me hold you sweetie.”

She reached up to him and Vox wrapped her in his hold as he rocked her. She heaved a hiccup and Vox gently tilted her head up to meet his eye. “Who controls the television, my sweet baby girl?”

“Uncle Voxxy….” she answered tearily.

“Right, sweetheart. So wouldn’t I know best?” He asked as he stroked her hair. “Uncle Voxxy, and Daddy and Mommy and Auntie Vel won’t let anything happen. I promise babydoll.” He picked up the still warm bottle and guided it to her mouth.

She sucked on it gently as he continued to rock her. Carefully, Vox handed her back to Valentino. Valentino carefully laid her head over his heart as Vox wrapped her in the blanket.

“Duerme bebe niña papá está aquí,” he said softly. “You’re safe, we’re safe, it's okay.”

To both their relief, she fell asleep almost instantly, soothed by the beating of Valentino’s heart, a full tummy, and the feeling of security. Vox caught the bottle as it fell out of her hands and set it on the desk.

“Are you okay Val?” Vox asked softly. “You look like shit.”

“I’m exhausted, Vox. I went to bed like thirty minutes before this all began,” he replied tiredly. “I need you or Vel to watch her this morning- I’m begging you.”

“Just call me when she wakes up,” Vox replied quickly. “Or you can give her to me now. I can work with her in my arms.”

“No, I can take her for a few hours…”

“Nonsense. Give me the baby. Take a breath. And get some sleep.” Carefully, Vox lifted the bundle to his own chest and laid her head carefully against his heart. “She won’t wake up now that she’s out. Go get some rest, Val. When you wake up you can take her back.”

Grateful, and with one last kiss on his sleeping daughter's forehead, Valentino made his way back upstairs. In his control room, Vox adjusted the little girl against his body as little as he possibly could. Guilt washed over him as he worked. Valentino had warned him she wasn’t asleep. It was his own fault for scaring her so badly, and for his friend to be pushed beyond the point of exhaustion.

“I’m so sorry I scared you. It won’t happen again,” he said quietly to the sleeping toddler. He kissed her on the forehead. “And I promise we will always keep you safe.”

Against him, she snuggled closer and he leaned back in his chair as he held the sleeping toddler. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out an exhale. To his surprise, she did the same. He felt something stir deep in his chest. Love. Protectiveness. The desire to never let this sweet little girl feel afraid again.

“You’re safe, babygirl,” he whispered as he held her carefully. “I promise.”

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beatleszeppelin · 3 days

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Kidnapped With Bucky

Chapter 2: Awoken by Nightmares

Summary: This chapter starts with Bucky in bed, sleeping peacefully. Doesn't last too long though, obviously. He finds solace in Reader after a nightmare that leaves him shaking; they talk and she offers for him to share the bed, but...

Warnings/Includes: Nightmares, subtle body dysmorphia, scratching at skin, mild panic attack, and a disappearance (dun dun duh)

Word count: 1800

A/N: Hope you like, and I hope you stay til the end, cause we are just picking up. Prev chapter: Wet Hot Shower

Bucky's room is warm, and it's like trying to sleep in the middle of summer. He sleeps next to his bed on a duvet with a light pilly blanket on top. It doesn't cover his feet. He doesn't mind; he'd wake up roasting every day if it did.

His pillow is comfortable, however. The only comfortable thing he has in his room. It's navy blue, the same shade as his childhood cowboy sheets.

Bucky is asleep, face smushed into that navy pillow, his hands curled up next to his face. Breathing softly. He looks peaceful; looks is the key word here.

He dreams, however, of people he once knew leaving him and getting hurt just out of reach.

His eyes open groggily, and he shakes where he lies. Slowly, he closes his eyes as if trying to fall back asleep, but when he closes his eyes, he sees it all again. This time, he sees more, some real and some not.

Bucky sits up fast and grapples with his clothes. His boxer briefs are twisted to the side, and his thermal henley is too big, suffocating him as it stretches far past his hands. He looks like a child… he feels like a child.

The clock shines at 3:40 am, and he needs to go back to sleep. Everything gets harder to control when he doesn't get sleep. It becomes impossible for him to handle the bright lights or hunger. He becomes physically unable to smile through Stark's incessant comments about him being the bad guy or being a baby, and even the comments about Steve being a golden boy get to him more. And lastly, Steve. Steve doesn't talk to him like a person anymore. They don't do any of the things they used to do when they were little. And harder and harder it becomes to not break down in tears when treated unlike an equal to the person he's always been there for.

He can't even control his own body right now, shaking in his sheets. His knees tuck into his chest, and he scrunches his nose up as if to sob… but he's too tired to manage tears. So, he lays down.

He can't stop the shaking. He isn't cold; he's pretty hot, actually. Sweating and red. Either way, the shivering that rattles his teeth won't stop. He rolls up his sleeves to combat the heat, but his cool metal arm catches his eye, making him cover it back up with the oversized shirt.

His room is far too quiet, with no sound except the occasional settling of the new building that makes him jump.

3 o'clock ticks by without any sleep progress. This is the third night he couldn't find enough hours of rest, and he has already sobbed like a baby in the shower because of it. He can't imagine what will happen after another waking night. So, he squeezes his eyes shut until he sees stars.

What if he can't sleep? What if he can't control his crying or his anger? What if no one can trust him? He already can't trust himself.

Bucky stands up, not even thinking about what he is doing. He needs help. He wants someone to watch him sleep when he's too scared to be alone. Or at least give him some noise to sleep to, T.V., or breathing to drown out his thoughts.

He opens his door and paces down the hall; he doesn't thoroughly think it through, knocking on Reader's door every so slightly. Just two small taps with his flesh hand.

No answer.

He immediately regrets the gesture. Deciding to go to the kitchen and, grab some water and maybe try to sleep again. So, he gets a bottle with a twist cap. He fills it to the brim. Loudly slurps water from the top before closing it tightly and reluctantly returning to his room.

Walking by, he sees the dent he'd made in the wall. The chair tucked neatly under the table like nothing had happened. He's willing to bet it was Steve.

Ever since he came back, or maybe since Steve got big, got the serum, it hasn't been like it used to be. Bucky used to be the big one. Bucky used to help Steve fight when he stood up for people he didn't know. He helped Steve with his homework when he was out sick. Hell, Bucky used to sit at his bedside praying he'd get better 'til his knees were black and blue. Steve didn't know that. Been almost a hundred fucking years since they were those kids, though, and Bucky hasn't felt big in nearly as long.

The last time he helped Steve was because he almost killed him in the first place. He wouldn't have to pull him out of the water if he wasn't the one hitting him with his inhuman arm.

Bucky tucked his hand into his shirt and scratched at the seam where metal hit his skin.

He finished his water, refilled it, and returned to his room. His piteous padding filled the hall. He passed Reader's room and thought about knocking again; instead, he cursed himself for trying to ruin her sleep in the first place just because he was awake.

"Buck?" Reader spoke with full volume from right behind him.

He yelped and threw his water. Thankfully, it was closed, but the sloshing sounded as it rolled across the hall floor.

She looked down at what had fallen; by the time her gaze was back on Bucky, he was curled in on himself, body pressed tightly against the wall, like a child clinging to his mother. "What's wrong," she asked, bending to get his water.

He didn't hear her at first, his body rattling, and his eyes were fixed on the floor. "I don't…" he whispered, moving his head up to look at her, but his eyes were still zoned out. He finally broke the lack of contact when he looked at her and said, "had a bad dream."

"Did you need me when you knocked earlier?"

His ears got hot when she mentioned it, "I don't know what I needed," and his eyes welled up with the reply.

"I'm gonna touch your hand, okay?" He reached out with his flesh hand. And she held it gently. "Do you want me to take you back to your room? Or we could talk for a while? Or should we go to my room?"

"Yeah," he nodded, seeming out of his daze.

"Here's your water." She handed back the blue bottle and led him through the dark hallway.

Bucky stood in the doorway, bordering in the dark and light of the glittering fairy lights that bordered her ceiling, just sipping his water. He stood in awe of the lights, looking slightly confused.

A second passed, "looks a lot nicer than my room," he said.

"Yeah?" She sank into her bed, covered with a fuzzy yellow blanket.

"My room's dark," he whispered.

Reader patted up by her pillows, "You can come sit if you want."

He forced his face into an awkward smile.

"I like your outfit," she smiled, "I don't think I have ever seen you in pajamas before." She pointed up and down at his too-big henley and peek of boxer briefs from underneath. "You almost look comfortable," she chortled.

He looked down to see the same thing she did… one of his socks was scrunched up, opposite to the one rolled sleeve.

"Are you hot? Do you need the fan on?"

He leaned on the door frame, "No, I don't need anything…"

She hit a button and turned on the oscillating fan; it had a pleasant hum.

"I need to get me one of those. My room's too quiet."

