#and i can’t even say any of this to her because she’d just cry and tell me what a bad mother she is

[frogayyyy]

will my mum ever understand that i don’t like talking (as in it’s really physically difficult) sometimes, especially in the morning, and not get upset with me and make me feel guilty about it despite telling her countless times that this is why? 😃

i just vented in the tags sorry bout that :S

[fingertipsmp3]

Genuinely not sure if I cry easily or if I just have a habit of dwelling on my problems and past grief that I should really be well into the fifth stage of by now but am instead stuck on stage 3 or 4

[irndad]

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

[66stitches]

dating abby headcanons

Art by fjorgust on instagram

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

divider creds

꩜ She isn’t super big on pda, but does little stuff like grab your hand or give you occasional kisses on the forehead just to remind you of how she loves you (and to let everyone know you’re hers).

꩜ With that being said, she’s all over you once you’re home.

꩜ Absolutely loves lazy morning cuddles and kisses far more than she’d like to admit.

꩜ I just know she listens to dad music. Definitely a big fan of The Offspring.

꩜ Loves to spoil her girl, but even though she doesn’t admit it, she secretly loves being spoiled and coddled as well.

꩜ Has a pretty high pain tolerance, but would sometimes exaggerate her pain just so you’d coddle and baby her, especially when she’s on her period.

And you know she’s fibbing, but you knew that if you confronted her she would immediately deny it and get super defensive (which is how you know she’s lying).

But you love babying her, so you’re more than happy to play along.

꩜ She snores, but it’s pretty soft and light, so you don’t really mind at all. It’s actually pretty comforting.

꩜ Shares her coin collection with you. You don’t really get the fascination, but seeing her ramble on passionately about what new coins she found only makes you fall in love deeper.

꩜ Reads classics. A huge fan of Dostoevsky. But also she loves nonfictions.

꩜ Absolutely sucks at video games. If you play, she’ll ask if she can try, only to get your character killed like five seconds later then complain that “something’s up with your controller.”

꩜ Loves having her hair played with. She would have trouble sleeping sometimes, but once your fingers are on those golden strands of hers she’s out like a light, already softly snoring into the pillow.

꩜ Sleeps completely naked with you. Not for any sexual purpose, but just feeling her bare skin against yours as you’re sleeping makes her feel closer to you than ever. It’s an innocently intimate and loving moment she likes to share with you.

Honestly just imagine cuddling to sleep at night completely naked. Everything is quiet and you’re peppering sleepy kisses on each other’s face, neck, shoulders, and rubbing each other’s arms and back 'til you fall asleep oh god I’m SICK.

꩜ This woman is in love with sitcoms and I will not be elaborating any further.

꩜ Claims she doesn’t like cats, but once came home like an hour late because she got caught up playing with a stray cat. Refused to tell you the real reason why she was late.

꩜ Cracks the dumbest jokes you’ve ever heard that only put a smile on your face because of how stupid they are and how cute she is when she says them.

Remember that scene where she was trying to joke around with Lev but she’s just super bad at it and he didn’t even try to play along? “You know our dogs can play cards like that?” Yeah, she does that with you too.

꩜ Cries after arguments (canon) but can’t stand people seeing her cry. She’s a pretty emotional person methinks.

꩜ Loves festivities. Will go all out on christmas and halloween, decorating the entire place and buying gifts (pesters you with questions about what you got her).

꩜ Pesto. She loves it on everything.

꩜ Loves massages. Back, shoulders, feet, scalp. Loves them all and only wants them from you.

꩜ A caregiver. (If you’re on meds), she’ll always make sure you take them and take them at the right time. She ensures that you eat three meals a day and get enough sleep, and even doesn’t let you stay up for too long. She just wants her girl to stay healthy.

꩜ She’s a total book hoarder. She promises not to buy another book 'til she’s done reading the ones she has, only for you to find a paper bag with ten new books the next day.

꩜ Loves you endlessly and has your entire wedding planned out in her head. She knows exactly what songs she wants to play and how she wants your dresses to look.

[loved-reid]

You’re Cute…Yet Irritating [s.r]

Post prison!Spencer Reid x sunshine!fem!reader

Summary: She’s always humming a tune, dancing, or tapping her fingers. And Spencer can’t stand it.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, irritated Spencer, crying, self doubt, rude comments, self hatred, etc.

Note: I always fidget and I thought this would be cute! Let me know what y’all think!!

Sorry for any errors! I didn’t re-read it! :)

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

2,745 times

And yes, he was unfortunately counting.

He bet she didn’t even know she was doing it, the repetitive rhythm of her finger nails on the desk. Files piled it, almost all the time, and Spencer always had to walk by with his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from organizing it the way he liked.

He was going to be honest, he kind of missed having that feeling, the urge to clean or organize. It told him, in a way, that his old self was still with him, and that little thing gave him hope that he so tightly held onto.

But his old self was able to focus. His old self was able to dig himself into file folders and never be able to leave, yet the tapping.

Spencer couldn’t take it.

His eye twitched every time she breathed particularly loud, his lips pursed when her foot started tapping on the floor, and, worst of all, his head shuttered when her dang finger nails tapped on the desk’s top.

He hated the noise.

And it surprised him that he did, it was such a little thing that was apparently going unnoticed by everyone else. But he just couldn’t focus on his work with the practical racket that was doing on next to him.

He wasn’t gonna lie, he almost got up just then to go ask Hotch for a desk rearrangement. But he knew that his boss would suspect something and either tease him about it or shake his head about how ridiculous it was.

Spencer agreed as well. He couldn’t change seats just because the woman next to him was tapping her fingers.

Gosh, even thinking it sounded absurd.

But he couldn’t help but imagine silence.

Silence while his brain could process things.

Spencer could’ve lost it when she started humming a soft tune. She seemed to have a new one in her head every day, each time she sat down, tea in hand, she hummed a different song than yesterday.

He couldn’t quite pin point which one it was, but he didn’t dare to continue thinking to figure it out.

His head turned toward her, hoping she’d notice his glare but she didn’t, she’s still stuck on the file she was looking at.

“Quit that, will ya?”

Her head snapped up at the sudden outburst, surprise reflecting in her eyes yet he spotted confusion.

How was she confused to the constant annoying tapping she was doing? And the humming? Spencer was slowly loosing his mind.

He took a deep breath to prevent from lashing out, his hand coming out and wiggling his fingers toward hers.

“T-the tapping, it’s irritating. Quit it please.”

Her face dropped from surprised to hurt, and Spencer somehow hated that it was quiet as soon as he said something.

“Right. Sorry,” she whispered so softly Spencer almost couldn’t hear her. She tried to add a little chuckle at the end of her murmur, yet her voice cracked against her own accord.

He watched her fingers stop, instead clenching them in a fist tightly.

Spencer should’ve been glad that the silence he so wanted was granted, but something unsettling brewed in his chest at her facial expression, her now glossy eyes staring at her computer screen. He also noticed her other hand that wasn’t holding the folder was digging into her thigh to prevent it from bouncing out of anxiety.

He didn’t know the feeling, regret, maybe, but all Spencer knew was that he wished he hadn’t said those words.

But he didn’t want to say sorry, something inside him prevented him from doing it. Maybe he was selfish because he ignored the regret in him and took the opportunity to have the ability to focus once more.

“I can’t help, falling in love with you,” she hummed softly, just under her breath as she stirred her favorite tea in the mug the next morning.

Spencer had to admit, he missed her singing in the morning. It reminded him that through all the terrible cases they’ve experienced, there was still happiness in the world, still hope, and she clearly found it through music.

But the pounding headache that didn’t go away that day prevented him from being kind.

So he couldn’t dare to show his wishes of her singing more often, heck no. And the more he thought about it the more irritating it became. He became hyper focused on the breath before each sentence she sang, the cinnamon toothpaste blaring his nose. She was also slightly off pitch every couple seconds, and she sang a couple words wrong.

It got worse when she took forever to mix her tea, blocking his path towards the coffee machine.

He huffed, ignoring the way she flinched. “Move, will ya? There’s people who actually want to do their job and not sing songs about sunshine and rainbows; just please let me get some coffee.”

Her once upwards lips turned down, the light in her eyes going out. She cleared her throat. “Right, s-sorry.”

Spencer couldn’t help it. The comment spat out before he could control it. “S-sorry,” he mimicked. “You do know confidence is a key to this job, right? Quit the childish stuttering it’s infuriating.”

He didn’t see her reaction, but if he did he would see glossy eyes and a facial expression that represented a shattered heart.

She raced out of the room, tea discarded on the counter and beelined towards the bathrooms. She quickly fumbled with the lock. It echoed throughout the bathroom, somehow making her emotions worsen. The tears went full force, a sob covered by her hands surrounding her.

His words kept repeating themselves in her head, telling her that she wasn’t good enough for the job.

Why even apply? He was clearly smarter than her and took things more seriously. What was she thinking? Coming into a field like this and humming and singing all the time? Who does that?

She could feel her makeup smearing, and her black fingers rubbing her cheeks confirmed her suspicions.

She never knew Spencer’s problem with her. Every moment she recalled every encounter, hoping not to come across a moment where she offended him. And she never did.

But now she knew. It was her humming, her tapping, her singing, her stuttering.

She wasn’t good enough to be here.

The thought made her cry harder, the type of sob where your breath catches in your throat, your vision blurry as your chest aches.

A soft knock on the stall door made her both flinch hardly and gasp at the same time.

A throat was cleared, an awkward moment of silence shoving its way between them.

“Can I come in?”

The voice on the other side wasn’t one she expected. Her heart started going on its own path, thumping quickly within her chest.

Her hand moved on its own accord, though hesitantly, and opened the lock.

Spencer’s hand came into view, opening the door and entering himself, closing and locking the door behind him.

Something about him being so close, the door locked, and them being in a place just for one person made her already beating heart pound harder.

His features, no doubt, were beautiful. His nose was like a button, eyes like chocolate in fresh cookies, lips soft and full like a blooming flower.

His hair, oh his hair. It was like a soft blanket she wanted to nestle her fingers onto, pulling at the roots until he let out a satisfying noise-

No.

He hurt her. The words he said. She was upset. He doesn’t like her.

Then why was he having such an effect on her?

Him clearing his throat once more caught her out of her thoughts, eyes meeting his.

“I wanted to say sorry. For what I said,” he whispered, and she noticed his fingers playing with each other. “It wasn’t nice nor professional. And I don’t mean any of it.”

His apology was simple and sincere, eyes somehow widening while gazing at her. (Or were his eyes always like that? Full and desperate?)

“And in case you were wondering, you’re lovely at your job,” he sounded like he was rambling again, but he also seemed desperate to get the words out. “Your singing brings happiness to the place. You’re more than good enough to be here. And I’m sorry I made you doubt your amazing abilities.”

She felt a soft smile come to her lips, cheeks reddening at his complements. She wiped her nose. “Really?”

He nodded, leaning down and grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her cheeks.

Instead of simply giving it to her, he wiped them himself, wiping the damage he did to her away on his own. “I mean it with my whole heart.”

Her heart warmed.

“Thank you Spencer,” she whispered shyly.

He gave her a toothless smile, opening his arms for a hug from her.

Her heart pounded, knowing he barely let anyone touch him, but stepped towards him nonetheless.

Her arms went underneath his blazer, on top of his dress shirt (causing him to shiver) and laying her head on his chest.

He embraced her back, far too tall to be over her shoulder so he rested his chin on her head, shampoo filling his nose.

They stayed like that for a couple moments before pulling back to look at each other.

His eyes met hers, emotions swirling around, like they were trying to tell him something.

If it was a warning or an invitation Spencer didn’t know, but he leaned forward to find out, nose brushing hers.

Her lips parted, causing his eyes to shoot downward at the movement.

He gave her a moment to push away, to shove him out of the stall for even thinking she had any interest on him.

The rejection never came.

He finally planted his mouth on hers, her hands shooting to his hair to pull at his roots, a small groan leaving his lips.

His lips tasted like coffee and something truly Spencer.

Whatever it was pulled her in more, craving the taste of his mouth.

They finally pulled away, breath fanning each other’s faces. She was the one who laughed first against his lips, and he copied her before kissing her once again.

Sure, she was irritating at times, but she was cute, he’d give her that.

[pergaminaa]

ok this is partly something i dreamed of but i have something very very specific that Manon’s grandmother did when she was about 4-5 years old that really just fucked her up and left her with mental scars that certainly didn’t heal and ugh yeah i just need to do a bit of research because i know what Dorian would try to do to help i just want to be sure what im talking about first

Just some points on my modern au:

Both Dorian and Manon are from old money families (it’s how they met it was during an exclusive event)

Dorian hates it lowkey he wants freedom and to do as he pleases so he skips as many of these events as he can. But he also knows that if he leaves and Hollin gets in charge… their family would be over because his brother will ruin everything. So he stays around for the sake of his family.

Manon is the opposite. She is always present and taking charge of things in hopes that it would appease her grandmother. But just like everything else she does, it’s never good enough.

She’s a perfectionist who always needs to be in control otherwise she starts falling apart.

She was raised on the notion that emotions are a weakness, and she wouldn’t dare bring shame on her grandmother by being emotional. So from a young age she learned to suppress her emotions and carry on.

She is what her teachers would call ‘academically gifted’ but the truth is, she spent many hours studying and skipping sleep in order to be the top student at her school. Even when she was burnt out (she usually spends summer break studying for the next school year before it starts) she keeps going. Result? Getting a final score of 99.7% caused her to have a breakdown because how was she so careless as to lose that .3%? Her grandmother wasn’t too happy with her score, and she made that very clear.

She’s just so emotionally repressed and very anxious but she’s so good at hiding it no one can tell anything is amiss. Because when Manon is having a breakdown, she does so privately behind closed doors.

She has attachment issues and she’s very emotionality dependent on her dog. Abraxos is her rock and she has no idea what she’d do without him.

Those attachment issues? (Thanks to grandmother’s emotional and mental abuse) Manon often ends up with awful/toxic men just because they’re giving her the right attention that makes her easily want to be with them thinking it is ‘right’ and honestly just doesn’t think much of it (Asterin notices tho and she and Sorrel are always ready to interfere).

She doesn’t have much faith in men anymore. One night stands are way better than a steady relationship and so she swore off dating. All she needs is Abraxos anyway.

[parkersgarage]

a/n:I just be throwing words together and hit post y’all, I can’t even lie.

Sevika x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) 747 wc, little angsty but I wouldn’t cry to it (｀_´)ゞ dialogue heavy as per usual!

“Am I still allowed to say, ‘come back in one piece’” you ask quietly, watching her tighten miscellaneous screws on her arm.

Sevika doesn’t get it. Why you’re so suddenly quiet when before you wouldn’t stop yapping her ear off, or when she’d come home, you’d shout and cheer while waking up the whole damn block. But now it’s just quiet.

She hates it.

A look of disappointment crosses your face when you don’t receive any response. Your eyes have never looked so dull and lifeless before.

“I know you don’t like this,” she starts, staring at her hand. She couldn’t look at you. “I don’t either, but this is how I can keep you safe.” A hum is her only response; she takes it.

“Can you talk to me, please?” Sevika nearly bites her tongue at the plea, but you’re the most important thing in her life now and maybe forever. “I can’t read your mind, not as good as before.”

A shaky and deep sigh falls past your lips. With trembling fingers, your hand glides up her arms gently, slowly melding your body against hers. She takes you in just as tenderly, rough fingertips holding your waist while the cold metal of her hand reaches to your neck.

“It’s too much,” you confess, letting your head fall to her shoulder. You couldn’t let her see you. “All of this change, all the blood being spilled, your new employer.” Your voice gets rougher by the end, and Sevika’s heart churns at the anger in it.

Had she known how you would react to it, if she knew how bitter and angry you’d be about her joining the very force she used to fight against, would she still do it?

If she could take back joining, if she had just let it lie and die, could she?

“I’m–” the apology sits heavy on her tongue, waiting to spill out, but all that follows is silence. You wonder, did this new life mean Sevika couldn’t even talk to you?

She sighs, rubbing her forehead as you pull away from her. “I wish I didn’t have to do this just to keep you safe.” She murmured, her head cast low in an attempt to hide. “He told me as long as I work for him, not a single thing would touch your head, and that’s all I want.”

“Vika, we could’ve just left—”

“And where would you suggest we go?” She asks, cutting you off entirely. There’s a snap in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed, one you couldn’t blame her for. Yet she sighs again, regret on her face– or rather, it was guilt.

“I get it.” You nod, sitting back– away from her. “I’m sorry.” Another sigh; it seems almost never-ending. The dissatisfaction, the hurt, everything. All because of one slight change. “I won’t complain anymore.”

“That’s not what I–” her sentence falls off her tongue when you get up. Just as you move to walk away, her fingers are quick to grasp your wrist lightly. “Don’t go.” She whispers, and shockingly, her eyes turn watery before casting downwards. “Please.”

You sink back down to your knees. Her hand still holds onto you, afraid you’ll walk away again. You can’t tell what’s going on in her head, what internal battle she’s going through, and how this change affects her.

“You should eat.” You say after a beat of silence. She only hums, ultimately leaving the thought behind as she lays her head against your chest. “You’ve had a long day, Vika.”

Her eyes shut as she focused on your beating heart. She felt bad for tuning out your voice, but this is what she needed. To hear that you were alive, that you weren’t lying lifeless in a ditch like she’d been threatened with hours ago by some goon who was less than her.

At the end of the night, after you’ve both eaten and settled for bed, she clings onto you tighter than she ever has. When she thinks you’ve fallen asleep, the tears that soak your shirt don’t go unnoticed by you. All you wished for was to turn around, wipe them from her face, and tell her it would be okay. But Sevika wouldn’t want that, at least– that’s what you thought. “I love you.” She says. It weighs you down, making you sink further and further into the pit you dug yourself into.

