#doing something new is good for my brain. even if i spent the first hour or two shaking w nerves

[erasedcitizen2]

for anyone else out there struggling with insomnia, I'm sharing this just in case it helps anyone else: my doctor suggested 5 mg melatonin for me. It didn't make me sleep better and also gave me pretty bad side effects like having brain fog the day after, like I was completely unable to think and my reactions were slowed down to the point I would've been a danger in traffic. but I switched to a lower dose of 3 mg melatonin and not only do I have no side effects from that dose but ALSO IT WORKED. I've actually consistently slept 7-8 hours for the past week since I switched dose. I don't know the science behind that but lowering the dose worked better to put me to sleep.

[cutearose]

had my first ever volunteering experience today - attended the local repair cafe in the sewing section and did some mending!! I’m so exhausted but it was a nice time and I’d like to keep going back

[atlabeth]

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home. 

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city. 

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it. 

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while? 

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and— 

“Babe—” 

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays. 

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?” 

“You keep talking over me, so I really—” 

“You don’t get to babe me right now!” 

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is. 

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful. 

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend. 

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back. 

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!” 

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!” 

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?” 

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse? 

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.” 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.” 

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse. 

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.” 

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional. 

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?” 

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.” 

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?” 

“Yes,” you nod. 

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—” 

“I hate beer.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!” 

This time he says your name, and you shake your head. 

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head. 

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.” 

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct. 

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock. 

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.” 

Good one, Parker. 

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.” 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it. 

“I’m not stupid,” you say. 

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.” 

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?” 

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.” 

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?” 

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.” 

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.” 

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.” 

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.” 

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you. 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” 

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.” 

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.” 

“I think I can let it slide.” 

“Good.” 

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company. 

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.” 

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds. 

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!” 

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero. 

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?” 

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to. 

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?” 

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.” 

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.” 

“And unhappy, it sounds like.” 

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…” 

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.” 

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.” 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is? 

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?” 

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” 

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.” 

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?” 

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.” 

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?” 

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.” 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.” 

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going. 

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario. 

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees. 

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down. 

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope. 

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he? 

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know. 

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground. 

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is. 

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role. 

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it. 

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret. 

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it. 

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly. 

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.” 

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.” 

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.” 

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses. 

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.” 

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says. 

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.” 

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.” 

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you. 

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky. 

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you. 

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3 

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol 

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life. 

Deal. Anything to get you an A 

lol

asshole 

Never 

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain 

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place: 

I’ll try just for you 

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?) 

Night, girl wonder

[hope-for-the-planet]

I'm scared for the future. The year starts with WTF, trump is in the Whitehouse. They're are 3...no 4...Idfk how many wars and humanitarian crises. We're are 90s seconds (probably lower in 2025) to midnight on the doomsday clock. And the earth is getting hotter by the half-hour. I'm scared of dying and I'm pretty sure we're alone in the universe. So how in the flibity flabuty F**k! Do you stay so positive? (Genuinely I want to know)

Hi Anon!

This may not be the most satisfying answer, but a lot of it is practice.

Pivoting away from negative thought spirals, knowing when the despair is welling up and it's time to put the news down for a bit, being aware of the human tendency for negativity bias that feeds the media bias towards catastrophizing, seeking out stories of progress and people helping each other even if it's not glamorous or flashy or immediate. These get easier the longer you practice.

Truly, I have never been aware of how much this hope practice has paid off until this year. I won't say that I don't have bad days, but the strategies I have to deal with them and keep the bad news from driving me to disengagement feel like muscle-memory now.

I know this may not feel terribly helpful to you, but I say this to express that it is not some unique element of my personality that allows me to stay hopeful in the face of bad news--it is a skill that you can get better at too.

One really big part of this is to combat the bombardment of negative information by looking for positive information. News of progress, resistance, and people coming together to make a difference are a great place to start--but also hopeful and inspiring art (books, movies, TV shows, visual art, theater, etc.), research into human goodness and altruism, reading not just about the dark times in human history but also the times that people worked together to make things better. I just finished reading Hope for Cynics by positive psychologist Jamil Zaki, which I highly recommend if you feel like delving into the good side of human nature.

The more you train your brain to look for hope the more you will notice--one day you'll hear bad news and your knee-jerk reaction will be to turn towards possible solutions and wonder who is already working to make those solutions a reality.

I understand living in that place of fear and hopelessness--I have spent time there too and some days I still do. But hope is something worth working towards, even slowly and imperfectly. It doesn't just feel better to live in a world where you can see the possibility for things to be better than they are right now--it is the first step in being engaged in helping to make them better.

There are so many kind, brave, talented, imperfect, regular people pushing back against the bad things. None of us are alone. None of us have to save the world by ourselves. We only have to hope enough to be one small part of the process of making the world better than it would have been otherwise, in whatever ways we can.

[afterheese]

The Prefect Match - Yang Jungwon x f!reader

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes. His hand is on your throat.

cw: dark!jungwon, noncon,hair pulling, degradation, creampie, babytrapping and physical violence.

word count : 3.5k

You knew it was the right decision.

Ending things with Jungwon wasn’t just overdue, it was needed. The relationship had rotted from the inside out, twisted into something dark and suffocating. You’d spent too much time walking on eggshells and flinching at every raised voice or hand. So you left.

But ever since the breakup, something in the air felt wrong.

He didn’t take it well—not at all. The calls kept coming. At first, it was pleading. Sweet, pathetic apologies dripped in fakeness. But they didn’t stay sweet for long. They turned sharp and accusing. His voice would swing from soft regret to explosive rage in a single breath. As if the breakup wasn’t real. Like you were throwing a tantrum.