"Too dark, too quiet; sounds like you're living in a fucking cell." Her smile faded when she saw Bucky's face. The warm glow of the lights bounced off of his red face. "... Sorry."

"'S true." He hung his head.

The tone had shifted, leading her to her next question, "Can I ask what the dream was about? You can say no."

He ran his hand through his hair, "It was nothing. I mean, it's not real, just someone I knew. An old friend got taken by a man. They were speaking Russian tonight, but that changes from night to night. She was so close, and then gone…"

"Just a dream." She held her arms out as an invitation, to which he accepted.

"Never feels like it," he closed the gap between them. "I don't know how to be more helpful." His head dropped onto her shoulder. She could tell it was out of exhaustion.

Reader ran her hand up and down his arm, feeling the cool metal under his shirt. "You just need to sleep."

"What will that do for anyone," Bucky asked groggily.

"It would help you. If you start by helping yourself and feeling better, maybe you could start helping others. I'm sure it'd help Steve a fuck ton not having to worry about you every time you left the room."

"I always tell him I'm fine." Bucky's weight was now being fully supported by Reader.

"Do you believe that?"

He tentatively shook his head.

"I promise, one night of sleep will make a world of difference." She readjusted, but he pulled his head back. "You can sleep here if you want," she said softly. "My bed pulls out into a trundle, and you're gonna love it. It's hard as a rock, just how you're used to."

He smiled.

"Go get whatever you need, like a pillow or blanket or whatever you have." She shooed him out. She knelt to pull out of the bed, and he lingered for a while before returning to the pitch-black hallway, where she no longer saw him.

She pulled out the bed and cleaned some stuff off the floor, like a project she had been working on earlier, and some clothes that weren't quite dirty yet. Then she sat back on her bed.

His water bottle lay on its side next to her, waves forming every time she moved.

Bucky has been gone for a while now; his room is only two doors down. She starts to think maybe he just went back and fell asleep on his own. That would be great.

But maybe he needs his water.

She takes his water out to his room. She doesn't want to bother him, but his door is open. Reader looks in and sees his floor bed unmade. His navy pillow, which he loves so much, is now thrown across the room by his closet.

She started walking back, past where she'd seen him in the first place. But Bucky's gone.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan #captain america

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heartbreakgrill · 3 days

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Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 7; "Stay here, honey."

a/n: tehe hi friends! we havent spoken much so...the tortured poets department was literally written for daisy and oliver, that's all i gotta say. i listened to i can fix him (no really i can) and guilty as sin this entire writing sesh. i missed yall tho! i feel like i havent written in 5ever. anyways enjoy friends :)

“Jesus, just pick it up.”

Oliver squinted his tired eyes at his phone screen. His body was twisted around, his neck arching to try to read the contact name that was flashing across his screen. This was the fourth time they had tried calling him. I was snug against his side, occupying the rest of his strength. I went to move away a bit, just to allow him some room to answer the phone without being contorted like a pretzel.

He felt me tug back from his hold and immediately set the phone back onto his bedside table. The screen was faced up. It was probably just me, me and my stupid naivety- but I was touched that he set it that way. My stupid belief that I meant just as much to him as he did to me made it so. Trust, love. Two feelings I had when I was with him that were now more familiar than the anger and fear I used to be consumed by.

Oliver latched his other hand, now free, around my back. His fingers splayed out around my hip, nose nuzzling into the bare crevice of my neck. I sunk into his body, an anchor sinking into cold, salty sea water.

“Eh, fuck ‘em. They’re just taking time away from me and my flower.”

I snorted at the pet name, though I secretly (not so-secretly) loved. “You’re so cringey sometimes.”

“Cringey?” He reeled his chin back, glaring down at me with those icy hazel eyes. “Girl…”

“Girl!” My mouth widened as the word so easily fell through his lips. I fought against giggles that were winning. “Who are you? Where’s Oliver?”

His laughter was deep, steady, chest rocking beneath my head, “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I’m his twin brother, Isaac. Oliver is on a top secret mission. He said you’ll always be in his heart, but he must go, fulfill his duty as a spy.”

“What the fuck,” I stated, nuzzling my head in bare chest in hopes the escape his jokes. I let out a small sigh as I fed into his humor, “You don’t have to lie to me, Isaac. I know he’s off with his secret girlfriend. Just, if you can speak to him, let him know that I won’t cry over him. I won’t miss him. Besides, his twin brother’s kinda…hot.”

“Secret girlfriend? What are you even talking about?”

Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t trained to read body language. Maybe it would’ve gone over my head if I didn’t know him, the very shell of him, so well. I could have looked past it, could’ve turned it over in my head, blurred the lines, pretended like I didn’t know the way his eyes flickered, disruption taking over his hazel pupils, as he glanced, so minutely, to his cell phone.

And, maybe it was me. Maybe I was really that insecure. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I’d never really learn to trust him, based on the entirety of our situation.

I think Oliver noticed the flicker that tilted at the corners of my lips because his face fell, just a bit. And he rushed to cover it up, “There is no secret girlfriend, darling. I promise you that.”

And he did what he was so subconsciously genius at- he manipulated the situation, moved on from it, by wrapping me up, pressing the tip of his nose to mine, and saying, “You are my one and only, Daisy. The only one I want. Need.”

I was stupid, like I always was, and kissed him.

We continued on that morning, laying around like we always did, in the early hours of the dawn, long before anyone would wake up. They had a show later, but Oliver didn’t care about getting rest. He wanted- needed, he claimed- to be with me. I guess his idea of resting involved fucking me and kissing me and feeding me with his ownership.

He always asked the strangest questions, always reminiscent of that first night on the roof. He asked like he was trying to memorize the nocks on my bones, prophesied my future in a romantically dramatic way. It was usually when we were laying around like this, silence comfortable in our breaths.

Today’s was formed as more of a statement, curious intonation, “Tell me more about your mom.”

It took me by surprise, like he almost always did. It forced me to slow my own thoughts for a moment, articulate my memories, and find delicate words. Mostly, I wondered, “Why do you wanna know that?’’

Oliver was forced to think now, but he didn’t have much of a response, “I don’t know. I was just…wondering, I guess. I mean, you’ve told me your dad’s an ass, but you had to have gotten your beauty somewhere.”

I knew he used that compliment in a much more meaningful way than the surface level allowed it to be understood. So, I blushed, tilted my head, “Well, I could talk for hours about her. Don’t want your ears to bleed.”

“Nonsense, my love. Your voice is music to my ears.”

I nuzzled my nose to his cheek. Then, I mustered up the courage to fight my sadness and began with, “She was…literally everything to me and Sam. She…dad left when I was 5. Sam, 12. Mom was, like…30? I think? So young. She opened up her own flower shop not long before he left. But, it wasn’t nearly enough money for us to live off of. So, we, like, moved into the tiny ass apartment that was above the shop. It smelled like Chinese food because of the restaurant. And, sometimes, that mixed with the flowers. And my allergies are terrible! And, not to mention, mom smoked. So…it was rough. Sam and I shared a room, so we were together more than we should have been. We were…we were so mean to mom. We, like…took out dad’s absence on her, the fact that we had to live in this shitty apartment. Meanwhile, she was just…this ball of light. She’d stay up till 3am, in the shop, blasting Taylor Swift, arranging flowers, writing this silly little poem book she hid beneath her mattress and thought I never found and read. She picked up shifts at the Chinese restaurant literally every day. She never took a day off, not even on holidays. God, she must have been fucking miserable. But…no matter what…she was, just, like…kind. I think…no, nevermind.”

I sniffled and cut my own words off, teary eyes shutting. I didn’t want to be all sappy and emotional in front of Oliver, especially not at this time of day. As I tried to steady my breathing, Oliver’s arms tightened around me.

“Hey,” he swept a hand to my cheek, drawing my eyes to his, “Daisy…keep going. Please.”

“I think Sam really misses her. He…he’d help her out, with chores, making dinner, getting the trash cleaned up when she’d be overwhelmed and forget about it all. And at the time he resented her. But, he was a teenager. He didn’t know any better. But he beats himself up over it. I just…wish he’d be kinder to himself.”

“And what about you?” Oliver whispered once I had let a pregnant pause of silence go.

I looked up at him, struck by the question, like always, “What…about me.” My eyes drifted as my mind wandered, “I…I’d sneak downstairs, far too often, watch her from the doorway while she danced, sang, drank cheap wine, tossed flower petals all around. She’d always catch me. I was a noisy kid. But, she’d never punish me. She’d grab my little hand, drag me into the room with her, play all our favorite Taylor songs.”

Oliver cracked a joke which burst a ray of sunshine through the sadness layering itself overtop the room, “God, now I feel terrible for making fun of you.”

I punched him in the stomach, closed fist splaying out into a gentle palm on his belly. “You should. She meant a lot to me and my mom. I…she’s why Sam got into music. She had this- this beautiful voice. She’d write songs, along with her poems, and record them on this tape player.”