You wonder why it was only said when she thought you were sleeping.

can yall tell I like writing semi-soft Sevika ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[elliesdoll]

pt. 3 to my angsty loser!ellie thingy 𝜗𝜚

pt.1 pt.2

nsfw! ellie cries lol, it’s kinda sweet? giggly sex at first, boobie sucking, ellie is kind of a weirdo idk… she makes out with your pussy, oral(e!receiving), fingering (e!recieving), squirt alert!, ellie cums way too fast, tribbing, desperate ellie like damn shes genuinely tweakinf. this is lowkey so nasty idk wut came over me

this is kinda long im sorry… AND NOT PROOFREAD im too lazy for allat. forgive me for any typos i will not be fixing!😊

daily click don’t buy tlou palestine mp

she had no fucking clue what to do. maybe she could pull her pants up and push herself through the tiny ass window above your shower? leave and block your number, move towns, and change her name. maybe that would work.

she shamefully pulled her sweatpants up and wiped her wet fingers on the fabric, then hid her face in her hands. what the fuck was she gonna do now? she was so sick, so perverted. all ellie could do was imagine you in your room right now, feeling so betrayed by your closest friend for being so perverted in the safety of your own home.

ellie was secretly praying to die right in this moment. she’d die happily, if zeus decided to strike her down with a lightning bolt and disintegrate her, right on your tiled floor. why was she like this? she loved you so much, she couldn’t help shoving her hand in her pants at the sight of you. but in a sick way, it wasn’t from lust.

it was from love.

ellie told herself she had some sick masturbation problem, and she probably needed to be put on some medication for being fucking insane. she just couldn’t help it. your kindness made her heart swell so much that it made her horny, in the weirdest way.

ellie had gotten horny from other things before, sure. but that’s all it was. lust. you, you made her horny in the same way that you made her tummy get butterflies. she just wanted to love on you. she had so much love and affection to give, the only way to release it was through taking care of herself, shamefully.

which is what led her to be in the predicament she’s in right now. she swore she’d never masturbate again, after this.

after maybe 10 minutes of sitting in silence, she decided to leave the bathroom. no use in staying there forever.

the walk down the hall to your room felt so suspenseful and wya too fucking long. maybe it’s because her steps got slower the closer she got.

she had already composed what she was going to say to you. “I don’t know what you saw, but it’s not what it looks like.” and go from there. But the second she entered through the door and saw you sitting on your bed, looking up at her with the most intense look in your eyes, all that went out the window.

“i am so sorry.”

she mumbled, her throat having this large, suffocating lump in it from the urge to cry. before you could say anything back, she spoke again.

“i’m so fucking sorry, i don’t know what i was thinking. i— im so fucked up i know, you didn’t deserve that—“

she continues on, her hands gripping so tightly on the bottom of her hoodie, to the point her knuckles turn white. she doesn’t even realize the tears that spill down her face, not until the look on your face changes. your eyebrows raise, and you look almost like you’re pitying her.

“els… stop that. it’s okay. you’re fine.”

you say, standing up and getting right in front of her. you almost wanted to say sorry for intruding on her, but honestly— what the hell was she doing that for in the first place? you didn’t pry, only wanting to calm her down.

“i thought we could laugh it off. yknow.. like something we could look back on and smile about. no need to cry.”

you say softly to her, using that gentle voice you had whenever you wanted to be sincere. you even go as far as to wipe some of the wetness off her cheek with your thumb.

you were so good to her. she should be relieved to hear your response, but she’s not. it only makes her more frustrated.

“i can’t.”

she looks down at the floor, unable to look you in the eye.

“can’t? can’t what?”

you’re confused, why can’t she just move on from it? you really wanted to bury this memory and stay the way you were.

“i can’t move on.”

she blurts out, a few stray tears still rolling down her cheeks. you just stare at her for a moment, and then it clicks.

“oh.”

you knew exactly what she meant by that. the poor girl, she had her feelings for you all pent up inside of her for god knows how long. you felt terrible, for making her feel even worse about this whole thing. but at the same time, you felt unreasonably giddy.

the fact that ellie, your very bestest friend, had such a big crush on you that it brought her to tears? how flattering is that? you always had a little thing for her, but you brushed yours up as some silly friend crush.

but her tiny confession made your heart pound like nobody has done before.

you grab her hands and lead her to your bed, sitting her down in front of you. you were gonna set this right.

“ellie, why didn’t you tell me?”

she looks at you as if you were dumb. why in the hell would she ever admit her undying love for her best friend?

“because you’re… i don’t fucking know! you’re my best friend nd’ i didn’t wanna mess things up— n’ you have those stupid fuck buddies of yours and—“

oh, the fuck buddies. you now realize why ellie was so quick to leave your home that day she showed up unannounced. the poor baby probably had her feelings so hurt.

“you know, there’s a reason i never actually end up dating them, ellie. that’s all they were to me. they didn’t really make me… feel.”

you say, wiping the tears off her cheeks with one thumb. the way she looked at you made your heart melt.

“..huh? feel what?”

she raises an eyebrow, completely missing what you’re saying. you laugh, covering your eyes for a moment. you forgot you’re talking to ellie. you kinda have to spell it out for her.

“dude. i’m saying that you make me feel.”

she stares at you blankly. she really is doesn’t wanna assume, too afraid of embarrassing herself. you sigh.

“fuck, ellie. i like you too.”

you’ve never seen the girls eyes get so wide. is this even fucking real? ellie couldn’t believe her reddened ears. she doesn’t even have the capacity to feel embarrassed anymore. all she feels is absolute, genuine shock.

“are… are you sure?”

she asks quietly, sniffling a bit. the girl’s nose was still running from her humiliating breakdown in front of you. you almost get pissed at her stupid question.

“yes? the hell?”

you narrow your eyes at her, giving her shoulder as slight shove. she grunts and shoves you back, playfully.

“i was just making sure! i can’t tell if you’re fucking with me.”

“why would i be fucking with you? i’m not evil, ellie.”

she just shrugs, and lets out a slight giggle. she smiles a bit, wiping her damp, sticky face. god, how you loved her smile. it was the sweetest thing ever. both of you giggled for a minute, laughing at the absurdity of this whole thing.

after a few seconds of comforting laughter and smiles between the two of you, you realize ellie isn’t gonna make a move. of course she isn’t, even after that confession. ellie would never make the first move, no way in hell. so, you lean in and give her a quick peck on the lips, less than a second long. it caught her completely off guard.

her eyes widened so much, and her eyebrows raised so far up. you literally saw her cheeks redden, like you two were in a movie. she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at you. a large, toothy grin right that made her cheeks hurt. she didn’t even say anything, just grabbing the sides of your face and bringing you in for a kiss again.

she kisses so hard. her lips push against yours, you could feel her smiling against your mouth. she pulls apart for a second, just looking at you. then, she moves right back in.

the kiss is softer this time, more passionate. in ellie’s mind, she was gonna do this right. she’s gone over in her head thousands of times what she would do if she got to kiss you, to make love with you. she couldn’t mess this up.

you two make out for a bit, the smacking noises from the kissing makes your head feel fuzzy. you’re still pretty wet, from the kissing and the sight you saw earlier. after you pull away from her lips for some air, you give her this look. you want more.

“is.. is this okay?”

ellie asks, slowly kissing your neck and stopping just to look at your reaction. you smile and nod, finding her mannerisms to be too fucking cute. she was so eager.

ellie was in heaven. your skin tasted so good, and you smelled like you. her favorite scent. she peppered kisses over every square inch of your neck and shoulders, her hands resting on your hips. she didn’t dare move your top though, too scared to initiate it.

you slowly moved her shaky, clammy hands to the bottom of your little top, letting her grab it and guiding her hands upwards. you whispered to her in a reassuring tone.

“els, it’s okay.”

she just looks at you, pupils blown and nods. she slowly pulled your top off and over your head, letting your tits spill out right in front of her. of course she noticed you weren’t wearing a bra the second she came over, but it still took her breath away.

“holy fuck.”

she muttered, staring right at your tits. they’re better than she imagined. and she imagined them to be the most perfect tits ever. she couldn’t help herself, poor baby. she just had to lean in and take one of your nipples into her mouth. her left hand flew to your other breast, kneading the soft flesh.

the quick action made you gasp lightly, letting out a tiny whine at the feeling of her teeth nipping at your skin. she was tasting you. you felt her warm face press against your skin, as if she was trying to suffocate herself. you got a bit worried, so you tapped her cheek.

“e-els, you gotta breathe—“

you were cut off by her lips popping off your breast, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to her lips. she murmured a quiet “fuck me,” and immediately went to your other nipple, repeating the same motion.

your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. how the fuck was she so good with her tongue? the way she eagerly licked over your nipples until they hardened in her mouth, nipping at them softly. literally eating your fucking tits right in front of you.

“you’re so fucking beautiful. so so beautiful.”

ellie mumbles to you, forcing herself to get off your boobs. she could spend the rest of her life right there, but there was more to tend to. her hands went to the hem of your shorts, looking at you for permission.

as much as you wanted to say yes and let her do whatever the hell she wanted, you wanted to see her even more. you tug lightly on her hoodie, giving her a gentle smile.

“take this off first?”

say less. say fucking less, is all ellie thought. she stuttered out a quiet “okay, okay,” and nodded, messily pulling her hoodie off of her. you giggled as it got stuck on her head, and it made her giggle along with you. neither of you could stop laughing at any little thing the other one did.

you sighed at the sight of her in her sports bra and sweats, but you wanted that shit off too. ellie wasted no time either, immediately pulling off her sports bra. you didn’t even get to admire her beautiful tits before you saw her pulling her sweats off and kicking them to the side, leaving her in her spongebob boxers. they had spongebob printed all over them.

“interesting fashion choice,”

you said through a laugh, and ellie just smiled awkwardly. she would’ve chosen a different pair if she knew she was gonna do this. fuck her stupid past self for buying that pack of spongebob-themed boxers at spencer’s a few months ago.

“god, don’t look.”

she muttered, moving closer and kissing you again. you kissed back softly, still giggling a bit. nobody made you laugh as effortlessly as she did. her thumbs hooked around the soft fabric of your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one go.

all the words ellie wanted to say died in her mouth. she laid down between your thighs and was face to face with your pussy. your pussy. she thought she was going to faint, she swore she felt her vision going.

gorgeous, that’s the only word to describe you. you were absolutely soaked, your slick making your puffy pussy lips shine and look tantalizingly supple. your swollen clit, and those gorgeous folds. somebody pinch her.

the scent of your arousal filled her nostrils, and she moaned. a deep, guttural moan from the pit of her stomach, just by smelling you. your cheeks were so warm, as you lifted your head to peek down at her. you were gonna say something, but your throat closed on you the second her lips touched your cunt.

this, this was new. ellie had her nose and mouth shoved deep into your cunt, your wetness and warmth englufing her. you expected to feel her tongue push out her lips and onto you, but no. the first thing you felt was her inhaling. her nose sniffed your pussy so deeply, you fucking heard it. you looked down, confused, seeing a half-lidded ellie groan as she inhaled your scent. you didn’t say anything, literally just watching. nobody’s ever gotten off to your scent before, like ever. but shit, it turned you on way too much.

she mumbled something incomprehensible against your pussy, then slowly, languidly, started lapping at your cunt. her tongue pushing through your dripping folds and collecting every single drop of slick you had, and fucking swallowing it. swallowing after every couple of licks. you moaned, because what the actual fuck.

how did she make this so fucking hot?

it felt so good, but it wasn’t enough to make you cum. it was too slow. your hips greedily moved and pushed against her lips, but she didn’t increase her pace one bit. she was clearly doing this for her own pleasure. too pussydrunk to care. her eyelids were so low, but you saw her staring at you the entire time she ate you out. like clockwork, her tongue dipping into your hole, drinking you up like you were liquid gold.

after hearing enough of your desperate whines for more, she slowly moved herself up, the lower half of her face was completely drenched. she kissed the soft mound of your cunt, then up your tummy, through the valley of your breasts, and finally slowly kissed your lips again. tasting yourself on her tongue made you feel brain dead.

“eat my pussy, please…”

she murmured against your lips, giving you the tiniest peck on your mouth after she spoke. since when did she get so bold? it made you embarrassingly wet.

who were you to say no to her?

you simply nodded, and gently pushed her to the side so she could lay down on her back. you immediately got between her legs, as she planted her feet on the mattress. shit, she was so eager.

she lifted her butt and chuckled quietly as you pulled off her silly boxers. once they’re off, you’re met with the most beautiful sight. her auburn bush, decorating her cunt so delicately. it made your mouth pool with saliva. her pretty, red and needy clit poking out, just begging to be touched. she was so wet. you don’t think you’ve ever seen a cunt dripping this much before. she was already clenching in and out softly, drops of arousal leaking out of her and forming a tiny droplet on your bedsheets. you could’ve came from the sight.

“how long have you been wanting this?”

you ask her quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to her clit. her hips bucked into your face, and you smiled.

“ssss—so fucking long. needed you from the start… fucked myself to you s’much…”

she just kept spilling her guts to you, just trying to get you to put your fucking mouth on her cunt. your fidgety, nervous ellie that you knew turned into a completely shameless slut for you.

“yeah? you could’ve told be earlier, els.”

you tease her lightly, and she just whines desperately. you decide not to deprive her any longer, and lick a long stripe up her soaked pussy. she groans, hands flying to your hair and gripping it. your tongue licked over her clit, making her hips jolt upwards and further into your face. you had her a mess, babbling anything through grunts.

“mmh, so good…”

“jjjust like that, fuck me…”

“i-i love you. love you s’fuckin much,”

you kept sucking on her clit, letting her hips grind against your lips to her hearts desire. your left hand went to hold hers, your fingers being gripped so tightly that you felt your knuckles pop.

your right hand went straight to her pussy, unlatching your mouth from her clit so you can gather some wetness on your fingers. she groaned, and you slowly pushed in your middle and ring finger once they were slick enough. your lips went right back to her clit, sucking and licking on it again.

you got a good two pumps into her cunt before you felt them being squeezed tightly, and her voice suddenly turning high pitched and whiny.

“oh fuck!!— m’cuh.. cumminggg…”

she said quite loudly, and before you could even register what she was saying, you felt a large spurt of liquid splash onto your face. you slowly kept pumping your fingers, taking your mouth away as she literally drenched your entire face with her very theatrical squirt.

she squirted on you after only a minute.

you blinked, slowly pulling your fingers out of her and letting her catch her breath. once she regained most of her sanity from that, the humiliation set in.

she wasn’t supposed to cum that fast.

“oh shit, i’m sorry. i didn’t think… fuck.”

she said a breathlessly, looking down at your drenched face. she was so embarrassed, cumming pathetically fast. she wasn’t even properly fingered and she already made a mess all over you and your poor bed. but honestly, you didn’t care.

“ellie. that was probably the hottest thing you could’ve done.”

you smile at her, sitting up and wiping your face a bit, licking the residue off your hand. you give her a soft kiss on the lips, getting ready to settle next to her. but ellie has a different plan in mind.

“wait, i wanna make you cum.”

she’s shy with her words, as if she wasn’t slutting herself out for you less than a minute ago. she sits up, not letting you turn down her offer. she wants to make you feel good so bad. so, you let her do her thing.

but when she situates herself between your legs once more, lifting your right leg over her shoulder and kissing your calf lightly, you speak up.”

“oh, els. you’re not too overstimulated for that?”

you protest lightly, not wanting her to push herself. she shakes her head, not wanting to back down from this. this is what she’s wanted for so long. to make love to you, in the most intimate way possible.

“let me do this for you, please.”

her voice is soft and desperate, practically begging you. how could you turn down that offer. you smile warmly at her, and she takes it as your green light. she whispers a tiny “i love you” before lowering her sopping cunt and slotting it right against yours.

euphoric. mind fucking blowing. both you and ellie gasped at the sensation. your sticky, warm pussies pushed up against each other felt so good. you let out a slightly strained moan, and ellie slowly started to move her hips in a rhythm against yours. poor baby couldn’t even focus on her overstimulated clit— she was desperate to make you cum. and it felt way too good.

“oh, right there.. so good ellie.”

you let out a string of praises to her, and she just kept moving. the sloshing noises of your cunts mashed together was mind numbing. ellie definitely wanted to cry.

the way you two made love was so intimate. she felt so connected to you, no words could describe it. she started at your face with a fucked out expression, continuing the movement of her hips.

“gon…gonna cum, els…”

you warn her, and she keeps going. her hand grips onto your leg so tightly, fucking her cunt onto yours so deliciously.

“i know baby, i know. m’close too. gonna cum with you, okay?”

she rambles, voice unstable and shaky as you both reach your breaking point. you nod and keep whining broken parts of her name, your nails digging into her forearm.

with one last thrust, you two cum basically at the same time, your cunts leaking onto each other. she keeps moving her hips slowly until the overstimulation sets in, which forces her to pull away from you, her weak body plopping right down next to yours.

both of you lay in silence for a few moments, just enjoying your post-orgasm bliss. ellie’s hand snakes back over to yours, and your fingers immediately intertwine the second they touch. she looked at you with all the love in the world. and of course, you did the same right back at her.

she was still your best friend though, so you had to push her around just a bit.

“so, you wanna tell me why you own spongebob boxers?”

ellie smiles and shoves you lightly. yeah, she was so in love with you.