Now your phone buzzes at strange hours—2:17 a.m., 4:03, 5:12 always from unknown numbers. No voice, no noise just silence. You’ve started checking your locks more than once. Then again. Then again. You keep the blinds shut even when the sun is out, because the idea of light feels unsafe now. Too visible. Because Jungwon doesn’t lose. And he doesn't listen when you say no. He doesn’t rage. He doesn't scream. He waits. He smiles. Control isn’t something he wants. It’s something he assumes he already has. You don’t know it now, but you’ll soon realize that leaving him was the worst mistake you could’ve made. 

“Girl, relax—he’s not here,” she says, not even looking at you. Her voice is flat, tired, like you’re annoying her with your nonsense. “Stop being so paranoid. I heard he’s got a new girlfriend or something, so… he’s over you.”

You blink at her, fork halfway to your mouth. She's probably right. Everyone keeps saying the same thing, and you’re starting to feel like the one who is being crazy. But the incidents around the house was telling you otherwise like the window in your bedroom was open yesterday morning. Just a crack. You remember closing it. You always do. You even double checked it after brushing your teeth. But there it was, gaping like a mouth in the wall, letting the cold in.

Then there was the necklace. You found it in the laundry room. You haven’t worn it in weeks. You’d swear you left it on your dresser. “You don’t think that’s weird?” you ask, quieter than you meant to. “That my stuff keeps moving around?” Kailey shrugs. “You probably just forgot. You’ve been super stressed lately. Your brain’s probably just... I don’t know. Filling in blanks.” Her smile is small, pitying. It makes you feel like a child so you nod, even though your stomach twists. Because how do you argue with someone who makes your fear sound like fiction?

Everyone you’ve talked to says the same thing. You’re imagining it. You’re spiraling. Maybe talk to someone. No one listens to what you’re actually saying. They just want you to stop talking. And the more you try to explain, the more ridiculous you sound. Like some clingy ex who can’t move on. Like you’re obsessed with someone who isn't even thinking about you. 

 You smile. You laugh when Kailey makes a joke about “getting you a security system and a therapist.” Maybe they’re right. Maybe your memory is just playing tricks on you. Maybe the cold air, the lost things, the tapping you heard last night…maybe it’s all just in your head. But if that’s true… why does it still feel like someone’s watching you? 

“Okay, call me when you get home, alright?” Kailey says, pulling you into a quick hug. “And don’t worry about Jungwon. You’re fine. Seriously. He wasn’t good for you, and breaking up with him was the smartest thing you’ve done.” She squeezes your arm before turning away, heading toward her car without waiting for a reply. The door slams, the engine hums to life, and just like that, she’s gone—leaving you alone on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. You stand there for a moment, watching her taillights fade into the distance. The street feels too quiet now, like someone turned the volume down on the world. “I hope you’re right,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, then turn and begin the walk toward home. 

The sidewalk stretches ahead of you, slick from earlier rain. Your shoes tap softly against the pavement, a steady rhythm you try to focus on. Left foot, right foot. Just a walk home. Just like every other night. But now Kailey's voice is gone, and without it, the air feels too thin. A streetlight flickers as you pass underneath it, buzzing once like it’s annoyed by your presence. You glance up out of habit. It dies for a moment, then flares back to life, casting your shadow behind you. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, shoulders hunching as you turn down your street. The houses here are dark, windows glowing faintly blue with TV light or not at all. You tell yourself it’s just late. People are asleep inside. 

But your stomach won’t stop tightening. That pressure behind your ribs again—like something’s watching you. Like something’s a few steps too close. You stop walking to listen. Behind you… nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just wind rustling the trees and the faint hum of traffic blocks away. You glance over your shoulder. Empty street. You hate how fast your heart is beating. You keep walking. Faster now. You don’t want to look again. If no one’s there, you’ll feel stupid. If someone is—No, don't go there. You stop again, one foot hesitating mid-step. You turn slowly and look behind you. Still no one there. But the streetlight—It’s off now. Completely dark.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your limbs tense before you can even think. And then—You run.

You don’t think about how it looks. You don’t care. You take off, shoes slapping the pavement, your bag bouncing hard against your hip. You just run.

Your house comes into view—porch light glowing weakly like it’s trying, but not enough. You fumble for your keys as you hit the steps. You nearly drop them. Your fingers are shaking too much and the sweat making it difficult to hold them. You glance behind you. Nothing. Still. But you don’t believe it. You shove the key in, not it. Try again. Shit not it. Curse under your breath. You keep looking over your shoulder like you're expecting to see someone step out of the dark. Click. The key finally turns. You throw the door open, stumble inside, and slam it shut behind you. You turn the lock. The deadbolt and the chain. Then you press your back to the door, eyes closed, chest heaving. 

You stay with your back pressed to the door, listening for something—anything. Maybe the wind. Maybe footsteps that were never there. Maybe it was just your heart that was punching the inside of your ribs. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Then you heard a thud. A soft, unmistakable sound, like something falling. Not from the kitchen or the living room. It was from your bedroom.

Your body goes cold. You strain your ears, willing for the sound to be nothing. A book slipping off your bed. Something you left too close to the edge. Just gravity. Just the house settling. But you know what you heard. You know exactly where it came from.

Your room. Down the hall. Door slightly open—just as you left it.

You step forward. Slowly. Like your feet don’t belong to you anymore. Your fingers brush against the wall as you move, needing the feel of something solid. You pause at your door. Another noise—a shift. The creak of the mattress springs.

You don’t want to look. Every nerve screams at you not to. But you push the door open anyway. And there he is.

Jungwon.

Sitting on your bed like he never left. He’s leaned back against your pillows, one arm stretched casually along the headboard, the other resting on his knee. Legs spread comfortably, like he owns the room. Like you’re the intruder. “Well,” he says, voice smooth, almost lazy, “you made it farther than I expected. Honestly, I thought you'd fold after the second time you found the window open.” His gaze skims over you—your posture, your silence, your fear.

“You really thought locking doors and whispering to Kailey would make a difference?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Cute.” Then he exhales, almost like a yawn, and shifts his weight to the side of your bed. “But playtime’s over now.” He looks you straight in the eye, the smile gone. “Time to come back to me. This little game was fun... but I’m getting bored.”