“Where is it now? Back at your apartment?”

“No,” I shook my head, “at hers. We never really cleaned it out. Sam still pays the lease.”

“And the flower shop?”

“A stupid fucking smoothie bar. I was really hoping one of us would take it over, run it, keep her alive. But…it’s just not feasible. Too expensive.” I’d always felt guilty for that- not investing in mom’s memory. I felt like I’d buried her back in my hometown and sealed shut whatever conscious thoughts I had of her in her grave with her rotting body.

It was just too much. She gave us everything and the world failed her, killed her. Every ounce of light that had been in her eyes was completely spoiled by the time the cancer had taken over.

The thought made me shutter. Oliver noticed and brushed a soothing hand through my hairline. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

“No, no,” I tapped his stomach, “we should. I never really…never really mention her to anyone. This is nice.”

Oliver kissed my temple sweetly, “I agree. So, tell me about these late night dance parties you’d have.”

And, so, we spent the next few hours talking about my mom. Her smile, the inky flowers she had wrapped around her elbow, the way she’d let me stand on her toes while we waltzed across the shop.

We talked and talked. I cried and Oliver wiped my tears. He told me he’d give Taylor Swift another try.

And I found myself falling further.

Then, it was suddenly nearing 8am, when I knew for sure my brother’s alarm would be going off. So, we finished quickly with whatever we’d been doing. Then, Oliver helped me get dressed, which took much longer than it should’ve with two people pulling one person’s shirt over her head. It was because he stuck my head through, then dipped his head to my stomach, tracing my abdomen with wet kisses.

I giggled and shrunk away from the ticklish feeling. He laughed and chased me with his strong hands, encasing my hips with his splayed fingers. I tried pushing his touch away, writhing like a worm, but he was able to plant more kisses onto my skin.

Then his phone started ringing again.

Our movements paused. I slowly pulled the shirt the rest of the way down, meeting his eyes as my vision was cleared from that blockage. His hands moved, passively, to his sides. His body language, that distant, distracted look in my eyes burned.

“Oliver,” I accidentally whispered, then, “just answer it.”

He knew. He knew it was a challenge, a probe at the situation. He knew I was testing him. And, if he failed, if he refused to pick up the phone and answer the call, I’d run out.

I think that- losing me, watching me walk away- was just something he could not deal with right now. So, he made up some excuse while slinking over to the phone, “Probably just someone from the label. Or a stupid spam caller. No big deal.”

I was still facing away from him, still small, shrunken in on myself, when I said, to no one but the air, “Please.”

He didn’t hear me. “Hello?”

I turned around to face him, watching the muscles on his face carefully, paying attention to how he reacted to whoever was on the line. After a moment, he pressed the speaker button, and held the screen towards my vision.

“Spam,” Oliver scrunched his nose as he hung up.

Intuition, maybe jealousy, nibbled at my skin like some flesh-eating piranha. I gave one shake of my head, easily falling back into the casual, comfortable air that was routine between us. I smiled, a joke on my lips to push us past the awkwardness, “So, what kind of top secret mission is Oliver on? Drugs? Or…war?”

“Oh, all of the above!” He dramatically replied.

“Well, you tell Oliver that I need to be getting back to my own bed,” I tapped his chest, awaiting him to let his arms loose.

But, he squeezed tighter, even wrapping his occupied hand around me, “No! Please! Stay!”

“Won’t you ever get tired of me taking up space in your bed?” I giggled at his hair, tickling my neck.

He hummed a rejection, “Never. This is, like, our own secret sanctuary. Here, in this room, we can be whoever we want.”

I focused on his eyes, touching my nose to his. Then, he kissed me before mindlessly reaching behind himself to set his phone back up.

Face down.

I felt like throwing up.

The feeling was worse when I was alone, leaving his apartment like I had just signed an NDA. I tried my hardest not to overthink things, but considering our precarious relationship, this was a very difficult thing to do.

Somewhat luckily, Oliver had been normal the rest of our time together, easy-going, non-suspicious. That’s how someone who didn’t have a secret girlfriend should act. So, why couldn’t I be satisfied with that?

(Why did he place his phone face down? Why had the look in his eyes told me something different, something worse-?)

It would have made so much sense to find out that he did, in fact, have a girlfriend. After all, he’d been telling me all summer how unavailable he was. This would make so much more sense than the mindless, kind of shitty excuses he had for not being able to commit to me. Was it, then, my fault for getting involved with him? For fucking a taken man? Perhaps I’d pushed myself onto him, forcing the situation. No, no, it couldn’t have been. After all, he’d sought me out numerous times.

And, if this were the case, I was supposed to then end things? As soon as possible? Find her social media, send a fucking hey girly text message, throw myself off of a bridge in the process?

The way he kissed me when I left, the way he whispered, “I’ll miss you. You should come to the show tonight. My shining star. You’d make it all worth it. Until then, beautiful,” against my cheek, his eyelashes fluttering against my skin- there was no way I was the side piece. He was too invested in me.

Maybe she wasn’t real. Maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend. No, really- he just couldn’t have a girlfriend. It felt impossible. He was too…too caring, too gentle with me. He treated me so delicately it…just-

“Shit! Sorry!”

I had not been watching where I was going once I left Oliver’s room, which was extremely irresponsible of me. Anyone of our friends, my brother for Christ’s sake, could be walking these halls, on their way to visit the very person’s I’d just vacated. It was worse this week because Oliver’s room was on a different floor than everyone else’s. I had no way of excusing myself if I was caught up here. All I could do was be careful and hide when I heard someone familiar.

Yet, again- I was fucking stupid. I was careless. Mindless.

And I had run right into Adam.

“Daisy!” He looked up from his phone, still safe in his clutches because I’d only knocked into his left shoulder. “Shit, sorry. I’m a clutz.”

I forced out a chuckle, trying to seem chill, like I hadn’t just been having sex- 3 times- by his best friend, boss, lead singer of his band, my brother’s best friend.

“Oh, hey, Adam! No worries! I have plenty of bruises to prove I’m even more of a mess. What’re you up to?”

If I could gain control over the situation, be the one to ask the questions first, maybe then I could worm my way out of it without being exposed.

Then, a distant, deadly memory blared through my skull like a freight train. Last week, backstage. Adam, telling me where Oliver was, encouraging me to go to him. A knowing smile.

Fuck. This hole was deeper than I could ever crawl out of. Maybe he- maybe…maybe. Maybe he forgot-

“Daz…” he knew. He knew. Adam knew. He tilted his head, flicked his brows, gave a smile that suggested I just give up the facade already.

Before he could go on, I interrupted him, “Listen- just…please, just…no lectures, okay? I can handle myself. I know you guys all think Oliver’s this, like, bad person. But, he’s not. And, like- even if he is, I can handle it. I got it. I don’t need to be told what to do or warned or treated like a child. I- Oliver’s…it’s, just…you guys don’t know, okay? We have…I know it seems, like shitty, to you, probably. But…it’s really good. We have fun and, and we like each other…and that’s all that matters. Your opinions don't matter.”

As I went on, Adam’s face contorted into one of confusion, shock. Like he wasn’t computing the information I was messily throwing his way. “Daz, I…are you guys not just hooking up? I thought- I thought you were just fucking?” He let out a breathy chuckle, one of slight uncomfortability.

“It��s…yeah, like…I can see why you might think that, but…we have feelings for each other. And we’re not together or anything, but…we’re…we’re working on it.” For insisting that I didn’t want to be lectured like a child, I sure was speaking like one, shrinking in on myself, fiddling with my fingers all shy.

“So, please,” I held my hands up all defensive, like he’d lurch forward and attack me or something.

But, Adam simply sighed. He pocketed his phone, crossed his arms, eyeing me like some art exhibit. I didn’t know what he was going to say and, based on the silence he gave me, I didn’t really want to. He was calculating his response. He was probably going to fucking lecture me.

“Daisy, I…” aaand, here we go. It was me and Max in the elevator, all over again. It was Sasha, across from me at the breakfast table.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. That’s just not my place, no matter how much you mean to all of us, how much I think of you like, fuck, like a little sister. You are an adult. You can make your own decisions, dude.”

I breathed out the air I was holding. It was a relief, a sentiment I needed to hear. I didn’t care if I was being stupid- I just wished people would listen to me for once and let me do what I wanted.

“But.”

I shut my eyes, a bit tighter, longer than a blink took, in an attempt to ground the anger that was growing in my fingertips. “But, what?” My words were short, scornful.

“But,” Adam sighed again, “I just want you to be happy. I’ve watched you, all summer, try to prove yourself. To Sasha, to Max, to me. To your brother, especially. And, worst of all, Oliver.”