Ok baiii i hope u guys liked it! :3 i can’t tell if im satisfied with it but i tried… sending love xoxo

taglist: @lil-elliesgf @a-little-bit-of-everybody 🩷

[megalomaniacz]

bad communication with asshole rich!abby who you’d been “fake dating” for a couple months. she sees you walk over to someone at a party and feels her heart sink when that model bitch ex comes over to her. this is what she wanted, right? to make her jealous. so why does she feel completely crushed when the girl whispers something alluding to your infidelity in her ear. “you deserve better babe. you deserve me, let’s get back together….” lingers in the air as she rushes out into the street. loosening the buttons on her dress shirt and holding her chest like her heart might fall out if she doesn’t.

you’re right behind her, purse in hand, necklace with her name in a heart dancing as you rush to catch her. “abagail, what’s the matter? where are you going?”

“don’t fucking call me that. my name is abby, i told you i hate being called that. my dad calls me that.”

you know that. you’ve met her father and he adored you. she used to sigh or roll her eyes when you called her abagail. tease you that ‘abby is just so much easier to scream’. but you were seeing something different in her eyes in this moment. out near the busy street, up against the wall. you try to move closer to her but she scoots away. “don’t.”

“what’s going on-“

“did you sleep with your ex? at any time during this? i mean, that’s so fucking low you don’t even understand-“

you’re so shocked that you can barely find the words to reply. “what? no. i wouldn’t do that to you abby. i wouldn’t do that to us.”

and you can see that she doesn’t want to say what she does next, but she feels like you’re lying. she’s blinded by rage. she feels embarrassed and stupid for ever falling for you, even if she knew deep down that that’s what she’d eventually end up doing. because, damn are you easy to fall in love with. she can’t even look at you.

“there is no us. helena wants me back, anyway. let’s just go our seperate ways. you can keep all the shit i got you, you desperately needed it because you are a fucking mess.”

and words burn. they sink under skin. they leave a mark, but this? this was a knife to the chest, twenty times in the same spot. this was enough to erase the budding love you’d grown for her. enough to make the memory of her lips on yours, skin on yours, agonizing. you felt like she’d just killed and buried you. all you can do is wrap your hand around the necklace, rip it off with all your might and cry.

[rosemariiaa]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 01, 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙧.

“I wish I was a normal girl, oh, my How do I be,

how do I be your baby?”

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── synopsis: tell the truth?

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie note: ahh first chapter! i’m really excited to see how this series goes..(i hope you guys are too). i do wanna say I will not be dropping chapters back to back just because ik each chapter will be long enough and also i have other things to do. but you never know what i have up my sleeve sooo just wait! i actually did cry a lot writing this so yw. happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── themes: hurt/comfort, mentions of depression, some fluff

enjoy!!!

May, 2014. Virginia MN

Azzis days felt like she was wading through an invisible fog, where each step felt heavier than the last. She moved through school in a daze, surrounded by classmates and noise but feeling distanced from it all, as if she were behind a glass wall. Teachers spoke, friends laughed, yet nothing seemed to reach her, and nothing seemed worth responding to.

She leaned against her bedroom wall, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, the thoughts came like waves, too heavy to escape but too constant to ignore. At home, the silence only deepened. Her puppy was her only real source of comfort, a small warmth that reminded her she wasn’t completely alone.

Yet, even with him there, the sadness was like a relentless wave, threatening to pull her under. As she lay in bed, Azzi’s mind circled around her own thoughts, dark and tangled, the weight pressing down on her chest. Sometimes, she felt the urge to cry, but the tears would stall. Other times, they would pour out uncontrollably, as if her body knew it needed to release the heaviness she carried.

Azzi remembered words that lingered in her mind like a mantra:

“Cry. Cry for an hour, cry for a day, cry for a week. Cry until you can’t cry anymore, until the tears stop coming, until you feel better, until you heal.

Crying is your body’s way of releasing sadness; let it out and then let it go.”

But the letting go part felt impossible.

She knew she was lucky—talented, even—but that didn’t stop the weight pressing down on her, making everything she did feel more like a chore than a choice.

Sometimes it felt like she was just going through the motions: school, basketball practice, homework, repeat. But there was a deeper loneliness, one that made her question what any of it even meant. Every now and then, she’d think, Would anyone even notice if I disappeared for a day? A week? That quiet thought haunted her, lingering in the back of her mind as she navigated her days, waiting for someone to prove it wrong. But no one ever did.

Grabbing her laptop, she opened up her anonymous Blogspot account. Writing had become her escape, a safe place to let her thoughts spill out without anyone knowing they were hers. She’d been posting as @unicornpuppy35 for a while now, hoping someone out there might understand her, even if they never knew her name. A new notification popped up.

Azzi blinked at the screen, surprised to see a comment on her latest post. It was from someone called @boogers_p.

“hey, I saw your post about feeling stuck. I get that. I feel like that a lot, too.”

For a moment, she almost ignored it. Just another user on the internet, right? But something about the way they’d phrased it struck a chord. She found herself typing back before she even knew what she wanted to say.

unicornpuppy35: Oh yeah? What’s got you feeling stuck?

The reply came quickly.

boogers_p: lol, how much time u got? but mostly… everything’s just movin’, and i’m still here. it’s like ur doing all this stuff, but half the time u can’t even tell if u actually care abt it.

Azzi frowned, feeling that weird sense of familiarity in the words.

unicornpuppy35: Exactly, like a constant loop. But what’s the point, right?

boogers_p: fr! it’s like… i’m goin’ thru the motions but who even knows why.

A smile tugged at her lips. Whoever this was, they got it. They actually understood what she was feeling. And it was strange, but it made her feel just a little less alone.

unicornpuppy35: So, what’s your thing? Like, if you had to pick.

boogers_p: lol basketball. but sometimes i’m like… is this all there is?

Azzi blinked. Out of all the things they could have in common, it was basketball. Funny, or maybe just ironic.

unicornpuppy35: Wait, seriously? Are we living the same life or what?

boogers_p: guess that means we’re stuck in the same boat, huh?

Azzi let herself relax into the conversation, forgetting for a moment that she was talking to a stranger. She leaned back, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: So, if we’re both stuck… what’s the plan? How do we get out?

boogers_p: girl, if i knew, we’d be out already, trust. maybe we keep chattin n figure it out.

Azzi laughed softly, a weight lifting from her shoulders that she hadn’t even realized was there.

unicornpuppy35: Deal. Looks like I just made a new friend.

There was a pause, then @boogers_p’s next message popped up.

boogers_p: btw, ‘unicornpuppy35’? gotta ask: what’s the story there?

Azzi rolled her eyes, smirking as she typed back.

unicornpuppy35: What? You don’t like it?

boogers_p: nah it’s cool, just funny. u like unicorns that much?

unicornpuppy35: Who doesn’t like unicorns? And I have a puppy, so it made sense at the time.

boogers_p: lol alright then, unicorn girl.

unicornpuppy35: “Boogers” is somehow less embarrassing to you?

The reply was fast.

boogers_p: hey! don’t come for my name. so do u even keep up w ball like that?

Azzi laughed, a real laugh, and typed, I mean, I love the game, especially the wcbb, but I barely keep up with men’s college basketball.

boogers_p: WHAT i can’t believe that …u at least know who Kyrie is right??

Azzi smiled, rolling her eyes as she typed, I know who he is, I just don’t watch him like that. I’m more into Breanna Stewart.

boogers_p: ohh okay stewie’s dope. but trust, kyrie’s handles r insane. hold up lemme get u the link.

Azzi barely clicked on the link before skimming, smiling at Paige’s excitement.

As Azzi sat back, scrolling through this user’s texts, a small part of her was overwhelmed by everything, like a weight on her chest she couldn’t quite shake off. It felt strange how this stranger’s blunt and funny messages could draw her out of her own head—even if just for a bit. She was used to feeling invisible, yes, her struggles buried under her quiet exterior, but this strangers presence, even from behind a screen, felt real.

A few seconds ticked by as she sank into her thoughts, that weight of loneliness and uncertainty creeping in again. She knew people saw her as the “soft one,” but beneath that, her emotions felt raw, and she wondered if anyone truly understood.

Suddenly, her phone screen lit up with rapid notifications.

boogers_p: hellooooooo? did u leave?

boogers_p: r u asleep already or smth??

Azzi’s lips turned up in a small smile. She quickly replied.

unicornpuppy35: “Geez, relax. I’m still here.”

boogers_p: “finally! thought I lost ya for a sec. kinda rude to just ghost me like that, you know?”

Azzi smirked, typing back slowly.

unicornpuppy35: “Yeah, yeah. Guess I was just thinking.”

boogers_p: “Ooooh, deep thoughts? Or like… deep-deep thoughts?”

Azzi hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but she quickly brushed it off.

unicornpuppy35: “nope, just regular deep, I guess.”

boogers_p: “good, I thought you might’ve been drafting your escape from my endless questions.”

unicornpuppy35: “ y’know you’re kind of funny , i’ll give you that. lol”

boogers_p: “ik ik. btw, where do you go to school? And don’t tell me it’s some fancy private place or whatever.”

unicornpuppy35: “Haha, what are you, a stalker? why do you wanna know?”

boogers_p: “what? nah, just curious! alright, lemme guess… you seem like a midwest kid. Iowa?”

unicornpuppy35: “nope, not even close. Try again, Sherlock.”

boogers_p: “alright, alright… new jersey?”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head at her screen.

unicornpuppy35: “nope. You’re pretty bad at this, you know.”

boogers_p: “whatever, I’m warming up! Um… cali? bet you’re like, all into the beach.”

unicornpuppy35: “keep guessing P! maybe you’ll get it right before I graduate.”

boogers_p: “damn, you’re killin’ me here. fine, one more—Texas?”

unicornpuppy35: “Guess you’re gonna have to stay curious, stalker.”

“P” sent a string of laughing emojis, clearly frustrated but amused.

boogers_p: “oh, okay, I see how it is. mysterious and all that. fine, keep your secrets.”

Azzi smiled, finding herself genuinely entertained by Paige’s playful determination to figure her out. It was nice, having someone care enough to ask.

Azzi shook her head, laughing at the sight of P typing “helloooooo?” over and over.

unicornpuppy35: Still here! Just still laughing at your terrible guesses.

boogers_p: ohhh shut up 😆 one day you’ll tell me!

As they continued chatting, Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like maybe she wasn’t quite so alone after all.

————-

I glanced at the clock in the corner of my screen. Midnight. Crap. How had it gotten so late?

unicornpuppy35: alright, P, it’s late. I should get some sleep—school tomorrow and all 😊

I typed, hesitating for a moment before hitting send. I didn’t want the conversation to end, not when it felt so… easy.

The reply came almost instantly.

boogers_p: lame but yeah, same here. don’t oversleep, though, or I’ll roast you about it next time

I smiled softly, my fingers moving across the keyboard.

unicornpuppy35: gnn P

boogers_p: night unicorn, catch you later.

I closed my laptop, leaning back against my pillow with a soft sigh. My room was quiet except for the gentle snuffling of my puppy curled up at the end of the bed. I hated how much I didn’t want to stop talking to her—or whoever she was—but I could already hear my mom’s voice in my head if I overslept tomorrow.

Still, the flicker of warmth in my chest wouldn’t go away. For the first time in a while, I didn’t feel so alone.

————-

The warm weight of my puppy’s paws jolted me awake, followed by his enthusiastic tongue licking my cheek. I groaned, shoving him away gently before squinting at my phone.

“Crap.” 7:40. At least practice was after school today, but I still had school before then.

“Azzi!” Mom’s voice carried from the kitchen, sharp and frustrated. “Do you even know what time it is? You’re going to be late—again!”

“I know, Mom!” I called back, stumbling out of bed and tossing clothes around my room.

When I finally trudged downstairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, she was waiting, arms crossed. “Do you? Because this is becoming a habit. You need to start taking this seriously, Azzi. Coaches notice stuff like this.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a grabbing a piece of nutella toast from the plate on the counter. “It’s not like I’m failing or anything.”

“That’s not the point!” Her voice rose a notch, and I flinched. “You’re juggling basketball, school, and everything else. If you can’t manage your mornings, how are you supposed to handle the rest?”

“I’ve got it under control.” The words came out sharper than I intended, and guilt immediately twisted in my stomach.

She softened slightly but shook her head. “You have so much potential, Azzi. I just don’t want you to waste it. That’s all.”

I sighed, hugging the puppy briefly before heading out the door. “I won’t.”

Her voice followed me, softer now. “Make sure you don’t.”

As I stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit me, making me shiver slightly. My puppy barked once from the window, his tail wagging furiously. I couldn’t help but smile, even as Mom’s words echoed in my head.

She wasn’t wrong, but sometimes it felt like the pressure of living up to everyone’s expectations, especially hers was just all so suffocating. I jogged toward the bus stop, earbuds in, my mind already racing through the day ahead: school, practice, and maybe—if I had time—another chat with P.

The bus ride wasn’t much better than waking up. Just the usual hum of the engine and kids mumbling into their phones. I leaned my head against the window, the cold glass biting at my cheek, and zoned out. School wasn’t exactly a place I looked forward to.

By the time I walked into first period, I was already tuning out the chatter around me. The teacher called for us to break into groups, and I found myself sitting with three classmates who barely glanced my way.

“We should start with the data chart,” I said, glancing at the worksheet.

“Yeah, yeah,” one of them mumbled, already scribbling something down.

Another classmate leaned over to add something, completely ignoring what I’d just said. My lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn’t new. It was like my words existed in a bubble, bouncing off everyone and disappearing into thin air. I tried again.

“If we divide the work, we’ll finish faster—”

“Wait, no, let’s do this first,” someone interrupted, their voice cutting over mine.

I stopped mid-sentence, letting my pen drop to the table. They didn’t even notice. Just kept talking like I wasn’t there.

I didn’t bother saying anything else for the rest of the class. It wasn’t worth it.

By lunch, I was drained. I slid into a chair at the edge of the cafeteria, next to a group of friends who were already knee-deep in some conversation.

“Azzi, did you see that ridiculous shot Ty took in practice yesterday?” one of them asked, barely waiting for my answer before launching into their own commentary.

I nodded, offering a small laugh. It wasn’t worth jumping in. Every time I tried to add something to a conversation, it either got talked over or shifted in another direction.

But it didn’t stop me from noticing.

As I picked at my food, my thoughts drifted back to last night’s chat with P. They actually listened. Responded. It felt… different. Maybe that’s why it was still on my mind.

————-

By the time I got to practice, my head was already in a fog. It felt like no matter where I went, no one really saw me. At school, at home—was it too much to ask for someone to actually listen?

“Azzi, let’s go! You’re up!” Coach’s voice snapped me back. I jogged to the front of the line, grabbing a ball. Simple drill. Layups. Easy.

Except I missed.

“Come on, Azzi!” one of the captains called, exasperation clear in her voice. My jaw tightened.

I grabbed the rebound and tried again, but my footwork was off. The ball clanged off the rim.

“Focus, Azzi!” Coach barked.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, and got back in line. When my turn came again, I nailed the layup, but the damage was already done.

As we transitioned to scrimmage, it only got worse. I called for the ball—wide open on the wing—but my teammate didn’t even look my way. I sprinted to the other side of the court, yelling louder this time. Nothing.

“Azzi, move the ball!” someone shouted when I finally had possession, cutting me off before I could even make a decision.

It was like being invisible. Nothing new though.

By the time practice ended, my legs ached, and my chest felt even heavier than when I’d started. I stayed behind to shoot free throws, trying to shake off the weight.

One ball after another swished through the net, but the sinking feeling didn’t budge.

By the time I finally walked out of the gym, the sun had dipped low, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. My legs felt like lead, and I slung my bag over one shoulder, the strap digging in just enough to annoy me. God.

I spotted our car parked at the far end of the lot, Mom’s silhouette visible through the windshield. She was scrolling on her phone, waiting. I sighed, tugging my hoodie tighter as I trudged toward her.

As I got closer, I caught sight of my brothers in the backseat. Jose was watching something on his tablet, headphones on, and Jon was playing with a Rubik’s cube. Lucky them—they didn’t have to deal with “the talk” I was sure was coming.

The second I opened the door and tossed my bag onto the floor, Mom started in.

“So, your coach called me today,” she said, her tone sharp but controlled.

I froze, mid-seatbelt click. Great.

She said you’ve been distracted. Not focused. Is something going on?”

I stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past. “I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“Azzi, ‘fine’ isn’t good enough. You’re not putting in the work, and it’s starting to show. You need to get your head in the game. You think colleges are going to be interested in someone who’s half-assing it?”

Her words stung, but I bit my tongue, glancing at Jose and Jon in the backseat. Jon was tapping away on his tablet, and Jose had his headphones in. Good. I didn’t want them listening to this.

“I’m not half-a wording it,” I said quietly.

“Oh, really? Because that’s not what I heard today. Your coach says otherwise.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to argue. I couldn’t let this turn into something bigger, not with my brothers right here.

“Mom, I said I’m fine,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Azzi, you can’t afford to slack off. You’ve worked too hard for this. Don’t throw it all away now.”

I stared straight ahead, tuning her out as best I could. My chest felt tight, but I refused to let it show. I nodded along, letting her words wash over me without sticking.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, I bolted from the car, mumbling something about needing to shower. The second my bedroom door shut, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow.

For a few minutes, I just lay there, letting the weight of the day press down on me. Then I grabbed my laptop and opened the chat.

unicornpuppy35: “hey, you around?”

The reply came quicker than I expected.

boogers_p: “yup what’s up?”

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. How much could I even say without sounding like I was whining?

unicornpuppy35: “rough day.”

boogers_p: “wanna talk about it?”

I stared at the screen. Did I?

unicornpuppy35: “not really. just needed a distraction.”

boogers_p: “fair. ok, here’s a distraction: what’s your dream ice cream flavor? like if you could invent anything.”

I blinked at the random question, a laugh escaping before I could stop it.

unicornpuppy35: “that’s… so random.”

boogers_p: “that’s the point. distraction, remember?”

boogers_p: “but… you do know you don’t have to push it down, y’know? sometimes it helps to just let it out. Especially with me.”