He pats the bed beside him—slow, twice.

“Don’t make me chase you again.”

You looked at him like he’d just sprouted horns. “Jungwon… what the fuck is wrong with you?” Your voice cracks from the force of it. Your hands are shaking. You don’t care.

“Get the hell out of my house!” you scream, louder this time. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.

“Babe,” Jungwon said, his voice calm and patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “Stop yelling. It’s embarrassing.” 

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” You reach into your bag, fingers brushing your phone, eyes locked on him like you're defusing a bomb. Your heart racing. But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes.

His hand is on your throat.

“Now why would you do that, huh, babe?” he breathes, his face inches from yours, his breath hot on your face. “I missed you. And I know you missed me.”

His fingers tighten. You choke, your nails clawing at his wrist. Your vision flickers.

“Stop struggling and just accept it, babe. I’m here now. We’re done playing—”

You swing your knee up, fast, hard, straight into his groin.

He makes a sound—half-growl, half-scream—and doubles over, crashing to the floor.

You stumble back, gasping, clutching your throat, then bolt down the hall. You don’t look behind you. You know what’s coming. You hit the living room. The space feels too small—too many corners, too many shadows, and nowhere to hide. Your feet pound the floor as you race toward the kitchen, lungs burning.

But then—His hand. It misses you by less than an inch. 

You throw yourself into the kitchen and lunge for the drawer. The knife. The drawer sticks. You yank. Too slow. His hand grabs your hair—hard—and you feel your head jerk back, your scalp screaming as he slams you forward. Your temple hits the counter edge with a sickening crack. The world wavers. You dropped to the floor.

He’s pacing now, breathing hard, muttering. Mindless. Mechanical. Like a record skipping on loop.

“You were made for me,” he hisses, voice barely above a whisper but trembling with rage. “Don’t you get it? You don’t exist without me. I built you.

He slams the drawer shut with his foot—BANG—and the sound explodes through the kitchen. You flinch instinctively, shoulder curling inward. He laughs under his breath.

“No one else will touch you. Not after this. You think someone’s gonna want you after I’m done with you?” He gestures to you like you were trash. “They’ll see right through you, babe.”

He steps over your legs like they’re part of the floor, starts pacing in front of the fridge, cracking his knuckles, dragging his hand through his hair, muttering. His eyes are wild—glassy and glowing with something sick.

“You keep pretending you’re scared. But you’re not. Not really,” he says, smiling now, voice dipping into something slower, darker. “You like it when I get like this. You made those sounds for me, remember? The begging, the whimpering... the way you said my name when you couldn’t take it anymore.”

He crouches suddenly, right in front of you, and grabs your jaw—tight, fingers pressing into your cheeks.

“You remember that, don’t you?”

You try to pull away. He doesn’t let go.

“I own you. Every noise you make, every breath you take—that’s mine. You don’t get to run anymore. You had your little tantrum. Now?” His voice softens like silk. He stands again, towering above you, breath heaving, arms loose at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or kill you.

“Now you don't get to leave.”

“Please… just stop,” you whispered, voice raw, tears streaking your cheeks as your back pressed against the cold wooden kitchen counter. “You’ve had your fun.”

Jungwon didn’t flinch. He only tilted his head, eyes drinking in your trembling frame like it was art he couldn’t look away from.

“God,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice low and dark with something you couldn’t name. “You’re so damn pretty when you cry.”

You turned your face away, breath hitching.

Jungwon's hand shot out, fingers tangling harshly in your hair. He fisted it tight, yanking your head back to force you to meet his intense gaze. The sudden, painful grip made you gasp, tears flying from your eyes as he wrenched you off your feet. Your knees scraped against the hardwood floor, sending jolts of stinging pain up your legs, but he showed no mercy.

"You don’t get to turn away from me," he growled, voice dripping with venom. 

Jungwon slammed you down onto the cold, unforgiving surface of the kitchen counter, the breath whooshing out of your lungs at the impact. Before you could catch your breath, he had you by the hair again, bending you over the edge of the counter roughly. You felt the chill of the granite against your skin as he forced you to arch your back. "Look at you," Jungwon snarled in your ear, his voice a low, feral rumble. "What a sweet, trembling mess you are. You can't deny how much you fucking love this, can you? How much you've missed having me inside you, ruining you?"

He punctuated his words by grinding his hard, clothed erection against the curve of your ass. You could feel every thick inch of him, a whimper escaped your throat, equal parts fear and shameful, traitorous arousal.

"This is what you do to me," Jungwon growled, giving your ass a sharp smack. "This is the effect you have on me, you fucking tease. I've been thinking about this pussy, about burying myself in you."

He tore the delicate fabric of your panties without hesitation, the rip sharp in the silence. The ruined lace discarded, leaving you bare and shivering as the cold air kissed your exposed skin. His touch followed—fingers finding your slick heat, dragging through your folds with a rough, unrelenting rhythm that stole the breath from your lungs. 

"You don't get to say shit," he hissed, "You don't get to deny me anymore. I'm going to take what's mine, over and over again until you're dripping with my cum."

You heard the frantic tug of his zipper, the hiss of fabric shoved down in haste—he was struggling, almost clumsy in his desperation. He couldn’t wait. The need to be inside you was written in every rushed movement, every uneven breath. Your mind was fogged, flooded with heat, and the sound of him losing control just made it worse. 

Jungwon's hips surged forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your core in one brutal thrust. A scream tore from your throat at the sudden, intense intrusion, your walls clenching desperately around his invading length. He didn't give you any time to adjust, immediately setting a hard, punishing pace as he bent over you from behind.

His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the thundering of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back as he loomed over you. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you completely.

"Fuck," Jungwon grunted, his voice strained with lust and dark satisfaction. “You can hate me all you want. Doesn’t change how perfectly I fit in you.”