“It makes me so disappointed to see somebody like you have such little self worth. To see you dilute yourself for others. You are…so kind. So beautiful. So pointed and smart and sure of yourself. But, you hate it. You hate that you’re like that. You want to turn yourself into some version of you that just doesn’t fit. Some girl who’s edgy, some girl who’s laid back and doesn’t care what happens. That’s just not you, Daisy. You are intense. And that’s good! You’re passionate, you know what you want. You just…you need to believe you’re worth those wants. Stop doubting your abilities to make it happen. Stop doubting that you deserve it. Just grab it.”

I hadn’t expected to be so humbled. His words were…truer than any cheesy line any therapist had sold to me for $200. It knocked the wind out of me, forcing me to take a step back, literally. I guarded myself from the rush of the tornado, an arm wrapped over my stomach, one nervously rubbing my neck.

What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?

“I’m…sorry,” I whispered in response. It was all I could think to say.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” Adam touched my shoulder, “say it to yourself. You deserve the entire world. And I hope you accept that soon. This shit with Oliver will suck the life out of you.”

All I could think to do next was toss my arms around his shoulders, clutching him to my body like a warm blanket. He hugged me back, just as tight.

After only a few moments, we pulled apart. Neither of us said anything else. Adam simply touched my head, lovingly offering me this brotherly smile, before continuing his way down the hall.

I finally made my way to the elevator, one singular thought on my mind: my own self worth.

Adam had been so shockingly correct. I…

I knew it, too. I’d known it this whole time, only making myself and thought smaller in order to make room for Oliver. I couldn’t keep doing that. I needed to prioritize my own worth while loving him.

Loving him.

I needed to…

We couldn’t keep going like this.

I loved him.

And, from the way he held me, kissed me…the lyrical remedies he spoke to me…he loved me.

He loves me.

I’d confront him about this intuitive feeling.

Tonight.

–

“And this one I got when we were in Australia last year. I had this idea of getting ink everytime we hit a new city. But it got kind of expensive. Plus, we’re always so busy now that it’s, like, do I wanna eat or get a tattoo?”

“Get a tattoo, obviously,” Sam scoffed from the couch, a hint of tease within his tone. He scrolled mindlessly on his phone, barely a part of the conversation, just a nuisance, really.

Ronnie met my eyes and rolled her gaze, “Anyways-“

I giggled at the interaction before returning my line of sight to her arm. She pointed upon another piece of art inked onto her skin, diving into the backstory for that specific moment in time. Though it looked, to any passerby, that she was simply splattered with random images, doodles, animals, symbols- there was meaning to each and every piece on her body.

Tonight’s show had been postponed until tomorrow due to the monstrous thunderstorm that knocked out the power on that side of the city. With half the town closed down and plenty of free time now on our hands, Ronnie, Sam, and I found ourselves in our hotel room. We had been laying around for the majority of the afternoon, random topics on our minds.

I was killing time until I could chase Oliver down in his room, make my big stupid love confession.

Having admired Ronnie’s tattoos for a while, I was glad to finally have some extra time to ask her about all of them. It was always nice to get to talk to her, especially this in-depth, about most anything. She was intelligent and, frankly, hilarious.

She finished telling me the story about the horseshoe around her elbow. Then, before she continued down her left arm, she paused, another thought having intruded her concentration, “Daz.”

I tilted my head in recognition of my name, encouraging her to go on. She gave a little grin, like she had some sort of coy idea floating around in her head, “You don’t have any tattoos? Right?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I definitely want some. Honestly, I get a little nervous,” I sheepishly admitted to what was holding me back.

Ronnie’s expression positively grew. I understood, based on the context clues and the way she peered over at me, what she was getting at now.

“Half the city is out of power,” I raised my brows at her. I wasn’t opposed to the idea- I, myself, even had a little smile itching at my lips. I was just…a little scared, to be honest. I hated needles, like any average person did. Plus, the idea of something so permanent on my skin terrified me. What would I even get?

“I know a guy. He’d come to us.”

“I don’t know what I’d get! I can’t do last minute things like this. I’ll regret it forever,” I giggled, though what I was saying was true.

Ronnie sat up, grasping my hands in hers. She clutched on, begging from her knees on the bed beside me, “That’s the best way to get a tattoo. Get something stupid, something you don’t even know if you like, so you can regret it and hate it until you finally decide to love it! Plus, what a memory we’ll make, Daz! We’ve barely gotten to do anything together this summer, yet you’ve become like a sister to me. We have to do it!”

Sam came out of the bathroom, face half-covered in shaving cream, razor dangling between his fingertips. He met my gaze as I turned my head towards him, a relaxed, pleased look on his brows. “Daz…”

“Sam..” I returned his tone, awaiting his criticism, his claims of me being too good-two-shoes to follow through.

His brows rose more, “Daz! Come on! You have to!”

“Sam, really? I thought you of all people would hate this idea! You really think I should do it?” I was shocked, to say the least. Where was his chidness? His disapproval? The daunting argument always between us?

Nowhere to be found. It was like character development, magically morphing itself before my eyes.

“You have to! You said yourself, this summer is supposed to be about letting go, having fun, being dumb. So far, I haven’t seen you let go and be dumb at all. So, you have to check those off your list! What better way to do that than by getting an impulsive tattoo?” He pointed.

If only he knew just how dumb I’d been this entire time.

I think he’d have killed me if he found out even just a shred of the truth.

He was right, anyway. What I thought was letting go, not caring- it wasn’t. And I knew that now. It was exactly what Adam had been telling me.

Oh, well. Sam would soon know the truth, once Oliver and I talked through the relationship. I’d deal with that hill after the mountain.

Everything between me and Oliver was out of my control- yet, I was clutching to the situation with white knuckles.

The idea of a tattoo was a distraction, a shred of proof, to myself, that I could control something. That I could genuinely let go of fate for a moment or two.

Besides, I’d always hear that tattoo therapy was the best kind of way to get through shit.

“Fuck it.”

So, there I sat, still in my pajamas, fuzzy socks on my feet, on the edge of my hotel bed, arm propped up on Ronnie’s friend Frank’s stand he’d brought with him.

I didn’t know what I was getting. Ronnie convinced me to let her pick something out, but I only let her do so if Sam had approved it first. The giddy expression on his face and the squeeze around my shoulders that he gave me signaled that it was a good pick.

My knee was bouncing. Anxiety that I more than expected filtered through my system like a poison. I steadied my breathing, focused on the fidget ring I wore on my left hand. Frank was setting everything up on this collapsible tablet he’d unpacked from this wagon he stepped into the room with. Ronnie and Sam talked his ear off, laughing over old memories they all shared. I didn’t even know my brother knew this guy, but I guess he had this entire life I didn’t know about in the first place.

I kept to myself, fit with the quiet introduction I offered and the stress that bled off of my skin in droplets of sweat.

more pre tattoo shit

“You love it?” Ronnie stood behind me in the mirror,

cutest poolside

“What the fuck!” Max bounded through the door. He had a Sleep Token bucket hat on his hair and I nearly snorted at how goofy it looked on his head.

But, any tease I wanted to prod him with was curbed as he brought his complaints further into the hotel room. He spotted me after looking over the rest of the habitants. His offended expression didn’t lessen, though, like I thought it would once he fell into his usual routine of laughter and flirts. Instead, when he approached me, towering over my lounged sprawl across my bed, he noticed the black ink pooling beneath the dermal-wrap on my forearm. His brows shot up underneath the rim of the bucket hat that I was beginning to grow just a little jealous of.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gotten into the boys’ music ever since the show. But I’d never admit that to any of them. Especially not my brother, who would’ve acted like the snarkiest prick because of his incessant need to be right, even though he was usually quite wrong.

“No fucking way!” Max climbed onto the bed beside me, crawling across the messy sheets by his knees. He stopped beside me and grasped my wrist in his hands.

The pull gently lurched me forward, forcing me to sit up. I dropped my phone to the bed beside me as Max dipped his head low, examining my new tattoo. I giggled at his wonderment.

“You got a tattoo! Without me! What the fuck! Daz, I’m hurt!” Max pouted, meeting my eyes with the puppy dog expression sinking in his brown ones.

Adam, Cyrus, and Oliver had shuffled into the room. The former two latched onto the tattooist’s conversation with my brother and Ronnie. They started bouncing ideas off of him as quick as one could blink. I wondered where they thought they could fit more ink on their already crowded skin.

Meanwhile, Oliver wasn’t being shy with how obvious he was, peering towards Max and I like we were a museum attraction. But, I was probably the only one to notice how his gaze first latched onto Max’s fingers, gripping my arm. Then, he moved his attention to my tattoo, trying to make out its shape from the distant angle at which he stood.

I felt it now, more than ever, since I’d confirmed the feelings in my gut and let them rise to the surface. Just looking at him, I knew it…I loved him so fucking much.

Though Oliver had averted his expression, his point of view, I knew what that first glance had been. I knew that burn in his gaze, the sickening claim in his pupils. Jealousy. So sickly sweet and insecure.