My chest tightened again. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to talk—I just wasn’t sure how.

unicornpuppy35: “oh um okay, it’s just been a lot. school sucks, practice was worse, and my mom’s acting like I’m throwing my whole future away. But what’s the point in saying anything? It’s not like it changes.”

I stared at the screen, half-wishing I could take it back. But, I typed again.

unicornpuppy35: “it’s like… everybody talks to me like I’m supposed to change. like they’ve already decided what’s wrong with me and what I need to do to fix it. but how am I supposed to change when I don’t even know who I am yet? it’s like no one cares about that part.”

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

boogers_p: “damn, unicorn. that’s real. people are so quick to act like they know what’s best for you, but they don’t live your life. you don’t owe them anything.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I stared at P’s message.

unicornpuppy35: “exactly. like… they’ve already made up their minds, and nothing I say matters. but I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be yet. And then when I try to figure it out, they’re just like, ‘No, not like that.’ it’s so exhausting.”

boogers_p: “i get it. they want you to follow their script, but maybe their script sucks. you’re allowed to write your own, even if it takes time.”

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard. I feel the tears running down my cheeks and falling onto the keypad.

unicornpuppy35: “sometimes I feel like I’m never gonna figure it out. like I’ll just keep messing up until everyone gives up on me.”

P didn’t reply right away, and for a moment, I worried I’d said too much. I’m trying my best to wipe the tears that are falling, but they just won’t stop coming.

But then their message popped up

boogers_p: “ listen to me. you’re allowed to take up space, to mess up, to figure things out in your own time. screw what everyone else thinks. you’re not a project they get to fix.”

A shaky breath left my chest, and I swiped at my eyes before more of my tears could fall onto the laptop.

unicornpuppy35: “thanks, P. I mean it. you’re the only one who really listens.”

boogers_p: “anytime you’re stuck with me now, remember?”

I didn’t mind that one bit and for the first time all day, I let myself breathe.

————-

March 21, Minneapolis, Minnesota

I stared at the screen, the cursor blinking against the blank message box. Her words replayed in my mind like a song I couldn’t shake off.

“Nobody listens. Nobody sees me.”

I didn’t know what to say back, not really. Azzi didn’t just sound tired—she sounded done. And it scared me more than I wanted to admit.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“Azzi…”

I typed..wanting to send but no.

I couldn’t. Not yet.

————-

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @ohbueckers @sierrale8ne @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @lupinqs @d3arapril @pboogerswbb @imaginespazzi

₊˚ෆ always lmk if u wanna be added to my taglist muah ₊˚ෆ

[lilystyles]

style.

written by @lilystyles

my masterlist xx & style masterlist

authors note inspired by a dream i had about this boy HAHAHA so filthy but that's just him. (also i'm sorry if ur names emma! if it is it's still cute to be best friends w ur name twin :3) ALSO it's also inspired by style (taylor's version)!

brief description y/n has had a crush on harry since they were kids but he’s off-limits. him being her best friend’s brother and all she has never made a move, knowing emma wouldn’t approve. but lines are blurred one night and she doesn’t know if she can follow the rules like a good girl.

warnings! slight age gap, SMUT (m!receiving, fingering, daddy kink, choking, missionary, doggy) sexual tension, mentions of drugs and alcohol abuse. wordcount: [around 11.4k words, also unedited sorry:(]

fratboy!older!bffsbrother!harry x younger!innocent!reader

* * * * *

Y/n wished she didn’t fancy him. Oh, she wished it so badly.

On every shooting star or eyelash, she had to decide whether she would wish to forget him or for him to finally notice her, it was a constant tug of war between the two.

Honestly, there were so many things going against him. He was completely unavailable to her and she wondered if that’s why she wanted him most. People always say you want what you can’t have. He was older than her by a few years, he was hardly much wiser but liked to act as if he was. 

Or maybe was it just that he was a total prick most of the time, like seriously, so mean? 

She couldn’t pinpoint what exactly attracted her to Harry the most. She knew why others liked him, it was because he was so fucking pretty you just wanted to cry. He was that kind of person. And obviously, she had noticed that slight minor detail. 

She could agree that was one of the many reasons she had a massive crush on him. But she’d known him for years before he was this fuckboy fratboy who wore backward caps with the body of a Greek god and the filthiest mouth you’d ever heard. She knew him before it all. She knew him when he was just her best friend’s goofy older brother, and she’d liked him then too. Before he was smooth and his words had a sting, when he was just this little giggly loud guy.

She thinks to herself often that a piece of her would always belong to him, even if he didn’t know that. She had tried to like other boys, many many times, and though she did like them she didn’t feel even a smidge like how she felt when she saw Harry. The best way for her to describe being with someone who wasn’t Harry was like being in a state of complete darkness, only this dull twinkle of stars without any moon, and then suddenly the sun came up, all these colours painting the sky as it rose. Harry was the sun for her and those boys were just the stars.

Nearly all the time she wished for a distraction from him but that was hard considering he was always around, Y/n saw him every time she went to their house it was like totally unavoidable. They ran into each other at parties even though he was a few years older, it didn’t matter now they that all went to Uni together. She saw him everywhere! Even when she closed her eyes at night.

So tonight when she went out with Emma she was relieved and sad all at once that he wasn’t at the party, it meant she let loose more than she usually did, completely free of the worry of his judgments. She had a few shots but not enough to get her as wasted as Emma was. They danced and sang, and enjoyed themselves. Exams had been stressful and they needed a fun night, they’d spent months cooped up in the library using flashcards and reading the big textbooks. Y/n needed some time away from her laptop screen and desk. She needed to wear a tight dress, get flirted with, have some drinks and relax. She needed to fucking let loose. 

She worked so hard and she was enjoying just forgetting all her worries, Harry included, for a few hours. Sweating and dancing to trashy music was something she had been dreaming of since the start of exam season.

However, the night had taken a slightly sour turn later in the evening when Emma took a few too many tequila shots in a row and spewed down herself, covering her pink dress and shoes and some of Y/n’s shoes too, in sick. She wished she could say this wasn’t a recurring thing but Emma always took it a little too hard on nights out especially when her brooding older brother wasn’t there to help team with Y/n and wrangle her home.

It wasn’t too late probably only midnight, which usually meant they were only just getting started on their drunken shenanigans. But Y/n had to admit she was okay with going home, home being Emma’s place she was roommates with Harry, they were fairly close siblings and their parents felt better knowing they were together. Y/n desperately wanted some water, maybe a snack and to lie down in Emma’s comfortable bed.

As she was trying to find an Uber during the busiest time and hold Emma up from collapsing onto the floor a familiar Irish voice filled Y/n’s ears. She snapped her head around. Oh, thank god.

“Babe! Where are you two off to?” 

Y/n turned, “Niall! Hey, we are going home. Emma isn’t feeling too well.”

Y/n had managed to clean most of the spew off in one of the bathrooms at the Uni share house the party was being thrown at, but Emma was all wet from being wiped down and Y/n knew she needed to get her home like now. She was fading and needed her bed and a bottle of water in her, she wasn’t particularly worried but she would feel better if Harry was with her in case something happened.

“D’ya want a lift? I haven’t drunk anything I’m on my way to Paddy’s place,” He said. He looked very sober.

Paddy was his most recent fling. 

“You are a gem, I could kiss you!” Y/n said squeezing his bicep in thanks.

Y/n was eternally grateful for him being her saviour, she slid Emma into the backseat and clipped her into the seatbelt, brushing the hair from her eyes. Even with sick all over she was still pretty, Y/n envied that the Styles family had such good genes it was ridiculous. They always looked gorgeous, Anne had created three beautiful children.

Niall knew where to go since he was friends with Harry too and Emma and Y/n of course.

Y/n kept checking through the mirror to make sure she was okay and when she saw the familiar home she sighed in relief at the sight. It was this fairly small duplex but their neighbours were nice and the house was one of Harry’s parent’s properties. So they had it pretty good for Uni students. Y/n was living in a big share-house with a bunch of other people. She wished she was this lucky.

She grabbed all their purses, jackets and keys before she kissed Niall on the cheek in thanks. 

“Love you, Babe. Have fun with Paddy!” She winked, knowing Niall really liked this new guy.

Niall blushed a nice rosy colour. “Need any help getting her in?” He asked diverting the conversation.

Y/n shook her head and the two girls stumbled to the front door. Emma was slightly more awake now, her arms slinging around Y/n’s shoulders making the straps of her dress fall as Y/n hunted for the keys in Emma’s little clutch. Y/n had a key to their house for emergencies and she knew where they hid a spare, but she wasn’t going to hunt around in the dark for it.

The door opened before she found them in the clutch which had ten lipsticks that she was rummaging through.

His eyes were so green she felt like they were glowing in the dark. He didn’t say anything he just grabbed Emma and helped her inside. Whispering something to her kindly as Y/n made her way inside behind them. She toed her shoes off before she entered, not wanting to bring Emma’s sick in any more than it already would be. 

Y/n sighed shutting the door behind her as she placed all their things in Emma’s room down the hall. Harry had put her on the bed and was taking her heels off for her. He was a good brother. He was protective over both his sisters even though Gemma was the oldest.

“She always goes to fucking far,” He muttered more to himself than Y/n. Who was finding Emma’s sleep clothes in her bedside drawers, knowing she couldn’t sleep in the sick-covered ones. 

He didn’t sound annoyed at her or angry, just worried. He was a prick sure, but he cared about his family and friends. His small circle is what mattered most to him. Y/n knew his gruff and broody presence was the exterior of a very gentle soul. When he was at home drinking tea in pyjamas that was the real Harry, not some douchebag.

But she knew that he had a reputation for being a heartbreaker and a lot of people would warn you of him. But Y/n didn’t think that was the real him.

Y/n nodded in agreement, tiredly pushing the hair from her eyes she wanted to tie it up it was sweaty from dancing. 

“It’s okay, Niall helped me,” Y/n spoke softly as he stood up from the floor where he’d sat to take her shoes off. He was so much taller than Y/n, his face finally looking at hers now. She felt heat prickle up her back, and the hairs stand on her neck. 

He had such an intense stare.

“I knew I should’ve come,” He said. “I worry when you two are alone.”

Two? She thought. He’d never really shown much protectiveness on his end over her, except when guys were being gross at bars or parties. Then he would give them a stern look and tell them to fuck off. But he did that for anyone, Y/n knew that she wasn’t special. She always felt like Emma was his priority always and he didn’t care what she did as long as Y/n got Emma home safe.

It was almost like he could hear her thoughts. “I don’t like when either of you go without me. The stories Emma has told me about what they say to you Y/n, makes me feel sick honestly.”

She despised the way her stomach flipped. She was about to say that she managed okay without him. But his hand slid onto her shoulder pulling the little spaghetti strap back up over her shoulder. 

She felt breathless but tried to snap back into her usual self. Feeling more pink than usual, Harry always seemed to have that effect on her.

“I- do your frat friends know how much of a softie you are deep down? Be careful now, Styles, I might go around telling them how nice you secretly are. Ruin that scary reputation of yours.”

He smirked in amusement, Y/n had this ability to melt away that hard shell, stripping him bare to his true self. He hated and loved it all at once, he felt like she saw right through him. Even when people said mean things about him, Y/n never wavered and sometimes even defended him. The only thing she didn’t approve of was his restlessness towards women. He felt one was never enough, and was quite open about that with his hookups. Maybe he just didn’t have the right one.

He left after that so Y/n could get Emma ready for bed. He was pottering about in the kitchen and making tea, she assumed. That was his late-night ritual usually.

Y/n shook Emma awake enough so she could help Y/n a little to get her into some pyjamas. She even got her make-up wipes out and removed all the makeup on Emma’s face and tucked her into bed.

Y/n sighed tiredly at the effort of it all and felt sobered up almost completely now. Emma had the downstairs bathroom to herself usually, it was very clean in there. Y/n decided to take a shower and wash the sick smell off her skin and the sweat from the clubs and the dirty Uni sharehouse. 

She washed her hair, face and body. Emma had a lot of really sweet expensive-smelling products, but Y/n had her own little section for when she stayed over. It was all coconut-scented. She felt herself begin to droop in fatigue when she finished cleaning herself. She got the last of the makeup the water hadn’t washed off and changed into a random shirt from Emma’s drawer and some fresh knickers from Y/n’s things she’d left here.

Y/n was here more than she was at her own house. Emma always said she’d kick Harry out and let Y/n take his place, but Y/n knew the siblings actually got on rather well. When Y/n was dressed for sleep she blow-dried her hair on the lowest setting so she wouldn’t wake Emma up, but Emma could probably sleep through an earthquake she was a really deep sleeper. Then she plugged both their phones in and slid in beside Emma tiredly. She shut her eyes and turned off the fairy lights Emma had kept on, ready to lull off.

Y/n had been friends with Emma since they were little they’d all grown up together in Holmes Chapel and it was the kind of place you were just friends with everyone because it was so small but Y/n had always been closest with the Styles family. They lived down the street from each other and Emma and Y/n were never seen without each other. So Harry was used to having Y/n around a lot too. 

Growing up he had to make sure nothing happened to them, he was in charge but it was usually Emma giving him trouble Y/n was always a sweetheart, but she had a quick mouth with one-liners that almost knocked him over. He liked that about her, she was sweet but could challenge him feistily without much thought. He’d met his match when it came to arguments.

Often when the parents went away Y/n would be over and Gemma and Harry would have to make sure neither of them got up to anything wild. But it was usually just a sleepover that consisted of them laughing until dawn. Harry was a much lighter sleeper so he would always tell them to shut up. 

Harry woke up to the sound of a pin dropping rooms away, he didn’t know how his sister could snore like a freight train and sleep through herself. He also didn’t know how Y/n could share a bed with her. Sometimes he’d get up in the middle of the night for a wee or some water and would find Y/n on the couch with a pillow over her face trying to block out the noise of Emma’s snoring. 

So when he heard Y/n roaming about in the kitchen (he knew it was her because he could still hear Emma snoring) he pretended to need some water, wanting to see her. It was probably around 3 AM but he had been unable to sleep. And they hadn’t talked much when she got home. He had wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but he knew better. She had worn a dress that hugged all her features, it was black and simple. Hair done naturally, and makeup that was subtle but just made her that tiny bit more pretty. She always looked pretty though.

He came down the stairs from his room and walked into the kitchen. Y/n was using the fridge as a light to find things. She was making tea by the looks of things. She found some of the chamomile that she used every night, in turn, Harry added it to the weekly grocery list in case she slept the night there, and hadn’t heard him creep downstairs. 

She was in a big baggy dusty blue shirt that Harry actually thought was one Emma had stolen from him, and a pair of soft pink cotton knickers that were very small. Socks covered her feet making her practically silent. He stepped closer into the kitchen waiting for her to turn around and notice him. 

She was trying to be very quiet in every step, knowing Harry was a very light sleeper, and not wanting to wake him. When she finally did look over her shoulder her body jolted in fright dropping the box of teabags onto the floor and a hand falling to her chest. 

“Jesus, H.” She whispered, raspily. 

He let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry, Lovie.”

She squinted in the dark trying to see him. His hair looked messy like he’d been sleeping and he was just in some boxers as PJs. He ran hot in the night.

“Did I wake you?” She asked a guilty look crossing her face. Her eyes softened as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

He shook his head. “Nah. ‘Aven’t been sleeping well.”

She frowned, not liking the sound of that. She didn’t know why she cared, but she did. “Do you want a tea?”

He smiled, dimples showing. “Yes please.”

She brewed two as he whispered the truth about why he didn’t come out with them tonight. He was originally supposed to, and honestly, she had been slightly disappointed about it. Knowing she’d have to handle Emma alone.

But he told her why, in a soft hushed voice. A few guys in his friendship group had said some really mean things to Harry. Not realising he would feel them so deeply, she thought, they must think he was as mean as he seems. He told the story like he wasn’t phased by the mean comments, but Y/n could tell they had gotten to him. She knew better than his cold stone face.

“Alex said ‘I was a homewrecking prick and womanizer’.” He explained when Y/n asked what the boys had said about him. He heard a hint of protectiveness in her voice when she asked with a pinched face, and he felt a tug in his lower tummy. Why did she care?

Y/n looked up from the mugs at him. The dim lighting of the fridge meant she could only see the outline of his body and the shadows of his features. She saw a glimpse of his eyes, and she could see the look in his eyes. He believed them, he believed those comments. They were glassy with discontentment.

Her eyebrows were pinched in empathy, and she was about to speak but he cut her off. “I know I’m a total prick sometimes, but—”

She interrupted him, “—You are a prick sometimes, but people who really know you know what you're like.” She tried to reason with him. Because she wasn’t going to deny sometimes he would be just plain rude to her, and to others as well. But she also knew he did a lot of nice things too. He had a hard exterior and shied off people easily, if you didn’t know him well he would seem rude. But all his close friends and family knew that he was just standoffish with new people. And loved to tease, and was brutally honest, which Y/n had to admit sometimes that hurt more than the teasing comments. 

But he did nice things. Wonderful things, that he went out of his way to do. Like helped his sister when she was drunk, drove people home so they wouldn’t have to walk in the dark after parties, picked Y/n up from the library at midnight if she was too scared to walk home, bought chamomile tea in case Y/n spent the night, made enough dinner in case Y/n was hungry, visited the girls when they were studying with snacks and coffee, and he even helped sometimes if they were confused on work. He called his Mum every day without fail and sent his Grandma photos of birds when he saw them. 

He baked a new type of cookie recipe every Sunday and gave it to his friends. He adopted stray cats and played Scrabble with his grandparents every few weekends.