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rutted into you. The other snaked up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse jump and race. Your vision swam, head spinning as he fucked you with brutal intensity, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen.

“Beg all you want. I know exactly what you need.” Jungwon growled, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. “By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be nothing left.” 

His fingers tightened around your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.  “You’re going to carry a reminder of me, one way or another.”

A surge of pure panic shot through you at Jungwon's dark promise. Your heart raced, pounding wildly against your ribs as his fingers tightened around your throat, restricting your airflow. You tried to shake your head.

"No," you gasped out, voice barely a whisper. "Please, Jungwon, don't. Pull out, please..."

But even as the words left your lips, you knew it was futile. Jungwon was beyond reason, beyond caring about your pleas and fears. He was driven by a singular, obsessive desire to claim and conquer.

Ignoring your desperate entreaty, he was fucking into you with brutal, animalistic intensity. The kitchen filled with the vulgar sounds of your coupling - the slap of skin on skin, your strangled cries, his grunts and growls of pleasure.

"Fuck, I can feel it," Jungwon snarled, his voice tight with impending release. “You feel that? The way you pull me in like you were made for this? Like your body already knows it belongs to me.” 

He punctuated his words with a harsh thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You felt his cock jerk and pulse, growing even harder, impossibly bigger. Your eyes widened in terror and a sickening mix of reluctant arousal.

"Please," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "Please, don't cum inside me. I don't want to..."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears. With a guttural roar, Jungwon slammed into you one last time, grinding his pelvis against your ass as his cock erupted. You could feel the hot, thick spurts of his release painting your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his cum.

"Take it," he commanded harshly, holding you in place as he emptied himself inside you. "Take every last drop.”

You shuddered and sobbed as you felt his cum filling you up, your body instinctively clenching and milking his pulsing cock. The sheer depravity of it, the utter lack of control, sent a confusing surge of dark pleasure through you.

As Jungwon finally pulled out, you could feel his release leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs.

You couldn’t move so you remained bent over the kitchen counter, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Tears streamed down your face, dripping onto the cold granite surface below. Your body ached, used and abused in the most intimate way possible. The sticky evidence of his release trickled down your thighs, a sickening reminder of your defilement.

Behind you, Jungwon was already fixing his pants, tucking his spent cock away and smoothing down his shirt. He acted as if he hadn't just violated you, just taken something from you that you hadn't willingly given. As if this was an everyday occurrence, a simple transaction.

"Shut up," he barked harshly, silencing your muffled sobs and whimpers. “Did you really think someone would come running if you cried loud enough?”

You flinched at the biting words, then he was bending over you again, looming large and menacing. His hand came up, cupping the back of your head almost gently. For a moment, you thought he might caress you, soothe you. But then his fingers tightened, gripping your hair almost painfully as he wrenched your head to the side to force you to meet his gaze.

"You'll never be clean again," Jungwon whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Not after this. Not after me."

His eyes bored into yours, gleaming with a manic, possessive light. Before you could look away, his mouth was on you, his lips brushing against your forehead in a mockery of a tender kiss. A promise of something far darker.

And he was right, no matter how far you ran, how high you built your walls, or how many times you tried to cut him out—Jungwon always found a way back in. Like smoke slipping through the cracks, like a shadow that knew your every hiding spot. It didn’t matter how fiercely you tried to protect yourself. He would always find you, you knew the truth: you would never be safe from him. Not really. Not ever. 

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A/N: This is probably one of my longer writings and it was all I could think about for so long! I really worked hard on it, and I hope you like it <3 Please like, comment, and reblog if you do enjoy my work because it means the world and helps keep me motivated.

I know this isn't exactly how Void works but let's pretend for this writing 😬 I couldn't think of another scenario

Notes and Warnings: This is angst to fluff I swear! There's talk about insecurities and not being wanted/feelings of being worthless. Please don't read if that is a hard subject to read. The red font is the void talking.

The full fic of this idea

Bob Masterlist

Summary: Void takes over one day and uses everything you've told Bob against you to try and get you to leave Bob's side. When Bob remembers what happens he has to make it up to you.

Word count: 2,930

You and Bob have been close since the vault. The team had assumed you two became a couple from how you acted together. If you were running to the store, Bob was going with you. If Bob was making a mug of tea or coffee, he would prepare one for you as well. Every Tuesday the two of you would watch old cartoons and every Sunday the two of you would meet to have your little book club meeting. You reminded him to eat and drink water daily and he did the same for you. You two just found it easy to take care of each other. 

Since the two of you were so close you shared everything with each other, having someone that close to him was helping him gain control in every aspect. He was more confident in himself and his abilities, Bob had never felt such ease before, the two of you had your routines, had your little bubble where nothing but peace and comfort seemed to reach either of you. Even when Bob was having a dark day, a day where he started to feel himself slip, you still stuck by him to bring in the light again. He felt invincible when he knew he had you. 

Then he dreamt he didn’t have you anymore. 

Bob was having a good day that day, honestly, he was close to having a month of nothing but good days. The team had no mission, no debriefings. Everything felt calm in the tower for the first time. Everyone was off doing their own thing and enjoying the calm before the next storm. You were up in your room when he came in asking if you knew where he could watch Scooby Doo, so instead you invited him to stay and watch it with you. The two of you spent the day sitting closer than two “friends” usually would. After a few hours went by Bob left to go back to his room feeling lucky that he got to spend his day with you once again. 

So why did his brain have to fuck things up? Why did he have to make a whole dream sequence of you leaving him, of you distancing yourself from him, of you saying he was too much to handle, of you confirming his biggest fear. Why did he have to witness you telling him you’d never love him? 