Suddenly self aware, if only because of that strange understanding I had of him, I slipped my hand from Max’s. I pulled my knees in front of my chest which expanded the distance between us. Though the movement was light, Max noticed it like noticed his own breaths.

His words stuttered for a moment, fading away as the proof settled in the room, “How’d you deci- decide….on…” He filtered his look from my face then over his shoulder, at Oliver. I had peered at the latter for a moment too long, a gaze which was easily noticed by my friend.

“On it,” Max’s tone fell off. Oliver didn’t meet his eye, his gaze latched onto my tattoo still. What had been an observational moment for Oliver turned into an avoidance of Max’s confrontation.

I was seeing through the smog now, the rose colored glasses just a bit dimmer than they had been before. And Oliver looked…he looked ashamed. Ashamed that Max was finding out, or ashamed that he had been with me? I would soon find out.

Max glanced back at me. I followed the curves on the sheets with a distanced glaze behind my lids, barren all the same. Then, Max looked to his friend again.

He waited for someone to say something. But neither of us would wave a white flag, nor would we confess to the guilty sin. My plan had been to tell Oliver how I felt, then tell everyone if I needed to.

And I didn’t really want to. Especially not Max. I felt like I’d betrayed his trust.

Max sighed, sitting up a bit straighter. He dropped a gaped, “Oh,” before pulling himself off of the bed, becoming a part of everyone else’s momentum.

My body paused, Oliver and I tangled in the poison ivy on the cream colored wallpaper behind me. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t breath, he didn’t do anything. He just stood there, anxiety bleeding off his healed scars like me.

I hadn’t expected him to jump onto the bed, proclaim his love for me, and tell the judgemental town folk that they just didn’t understand Romeo and Juliet. But, something other than his quiet treason would have been everything to my jittery frame.

I would have appreciated it if he had, at least, told Max to forget about it. If he would have shoveled some excuse off the tip of his tongue, defended me, us, the stupid love affair we thought was getting us somewhere.

But he didn’t.

He just fucking stood there, like he always did.

It made the confidence Id just built up waver a bit.

I was too anxious to really do anything, either. I couldn’t find the nerve to stand on my own two feet, let alone pull Max aside and try to excuse our indiscretions. The room was suffocating as the stress further settled in.

Max knew. Max knew.

He knew.

The cat would tear itself out of the bag any day now if I couldn’t get it under control today.

It was only a matter of a ticking time bomb. When would the seconds run out? When would the explosion shatter my skull?

I thought about running out of the room, tossing myself off the balcony.

But before I could find the strength to get my footing on the carpet of the hotel room floor, someone was saying my name. Someone was dragging me into a conversation, turning the room’s energy onto me and Oliver’s sad, pathetic, bubble of shame, anxiety, and ruthless obsession.

I snapped out of my fragile little frame like the chill girl that I was and answered the question Sam had asked;

“Do you remember mom’s joke? About the flowers?”

I rubbed my dried lips together until they morphed easily into a sweet smile. The anxiety was pushed back down, like it always was, as I played my old, now forgotten role, “Which one? She had that book behind the counter. She harassed customers with it. Said she’d been a comedian in an alternate timeline, but I don’t think so.”

Sam rolled his eyes gleefully. The room shared a laugh at the thought of some eclectic woman, chasing customers out of her flower shop with a thrifted joke book before her eyes. I remember one time she tripped over a pot and nearly fell onto the concrete floor, already sprinkled with petals and cut-off flower stems. She caught herself, but fell to her knees with laughter. Sam rolled his eyes from behind the counter, where he’d been doing homework.

But, I could see myself, 10, braided plaits in my hair, scurrying over from my seat at the window. I abandoned my book, something I never did, to bask in my mom’s joyous laughter, something I missed more than air these days.

I wonder what Oliver thought of this story, now knowing what he knew. I wanted to look for him, for a smile. But I kept staring straight, at my brother.

“I know, but it was, like- it was the one about the photos and the camera. Something, like…” he racked his brain, concentration on his blond brows. “Helping..plants?”

“Helping the plant photosynthesize!” I straightened up as the punchline lurched from the depths of my memories.

Sam and I laughed, louder than the others possibly could, as we shared a sacred vision, as blurry as my eyes, as fleeting as the smell of our mom’s perfume. She loved that joke.

I could do with a little bit of her humor, now more than ever.

The things she’d say, if she could see me now…

Regardless, I think she’d have liked Oliver.

“Well, don’t bother telling the joke,” Ronnie snickered, patting Sam’s shoulder.

I noticed the intensity of his bone, from just the longer of her fingers on his clothed-skin. But he easily hid that before it became obvious. I recognized that flinch…But my brain was too busy to really memorize the interaction, let alone evaluate it.

“You spoiled it!” Ronnie drew another laugh from the crowd.

The joking continued, though the topic moved away from our mom. My thoughts lingered on her, as Adam moved to the tattoo station, the artist having found a spare spot on his shoulder to put some symbol I couldn’t make out.

My attention turned to my arm, to the burning ink settling its way into the layers of my derma. Two thin flowers, stems rooted in nothing but my pink skin, no soil in sight, just the garden of my body. The petals shaped out the delicate curve of the pair of daisies, my mom’s initials written out to the left of the small bouquet.

I looked up when I felt someone’s gaze on my face. It was Sam, watching me admiring my tattoo with this awestruck way that only a brother who loved his sister could appear.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt the urge to break the distance between us. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tightly against me. He didn’t hesitate to embrace me, even tighter. When he pulled apart, he pressed a kiss to my hairline.

“I love you, Sam ham.”

He punched my shoulder.

I was so scared to tell him about Oliver, though I was now realizing it would have to happen eventually. Adam’s advice- unsolicited, sure- had given me so much clarity. I was running, so much, so far, on broken ankles. Running from the truth, from myself.

I couldn’t anymore.

I went to say something else, but a phone started ringing in the room somewhere. It wouldn’t have been too halting if, when I passively looked over my shoulder, it hadn’t been Oliver’s cell.

He tugged it from his pocket, curiously reading the contact across the screen. As always, he denied the call and stuck it back in his pocket. He’d told me before that he thought it rude to answer it in front of others. Yet, as soon as he put it away, it began ringing again.

He went to deny it, again, when Cy called out a tease from his seat on the couch. “Dude, just go outside and answer it. Could be someone important.”

“It’s not,” Oliver muttered, denying it.

It was ringing. Again.

“Your mom?” Sam inquired, brows furrowed.

I knew Oliver’s mom didn’t call often, a small detail he’d told me once in a fleeting conversation about his family, a set of people he didn’t really identify himself with if only because of the distance between them all.

So, when she did call, he’d always take it. Couldn’t be her, but I couldn’t vocalize this knowledge.

Oliver shook his head, confirming my suspicion. Everyone else that I knew he spoke to was in this room.

Spam, probably.

Oliver denied the call. It was ringing before he could hide it away, shut it off, hell- throw it out the window.

Oliver huffed, loudly. Sam snickered, then, a knowing chuckle that told me he knew something I didn’t.

“Ooo,” Sam took a few steps towards his friend, who was still seated on the couch. He peered over Oliver’s shoulder, who quickly hid the phone. “That tells me all I need to know.”

“Shut up, dude,” Oliver’s eyes rolled over mine, shortly, quickly, ashamedly.

This was, really, where things did start to fall apart, if I had to pick a singular moment in time and stamp it.

This was it. The end of it all. My demise.

Our fate finally crawling from our throats.

Where I thought I had control, where I thought I knew exactly how to handle the situation, cure our disease…

There were cells multiplying beneath our pale skin.

Max, sat on the couch now, stood to his feet with a sense of urgency. He met my eyes as I glanced at him, right before things clicked in my head, right before Sam opened his mouth. It was like he could see the future, his intuition screeching like a siren. Once the bomb dropped, I noticed the panic in Max’s eyes and looked back to my brother, towards Oliver, who gazed at me again, as fleeting as that final look was.

“Ah, it’s your little girlfriend. Knew you two would get back together. How is Fiona these days? Still annoying as ever?” Sam seemed amused by the moment.

He was so unaware of the drama layered just underneath the careless air he easily existed in, so unaware of the panic in my body as I fled from the room. I made no attempt to make myself seem casual or fucking chill.

Max didn’t hesitate to follow me. He was on my heels, hot as the summer air just outside of the windows.

But, I ignored him as he called out my name.

The air in my lungs was burning, like I was going up in flames from the inside out. Maybe it was that pain, or maybe it was the choking tears flooding down my cheeks, but- my vision was blurring. I was dizzy. Short-lived muscle memory is the only thing that got me to the elevator doors. But, I couldn’t find the button. I slammed my fingers against the wall, only feeling the dry scratch of the decorative paper beneath my prints.

My lips wobbled like a child’s, blubbers that were supposed to be sobs flustering out from my tongue. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?” I whispered to myself, pointer finger numb from how harshly I was jabbing the wall.