Yes, he was a prick, he said mean things and made fun of Y/n when she went on dates with idiots, and he called her names, filthy ones. And sometimes he would barely acknowledge her. But she knew there was a different reason for that, something she didn’t understand. Something between just the two of them. She thought maybe it was just a way for him to protect his sensitive side from people. From her too, hide himself away.

And yes, he did have sex with lots of people, but he did always tell people the truth before getting involved with anyone. He was honest, and open when it came to his boundaries. Y/n thought that was better than lying and acting like you wanted a relationship just so you can fuck someone. She wasn’t saying she approved of Harry’s constant line of girls coming over, maybe that was her jealousy talking, but she wasn’t going to judge him for doing what lots of people did and owning that he did it. He would never kiss and tell, he was respectful and clear with his intentions. What more could you ask of a fuck buddy or one-night stand? If you wanted a good shag no strings attached Harry was your guy, and surely most people knew from the rumours? She just didn’t understand why people put themself in that position if they knew what they were getting into with him.

He wasn’t a devious person who hid behind a mask of fake sincerity to get in your pants. He was blunt, he asked if you wanted to fuck and if you didn’t that was fine. He wasn’t picky with it either he just liked to have a good time.

She felt differently about being with a person. She usually only wanted to be with someone she had an emotional connection with. But she had a smaller level of experience than Harry, so she thought that maybe she was coming from the point of view of a less experienced person. But the point remained, Harry had his flaws, like anyone but he was good at his core. His intentions remained good. No one is perfect, and she knew Harry was far from it but so was everyone she knew!

She knew her flaws too. Flaws made people human. And she appreciated him despite it all.

“And what is that?” He was standing closer now and she felt suddenly very aware of the fact she was only in knickers and a shirt her nipples could be seen through. The way he was staring her down made her aware of her appearance, he looked almost hungry.

“Well as someone who’s known you for as long as I can remember. You’re kind, honest, open, and a good person with a rotten mouth.” She looked away from him as she spoke, flushed by his close presence. She tried not to stumble on her words but was struggling and honestly felt her hands tremble when she felt his breath hit her neck.

“Kind?” He scoffed eyes trained on her face, it was free of makeup. Her lips looked pouty and her eyes droopy in tiredness. She looked perfect. She always did. Even that one week during the bleak middle of winter when she had been sick as a dog; red nose, glassy eyes, snotty and nasally, hair unwashed, skin red, she’d looked beautiful.

“Harry,” She said his name meaning she was serious, she usually called him anything but, “these fucking friends of yours clearly don’t see you like we do.”

“We?”

She leaned back against the drawers sighing, “We. Me, Emma, Niall, Gem, Anne. People who know you, people who love you.”

“You love me?” He teased. 

She rolled her eyes. Of course, that’s what he got from that. He was so annoying.  

“You’re alright.” She replied, they both knew she did, handing him the tea. He said a quiet thanks.

He placed it back down, where Y/n was letting hers cool. The face she had made smile only seconds prior melted back to a stoic look, more serious.

He hugged her and Y/n was surprised, but she wrapped her arms around him. He pulled back when he started to get intoxicated on her sweet scent, her skin smelt edible and her hair was soft against his cheek.

“I’m sorry if I’m a prick to you.”

Y/n didn’t mean to but she laughed. A giggle bubbled from her tummy out of her mouth her as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What?” He said, fighting back the smile that threatened to tug on his lips. It was contagious. He was trying to keep his attention very far from her chest.

She didn’t know what made her say it but, but she told him the truth. “I like it. It's like a game we have. A Harry and Y/n one. I tease you, you tease me. You act like I don’t exist most of the time and I act like I don’t care. You’re mean to me and I let you be.”

Hearing her say it out loud was kind of like being winded. It had always been their game, a game neither mentioned, some sort of unspoken thing they shared. 

She could tell he was kind of speechless. 

“I don’t know why I let you.” Now that was a lie. She was trying to backtrack. 

“I do.” He said stepping closer. His bare legs were pressing into hers. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to tell her. But he didn’t.

“You gonna tell me?” She said quietly, eyes widely looking up into his, as his hands rested on either side of her on the bench. He leaned in closely. So they were eye to eye.

She was trapped in his arms and had nowhere to look but at him, she squirmed under his smouldering eyes.

“You know why too.”

She didn’t speak. What did any of this mean? She had waited a long time to hear him apologise for being a dick to her, and he just did and she’d told him that she liked him treating her that way. What she meant was, that she liked him, she let him treat her that way because for Harry she would do anything. She didn’t care if that made her pathetic, at least she knew it was, at least she could admit it. I mean, wouldn’t you let him treat you like shit under his shoe if it meant he was at least looking at you with those gorgeous eyes? Could hardly blame the girl.

“Why did you have to meet Emma before you met me?” He almost whined with a soft scoff. As if complaining at fate’s hands for dealing them these cards.

She felt her heart rate speed up. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, playing dumb. He was talking so much and she was practically drunk on his sultry voice. It was so deep and she just wanted to hold onto the sound forever and feel it melt into her spine like it was now, and listen when she wanted to sink into a state of lust.

He lifted one of his arms and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “Then she’d be the one who has to follow my rules, and stay away from you. I could be the one in control. Have you all to myself. No sharing.”

Y/n licked her drying lips, as she processed his words. He wanted her all to himself? “Wait, wait, she has a rule to stay away from me?”

Y/n knew Emma didn’t like it when her friends slept with Harry, it was just weird and they would always complain about how mean he was after, or even try and talk about how good he was in bed. She just didn’t like her friends dating or having anything to do with Harry period. But she assumed it was different for Y/n since she knew Harry pretty well and would consider him someone in her close circle. Even if he did ignore her a lot. She assumed she was fine with Harry and Y/n at least being friends. Y/n had bottled all her feelings away for years, she didn’t think that would ever change. Even if Harry liked her back, she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise their friendship.

“You’re her friend, not mine.” He said, mocking Emma’s tone, making his voice all squeaky and high-pitched.

Y/n frowned. Emma had always been weird about this. She could understand to some extent, but sometimes Y/n wished she could just have a normal conversation with Harry. “Why can’t we be friends? I’ve known you my whole life, and haven’t slept with you. I think I should be allowed to have a conversation with you. I think I can handle that without pulling my pants down.”

Harry’s lips kicked up in a smirk, “You aren’t wearin’ any pants.”

“Oh shut up.” She replied cheeks bleeding pink.

“She trusts you.” Harry said trying to make Y/n feel better, “She just doesn’t trust me.”

Y/n smiled at that, trying to lighten the mood once again. “Who would? I mean this with respect, but you are a bit of a slut.” Her hand came up to play with the cross on his neck.

He giggled, “I simply enjoy myself openly. You should try, Y/n, it’s fun bein’ bad.”

She felt her cheeks warm further, “I can be bad,” Y/n argued but it was no use.

“Oh thas’ such a lie, Baby.” He laughed at her statement rolling his eyes, and Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at the nickname. He’d never called her that before and it brought a rose colour to her cheeks that Harry adored on her. She was so easy to make nervous. But he didn’t think anyone was as good at it as he was.

“It’s not,” She pouted. 

He cocked his head in challenge. “Name one naughty thing you’ve done then. Bet y’cant.”

She tried to think, that growing up she was relatively good and even now she hardly participated in much other than seeing Emma or Niall and studying. But she felt this urge to impress him, make him proud almost. Or at least shock him.

“I stole a lolly once.”

Harry found a smile slipping onto his face, he’d always seen Y/n as a fairly innocent person. And she was, for the most part. Soft and sweet in real life, like a bunny or puppy. So soft, and you just want to pick her up and put her in your arms and tell her how cute she is. But she had some mischievousness to her, like all people. Something buried underneath her innocent aura, Harry thought of that side of her often pondering what she was like when she wasn’t hiding and she’d been cracked open raw and teased beyond return.

“Oh yeah? Anything else?”

She tried to think of what would shock him but she fell flat. Until—but no she couldn’t say that, it way was too personal. 

“I can see you thinking very hard, c’mon tell me.” He whispered. Y/n shut her eyes. His voice sent shivers down her spine.

Fuck it. It was like she had no control over her mouth, the filth just slipped right out of her pouty lips. She wanted to blame the alcohol, but it was probably just his voice that had her feeling intoxicated.

“Sometimes when I touch myself I think of you.”

Harry practically froze, his lips opening to show he was indeed very surprised to hear that. There was a beat and Y/n didn’t know if she regretted it or not. She was about to tell him it was a joke and run for her life. Change her name, and move to Mexico. Her Duolingo lessons weren’t going to be enough to get by, she’d have to start really learning how to speak properly now.

Until. 

“What do you think about, Y/n?”

She felt herself getting hot, she’d really fucked herself here. He would never let this go. Call it the tequila but Y/n wasn’t lying. Truthfully the only thing that got her off was Harry, she couldn’t cum unless his green eyes flashed in her vision. Which she did feel bad about like she was a pervert. But believe that she’d tried to think of others, or watching porn. But she could only ever think of him. Otherwise, it wasn’t as good, and she didn’t get the release she was chasing.

“A lot of filthy things, H.”

He bit his lip, “Like what?”

He could sense her getting shy once more as she crossed her arms and looked at her feet, cheeks all pink and pinchable. “Don’t get all shy on me now, Baby, whatever you’ve touched your lil’ clit too I’ve probably stroked m’cock too.”

Y/n was surprised, head snapping up at his words, and though he was normally very honest even he seemed a bit more nervous to admit it. He was just as bad as her. And he had such a filthy mouth, but that was not a surprise to her. She was just surprised he thought of her, she never saw herself as particularly desirable. She always imagined Harry to like those people who look good running in slow motion.

It took a lot of courage as she began to speak. “I usually think about you…fucking my throat, using my mouth however you like. I like the idea of those hands pulling on m’hair.”

Harry felt his pants twitch. His expression and dark eyes egged her on to continue. He didn’t know she was such a little minx. He’d always imagine her to like soft, gentle caresses. Which wouldn’t have bothered him, though he was fairly kinky, but he would’ve done whatever she liked.

She didn’t know if he would like this but she felt brave, “Like the idea of calling you Daddy….Want to be good f’you, Daddy.”

That’s what made Harry unable to keep his hands by his sides. He grabbed her face forcing her to look into his eyes. 

“Wanna be good?”

She nodded coyly, eyes wide. His hands were warm and she practically melted into them.

“Sleep upstairs tonight then.” He didn’t ask her, he simply instructed her. And who was she to say no? 

She nodded once again and he patted her lower back as if to say off you go then. She listened and walked slowly in front of him. She felt his presence close by, the sweet citrus and woodsy scent that followed him was right by her nose and she could hear his slow calm breaths.

Her beating heart was thumping against her chest and she wondered how it didn’t fill the quiet house (besides Emma’s window-rattling snores).

He noticed her shaky and anxious energy and his hand slipped onto her waist. “I jus’ wanna hear about y’dreams somewhere comfier, Petal, if thas’ all yeh’ want that’s all we’ll do. Plus I’m saving y’from m’lumpy couch.”

She couldn’t complain about that. 

As they walked inside she was welcomed to the scent of Harry, she’d only been in Harry’s room a few times, but never properly. He ushered her to the bed and she sat down tucking her knees to her chest and resting her chin. Examining the walls of famous singers and art that covered it. In the corner by his desk where the only source of light in his room was a glowing lamp, other than some fairy lights above his bed, was a little picture wall.

In the mess of polaroids and film, she saw one of Y/n, Emma and Harry when the two girls had graduated school. He was between them arms around their shoulders and looking to his left at Y/n who was laughing happily with Emma at Gemma who made some joke about something. Y/n knew the picture instantly because it was one of her favourites of him.

“What else, Baby?” He said softly sitting in front of her, interrupting her thoughts of that day when he’d driven home to visit them for it, and looked over to see him leaning against the headboard, arms interlocked behind his head. 

“You go.” She said, which made Harry laugh.

“I’m pretty filthy Honey, you know me. I don’t know if it’ll be something you like.”

She looked at him stubbornly. “Try me.”

He shut his eyes and only now did she see he was nervous too, “I often find myself thinking about you on your tummy, underneath me, letting me stuff you full while my hands pin yours to your back so that you’re at my mercy.”

She liked that, her tummy twisted in yerning. “I’d like you to be in charge. Help me forget.”

He was looking at her like she was the sweetest most edible thing. “Can I kiss you?”

She nodded and he placed his hands in her hair, kissing her softly at first just a whisper of a touch of two mouths moulding into one. She leaned in further into the warmth of him and hugged her arms around his broad shoulders as the kiss began to deepen, he tasted like a hint of beer and minty toothpaste. Her chest burned with what only could be described as Harry. 

He moaned into her mouth softly, sighing at the taste of her sweet tea-soaked lips. The warmth of her curves pressing into him was comforting, and though he had a desire to completely ruin her until she was crying his name, he liked taking it slow and enjoying this first kiss with her. Exploring her mouth, teasing his tongue against hers, and soft hands roaming up and down her back. 

He rubbed her back under the soft shirt, no bra strap blocking his gentle scratches. She arched into his touch.

After all, he’d been dreaming of it for years and he wanted to take his time, even though he was crazy for her and felt this deep animalistic desire, he was gentle with her. Like she could break if he was too rough.

The kiss began to pick up as she slid into his lap, and he encouraged her to rub against his bare thigh. She ground against his tiger tattoo and he could feel the wetness between her thighs leaking onto him already. She moved slowly and uncertainly, his hands moved from her shoulders down to her hips forcefully moving her against him creating friction that made her create a soft whiney noise in the back of her throat. He swallowed the sounds eagerly.

He pulled his lips away breathlessly and dragged his mouth down the column of her throat, kissing sucking and biting wherever he could. Her skin was soft and she smelt like coconuts and something that was just her. He would’ve eaten her whole if he could. She let out soft breaths and sighs, her hips had stopped moving — too distracted by his magical lips. 

He stopped to look at her. Really looking.

Her lips were more red, almost like she’d been nibbling on them, and they were all swollen from his kissing. Her cheeks were dusted in a warm pink. Eyes wild and doe-eyed looking up at him. She was picturesque. He wanted to remember her like this forever and be able to come back to this moment at any time. He soaked it in, hoping to remember.

“You seriously are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.” He said softly running his big hands through her messy hair. His rings were cool on her skin.

“Harry, don’t.” She said bringing her hands to cover her blushing face.

He sighed. “I’m sorry for not telling you every second of every day.”

“Don’t lie, H. I’ve seen the girls you fancy.”

“Only ever fancied you.” He said his hands grabbing hers and moving them away she looked at him, shocked. “Only ever look for your face in a crowd, Baby.”

She didn’t know what to say so she kissed him and he moaned softly when she rubbed herself against him. He was getting harder and harder with each movement until eventually she stopped and moved away. 

“Can I suck you off?” She asked, and the filth was shocking to hear from her soft voice and lips.

He nodded hand stroking her cheek. “Yeah, ‘course.”

She moved down to her tummy between his thighs and looked up at him. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She whispered. 

He laughed softly, there she was, there was his Y/n. “Thas’ okay, Love, I’ll teach you.”

She slid her hand up his thigh and her fingers found their way into the waistband of his boxers and began to tug them down when he gave her a nod of approval. His stiff dick sprung out against his tummy, and he was completely naked for her. The head of his cock was oozing precum and it dripped down to his balls. Even his dick was pretty. Which she should’ve expected.

It had a blush-coloured tip similar to the shade of his lips, he was veiny and long. So long that he reached his belly button. He was girthy too and as she moved her hand to wrap around it, he hissed at the contact, and she almost dropped her jaw at the fact her fingers weren’t touching. He smirked down at her.

Her reaction was boosting his ego in just the right way.

“You alright down there, Petal?”

She nodded, her lips grazing against his now throbbing cock. He ached for her. The sight of the swell of her ass and plush thighs was making him very needy. 

And to the surprise of them both she pursed her lips and spat down onto his dick. She was basically drooling all over him, it leaked down over the length of him coating his prick and he practically whimpered at the sight — it was one of his dreams. She then took him into her mouth and began to suck and lick, slowly taking him deeper and deeper. 

His hands had slipped into her hair holding it back from her face and he was letting out loud gravelly moans and sighs of pleasure. He was trying to stop his hips from rolling up into her throat. Her mouth was so deliciously warm and tight against him, he felt like a man deprived of water near a watering hole. Her tongue glided around swirling and sucking and teasing the tip of him. When she began to fondle his balls as well, gently massaging them, he let out a particularly loud whiney noise. She popped out off of him. 

“Shh, don’t wanna wake Emma up.” She said before dripping another trickle of spit onto him and continuing her fast and merciless pace on him. 

“Can’t help it, when you take me like that. S’fucking good.” He said, as his hips jutted into her throat roughly, without realising. “Shit, fuck, sorry,” He said hearing her throat gag on him.

She just went deeper onto him, until her nose was tickled by the snail trail on his tummy. Pulling back when all her breath had gone. She hardly needed to be taught.

She took deep breaths of air and stroked him slowly in her hand, he was panting at her touch. 

“You can use my throat however y’like, Daddy.” She said, voice all raw from his cock having stuffed it just seconds ago, before going back down onto him.

“Just tap m’leg if you need me to stop,” He said and she nodded making a noise around him. His hands pulled her hair up away from her eyes. “sucha’ good fuckin’ girl.” He said pushing her head down once more. Again and again, until he was close to cumming. Which had happened fast, and he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed.

His balls ached for release and her teasing little hands that twisted and stroked him, along with her tongue, had him so loud he’d taken to biting his lip in an attempt to keep his sounds from slipping out. He pulled her off him stroking her cheek gently, swiping some tears away. Her eyes had begun to leak with tears from how deep she was taking him, and it made him throb.

“Gonna’ cum soon, Baby.”