When Bob left his room the next morning the entire tower seemed to stand on edge. No one was aware of the presence yet, but they could tell something changed overnight. He sat motionless at the kitchen table just staring at his mug while replaying the most vivid moment from his dream. “I don’t love you like I loved you yesterday.” Those words echoed, your voice filling every crack in his soul. Was it a dream or was it a haunting memory he had suppressed… “Bob? You okay over there buddy?” Yelena asked uncharacteristically timidly. All she got back in response was a stabbing glare. “Good talk, I’ll go talk to the wall now for more of a response.” 

You walked into the kitchen completely unaware of the situation at hand. You greeted him with your usual sleepy smile and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before making a cup of coffee. “G’morning” you sighed, “Do you have plans today? I thought we could go to the bookstore to find some new books for book club this month.” His heart almost went out for you, how sweet…how innocent…how pathetic you were. 

“That doesn’t seem like a good use of my time.” He said in an abrasive tone. He could see you physically flinch, your eyebrows furrowed together, and your nose crinkled slightly. He noticed you blinked once…twice…a look of pure confusion washed over you. Was it from his comment or was it his tone. Whatever it was made him perk up Oh…This will be fun. This can be a good use of my time. A sick and twisted smile appeared across his face when you looked over and witnessed it form +++++++++++++++++++++you could feel your stomach drop. “Oh fuck” You mumble realizing Bob was gone for the time being. This won’t be fun. 

You weren’t having the greatest day. The rest of the team needed to meet with Valentina to go over their last mission but since you and Bob weren’t a part of that mission you two stayed at the tower. Alone. For hours. You tried your best to keep the day going as any other day, you made the two of you food, something that you knew was one of Bob’s favorites. When you went to give him his plate, he took the plate, gave you a short-harsh smile and dropped it to the floor. “Oops.” He muttered as he walked around you and the mess “I gave you an opportunity to finally become useful you should be thanking me and taking that opportunity. Now clean up your disgusting mess weakling.” His voice continued to echo through your head all day. It didn’t matter if you were in the room with him or on completely different floors he somehow got into your head.

You would never regret your relationship with Bob, you could never regret letting yourself get close to him. You never feared him, that's why you allowed him in, allowed him to learn everything about you-- including your biggest insecurities. Usually, he would hold you on those dark days, the days where your mind fed into your darker thoughts, and he would whisper reassuring words with such care that it seemed that he was afraid if he spoke loudly everything would crumble. You could never regret loving Bob… You did however hate Void. You hated how he was taking something pure, something safe and making you fear it. He was taking the cheapest shots at you, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

You still tried to stick to Bob as much as you could throughout the day. You knew he needed the reminder that people were here for him, that you were here for him. You refused to abandon him just because Void wanted to fuck with your head. You wouldn’t give Void that satisfaction. But that didn’t make it easier to listen to everything the Void was telling you and he was getting more and more irritated by your presence. The more annoyed he got the sharper his words hit. 

“This is pathetic. You’re truly so miniscule, I don’t understand how anyone can put up with your constant presence. Do you not read the room? Do you not know how to take the hints that everyone is leaving because of you? I mean the entire team left you alone today, not only that they left you alone with me with complete and utter darkness. If that doesn’t scream ‘get lost’ I don’t know what would.” 

“How could you just sit there and act like you're fine? Doesn’t it get lonely? Knowing no one has ever truly loved you, never wanted you? Your parents put up with you but that was only for so long, your first team couldn’t work with such a freak and who could ever love someone…something like you? I mean Bob told me everything, well more so you told Bob everything. Again, fucking pathetic, what’s next you tell your diary all you little problems? Dear diary, no one even took a glimpse towards me today. Dear diary, everyone avoided me again today.”  

“How could you survive this long alone?” He asked while slithering closer to you, “Don’t you ever just want to sit in the dark? I know what is in you little weakling I can sense it; you’re just another Bob. It won’t be long til you surrender to me. Won’t be long at all until everyone shows how utterly terrified, they are of you.” 

He glared at you as the only response you gave him was a clench jaw and a slow nod. “No, you’re completely right.” you muttered unfazed by him. You saw his glare fluctuate. Before you could do anything, he was in front of you. “You think you're so strong, so smart, don't you? Nothing is stronger than me, especially not a worthless being like you” his voice deepened as he got angrier. Time seemed to still as you watched his hand jut out and wrap around your throat. He leans in and whispers in your ear “Why aren’t you listening to me? I’m telling you the truth that you are struggling to accept…Bob knows that he deserves better than you. He will never love you. Someone as ridiculous as Bob doesn’t even want you.” A whimper falls from your lips as you stop the fighting. Pride fills his chest knowing he finally found your biggest insecurity. 

The last thing you hear before it everything went black was the elevator chiming and the team yelling your name. Void drops you to the floor without a care and saunters off to his room before the team could get to him. 

Bob wakes up the next day in a haze and with a headache. He slowly got out of bed, aware that he doesn’t have a steady footing just yet. Memories of yesterday kept flashing in the back of his mind. He doesn’t remember much, just that it was only you and him in the tower. He sighed disappointed that he obviously lost control of that side of himself again and missed having a day with you. Hopefully you could fill in the missing pieces for him. 

He pulls at the end of his sleeves as he wanders to the kitchen. The air in the tower felt tense, it was thick, uncomfortable. Something clearly happened. His mind spirals: what happened yesterday? What did I do yesterday? When he gets to the kitchen his shoulders relax seeing you at the counter stirring your cup of coffee still in your pajamas. The peace that you bring him started to settle in his bones once more, but it quickly vanishes when he sees bruises on your neck and shoulder. His eyes rack your build trying to find any more injuries. You wore your hair in a clip and had on a pair of his shorts and one of your tank tops, you knew it might be risky wear clothes that showed the marks that void left the day before but you thought you had time before Bob woke up, last time void took over Bob slept nearly the entire day afterwards.

“What happened!? Those can't be from the last mission you were on that was weeks ago! These - These are fresh.” Bob’s voice echoed, the panic in his voice was clear to anyone who heard. His heart shattered seeing you flinch at his words. “Bob!” Your voice hitched before you forced yourself to relax your shoulder, reminding yourself that Bob did nothing wrong, that he has never and would never hurt you. “How um - how’d you sleep honey?” 

He shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t. Don’t do that, what happened? Why aren’t you answering that question?” He clenched his jaw slightly. “Bob it really isn’t as bad as it looks…the med bay already cleared me.” His eyes widen slightly hearing the words med bay. “Let me see.” The tone in his voice made it clear that there was no room for arguing. He walks up to you; his fingers trail the bruises he can see with a feather-like touch. 

As soon as his fingers touched one of the bruises all the memories from yesterday came rushing back to him. All the hate filled words, all the way Void used your insecurities against you. The way his hand wrapped around your throat before dropping you like you were nothing. All the lies you were told and convinced were true. Bob flinched as if you had struck him with lightning, his hand pulled away from you and he staggered back. 

“I-Oh God I’m going to be sick. I hurt you. He hurt you!” He swallowed harshly and looked around the kitchen frantically. “How long were you left with him? Why didn’t you leave? You should’ve left!” His breathing picked up as he started to panic. "You know none of that stuff is true right? That everything he said was a lie? Fuck I can't believe this. I-You are amazing and and I..." He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head as he tried to find the words, "I don't know what I'd do without you"  

“Bob” you said in a soft but force tone, walking over to him you remembered how he explained that feeling you there helped calm him. You grabbed his hand and put it on your chest for him to feel your heartbeat. “I will never leave you. He didn’t do much damage; he didn’t put me in any room or force me to witness anything. All he did was take cheap shots towards me before leaving a few bruises. It wasn’t you, I know that and so do you. It was just a bad day.” 

His mind continued spiraling as you reassured him. One of his bad days shouldn't warrant you getting hurt.

“I never want you getting hurt. I don’t care if it’s a papercut or Void doing the damage.” Bob relaxes feeling your heartbeat, but the look of distress was still on his face. “Let me make this up to you…where did you want to go yesterday? The um the bookstore, right? We can go and stop at that cafe you like so much. Whatever you want I'll get you whatever you want whenever you want.” He rambles before nodding, “No yeah that’s what we’re doing.” He says with a newfound confidence. “Go get dressed and we’ll head out. Don’t bring any wallet or anything I want to handle it all today.” Before he realized it, he leaned down and kissed the top of your head, the feeling of your head against his lips made him freeze before slowly pulling back. “I’m going to go get ready.” He said quickly before rushing off to his room before you could respond. If only he stuck around to see the blush that bloomed across your cheeks. 

The bookstore smelled like lavender and dust, the sunlight streamed through the windows and the bell above the door gave a high-pitched chime as you stepped inside, trailing behind Bob. He held the door for you but didn't let go of your hand once.

It had been a quiet walk over, but it was the kind of silence you both understood. Not heavy. Not strained. A silence filled with small squeezes of reassurance, glances that asked are you okay? and received silent nods that said I am with you here.

You wandered through the aisles together, the space between you practically nonexistent as Bob leaned in to show you a mystery novel he thought you'd like, or when you held up a book with a dragon on the cover and smile just to see him roll his eyes. He still added it to the stack, of course.

After walking through every aisle, the two of you sat on a bench in the corner, your knees brushing against each other. You were flipping through a book of poetry when Bob spoke quietly, his voice soft like he was still afraid of breaking something.

“I, um… I remembered everything. From yesterday. You know? I just can’t stop thinking about it.” He swallowed hard, but didn’t let go of your hand. “What Void said. What I said.” His knuckles went white, holding the book too tightly now. “I know it wasn’t me, but… it came from me, and I just…I hate that he got to you. That he said those things. I hate that I was a part of the thing that hurt you.”

You turned, placing your hand gently on the side of his face. “You came back. That’s what matters to me. I know the difference, Bob. I always know when it’s you.”

He closed his eyes for a second, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment. “I love you.”

You froze. His eyes blinked open, wide and scared now that the words had escaped him. “I didn’t mean to say that out of nowhere, I just" He shook his head in disbelief shocked by the way the day was turning out. "No. I did mean to say it.” He laughed nervously, looking down at your entwined hands. “I’ve loved you for a while. It was easier to try and pretend it was friendship. But yesterday scared the hell out of me. It still scares me. And today watching you stand there, just being you after everything…” He exhaled shakily. “You’re my person.”

There was no dramatic music. No grand declarations. Just warmth. Just you leaning in, your forehead resting against his.

“I love you too, Bob,” you whispered.

His eyes shimmered, and he smiled a soft, boyish smile that made him look like he wasn’t holding the world on his shoulders anymore. “You do?”

“I do,” you nodded. “I always have. Even when you steal my favorite mug.”

He chuckled and leaned in even closer, his lips brushing yours gently. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, it was safe, it was warm, and full of all the things neither of you had ever needed to say out loud until now.

And for the first time in a long time, Bob didn’t feel like he had to brace himself for impact.

You stayed curled up in that corner for a while longer, books forgotten beside you. The world outside your bubble could wait.

This moment, this peace, it was yours and nothing could ruin it.

Tagging:

@lexanator3000

@moompie

@shiningdyingmoon

@itsjustisa

[itneverendshere]

Bartender!reader reacting to rafes buzz cut for the first time.

made it extra fluffy and flirty bc i've been writing too much angst 😭thank you for the request, hope you like it💗

it's buzzcut season anyway - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You were in the middle of counting your tips when the door creaked open again. You didn’t bother looking up this time.

The lunch rush had finally slowed, and you were way too focused on making sure some old man’s cash hadn’t gotten stuck together. 

Your break started in two minutes. Your plan was to grab something to eat with Rafe and maybe—if you were lucky—convince him to give you one of those neck massages he was so good at.

You’d earned it after dealing with the entitled club members all morning, and he always liked giving you a hard time about being stressed when he came to visit you at work.