My harbors had gone up in flames. I was floating in deep, deathly waters with nowhere to anchor. Until- Max’s voice finally caught up with me. One gentle hand on the dip of my back, one carefully wrapping its fingers around my wrist.

I couldn’t resist, not that I really wanted to, as his towering, homely frame took me in, cradled me like the child I needed to be in this moment.

The elevator finally beeped, the doors opening like another set of warm, homely arms. Max guided us inside and peeled one of his hands away from me to press the button for the second floor.

I half-expected Oliver to chase us down, to lodge his body between the doors, grab me from Max’s arms. I wanted him to chase me out into the rain, flag down a taxi, meet me at the airport like some cheesy rom-com scene.

But, he didn’t.

In fact, he didn’t say anything to me for three whole fucking days.

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token smut #sleep token x you #vessel x you #vessel sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token fanfic #sleep token iii

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shootingstarpilot · 14 hours

Note

you know what you should do to celebrate hawai'i, mermay, and the return of dracula daily?

whump helix. \:D/

(no i don't know what that has to do with any of the aforementioned celebrations but you should do it anyway)

...

You know what, you're absolutely right.

And it just so happens that I was researching adrenaline poisoning for COMPLETELY UNRELATED REASONS yesterday, and, well- Helix does seem like the type, doesn't he?

Helix hasn't slept in five days.

For the first three, admittedly, it was because of the clean-up.

Dukov had been rough. The intel from the Senate had been so bad he'd overheard Crys theorizing that maybe they'd intercepted a Seppie briefing instead, right before a sniper had nearly taken his arm off at the shoulder. Three days of mainlining stims until the situation had gone from cataclysmic to merely chaotic. Three days until both Needle and Stitch could get a few hours' sleep, after Helix's own customized blend of reassurance and orders had sent them to bed with minimal resistance.

He was feeling far too twitchy to sleep, anyway.

The next day had been the flimsiwork. His least favorite bit, and it had been easy to reach for another stim from his own stash. Just to power through.

(Besides. The others would get pissy if he finished off the unit's stockpile.)

He sets the last datapad aside and rubs absently at his forehead.

The headache is multiplying, and frustration grows with it.

A twitchy agitation pushes him to his feet and out of his office to find Needle splinting a sprained wrist, poking gentle fun at the blushing shiny whose name he cannot for the life of him remember. The sudden burst of irritation at the sound of Needle's snorting laugh takes him by surprise, and for a moment all he can do is blink owlishly at the pair until Needle glances up.

"Helix!" he exclaims, unfairly delighted, and Helix scowls at him reflexively. "Emerged from your lair at last? Hope you had a good nap-"

"Get some sleep when you're done with that," Helix snaps. "I'll take first shift."

"Stitch is already sleeping, I sent him off an hour ago-"

"Then join him. Get some rest. You should know better than to not take advantage of the opportunity."

Hypocrite, a little voice whispers. Helix squashes it mercilessly, stalking out of the medbay without waiting to hear Needle's response.

Gym. Yeah. That sounds good. He's spent too long sitting in front of a datapad today; he needs to work this twitchiness out.

Then caf, if he's gonna be on shift. Needle and Stitch need the rest.

(He's pretty sure he'd stashed another stim in his gym bag, too.)

And the night... passes.

His datapad never beeps.

Helix hammers at a punching bag until nausea begins to rise, at which point he realizes that he can't quite remember the last time he ate something, and- because he's a responsible medic- heads for the mess.

More time had passed than he'd realized, apparently. The mess is still empty, but there are lights on in the kitchen, and he can hear Terror's muffled shouting as he snags a ration bar off the all-hours table and makes his way out. They'll probably be seeing someone else in the medbay soon enough, if Terror's that loud this early, and he gulps down the ration bar before jabbing another stim into his neck.

Damn it.

The nausea hasn't abated by the time he reaches the medbay doors. He scowls at the wall for a moment, remembers to inhale, and kicks the door open to make himself feel better.

"You look like shit."

When did Needle get here?

Helix can't quite find the answer, but Needle's sure as hell here now- right in front of him, brow furrowed, and blocking his way to the caf machine.

"Move."

"No," Needle says blithely, and before Helix can react to that stunning indignity, warm fingers are curling around his wrist. He stills instinctively, and Needle graces him with a quirked smile before returning his attention to his pulse.

"Tachycardic," he sighs, dropping Helix's hand. "Consider me unsurprised, Dukov was bad. How much have you slept?"

Helix elects for the time-honored tradition of saying nothing.

"...Have you slept?"

Time-honored traditions have to start somewhere.

"All right," Needle says, and Helix isn't sure what happens next- only that suddenly Needle's arm is wrapped around his waist, and they're moving further down the medbay, and then he's sitting on a mattress he doesn't remember seeing-

"You know the drill," Needle informs him, and oh, yes, right, Needle's here too, isn't he? "Start coughing. I'll give you thirty seconds before I start a line-"

Then something clatters at the entrance to the medbay.

"Hello?" asks a wavering voice, and Needle swears under his breath.

"You," he says, poking Helix's nose, "stay right here. I'm just gonna triage, I will be right back. Keep coughing."

Helix glares at his retreating back until Needle vanishes around the corner.

Then it's just him.

There was- something he was supposed to be doing, right?

Yes. Tachycardic, Needle had said- cold packs can help, he knows. The vagus nerve. Right.

But Needle's gone.

He levers himself up and heads for the supply closet, ignoring the way the nausea sloshes in the pit of his stomach.

He steps inside. Flicks the light on.

And promptly vomits all the way down the front of his scrubs.

Something twigs at last.

"Well," he says eloquently, "fuck me."

That is the last thing he remembers for some time.

"You," a voice announces, "are such a bastard."

"Mmph."

"No, no, you don't get to do that. You're awake, I need answers, and to be frank I'm not feeling particularly merciful, you absolute- no. Okay. Name."

"..."

"Helix."

"That."

"I- fine. Nauseous?"

Helix takes a moment to assess.

"No."

"Jittery?"

He curls his fingers into a fist, testing.

"No. Jus' tired."

He can hear a steady beeping at his left, and waves in its vague direction. "Turn that off."

"The fuck I will," Needle snaps. "Consequences of your actions, boss, you're gonna have to deal with it. Where's your stockpile? I checked our stash, you didn't take enough from there to trigger this."

Helix pries his eyes open. Needle is standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, scowling at him.

"Not telling."

A muscle in Needle's jaw jumps.

"Stitch?"

The expression on Stitch's face when he peers around the corner is one of naked relief.

"Yes, Needle?"

"You're on Helix duty. Make sure he doesn't get out of bed, otherwise I'll have to kill him. I'm gonna tear his office apart."

"Tear my-"

"If you'd cooperate," Needle says, with gritted-teeth cheer, "then I wouldn't have to. But since you don't seem to appreciate the fact that you overdosed on your own stims, it looks like I'll have to do it myself."

He's gone before Helix can muster a response.

Stitch, meanwhile, has apparently taken Needle's threat to heart. He climbs onto the bed and splays starfish-style across Helix, wriggling up until they're nose-to-nose, and Helix's burgeoning indignation evaporates in the face of Stitch's too-wet eyes.

They stare at each other for a long moment, and then Stitch lets out a little sigh and tucks his face into the crook of Helix's neck.

Helix gives up considering standing.

"What happened?"

"Epinephrine overdose," comes the muffled reply. Inside his office, something bangs against the wall. "Needle found you in the closet. You were covered in vomit."

His scrubs are clean.

Stitch lifts his face and rests his forehead against Helix's. "Ventricular tachycardia," he says quietly, and Helix breathes out. "You went into v-fib. He had to shock you to get you back."

His face screws up before smoothing out with an all-too-familiar caution, and Helix, aching, rests a hand between his shoulder blades. "I was getting breakfast. Needle did it all by himself. You came back same time I did."

Another crashing sound. Something splinters.

"You should apologize," Stitch says sternly, and Helix chokes out a laugh.

"'m sorry, Stitch," he says, and tries his best to squeeze the hand Stitch is holding. "I didn't mean to."

"High epinephrine levels can compromise rational decision-making," Stitch informs him. "I know."

"If I promise not to get up, will you move?"

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, but-"

"Mm. Then no."

"Stitch-"

"Deep pressure therapy lowers heart rate."

"Is that what this is?"

"Yes."

"Not a hug?"

"That comes second."

"Okay, Stitch," Helix sighs. Deep pressure therapy or a hug, whatever it is- it's working.

He's asleep in less than a minute.

When he dips briefly back into the waking world, he can feel the dip in the mattress.

"Stims are taped to the bottom of my desk drawer," he says quietly.

"I know," Needle mutters.

Silence.

"How's my desk?"

"I'll get you a new one."

Another, longer silence.

Fabric shifts as Needle leans back, folding his arms across his chest. "I'll be keeping count."

"Okay."

Helix twists his head to the side, peering upwards.