She nodded. “Let me have it please, want your cum. Want it all.”

He stuffed her mouth once more at her words, rutting into her throat until she was gagging and coughing around him. His eyes squeezed shut, “Oh fuck, cummin’,” he hissed. Opening his eyes to watch the sight below him.

Her eyes looked up at him, and that’s what sent him over the edge. With one last thrust, he was cumming, hard, so hard his eyes saw white spots and he shuddered into her. She pulled back coughing, she’d swallowed as much as she could but some of it made its way out and dribbled down her chin. She swiped the rest with her thumb and licked it up.

She was just perfect.

He pulled her up by her chin and kissed her. 

“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.” He kissed her again before asking her, “Let Daddy take care of ya’ now, is that what y’want sweet girl?”

She nodded. “Yes please.”

“Good girl. So polite.” He said kissing her forehead. His hand slipped into her underwear circling her clit, which was slick with arousal. “So wet for me.”

She sighed leaning closer to his shoulder, pressing her forehead into him to cover her whines. He started to circle her clit faster, and her hips squirmed against his hand he then started teasing her weeping hole. She moaned deliciously into his neck. Felt so good.

“Come rest against me, my love.” She shifted her body at his command and turned to face away from him. Pushing her back into his chest, her bum tucked right against his stiffy. His legs spread open for her to sit in front of him and he grabbed the waistband of her undies pushing her undies down and she threw them to the side with her ankle. She leaned into his shoulder head tipped back and he watched from over her shoulder. Just like the rest of her, her pussy was beautiful. It was glistening in slick and begging for his attention. Beautiful and spread for him like a flower, her swollen bud was puffy and eager to be sucked, licked, and teased.

His hand slipped past her tummy and began to rub her softly coating his finger in her slick, preparing her for him to slip his fingers in. She sighed breathlessly. 

“Please, Daddy.” She whispered which made his cock twitch from behind her, she felt against her back.

He slowly slipped one in and her mouth opened but no sound came out until he was all the way inside, knuckle deep, which made her let out a broken cry. “Oh fuck, Harry.”

He began to thrust and curl his finger, moving faster and faster. Her tight pussy clamped down onto him, pulsing every few seconds, as she cried out softly into the room. Her cheeks bloomed with warmth and her body squirmed in pleasure as his other hand kept her legs spread for him. His thumb drew lazy circles on her puffy clit which had her pussy leaking even more onto his finger.

“Like when Daddy takes you like this?”

She nodded. “Mm.”

“Say it, Baby, tell me you like it.”

“I lov-love it when you take me like this.” Her voice was so soft and airy.

He began kissing her neck and shoulder, sucking a mark near her ear. She was too distracted to care about it leaving a mark tomorrow. “My pretty Baby, likes when I tease her little pussy?”

She made a whiney noise and her legs twitched almost shutting.

“So sensitive f’me.”

He slipped another finger inside her and she dripped out even more onto him, crying out softly into the hand she’d brought to her mouth, her slick trickled down her thighs too now and he didn’t slow his movements only went harder and faster into her. Loving the way she melted into his touch.

“Gunna’ cum for Daddy?”

She nodded biting her lip. “‘Feels so good. I’m goin’ ta’ cum soon, Daddy.”

He kept going kissing her skin and massaging her thighs and breasts and eventually her legs shook hard, and shut on his hand and she cried out and pulsed rapidly around his fingers, and he could only imagine how good he’d feel with her cumming on his cock like that. She looked so beautiful he felt like he might cum then and there on her back without having even touched himself. As the peak of her orgasm washed over her he slid his fingers out of her and brought them to her lips, giving her just the middle finger.

“Suck,” He told her.

She obeyed sucking dazedly still trying to calm down from her orgasm, when he pulled it out he brought the other one to his lips.

“Mm.” He said softly, she tasted tangy and sweet. 

She took some deep breaths as he held her close. “Thank you.” She whispered softly, shutting her eyes and catching her breath, she can’t remember the last time she came like that. So hard that she felt it in her entire body, so hard she saw stars and couldn’t contain her noises.

“Sucha’ good girl, you’re welcome my sweet girl.” She turned her head to the side and kissed him, very softly and slowly. Nothing feverish and rushed like their previous actions and his hands massaged her bare hips, kneading her plush flesh contently. God, she was just so soft, so warm, so wet, and so perfect. It was like he’d dreamt but better, if that was even possible. He was drunk on her touch.

When she pulled away she looked up at him. “I want your cock, please, I need it.” Her little pleads made his balls ache, and he wouldn’t have to be asked twice by her.

“Okay, Baby.” He said running a hand through his hair. She lifted her shirt over her head and threw it aside, completely bare, so perfect to him. Her nipples harden at the cool air, and her skin pimpled. Her body was perfect, every scar, mole, mark, and spot he’d have happily kissed and run his over for hours if she’d allow it.

He grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and placed it down in the middle of the bed right in front of her. “Why don’t you lie on your tummy f’me, Petal? Rest on the pillow.”

She nodded and put her hips in line with the pillow, her bum sticking in the air ready for him. His hands rubbed her softly, her skin was so smooth under his hands and he wanted to sink his teeth into her plush flesh. She was so fucking perfect, and the way their bodies knew exactly what to do to the other was just magic like they were made for one another. Just like a pair of contrasting colours splashed on a canvas together, it just worked.

“One sec,” He said leaning over to his bedside table pulling out a condom and ripping it open. He slid it over his leaking prick that was already standing tall at the sound of Y/n’s soft moans and perfect, wet, pussy that was waiting to be stuffed full of him. 

Before he slid himself inside her she turned to look over her shoulder. “I ‘aven’t in a while. Be gentle please, Harry.”

He kissed her forehead, “‘Course, Gorgeous.”

He held her hand in his reassuringly as he slowly dipped the tip inside of her, feeling her begin to stretch for him. She was tight, from nerves and the fact he was just so fucking large. She wasn’t nervous because of anything being wrong, she just wanted Harry to like her. She didn’t know how, but he had this incredible talent of making her nervous always. He was just so much more experienced, older, and had much more sex than her. She just worried she wouldn’t be up to his standards.

But when he began to coo her gently and rubbed her back and bum with his hands to relax her, she began to feel less nervous. Harry, though a prick with a filthy mouth and a bit of an attitude problem, would never want anything bad to happen to her and liked her for who she was, as she was. They’d been around each other for years after all, and with that sort of time, you just understand each other. He was a mean prick who had sex with just about anyone and she was a naive good girl who strayed from any attention. But they could still appreciate their differences. She was pleasantly surprised at how well their bodies understood each other too. His cock was the perfect fit for her, and she melted into the pain.

Her thoughts of nervousness were lost when he had stuffed her completely full of him, she could feel the tip of him teasing that spot inside her that she could only ever reach with toys, she let out a whimper. “Fuck, Harry.”

It was millions of times better than anything she’d ever experienced.

He hissed throwing his head back, feeling her stretch around him. “So tight, Love.”

He began to move, keeping true to his word, slow and gentle thrusts. Remaining as shallow with his movements as someone could with a cock that big.

Y/n’s eyes watered in a mix of pain and pleasure. Her hand flew back again to grab his wrist. “S’big, Daddy.”

He moaned at the name, it was just so fucking cute coming from her. He wanted to take care of her when she acted all needy like that, “Yeah? Feels big inside your little pussy, doesn’t it?”

God, he was filthy, he made her stomach curl with desire. She never thought she’d like dirty talk all that much, before this she’d felt it was corny coming from boys but coming from his lips it was the closest thing to heaven she’d ever heard.

She nodded into the bed and took her hand back to grip the sheets but he grabbed her hands and held them behind her back. He used them as leverage to push her back onto him, pinning her hands back, just like he said.

“Feeling alright, Baby?” He asked. 

And she nodded once more. 

“Tell me.” He told her.

“Feels fuckin’ amazing.” She said struggling to find the words, her orgasm had made her foggy and his cock bottoming out made it difficult to think of anything else.

“Feel so good on m’cock, fucking made to take it, Y/n.”

That made her shiver, the pain had started to subside turning into just pleasure now. “Can go faster, H.” She said just above a whisper. 

As he began to go faster and deeper like he’d been desperate to, she got louder and louder, and her pussy made these filthy noises against his cock. He was ruining her completely and she was enjoying every moment. Her eyes turned glossy in pleasure.

He let go of her hands to grab her hips and push her back harder, she began to move her hips to meet his, and he cried out. 

“Fuck,” He swore, tossing his head back stray curlings falling over his eyes when he looked back down at her.

He squeezed the flesh of her ass and moved his hand forward onto her hair gently tugging it backward, as he began to pound into her even harder. 

“Such a pretty little thing, letting me ruin you, what a good girl.” He said his voice all rough and coarse.

She keened clawing at the bed, “Feels so fucking good, Daddy, I love it thank you.”

Even in bed, she was so polite and obedient, that he wondered what she would be like after being edged for a while. Would her obedience turn to brattiness? He would have to try another time. Made him speed up even more at the thought.

“Wanna see tha’ pretty face while y’taking m’cock,” He said deciding to turn her onto her back he got rid of the pillow, flipping her to face him. Her cheeks were flushed rosy pink, her hair a mess from his pulling, and her eyes were practically black her pupils had gotten so big. She was perfect, his perfect good girl, and so beautiful he could’ve cum just looking at her.

He leaned down kissing her lips, as he continued his thrusts. He dragged his lips down along her jaw and down until he had one of her breasts in his mouth. Her nipples were sensitive to his tongue and her hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, scratching along the peaks of his back. She felt so close, she couldn’t control any part of herself.

He moved his attention across to the other nipple, massaging the one that had just been marked with his mouth. She was moaning breathily, back arching up into him. She was so sensitive to his touch, so much so that every brush of skin that he dared to touch felt like it was on fire. 

“I’m getting close, Daddy.” She said and he began going even deeper, he could tell by the way her pussy was clamping down onto his prick harder and harder and more often that she was on the brink. It made his stomach turn.

“Atta girl, cum on Daddy’s cock.” Her legs were shaking and she screwed her eyes shut at his words. 

“Don’t stop, please.” She said, clawing his back. 

He didn’t dare change anything he was doing, he stayed hitting that spot deep inside her that made her scream out and claw him extra tightly. She pulled him closer so his mouth was hovering over hers, her legs wrapped around his back and she clawed his arms desperate for her release. She felt her stomach unravelling in the familiar feeling of her orgasm. 

“Gonna- fuck, gonna cum!” 

He felt her pulse rapidly on his cock and whined into her lips at the feeling. She made guttural moaning noise, all loud and high, as her legs squirmed and she shook around him. He helped her through her orgasm, stroking her cheek with his hands pecking her lips until she came down from it.

It was even more intense than her first and his cock greedily continued pounding her hardly giving her a chance to rest. He moved her leg up a bit higher against his hip and began to hit that spot even harder than before. 

She whined hands reaching up to his hair, tugging it, and he moaned. He loved it when she did that

“Can you handle another, sweet girl?” He asked he had no shame in wanting to watch her cum once more. It was too beautiful of a sight you couldn’t blame him, he was greedy for more.

And she nodded tiredly. “Think so. Might have to make me take it though, Daddy.”

Her voice drove him up the wall. “Fuck, so fucking perfect f’me. Love this pussy.” He moved his hand down to rub her clit, he wanted to speed up this next orgasm to be in time with his, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Watching his cock disappear in her was a sight he hoped to hold onto in his mind. It made his eyes roll back in his head. 

He kept throwing his head back and grunting as he continued the final stretch before his orgasm.

“Can you choke me, please? Wanna cum with your hand around m’throat, please.” She asked and it took him by surprise. Little innocent Y/n liked being choked too? God, this really was his idea of heaven. 

“Please, what?” He asked sternly.

“Please, Daddy.”

He smirked, and Y/n knew she was done for. He slipped his free hand around her throat, rings cold to her neck as squeezed the sides, he watched her become dizzy with pleasure and she start to show signs of cumming again, which was good because he didn’t know if he’d last much longer.

“Cum for me please, Princess, milk me with that perfect pussy.” He said his voice all rough and slurring, his pussy had him losing his mind. He was so far gone.

With a few more circles on her clit, and deep thrusts she was squirting all over his cock with an intense grip on his prick. He felt her drip down him around his cock making creating more friction for him to continue his merciless pace.

“Cumming,” She cried out loudly lifting a hand to her mouth to cover it, and Harry had honestly forgotten they were supposed to be quiet. The only thing on his mind was filling her with his cum. She was still feeling the wave of her orgasm wash over her and was loose-lipped and limp as Harry started to feel the knot in his tummy unravel in a familiar feeling of complete pleasure.

Her pulsing pussy was squeezing his cock so hard he couldn’t wait any longer. “Getting close, Baby.”

“Cum for me Daddy, please want your cum so bad,” She pleaded. He released his grip from her throat and let his forehead press into her shoulder as she pulled him closer. Hands scratching his hair and hugging him close to her body. Craving him. 

“Fuck, cummin’ Y/n, cummin’.” He said as his cock twitched hard while he bottom out of her, when his loud moans began to spill from his lips she brought their mouths together and he moaned against her swollen lips. 

Even after cumming he stayed inside her for a moment, absolutely spent, head resting on her shoulder. She gently rubbed his back with her hands and didn’t mind him staying close. Eventually, he lifted off of her and kissed her forehead before pulling out, she winced at the feeling of him pulling out of her ruined pussy.

“One sec, Love.”

She nodded. And shifted her hips knowing tomorrow morning she’d struggle to sit. Her hips would probably be bruised and her body would ache, but she did not care one bit. She wouldn’t change what had just happened. She had the best orgasms of her entire life, and Harry seemed pretty content too. And it had been with Harry, of all people it had been with the one person she wasn't supposed to get with.

He tied off the condom and threw it in a little bin by his desk. He walked inside the en suite in his room (he’d won the coin toss), and wet a flannel. He came back with a warm cloth to wipe her down. She squirmed at his touch, feeling very sore and sensitive. “Sorry, Love, I know, but can’t have ya’ all sticky before bed can I?”

She just nodded once again. He put the flannel back in the sink and switched the light off coming back out to find Y/n limp and star-fished in the middle of his bed on the mess of his sheets. She looked completely spent, her three orgasms had tired her out so much. 

“Y’ want something to wear?” He asked. 

She nodded. “Thanks, Styles.”

He smiled at her usual name for him. “What happened to Daddy?”

“Oh, shut up.” She said blushing, he was probably going to keep bringing that up whenever he could, just to tease her. 

He grabbed a big baggy black shirt and some plaid boxers for from his drawer.

“Y’so cute when you blush, you know?”

She frowned hands moving to her face. “Stoppp!” She whispered loudly.

He handed her the clothes and helped her slide into them, and she half expected to be sent back to the couch downstairs and told thanks for the shag, but he pulled the duvet down the bed and patted the middle of the bed for her to sleep there. She moved to lay in the spot and Harry placed the duvet over her. 

Sliding back on his boxers from before, and running a hand through his messy sweaty hair he looked over at her. “I’ll get us some water, be right back.”

She nodded. “Alright.”

When he came back with two glasses of water he placed them on the bedside table and sighed before rolling in beside her. She turned to face him. “Hi,” she said with a giggle.

“Hi.” He replied with a small laugh too. 

“Your bed's very comfy, Styles.”

“Better than m’couch.” He replied sliding a hand onto her waist to rub her side, soothing her into a restful sleep.

“Much better, should’ve shagged you sooner if it meant bed privileges.”

He scoffed playfully, “Only using me for my cock and the comfy bed, aye?”

She laughed back. “Yeah, obviously, why else?”

He pulled her even closer and turned the tone more serious. “Thank you for before,”

She frowned confusedly. “The blowjob?”

He laughed softly. “No, in the kitchen.”

She laughed at herself. “Oh right,” She said lifting her hand to stroke his cheek which he leaned into. “Well, I like your rotten mouth and shocking brutal honesty and all the rest of you. Don’t worry about those guys.”

He leaned closer, a teasing expression lighting up his face. “You like me?”

She just rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

“I like you too.”

This made her blush. “Go to sleep.”

“C’mere then,” 

She got even closer and fell asleep to the beat of his heart and gentle caress on her back.

The following morning, she woke up early, which was very unlike her, and in a total panic, that Emma might have noticed she was missing from the couch. Harry groaned grabbing her, “Don’t go.”

“Have to, Em’s gonna notice, she’d kill us both.” She said, voice all raspy and eyes bleary. 

He whined not letting go. “Stupid Emma.”

“Shh. I’ll see you later.” She was about to leave back downstairs, but he grabbed her and she watched him waiting for what else wanted from her. 

“Kiss?”

She leaned down and pecked his lips which he smiled at shutting his eyes to go back to sleep, and she left sneaking back downstairs. Sluggishly wrapping the blanket around her and shutting her eyes, even though she was much too giddy to sleep. 

When Emma woke up with a throbbing head she smiled at Y/n and she started making coffee quietly since her head couldn’t handle anything loud. This made Y/n stir, sitting up and turning the telly on sleepily. A re-run of Friends was on and she wrapped herself up in the blanket and sat back watching.

Emma wordlessly passed her a coffee and sat beside her, stealing some of the blanket. They spent the rest of the episode in silence just huddling together for warmth and sipping away tiredly, until Harry’s footsteps could be heard creaking down the stairs.

“Want some pancakes, children?”

The pair nodded. 

Y/n looked over at him smiling to herself, he’d changed into a loose navy crewneck and some pyjama pants. He looked gorgeous, and she was reminded of last night. She'd liked him for years, and now she'd done filthy things with him, would she ever recover?

When the pancakes were ready they all sat together at the table. Harry was a wonderful cook, he made a variety of pancakes.