If you could just survive until your break, you could—

“Hey, baby,” a voice drawled, warm and familiar.

Rafe.

Your heart did that stupid little thing it always did when you heard his voice, and you couldn’t help but smile even before you looked up.

“Hey, ba—” Your words caught in your throat the second you actually saw him.

Your hand stilled on the cash.

He was standing in the doorway, all long toned limbs and that easy charm you’d fallen for over a year ago. But something was off.

You squinted, your brain trying to catch up to what you were seeing. It wasn’t the way he was standing or the fact that he had on a backwards cap—he always did that.

It was what wasn’t under the cap. Something was missing.

Your eyes went straight to the top of his head.

“Wait—what the—”

You blinked, abandoning the tips on the counter as you stepped around it and walked toward him, your eyes locked on the top of his head, trying to figure out if you were seeing things. 

“Did you buzz your head?”

He grinned, casually leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, totally unbothered. “Yeah. What d’ya think?”

You gawked at him.

“You shaved your head. You literally shaved your head.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. His cap was covering most of it, but you could see enough—enough to know that his thick, messy hair, the hair you’d spent countless hours running your fingers through, was gone. 

Gone.

“Oh my God. You buzzed it? For real?”

Rafe straightened up, lifting his cap and running a hand over the buzzed length, showing it off like he was some kind of model.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that. You don’t like it?”

Your fingers itched to touch it, but you hesitated. You were trying so hard not to freak out. He’d just gone and buzzed his head without even telling you.

“Like it? I—” You sputtered, waving your hand in the air. “Baby, your hair! You just... did this? No warning? No ‘hey, baby, I’m thinking about going full buzzcut, what do you think?’”

His grin turned cocky as he reached out to pull you into him by the waist.

“I thought I’d surprise you. Didn’t expect you to get all worked up over it.”

You gave him a playful shove, but he didn’t budge.

“I’m not worked up! I’m just... shocked. I thought I was gonna get to lunch with my boyfriend and his hair, not—” You gestured to his head, still half in disbelief. “—this.”

He chuckled, leaning down so his forehead almost touched yours. “So... you hate it?”

You gave him a look, trying to stay mad or at least a little indignant about the whole thing, but it was impossible with him looking at you like that.

“You thought I’d like you going from ‘beach boy’ to ‘buzzcut’ overnight with no warning?”

“Pretty much.” He leaned in, “You gonna tell me you don’t like it?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it.

Truth was, you were already starting to like it.

You liked that it was new, that it was him, and that it made him look a little rougher, more rugged. But you weren’t gonna tell him that right away. You hadn’t expected to be into it, not at all.

Rafe’s hair had always been one of your favorite things about him—the way it’d curl up when he got all sweaty in the summer or how it’d fall into his eyes when he was being serious.

But... the buzzcut? You weren’t expecting it to be hot.

But it was. So hot.

“I didn’t say I hate it...” You let your voice trail off as you finally gave in and ran your fingers over the buzzed hair.

It was soft, like velvet, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning.

He chuckled, one hand coming up to cup your chin as he tilted your face up toward his. 

“Knew it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“See? Told ya,” he teased, his hands still gripping your waist as he watched your reaction. “You can’t keep your hands off me now.”

“I never said I couldn’t,” you shot back, your cheeks heating up. “It’s just... I wasn’t expecting to like it this much.”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your cheek. “Admit it. You think I look hot. You’re lookin’ at me like you can’t wait to get me alone.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you playfully pushed at his chest, trying to cover up how much he was getting to you. “Shut up,” you laughed. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“I know you love it.”

You groaned, finally giving in to a full laugh.

“Okay, okay. Fine. You look hot.”

Rafe grinned, pleased with himself.

“Knew you couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a quick peck, unable to help yourself now.

“You owe me lunch for this, though.”

“I brought you lunch,” he said, lifting the bag you hadn’t even noticed in his other hand.

“Oh, did you now?” You raised a brow. “You’re really tryin’ to get on my good side today, huh?”

“I’ll grow it back, don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against your neck. “But for now, you’re stuck with this.”

As you both sat down at one of the tables near the back of the bar, you couldn’t stop sneaking glances at his head.

It wasn’t just the look of it that was getting to you—it was the fact that he’d done something so out of the blue, just like that. He always kept you on your toes, never predictable, and surprisingly, you loved that.

He caught you looking for the millionth time and shot you a smug smile.

“I can tell you wanna say somethin’. Spill.”

You reached over and ran your fingers through the nonexistent hair again, giggling. 

“I just can’t get over it, baby. You look like a whole new person. A sexy, buzzed-head guy.”

His smile softened, his hand finding yours on the table.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I mean, I miss your old hair, but I’m into this. You look hot.” You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to his mouth.

His eyes darkened a little, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Careful or I’m not gonna let you finish your lunch before I drag you outta here.”

Your heart raced.

“Rafe Cameron, if you ruin my lunch break, I swear—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, leaning across the table to press his lips to yours again, not caring that you were still technically on the clock. You melted into him, all thoughts of food forgotten for a moment. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless.

“I can’t believe you buzzed your head,” you whispered, still grinning.

“I can’t believe you’re this obsessed with it.”

“…Fine.”

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Someone Precious II

Caleb x Non MC Reader

a/n: seeing all of you guys really like the first part defo made me feel all warm and giggly! so thank you for all of your lovely comments! also i am not well versed in the realm of medicine/hospitals and stuff so please bear with me as i write the scenes dealing with those, i most likely will briefly touch on those and not go into too much detail. also i finally got a desk and a monitor so now i can do all my writing in comfort rather than hunched over on my bed! Also this part doesn't really have much Caleb unless you include reader thinking about him. another side note, this part will be short but i will write more for the other parts, i just needed this one to be on its own focusing on the pregnancy a bit so that in the other parts i can focus on the relationships with MC, Caleb etc.

also i dont think i mentioned this in my previous part but ill make sure to add it to my masterlist description, the setting of this series will be taking place in a world where ever, evols and wanderers do not exist. some aspects of the characters and how they met have been tweaked to fit with the plot, so pls dont come at me if something isnt how you remember it in the game.