Needle is staring at the wall.

"You don't have to get me a new desk," he offers.

"You're shit at apologies, you know."

Helix falls silent.

Then Needle sighs, too loud in the dull lights of the night shift, and Helix sees a wry smile twist across his face.

"Go back to sleep," he says, "and I won't ask for one."

Helix obligingly closes his eyes, and for once, doesn't say anything scathing when Needle's hand settles on his forehead.

Wait. One thing-

"Hey," he mutters sleepily. "At least now you know what it's like."

"What?"

But Helix is already asleep.

#HAPPY MAY THE FOURTH EVERYONE SEND ME PROMPTS #getting back into the groove of writing as things start to settle down #helix is so much fun to whump monopoly you were right #I OWE YOU LIVE REACTS YOU BRILLIANT BASTARD #anyway hope you all enjoyed helix pushing himself too far AGAIN #needle keeps both of them from spiraling too far and none of them realize it #shoulder the sky

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izzytheloser12 · 2 days

Text

~~~Since yall like the other incorrect quotes i've made more~~~

Kaito: I just learned a way to get stuff on the cheap. Steal it!

~~~~~~~

Akako: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

~~~~~~~~

*Yusaku goes shopping with child Shinichi*

Shinichi: Can I get a silenced pistol? Yusaku: If there’s one on sale.

~~~~~~~~~

*kaito and Aoko are having a sleepover*

Kaito: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner. Aoko: Kaito, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck. Kaito: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not. Aoko: Well, I mean yeah. Kaito: So come downstairs while they’re still hot. Aoko: Wait, you just made them? Kaito: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets. Aoko: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Kaito.

~~~~~~~~~

Ran: Truth or dare? Shinichi: Truth. Ran: How many hours have you slept this week? Shinichi: Shinichi: Dare. Ran: Go to sleep. Shinichi: I don't like this game.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us. Kaito: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

~~~~~~

Kaito, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often? Shinichi, confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Did Kaito just tell me he loved me for the first time? Heiji: Yeah, he did. Shinichi: And did I just do finger guns back? Heiji: Yeah, you did.

~~~~~~~

Hakuba: I asked Heiji out. Kaito: Oh, I’m sorry. Hakuba: Why? Kaito: Well, I assume they said no. Hakuba: No, they said yes. Kaito: Really? Then I’m sorry for them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Fight me! Kaito: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring Kaito: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hakuba: Regular soda is too sweet! Kaito: Diet soda has a weird after taste! Hakuba: No! Ugh, oh my god. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! Kaito: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! Hakuba: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! Kaito: I'm going to physically attack you. Hakuba: Which is better, Shinichi? Shinichi: Oh, I usually drink water! Kaito: Wha- NO! Hakuba: DISGUSTING!

~~~~~~~~

Sonoko: Seriously, I have no idea what to do. Sonoko: Oh, wait! Yahoo! Answers.

~~~~~~~

Sonoko, texting: Answer your phone Ran, texting back: Wait a minute, I can’t find my phone Sonoko: Understood Sonoko, 5 minutes later: You’re a terrible person. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing me, Ran.

~~~~~~~~

Kazuha: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos- Ran: I wrote you a poem. Kazuha, already crying: You did?

~~~~~

Kazuha: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box. Sonoko: Did Ran say 'I love you' and you said 'Thanks'? Kazuha: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

~~~~~~~

*Shinichi is babysitting Ayumi*

Shinichi: Come on, you need to go to bed. Ayumi: Mr. Snuffles says that I can stay up as long as I want. And that you need to die! Shinichi: … Shinichi: What the hell, Mr. Snuffles—

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Haibara made me get tested.

~~~~~~~

Haibara: Why are we friends? Conan: Poor decisions on your part.

~~~~~~~~

Akako: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. Aoko: Ok. Akako: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

~~~~~~~

*after Yukiko and Shinichi got into a fight*

Yukiko: OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE! Shinichi: Climbing THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