Blueberry, chocolate chip, plain, some with strawberries and cream. He'd brought out lemon and sugar too because that's what Y/n liked on her pancakes, and lots of fruit for Emma. He'd brought out two big jugs of juice for them and a coffee pot.

“Sleep well, Em?” Asked Harry, with a mouthful of blueberry pancake chewing lazily. How did he even look sexy eating?

She nodded. “Yeah,”

“Me too.” He replied before turning to Y/n, who was mid-sip on some juice, it was a mix of berries and tasted sweet. “Y/n?”

She coughed, choking on her juice, and Harry smirked knowingly. Emma patted her back, “You alright, mate?”

“Yeah, just wrong hole. I slept fine.” Y/n said.

“Hate when that happens.” Harry teased, and she wanted to kick his shin but Emma definitely would’ve noticed.

They all finished their pancakes and after the big breakfast, Emma had an aspirin and told them both she was going back to bed for a nap.

“I might head off then,” Y/n said, she wanted to go home and nap herself. Harry had kept her awake for a good portion of the night after all, and her body was very sore. “I’ll get an Uber.”

“Alright, Babe,” She said hugging her. Y/n kissed her cheek and hugged her back.

“Bye, Babe,” Y/n said with a soft smile.

“Thanks for taking care of me. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Y/n nodded. “Of course, we have to do our monthly movie marathon rain, hail, or shine!”

Emma smiled. “Perfect, get home safe.”

They parted, and Emma went back to her room to sleep. Y/n’s Uber arrived moments later and Harry watched Y/n leave waving with a big devilish grin.

She waved back hopping in the Uber tiredly, as the car pulled away and Harry shut the door, her phone buzzed with a text.

Harry Styles🍒

Can I come over tonight?

Y/n felt a big grin overtake her face. 

what on earth for mr. styles?

Harry Styles🍒

Didn’t get to give a you proper goodbye, did I?

Y/n blushed with a small laugh as she typed back. 

see u at eight

Harry Styles🍒

See you then Baby X

Y/n bit her lip. What had she gotten herself into?

oh and bring snacks 

and that new film u were raving about to niall

Harry Styles🍒

Ok, done. See you tonight. XX

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up similar to last in the kitchen. This was not the Harry she knew, but she didn’t have it in her to complain. She saw flashes of last night of them together and squirmed in her seat.

‘💗💗’ She replied.

When she put her phone down in her lap and stared out at the window she sighed to herself, knowing she was completely done for. Harry had ruined her, she'd never be able to stop thinking about him and last night. However, she had very few complaints about it. Her phone buzzed yet again. She checked it.

Harry Styles🍒 hearted your message.

She smiled even more and shut her eyes, head resting against the leather seat, as she wondered if he was smiling this big too.

[missberrycake]

So, I know we all love the headcanon that Eddie moved in with Wayne when he was a teen or a pre-teen, be it because one or both parents died, chucked him out, are in prison, etc. But! I’ve been thinking about another option.

What if Wayne has been looking after Eddie since he was a toddler?

It all comes as a bit of a shock to Wayne who, in his early forties, had pretty much assumed he’d missed the boat on the whole ‘kids’ thing. And yet, here he is, taking in his baby nephew when his brother turns up on his doorstep one day.

When it starts, it’s only supposed to be for a short while. His brother’s wife is newly out of the picture (it’s a crying shame, Wayne had liked her, she’d stayed a gentle soul throughout) and he just needs some time to get himself sorted, right? But then a week turns into a month, turns into two months, turns into half a year and Wayne? Well, he gets attached to the kid, so sue him. 

Because little Eddie is a rambunctious boy. He’s full of gummy smiles and bubbling laughter and Wayne runs himself in circles trying to stop him from toddling into sharp corners and sockets and yards of rope. The two of them are well suited, it seems, and Wayne takes to settling Eddie on his knee in the evenings and going through the races for the next day in the paper.

Eddie chooses a winner more than once. 

Every day, when Wayne comes to pick him up from Julia’s two trailers over (he’s still got to work, something his brother hadn’t considered before he left, or maybe he didn’t care), Eddie greets him with his arms out, already chatting away with the handful of phrases that he knows. 

The boy’s hair is soft and his cheeks smooth and if Wayne gets a little sentimental when he tucks him into bed at night, then nobody else needs to know, do they?

He’s a sweet boy. He deserves someone to care for him. 

So when his brother turns up again with vague mutterings about there being some work for him down in Florida, Wayne’s chest aches. 

“What’s your plan for the littl'un?” he asks.

“Ed? Whad’ya mean?”

“I mean, have you got a place to stay lined up? Who’s gonna look after him while you’re working?”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

He shrugs and Wayne feels something close to panic bubbling in his veins. When he suggests that perhaps his brother should travel ahead, get himself settled first before sending for Eddie, he doesn’t expect him to agree so readily. He can’t say he’s much surprised though. 

The entire exchange doesn’t take more than ten minutes and his brother doesn’t ask after Eddie once, doesn’t show any desire to see him, doesn’t even step inside the trailer—not one jot of fatherly affection shines through. 

It only occurs to Wayne that evening that perhaps this was the outcome his brother wanted. But, hell, it’s fine with him—he’ll let him think he’s winning. Wayne knows who’s got the real prize here. 

He doesn’t mention the visit to Eddie, the kid doesn’t need to know, too busy digging holes and collecting bugs. 

Just like he expected, his brother never sends for the boy. They get letters for the first few years, poorly wrapped and ill-thought through trinkets for the kid’s birthday and Christmas, but it’s not long until they fall by the wayside too. 

Once Eddie’s older, they have a conversation about it. Have to, really, when Eddie comes home from preschool and is full to the brim of questions, because apparently Peter Gillespie says that everyone has to have a mom and a dad, “and I know I have a mom because you’ve told me about her and I said that she’s not around and Mrs. Lang told Peter to be quiet but then I thought about it, but I don’t know, ‘cause you’re my dad, right? I know I don’t call you dad, but that’s what you are, isn’t it? Because what else would you be and Peter says I have to have one.”

It floors Wayne for a moment, but he recovers quickly. He leads Eddie to the couch where he sets him on his lap. For the next while the two of them look through all the pictures that Wayne can find of Eddie’s mom and Wayne’s brother. Wayne makes sure to hold him close and tells him it doesn’t matter that he’s ‘just’ his uncle, that he loves him as much as he would a kid of his own, that he’ll always be around to take care of him. And Eddie takes it all in his stride, in the way only children can. 

“So I can’t call you dad?” he asks.

Wayne lets out a long breath, rubs at his jaw. 

“It’s not that you can’t, kiddo, it’s just that I ain’t.“ 

Because it feels a little like stealing. What would happen, if one day his brother came back and found his kid calling Wayne ‘Dad’. If the boot were on the other foot, Wayne would be angry as all heck. And there was still time, wasn’t there? For his brother to see the error of his ways? Who was Wayne to keep all of that from Eddie? 

“Okay,” Eddie says quietly. “Uncle Wayne is still good.”

“Oh, it’s still good, is it?” Wayne crows and squeezes Eddie tight. “I’m sure glad I meet your high standards, your majesty.”

Eddie just giggles at that. He always giggles when Wayne puts on his voices. 

“And what would the esteemed gentleman like for dinner tonight, huh? The options are spaghetti hoops, spaghetti hoops, or - now let me think. Oh! Spaghetti hoops.”

The nail in the coffin comes one day in the summer of 1978, just before Eddie’s twelfth birthday. It’s been over eight years since his brother dropped him off in search of better things and sure, there have been some days where Wayne has been tearing his hair out, but through all of it he knows he made the right decision that day in the doorway of the trailer. He wouldn’t change Eddie for the world, and he knows by now that there are some out there that would, who would only see the difficult or the different in him, but isn’t that what being a parent is? Loving your kid no matter what? Seeing the good in them and helping them see it themselves?

When his brother slams the door shut on some car so shiny that Wayne wonders if it’s fresh out of the packet, he knows they’re in for some trouble. 

“Nice car, man,” Eddie whistles from where he’d been lounging on the plastic chairs out the front of the trailer. Clearly the sight of something so drenched in luxury in their neighbourhood makes it so that he just can’t help himself.

Wayne’s brother grunts in that way that he always did when they were younger, like he’d gotten away with something. 

Wayne just watches, then, as his brother nods at the book in Eddie’s hands. “A reader, are you?” he says, a joke in his voice. “What’s this? Always knew there were brains in the family somewhere.”

“It’s ‘Lord of the Rings’,” Eddie replies, uncertain. His gaze flicks to Wayne, who nods. Funny, that the kid was quiet now, he’d been ranting and raving to Wayne about that goddamn book every spare second of the week. “It’s got orcs and wizards and elves in and stuff.”

“Fairytales?” his brother scoffs. It grates on Wayne like a physical thing. “What you been doing to the boy, Wayne? Here.” He turns back to Eddie. “You know me, kid?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m your old man! So you like cars, do you? Want to go for a spin in her?”

“You don’t have to Eddie. Not if you don’t want,” Wayne pipes up then. He knows his boy well enough that he can see the internal war going on behind his eyes. And, hell, it is a nice car. Eddie bites his lip and stares at Wayne, eyes wide, asking permission.

“‘Course he wants to.” And his brother is already walking back to the driver’s side door. He winks at Eddie. “Gotta lot of catching up to do, ain’t we?”

“Hold this for me?” Eddie asks and hands Wayne his book before jogging away.

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when Wayne watches the dust trail behind the car as it leaves the trailer park. He sits out on the porch all afternoon, eyes flashing towards the road every few minutes. It isn’t until almost dusk that it careens into the park once more. 

The passenger door slams violently and Eddie stomps towards him.

“He’s not my dad,” he splutters as he pushes his face against Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne can feel where his cheeks are hot and flushed.

Cradling the back of Eddie’s head with one hand, he mutters gently, “Yeah, son, I know.”

And how had he ever thought that man could be Eddie’s father? No, Eddie may still call him ‘Uncle Wayne’, but they’ve gone well beyond that and both of them know it.

Directing Eddie back inside the trailer, Wayne sends a small nod to his brother where the man is still lingering by his car door, looking faintly murderous. 

Let him try, he thinks. No one’s taking his boy from him now, come hell or high water.

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[iheartmapi]

Get Gone (pt.2 to “Teddy Bear”)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Alexia had crossed another line, and you couldn’t let it be like this anymore.

Angst, no comfort ig

TW: none

Word count: 1,185

Your eyes flickered around the restaurant you were patiently waiting in for the past 30 minutes.

The situation is easy to guess, you were waiting for Alexia, since she herself proposed a date today to you a week ago. Yet she wasn’t showing up. Sweat painted your hands, you wanted to finally catch a glimpse of her blonde hair somewhere in the crowd of waiters and other clients, you tried texting her, perhaps she got stuck in traffic or something else happened to her?

You hoped it was only something of innocent nature…Alexia wouldn’t stand you up after all, right?

More time passed and passed, but to no avail Alexia hadn’t appeared in the restaurant. Tears were begging to be let out of your eyes, it was hard keeping yourself in check and not crying a river right there in public but you at least managed to get back to your car before breaking down in tears.

You went back home, your sadness slowly morphed into anger towards Alexis, lately you’ve been wondering if this relationship even had any chance of salvation. She didn’t return till late in the evening. You were sitting in the living room, your arms crossed as you saw her drop her bag down on the floor. Not even a “sorry”, “hey” or “how are you was dropped, let alone one single look at you. You wanted to scream at her, make a mess of the apartment, claw at her skin pull your hair anything..but she’d just turn a blind eye to it anyway, it’s as if you were invisible, when you were around her she treated you like mist, she just didn’t care.

“Why?” You then spoke up, your cheeks got a reddish tint to them, as well as your eyes which were letting tears fall. You cried silently, just looking at her as she turned around to face you as if she had no clue what you meant by ‘why’

“What are you talking about?” Alexia’s brow furrowed, her gaze said it all, she was looking at you as if you were some mad woman that should be institutionalised for her over-sensitivity. “Why don’t you love me anymore?” You choked out the question you had wanted to ask her for the past few months.

“Y/n-“ Alexia begun with a tired voice, “No” you cut in “Don’t ‘Y/n’ me, you know it’s the truth” And she probably did, Alexia stood in place, her eyes diverted from yours.

“I wanted this to work, I really did, and we had our happy years didn’t we? But you changed Alexia, you don’t give a shit about me anymore.” Your voice broke here and there, a thousand words and sentences were running through your brain, so fast it made you feel like it was frying.

“I thought about this so many times, thought about all the things I wanted to say to you…but now I can’t, there’s so many of them I can’t keep up, you had done me so bad, so many times..so many times I forgave you quietly, but I can’t do it anymore”

“What the hell do you mean?” She barked at you, “So you’re gonna break up with me? Because of some dumb things I did? God you’re impossible-“ The blonde shook her head “Stop it! For fuck’s sake stop it! That’s why I’ve been holding back, cause you always do this, I’m always the bad guy whilst you’re a martyr.” Your hands clutched your head “And dumb things? You cal treating me as if I didn’t exist dumb things? You stood me up, and the best part is this wasn’t the first time” It was clear Alexia was trying to come up with some cheeky answer, one that’d shut you up, but to no avail.

“This is the end” you said now more quietly, “I’m leaving, don’t contact me again” with that you made your way to your now past shared bedroom. Another minute spent in this goddamn place was going to drive you mad, so swiftly you grabbed your clothes and other belongings, not caring to fold them, just to get them into your bags. Alexia soon stormed in after you. “This is fucking crazy!” She yelled, “You can’t do this to me!” Her arms were swaying around, she was mad, furious even.

“You did much worse to me” you muttered “You don’t deserve to be mad at me Alexia”

As you grabbed your now packed bags you looked at her for the last time together, “Goodbye” and that was it, the end.

A few weeks had passed now, you bought yourself a flat since you sold your old one before moving in with Alexia. You recall breathing the fresh air, the wind blowing through your hair when you left Alexia, the world around you felt different, alone and freeing. Later a part of you was screaming at you that you chose the wrong option, but you couldn’t get back with Alexia, not after everything.

Years of a good relationship, and then years of a ruin that was your ‘love’. There was no denying that a small percentage of you, still loved her, but you couldn’t be with her if all you were going to get was a one-sided romance.

Alexia messaged you, one message that read ‘meet me at the pier, you know which one. 7pm, I’ll be there.”

You sighed internally, you were gonna give her one last chance to speak to you, whatever it is she wanted, all you knew was that there was no getting back ever again.

It was dark already, the sky turning into a deep navy blue transcending into black. As you walked down the wooden pier, some happy moments from your time together came flooding back. You knew this had to be the pier she wanted to see you at, and as you walked further down you could make out a woman’s figure in the distance, as you got closer you quickly recognised it was indeed Alexia.

She was leaning against the pier’s fence, looking into the deep blue sea, you stood next to her, glancing into the water as well

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?” You then asked, not looking back at her, and you could feel that she wasn’t observing you either. “Can’t we make this right?” She said after a minute “Alexia…” you sighed, “I told you”

“I can change, Y/n” she was still pleading for you to change your mind. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you, we’re done, and that’s it. If we get back together either you or me are still gonna get hurt” You knew well that it was definitely you who was going to get hurt…but you weren’t here to talk about it, all you had wanted was to deliver the message clearly.

“Y/n..” she mumbled, “I’m sorry Alexia” you simply stated, “Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the fence, walking off, towards the parking lot to your car. As you walked, you hadn’t looked back at Alexia.

You were better off not being together.

[revelboo]

God Give up/Give in part 11 is insane- I love whenever Megatron tilts the reader's chin up. Do you mind continuing from that heinous (in a good way) cliffhanger? I can't get enough of your Megatron!

Give Up/Give In Pt 12

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• Those eyes look up at him trustingly, warming his spark as he loses the words he wanted to say. Losing himself in your eyes. Wanting nothing more than to refuse to let you leave, to just keep you even if it’s not what you want. Even if it would shatter what little trust the Autobots have in him. When you lay a hand on his servo, he offers you a tired smile. “Share a meal with me,” he says instead of demanding you stay, instead of trying to convince you. Pleased when you smile back with a small ‘okay.’ Because he intends to keep his word to protect you, look after you. Even if it’s from a distance, even if it hurts his spark.

• It’s right on the tip of your tongue. Wanting to ask to stay with him as childish as it is. To overstay your welcome and cling to this sense of safety and warmth that’s just him. How long would it take for his pity to become disgust with you, though? You’re not his problem to deal with. And can’t just hide with him from the real world even if you want to. Just becoming a burden. That servo shifts along your jaw and slides over your cheek. His touch so gentle your eyes burn, blinking and pulling away so you don’t start crying again.

• Venting softly as you distance yourself, it’s a reminder that you likely have your own life to return to. Once he wouldn’t have cared. If he’d wanted to take you, he would have and caged you without a second thought. Keeping you as long as it amused him. Meeting Dorothy had changed that. Fighting beside her, watching her struggle, she’d become a younger sibling to him. Made him look at humans and actually see them, as she fell in love and created a family. A home. And he’d been happy for her even as it had driven home that he was lonely. That he’s been lonely for a very long time. Doesn’t want to be lonely any longer.

• When you glance up at him, he’s still staring at you, but there’s a hunger in his expression that’s almost frightening. That you don’t entirely understand even as it rings through you. Makes you want to reach for him instead of pressing your palms to your thighs so you don’t. “A meal,” you say, trying to break that tension building before it shatters you. And he makes a noise, a low rumbling growl.