~~~~~~

Akako: Honestly, I am so evil. So full of darkness. I feed of the souls of the living I strike fear into- Aoko: You sleep with a teddybear. Akako: He’s my sECOND IN COMMAND IN MY ARMY OF DARKNESS!

~~~~~

Kaito: As top in this relationship, I think we should- Shinichi: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

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chaengluva · 11 hours

Text

Massive Deal [6]

Regina George x Fem!Reader: 3.1k words: Chapter Index

Sorry for not updating in a hot minute, i forgot about my tumbler account not gonna lie😭

————————————————————————————

You were very excited to go out with Leighton, she seemed very like a sweet girl but the kiss you shared with Regina was still on your mind as you were trying to sleep that night, the English test was on Friday, the date with Leighton was on Friday and the talent show was next week, you had so many other things to think about but your mind couldn't help but think about the kiss.

You laid in your bed as your mind rushed through thoughts and questions, should you tell Leighton? What if she gets mad?

after all the questions you asked yourself, you decided not to tell Leighton about it, the two of you weren't together, so it should be fine.

You woke up the next day and decided to head to school early to get some study done, maybe you would understand the test.

You were still struggling, you thought you would never be able to understand this, you put your head down on the library desk and started to cry.

"What's wrong?" you hear someone ask, you lift your head up to see Regina standing there, she was wearing a white blouse and jeans. "Nothing, I am just struggling with English." You say, frowning slightly.

"Struggling? I found it easy." Regina says, which doesn't make you feel any better, you frown and look back down on your page, she looks at you and then sighs, leaning over you looking at the page.

She explains everything and makes it really clearer, her body gets really close to yours and once you understand everything, you look up at her, Regina is still leaning over you, the thick tension between the two of you is clear.

You looked at her lips and she looked at yours, she looked around the room and smirked when she noticed you were the only people in the library, she leaned down to kiss you. The table you were sitting on was in the corner so if anyone walked in they wouldn't see straight away.

Regina lifted you up so you could sit on the table and stood in between your legs as she kissed you, the kiss would have lasted hours, but the bell made you pull away.

"I have to get to class." You say, fixing up your make up, Regina stands away from you, "Nerd" She giggles, walking away, leaving you alone with thoughts rushing through your mind.

You shake it off and walk outside of the library, "Y/n!" You hear Leighton say from behind you, smiling, you turn around and see her, she comes up to you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so excited for our date, I was wondering if we could also go out tonight."

You weren't doing anything, so you didn't see why not. You nodded your head and she smiled, "Perfect, I'll pick you up at 6, dress casual."

She kisses your lips this time and walks away, you feel a blush creep up on your cheeks as she leaves, you feel butterflies in your body you couldn't wait.

You spend the whole day excited for this last minute planned date, it must be your excitement making the time go slowly because the whole day was dragging on and you swear it was almost home time but it was only lunch.

As you stood up from your seat, you felt a notification go off, you secretly pulled your phone out so no one would notice and read the text you got, it was from Regina.

Meet me in the janitors closet on the 3rd floor next to the boys bathroom

You made your way over there with zero hesitation, and as soon as you opened the door, (locking it behind you of course) she pulled you in for a rough kiss, her hands roamed around your body so well, she was perfect.

You kissed her back just as rough, you even try to fight for dominance with her tongue, which makes her pull away, "Absolutely not." she says, leaning back into yours, kissing you again.

This time with more dominance and more power, she shoved her tongue inside you, making you let out a moan.

She held your body close as she did this, holding your waist as she kissed you roughly, showing no mercy for you, her lips were swollen when she pulled away, she looked at you up and down and smirked at what she saw.

“We should continue this.” She says, smirking, you nod smiling as she leaves, you couldn’t help but blush at remembering the feeling of her lips against yours, they were so addictive.

You sigh at start to focus on what was important, which was the date with Leighton tonight, luckily, the rest of the day goes quickly and before you knew it, you we’re waiting outside for Leighton to pick you up.

You were wearing a white shirt with black ripped jeans, she was wearing something that was designer, as she always does, she picked you up and took you to the theme park.

The two of you had a lot of fun, you had a lot of carnival food, and went on so many rides, you only had to do one more thing, which was win a prize.

You were currently playing a game of ring toss, it you win you get this massive stuffed toy and even though you were 18, you would die for that toy.

You couldn’t win though, you must have tried 10 times before you gave up, Leighton smiled at you, but she felt bad because you were upset that you didn’t get the prize.

So she decided to play it, and she won, first go.

She loved seeing the smile on your face when the worker handed over the toy to Leighton.

Leighton was about to pass it to you but she stopped herself just before you could grab it. “Wait.” She said, you pouted in response.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Leighton asks, you could hear the nerves in her voice.

You smile brightly, grabbing the toy from her and putting it down, pulling her in for a kiss. The kiss was passionate but it was short and sweet, when you pull away, Leighton has a massive smile on her face.

“Yes. Yes I will.” You say with your forehead against hers.

Leighton was so happy that she finally could call you hers, and now that you were out, you could happily walk around the school with her arm wrapped around your waist, holding you closely. The feeling of being able to openly show affection for each other in public was a relief after keeping your relationship a secret for so long. Leighton's smile never left her face as she proudly introduced you as her girlfriend to everyone you passed.

You were walking to math class, and your eyes went wide when you walked past Regina. She smirked, looking you up and down. You could feel Leighton tense up besides you, her grip on your waist tightening slightly. You quickly looked away, not wanting to engage with Regina's obvious attempt to provoke a reaction.

You finally made it to math class. You sat next to Leighton like you always do, but she pulled you into her lap, holding you possessively. She kissed your neck from time to time—nothing too much; she just left kiss marks on your neck.

As the teacher began the lesson, you tried to focus on the material, but Leighton's affectionate gestures distracted you. You couldn't help but smile, feeling grateful for her presence and protection in that moment. You would chuckle at the sensation of her lips tickling your neck as she kissed you.

Leighton's playful affection made the math class more bearable, and you found yourself looking forward to her sweet gestures throughout the lesson. Despite the distractions, you managed to absorb enough of the material to keep up with the class. Leighton's love language always managed to brighten your day, even in the most common of settings.

She really loved physical touch, which was perfect because you also loved it, so you spent most of your time together touching each other (not in that way).

Her simple acts of affection were a reminder of the joy she brought into your life. The class finally ended, and now you had English. Sadly, Leighton wasn't in your class, but she decided to walk you to your class. She saw that Regina was already in the class, and she kissed your lips, making sure that Regina saw her do it, which made Regina roll her eyes.

As you walked into English class with a smile on your face, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Leighton's unexpected display of affection. The playful kiss served as a reminder of the bond you shared, even in the midst of school drama.

You walked into the class, and you still needed a bit of help on the English assessment, so you decided to sit next to Regina and ask her for some more help on the test.

You sat down, and your heart started beating faster when you could see the smirk on her face, but you brushed it away because you knew you wanted to be loyal. She leant over you when helping you again, and you knew she wanted to kiss you, but you couldn't allow that to happen.

You needed to be loyal to Leighton; you were dating her, so you needed to make it clear to Regina that whatever was going on between the two of you was over. Regina's flirting made you uncomfortable, but you remained focused on getting the help you needed for the test. As you thanked her for her assistance, you made sure to maintain boundaries to respect your commitment to Leighton.

"Regina." You say this, and she looks into your eyes and nods her head, waiting for you to talk. "We need to end this." That was all you said, and you can see the way her face turns from happy to angry.

"Ugh! Because of that Leighton chick?" Regina asks, rolling her eyes. You nod your head and focus back on studying. Regina doesn't like the fact that you are ignoring her, so she makes you look at her by slamming her. hand on the table. "You can't just end things like that," she says firmly, her voice tinged with hurt, but she is quiet so no one else around can hear.

"I thought we had something real." You take a deep breath, knowing that it's time to stand your ground and stick to your decision.

"I am in a relationship." You admit, which only gets Regina more annoyed. "And? Who cares? We both know I'm the better kisser." You gasp and look at her, shaking in dismay at her audacity. "That's not the point," you reply, trying to remain calm despite the situation escalating quickly. "I need to be true to myself and my partner."

Regina rolled her eyes, getting up again and standing up, leaving you there. "Fine. Good luck with the English test." She said that after getting up and leaving, you were left alone there, and you let out a sigh, knowing that you just had to focus on studying for the test tomorrow and the date with Leighton tomorrow.

You go home and have a good night's rest after studying your ass all night. The next day, you wake up feeling prepared for both the test and your date. As you walk into class, you can't help but feel a sense of determination and confidence.

The test was really hard and you didn't even get to finish it, you felt as If all that study was for nothing, you left the class as soon as the bell rang, crying because you were so overwhelmed.

"Y/n!" You hear Leighton yell, you wipe your tears then turn around, smiling when you see your girlfriend, "Oh my god? Are you okay?" she asks, giving you a hug and kiss, you nod your head before saying, "I am okay, I just failed my English test though." You say with a frown on your face.

She pouts, tightening her grip on you, "You spent a lot of time studying baby, I'm sure you will do amazing." She says, kissing your forehead, you smile at her, thanking her for her kind words, "We have a date tonight! And you also have a song to write."

You look at her with a confused face, "Karen told me you wanted to be apart of the talent show so I signed you up, I'll be playing guitar for you." Leighton smiles.

Dammit Karen.

You went home with a massive smile on your face. You were excited to get ready for the date with Leighton. You had no idea what she had planned, but she told you to dress fancy, and you did nothing fancy apart from the old dresses you had worn.

You decide to do something you never do because you know how she will react, but you push past that feeling and go to your sister's room.

You knock on the door and wait for a response. You hear a quiet, "Come in." So you open the door, and you can see that she was texting someone, probably Jason.

She looks at you with curious eyes, waiting for you to say something, there was a second of silence before you finally spoke up. "Um so I have a date tonight." You confessed, she shot up, gasping before screaming and running towards you. "Oh my god? With Leighton?" She asks, you nod your head happily and she runs into her closet.

"She said to dress fancy!" You exclaim. Gretchen nods her head and picks out something for you to wear, it was a red dress with a lot of glitter, different to what you usually wear, "Know don't be embarrassed if Leighton shows up in something better then you, her family is very rich." She says, you roll your eyes.

She forces you to sit down on the seat as she does your makeup, giving you a fancy look. "So? Is Leighton your girlfriend?" She asks as she applies more mascara, you smile, nodding your head, you almost jump with the loud gasp she lets out, but you stop yourself because you don't want to ruin the makeup.

"And you didn't tell me?!" She asks in disbelief, you give her an apologetic look, she continues to add makeup, adding final touches to it, making sure you look perfect.

"And done!" She exclaims, smiling at her work, she turned the chair so you could face the mirror, you smiled at how you looked, you still looked like yourself but you felt really pretty, you looked at the time and you had a few hours left for hair.

Gretchen grabs her curling iron and started to curl your hair lightly, sliming at you from time to time. "Are you still with Jason?" You ask, with a smile on your face, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "God No, I'm so over him." She says rolling her eyes, continuing your to do your hair, "Then who were you texting when I walked in?" She gulped and went quiet, completely ignoring the question.

"Your hair is done," Gretchen said with a smile. You thank her and get up from the seat, grabbing the dress that Gretchen had laid out for you. You put it on, and you loved the look of it. The dress highlighted your curves very well.

You had a few minutes to take photos, which Gretchen made you post to Instagram. Leighton was coming to pick you up. As you waited for Leighton, you couldn't help but feel nervous about the evening ahead. Gretchen reassured you that you looked stunning and that everything would be fine. .

Leighton arrived a little early but waited in her car until the exact time before getting out to knock. She knocked, and you gasped at how beautiful her outfit was and how stunning her makeup was. She was perfect, and she looked so amazing.

Leighton greeted you with a warm smile and complimented your dress, making you feel even more confident. As you both walked to the car, you couldn't help but feel grateful for such a stylish and supportive friend.

"You look so pretty." You say this, smiling at Leighton, and she responds by giving you a cute smile. "You look amazing, baby." Leighton says, reaching out his hand to pull you in for a kiss. As you were kissing, you heard someone take a picutre. You gasp, looking to the side, and see Gretchen with a camrea.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." Gretchen giggles, and the two of you laugh back and pose as she takes a few more pictures. Leighton wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you outside to her very expensive car.

She opens the door for you and gestures for you to get in. Excited, you climb into the car, feeling very excited but slightly nervous for this date.

She drives to a part of the city that you have never been to, a part that you have never been to because it was for all the extremely rich people to go and live. "I'll be paying tonight." Leighton says it with a smile on his face. You shake your head, but she isn't taking no for an answer; she parks in front of the most luxurious restaurant you have ever seen.

She opens the car door for you. As you step out of the car, you can't help but feel a mix of awe and apprehension at the thought of dining in such an upscale establishment. Leighton's generosity is both flattering and intimidating, making you wonder what kind of expectations she may have for this date.

You walk into the restaurant, and you are quickly seated. You notice it's a fancy Italian restaurant; you love Italian food; it's like she knew everything about you, even the things that you hadn't told her.

The date went really well; the two of you kissed a few times, and you had amazing food. She dropped you home quite late, but Gretchen was still up when you walked inside and begged you to tell her everything, so you did. You told her every detail.

Gretchen listened intently, hanging on to your every word as you recounted the evening. She smiled and nodded in all the right places, clearly invested in hearing about your date. It felt good to have a sister who cared so much about your happiness.

After you were done telling her everything, It was around 1 a.m. when you went into your room and planned to call it a night, but a notification interrupted you.

Meet at my place in 10 minutes

It was from Regina George.

#regina george #regina george x reader #reneé rapp #gxg #lesbian #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #wlw #fluff #angst #leighton murray x reader #leighton murray

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