• “A date, then.” Sees your eyes widen slightly at his choice of words. Wonders if you assume that he misspoke. That he doesn’t understand the human meaning. And that’s fine. You can believe that as long as you give him your time. Let him have as much of it as you’re willing to offer. Needing it so he doesn’t just take it and prove the Autobots right. That he’s still the conquering warlord. Because what Dorothy, what his adopted sister, has? He wants that with a consuming desperation and finding you feels like the universe offering him solace. A chance to have everything he wants. To be more than your protector. Like being given permission to dream of more might be allowed, because even if he’s trying to convince himself that he’ll let you go, watch over you from a distance and let you live your life, he’s not nearly that noble or good. Even if you ask to be freed, he’s not sure that he can. So he lies to himself and to you that he will let you go if that’s what you want.

Previous

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[ch-4-eri]

Use Me — Jill Valentine.

jill X fem! reader.

warnings: smut, p in v, strap use, strap referred to as ‘cock’. verbal abuse, very mean jill (oops), overstimulation, spitting, crying, swearing (lots of it) let me know if i miss anything i wrote this at 6am sorry if there’s any mistakes (it is proofread ish).

word count: 2.6k

you tossed and turned in bed as the clock read 12am, typical.

jill’s light snoring is all you could hear as your thoughts wandered and wandered for probably an hour now, stealing glances at jill every now and then.

she came back from her job, ate something, had a little conversation with you, then she quickly went to bed, which you couldn’t even blame her for, jill worked for so long and she does this for the both of you, she deserves her rest.

but your ovulation week had other ideas.

you were an aching horny mess.

tossing and turning made it worse because any movement you’ve made involving your legs would drive you crazier, staying still wasn’t helping either, you were a cat in heat.

as your mind kept you awake, your eyes went to your sleeping girlfriend, jill’s arms hugged the pillow as she was breathing slowly and steadily, she looked so peaceful and here you were, an inappropriate film was going off in your head.

your fingers went to her arm, nudging her slightly. “jill?”

jill groaned in response, her brows furrowed. “jill…” you repeated, wishing she’d register it sooner.

she groaned once more, her eyes fluttering.

“jill… i’m.. horny.” you dropped it, like she wasn’t even half asleep.

“what the fuck..” she mumbled tiredly, her tone groggy but all it did was send your pussy pulsating, you felt so pathetic.

you nudged her arm again. “just wake up..”

“touch yourself in the bathroom or something!” she says, blowing you off with a dismissive hand.

“of course not.. it doesn’t feel as good as when you do it.”

“i’m sleeping.”

“you’re awake now.”

as soon as you said that, jill rose up from the bedsheets with a groan, she was fuming.

one thing about jill is that you knew she hated being woken up for no reason, especially when she needed the sleep so badly, she worked her ass off early in the day and she can’t rest from your whiny little voice and your hormones.

you knew you were testing her but it wasn’t on purpose, the ache inside of you hurt the whole day and you can’t ignore it anymore, even when jill rubbed the sleep out of her angry eyes, sipped some water off the bedside table bottle she keeps on her when she’s dehydrated from her deep slumber.

“i’m getting so fucking tired of you.” jill spat, closing the bottle aside and runs her thick fingers through her short brown hair, you frowned slightly at her words but you deserved it, lowkey, yet all of this was making you even more horny, the ache between your legs was unbearable.

“so fucking sick of you, i can’t fucking sleep in this goddamn house.” jill says again, standing up from the bed, still trying to get herself more awake to deal with you, you were a little happy about the fact that you got her to wake up but she was so moody, not that you deserved to complain about her mood, maybe she’d fuck you but she wouldn’t be nice about it.

she turned to face you as she tucked her hair behind her ears, her blue eyes sit on yours.

“take off your clothes… off. now.” she demands, her tone pissy and controlling.

“w-what?” was all you managed which somehow made jill even more angry, you could swore she would hit you or something, she never did, but she was too patient with you before, you wondered when she’d snap like that? it was sick of you to imagine jill hitting you for asking her for sex like that, jill would never lay a hand on you, not for the purpose of seriously hurting you, she always watches out with the way she deals with you, she knows you can’t handle her full strength.

“you seriously fucking woke me up just to ‘what’ me? take off your fucking clothes! you know what—“ she says her eyes wide open in anger, her face red as her veins popped out of her neck.

jill climed up the bed and grabbed your shorts, pulling them down your legs forcefully as you let out a yelp. “shut the fuck up! i’m so sick of you!” she argued, her fingers found your thin shirt and took that off as well.

you weren’t fighting it, but as much as it was turning you on, you wondered if she was truly this mad at you and it made you anxious, your heart dropped to your stomach at the idea, her tone and the way she handled your clothes, yet you were getting so wet anyway, your mind and cunt had two different opinions about this.

her fingers dragged down your panties, throwing them off the floor. pushing you down onto the mattress, opening your legs with a strong palm separating your knees, you could seriously salivate from this moment alone.

but before she did anything else, she unclasped your bra, she didn’t look impressed in the slightest, yes jill was used to your body, knew you every inch, every freckle, but now that she wasn’t even complimenting you, made your heart drop even more, horny and anxious all at once.

jill threw your bra on the floor with a force, grabbing your face in her palm.

“which part of i’m sleeping did you not understand?!” she shouts, her fingers ghosting your sticky area, it was pulsating, calling her name.

“jill…” you breathed, hoping she’d go easy on you, you were terrified but oh so excited your pussy was tightening around nothing. “are you really that much of a needy whore?” she spats, her eyes narrowed like she was truly shaming you for it, like she was a total prude and would throw rocks at you for behaving this way.

“every other day.. every other week you need me to fuck you, or else you wouldn’t fucking let me sleep!” she slams her fists onto the mattress, making you jump, your eyes watering at her behavior, but so was your dripping wet hole.

“you know what? i will fuck you..” jill heaved, grabbing your face into her fist. “i’ll fuck you so hard, so hard you won’t be able to walk, or even talk. fuck you dumb enough you’ll stop talking altogether and let me have my own fucking peace for once, that’s what pretty sluts like you deserve, should be grateful i even give you the light of day, you’re a brat, and i’m so sick of you taking and sucking the life out of me.” jill spoke, letting go of your face with a force as you shed a tear, her words hurt so bad but you needed her just as badly.

she got out of bed then, the sound of her feet as she went to look for her strap were too loud, putting all her energy in the stomping, you sat up a bit; rubbing your thighs together, wiping the tear off your cheek.

the sound of the drawers opening and closing was all you could hear echoing in the bedroom, jill wouldn’t look at you either, as she finally took out her strap, she walked closer to you in bed, she usually always slid a condom over it as you requested so, saying the feeling of it inside you was a bit uncomfortable, but now that you’re too wet for that she decided to just smear her spit over it.

jill spat on her palm, rubbing it across the rubbery tip so she can slide it in easier, yes she was mad at you, but she hated to think she’d wanna hurt you on purpose.

she climbed on the bed, strap perfectly wrapped around her hips, wet enough to slide inside of you as she parted your legs once again with her hands, positioning herself between your legs, brows furrowed, gaze averted.

you bit down your lip as you watched her get on top of you, her necklace dangling over your head, her tits peeking out of her loose gray tank top, no bra underneath.

she rubs the tip against your hole, teasingly so. “shh.” jill demands as soon as you started making noise.

“fuck you’re so tight..” jill cussed, sliding her cock in as you let out a gasp. “all this fucking and stretching you out didn’t loosen you up? damn girl.” she grunts, surprised at her change of tone, she was fully bottomed out as she started thrusting inside of you, your hands were shaking as they placed themselves on her hips, fucking yourself into her, the tip kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“is that good, slut?” jill says, forcing your chin between her fingers. “i’m not a slut.” you argued, your voice strained as you were fucked out. sweat already breaking out from your forehead.

“sure you’re not… look at you swallowing that cock whole… always begging me to fuck you, always demanding and whining for it.” she fucks into you deeper, making you see stars as it shut you up completely.

“good girl, i like it when you keep that pretty mouth shut.” jill continues thrusting, the sound of your squelching was like music to her ears. “you belong to me don’t you?” she whispered to herself, going faster just to see how you’d react, seeing the way you pulsate against her cock, the way you rock your hips to match her pace with your moans strained and your legs aching.

“hhhhnnn… jill i’m so close.” you managed, your finger nails digging into her waist from underneath her shirt, then your hands grabbed at her breasts, which drove jill crazy to just get you to cum, her pace went faster and faster, her girlfriend’s mouth open, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you squeeze at her tits, your thumb circling her sensitive buds, making jill squirm inside of you as she forced your wrists away with her hands, pinning you down on the bed with one hand, the other taking each one of your ankles and throws it over her shoulders, making the strap go in so much deeper as you let out a choked gasp.

jill had to take a second and look at you like that, sweaty forehead, red cheeks, lips so red and pretty, the position was a little different from every other one you’ve both been in before by her.

but she took a mental note to do this again, legs on her shoulders, your eyes closed and your breathing uneven as she refuses to move inside of you. watching the way your breasts moved as you squirmed and whined underneath her, jill can’t resist you and she knows it, no matter how angry she became, how fucking stubborn she gets especially after a terrible day at work which is every other day, she has a beautiful girlfriend she can use however she pleases, you’re her pretty little thing, her whole world, she’d probably crumble if she came back home and didn’t find you there.

“look at me..” jill softly says, a drastic change from her tone earlier as your eyes fluttered open, staring into her blue ones.

“i love you.” jill whispers as she begins to move her hips forward and continues to thrust inside of you, the tip abusing your cervix as her words made this even more intense and overwhelming.

you eyes watered, recalling her words from just a few minutes ago, compared to this. you couldn’t focus as you got even more stretched out, crying out loud from how good it felt then from how much you feared like you were losing her and this was her last straw.

“shh..” jill whispered once more, her tongue flicking against her bottom lip as she let go of your hands, holding them in hers as she fucked into you so much faster than before, sending the bed rattling against the wall, creeking against the floor while your lips met in a hungry kiss, tongue and teeth clashed as you were chasing your high, sensation so overwhelming you whined into her mouth, jill’s hands grabbed yours as she led you through such an intense orgasm, you were terrified.

you screamed, moaned, writhed, unsure of the noise that came out of you when you gushed all that you have against jill’s cock.

jill noticed.. and she slowly pulled out, mumbling sweet words and kissing your forehead, cheeks, lips, she overstepped a line and she was willing to make it up to you.

“shh.. you did so good, such a good girl.” she mumbled, rubbing her thumb against your cheek as you were trying to get a hold of yourself.

“it’s alright sweetheart… you did good.” she whispers into your ear. “i’ll be back.. okay?” was all jill said as she climbed off the bed, taking off the strap that needed cleaning now, not that you’d notice from how much you were vibrating and overwhelmed.

jill came back a few moments later, a cloth to clean you up and some water to hydrate you.

she carefully sat next to you and helped you sit up with a kiss to your forehead. “i’ve got you.” she mumbled, grabbing the cloth in her rough hand, slowly holding it up your thighs as you were too sensitive, you closed your legs in on her.

“can’t..” you shook your head, keeping your knees together. “i have to clean you up baby..” jill murmured, taking a hold of your thigh once again, cleaning up the cum off it. wiping it all the way up to your sensitive core as you squirmed. “jill.. careful.”

“i’ve got you..” jill repeated, cleaning you gently, watching the way you were limb on the bed, you were breathtaking.

as soon as she finishes cleaning you up and putting you into new panties and clothes, giving you some water as you drank the whole bottle. “easy… it’s not going anywhere.” jill mumbled, climbing on the bed next to you, recalling how mean and disrespectful she was to you early on, making her heart twist into her chest.

she took you in her arms, your smaller frame fit so perfectly into her, you wrapped your arms around her as she kissed your forehead.

“i’m sorry… i didn’t mean what i said.” jill finally said, she can’t let you go on thinking this is how she thought of your relationship, she loves you so much.

“there’s no excuse for me to talk to you like that, not when you needed me. i’m sorry baby..” jill added while wrapping her arms around you tighter, securing you into her grip gently.

“it’s okay..” you sighed, she noticed how non verbal you get after such a loud and messy orgasm, she’s glad it’s not because you were mad at her or resentful of what she said. “it’s not.. i don’t want you to be mad at me though, i can’t take it.” jill whispered into your hair, brushing a hand over your belly.

“i’m not mad.” you finally said after a moment of silence. “no?” “no.”

jill sighed in relief and kissed the tip of your nose, making your eyes close as she pulled the blanket over both of you, hoping you’d get a good night's sleep. she still needed to do so much to make it up to you, you’re her angel.

you snuggled up to her, eyes closed and heavy with sleep. jill brushing your hair with her fingers, her face so close to yours as she watched every flutter of your lashes, every time you opened your mouth and closed it. she leaned in and kissed your lips, unable to get enough of you as you kissed her back, barely, you were probably half asleep.

“i’m not mad.” you reassured her softly, which was enough to make jill go through the night without some exaggerated grand gesture, both of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: part four! are we learning from our previous mistakes? TAKE A WILD GUESS! after this, have one more chapter to go, and i know ive been consistently posting every week, but im afraid that the last part is going to take me a whole extra week to finish (bc ill be out of the country for a sec) so, my apologies! but i hope this long chapter makes up for the extra wait! <3

Wordcount: 6.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”

Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.

“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”

You knew exactly what she was going to say.

She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.

“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.”

You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.

But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.

Not a truth you wanted to face though.

There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.

So... you made them.

But Emily’s face remained quite serious.

“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.

“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”

You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.

Good.

Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.

“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”

“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”

“Well, he–”

“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”

“Emily.”

“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”

For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.

“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”

Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”

He wasn’t.

These were two different leagues.

But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.

It always did.

Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.

But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.

You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.

“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.

Joe had just shrugged then.

“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”

And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.

You hadn’t.

You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.

“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”  

“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”

“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.

“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.

Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”

You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”

It was a nice bag.

“Not exactly the same is it.”

No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.

“Still counts.”

“Okay. If you think so.”

You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.

“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.

Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.

You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.

“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.

“He’s– what?”

“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”

Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.

“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”

You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.

“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”

You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.

Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.

You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”

You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.

It’s been weeks.

Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”

You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.

Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.

It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.

Her advice.

Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.  

Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.

You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.

The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.

It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.

You thought she’d be the same.

You thought she’d absolutely love it.

But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.

It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.

You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.

It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.

You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.

“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”

Something is wrong though.

Obviously.

You just left someone in your bed for this.

Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.

“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”

A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.

“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”

A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.

“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”

No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.

That wasn’t the plan. 

With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.

In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.

You just want an answer.

But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.

You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.

When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.

“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”

You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.

It’s the fucking middle of the night.

It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.

“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.

“Did you close the door?”

You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.

“What? No. I–”

“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.

“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”

Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.

You go to close his front door.

In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.

Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.

“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.

You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.

“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”

Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.

He looks tired.

Which, yea, that checks out.

You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?

There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.

But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.

“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.

“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.

You turn back to him.

“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”

“Wait.”

Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.

“I’ll go get my phone.”

And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.

That’s new.

That’s... weird.

When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.

“Why did you call me?”

“Just–”

“I’ll read the text.”

In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.

His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.

“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”

“Read it.”

It startles you.

“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Read your message.”

You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.

Guilt.

Regret.

Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.

Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.

You shouldn’t have come.

You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.

“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”

You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.

He’s right.

The damage has been done.

You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.

The only way out seems through.

You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.

“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.

Read the fucking text.

You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.

“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”

“What we were together”

“Was that really as good as it can get?”

“Ever?”

You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.

Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.

Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.

Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.

And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?

Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.

What the fuck.

You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.

What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?

And why is it so fucking hot in here?

The only way out is through.

You read Joe’s text.

“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”

A non-answer.

You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.

It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.

You frown and read the message again.

For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.

It’s late, though.

You inhale deeply. Slowly.

Then, resign.

“Okay.”

Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?

Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...

“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.

Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”

He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–

“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.

Finally, you remove your coat.

“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”

“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”

“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”

“It’s not?”

“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.

Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.

“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”

“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.

It’s condescending.

Patronising.

Joe’s making fun of you.

“All right, be fucking honest or–”

“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”

You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.

Were we as good as we’re going to get?

“Imposing question, though.”

Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.

“I don’t know.”

Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.

“You don’t know.”

Typical.

“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”

You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”

And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.

You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?

“Why um... why have you been crying?”

“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”

Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.

“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”

They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.

Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.”

“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.

Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.

Wishes he could help.

Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.

Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.

“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”

And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.

“Bet she enjoyed that.”

“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”

Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.

“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.

“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”

Joe doesn’t laugh.

“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”

“Probably?”

“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”

Hmm.

You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.

“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”

Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.

The before saves it, a little.

The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.

Who knows what you’d be like now.

Joe can’t predict the future.

And neither can you.

“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.

“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”

You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.

“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”

Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.

“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”

You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.

You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.

But then Joe decides you can’t just go.

You can’t just leave.

He’s stuck.

You’re stuck.

You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.

It’s weird that you willingly came back.

Keep coming back.

And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.

But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.

He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.

Says, “Come sit for a second.”

And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.

He’s not doing anything illegal.

Well.

There’s a girl in his bed.

It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.

He doesn’t want you to leave now.

There’s a girl in his bed.

And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.

Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.

He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.

“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.

You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.

But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.

There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.

You take the blanket from Joe.

It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.

“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”

“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”

Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.

“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.

“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”

Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.

He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.

You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.

It’s warm in Joe’s flat.

And this little nest is perfect.

“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”

Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.

You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.

Neither does Joe.

Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.

But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.

You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.

You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.  

A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.

Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.

“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”

You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.

All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.

But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”

That takes minute to land.

It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?

When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.

Right.

Emily can fuck off.

You don’t deserve each other.

You deserve better than this.

Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.

You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.

This is such a mess.

“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.

You should leave.

Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.

Never come back.

Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.

But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”

You drop your hands.

Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.

You should leave.

“Um…”

Oh... oh no.

“Yea…”

Fuck.

So close.

“Yea?”

You almost had it.

“Yea. I could use a coffee.”

Almost.

---

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