Divider creds @/cafekitsune

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is female and is AFAB, pregnancy,

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

series masterlist

taglist: @aneertawrites @eurydiceknowshesloved @angelichiaro @nommingonfood @ynovaes @animegamerfox @melonssoup @iamawkwardandshy @novthirty @rosevelt632 @sleepless-cloudy @justpassingdontworry @sleepykittyenergy @ijustwannabeyourmuse @iiyumii @eolivy @asakiyu

You sat there numb, your thoughts were a broken record.

'I'm pregnant.'

That's all your brain could handle at the moment. MC sat next to you in silence, rubbing a soothing hand on your back,

She knew that right now what you needed was comfort through gestures and not words, so she just waited patiently until you were ready to say something.

No matter what decision you made, she was ready to support you.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed, you still hadn't spoken up but you had moved to lie in your bed.

MC had gone out to get some lunch, which left you alone with your thougthts.

If there was one thing you had come to a conclusion for, it was that you were going to keep the baby.

Call it a motherly instinct, but you didn't have the heart to abandon an innocent soul.

It wasn't long before MC came back, calling you to come to the dining room. She had gotten your favourite takeaway hoping that it would cheer you up a little bit, and it did.

You smiled as you helped her set the table. As you guys were unpacking the food you decided to finally tell her what was going through your head.

"I'm going to keep the baby. I don't want to abandon an innocent soul and I've always wanted a child, it just didn't happen the way I would have hoped."

You said with a sad smile as you placed a hand on your stomach.

You had dreamed of having a family, more specifically with Caleb. In a way you got your wish, but it felt like fate was cruel for granting it the way they did.

You're still young, you don't even know if you'll even be a good mother. But there's one thing for sure, you have the best possible support system you could ever ask for.

MC's smile mirrored your own.

Dinner was spent in silence, it was comfortable. MC didn't push you for a conversation and you were grateful for that.

●・○・●・○・●・

It had been a week since the news, and now you were here standing in front of Akso Hospital.

You were feeling nervous, a part of you felt like you would be judged for the reason of your visit, but you knew that was just the anxiety talking.

Taking a deep breath you walked in, it was now or never.

The nurse at the reception desk was sweet, her tone and gaze held no judgement as she guided me to the examination room.

You got settled and just laid there staring at the ceiling, you tried to keep your thoughts positive and light, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Caleb.

What it would be like to have him here with you. Would he reassure you? Would he be as nervous as you are?

All these 'what ifs' that'll never become a reality. You could only hope that you could be enough for your child.

●・○・●・○・●・

Your appointment confirmed exactly what those pregnancy tests said, you were six weeks pregnant.

You knew Caleb was the father. He was your first, and honestly your last.

At this moment in time your heart didn't have the ability to love another. He was everything you wanted in a man.

Maybe I should re-evaluate what a man is.

You thought bitterly, but you chided yourself just as quickly as that thought came.

You didn't want to think of him that way or think negatively at all, not wanting those feelings to affect your health and bring any complications for your child.

"It's ok my baby, mommy and Aunty MC will make sure you never feel insecure about not having a father."

Your words were not only to comfort your child, but also to comfort yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

6 weeks later

You were back at Akso Hospital again, this time it was for a follow up appointment.

MC had taken time off work to come with you this time, saying how it's part of her aunty duties.

It was cute, and it never failed to put a smile on your face when she would talk excitedly about all the things she would do with her future niece or nephew.

You had assumed this check up would be the same as the first one, just a normal procedure to make sure that the baby and mum are doing ok.

Boy were you in for a treat.

As your doctor moved the wand around your growing belly you noticed something on the screen that you didn't see last time.

"Congratulations! It seems you'll be having twins."

MC let out the loudest squeal known to man at the news, you could practically feel her excitement radiating off of her.

You matched her energy with a smile on your face.

I guess my little family just grew by one.

You thought to yourself.

"Would you guys like to know the gender or do you want to keep it a surprise?"

Your doctor asked. You personally wanted to keep it as a surprise because you could already see the gears turning in MC's head.

You knew exactly what she was planning and in all honesty, you wanted to let her have her way.

She was your rock and sole supporter through all of this, you would feel bad if you didn't let her do what she wanted.

"I'd like for it to be kept a secret but by all means let her know, I can tell she's dying of curiosity."

You let out a soft laugh, your doctor cleaned up the gel and helped you up.

MC gave you a big hug before you made your way outside.

It didn't take long before MC came skipping out the room, her smile was so bright you thought you might go blind.

That night MC treated you to dinner and insane amount of sweets, which totally satiated the cravings you were having.

●・○・●・○・●・

6 months later

You were in your final trimester, it was a relatively easy going pregnancy, if you ignore the fact that you feel like a walking balloon.

Most of your days were spent in bed as the weight of your stomach made it hard to move around too much.

It was times like these that it made you think of Caleb. Even though you had promised yourself that you wouldn't, but at the end of the day you were still madly in love with a man who ghosted you after your first time.

Crazy isn't it? Your heart was a fool in love while your brain tried to be the rational one, but every now and then you would give in to the thoughts of what would have happened if he didn't run off.

Would he be here helping you through all of this? If he were to come back, how would you confront him?

You could only pray that he didn't show up in front of you any time soon, because the moment he did you would give him a beating of a lifetime.

Your due date was somewhat nearby but not close enough yet. You had your hospital bag packed and a baby carrier all ready to go right by the door. That way you and MC wouldn't be scrambling around last minute trying to find everything.

You were feeling nervous, you didn't know what the delivery would be like and you worried for your babies, wondering if you could make up for the lack of father figure they would have in their life.

You had taken a look at the time and had noticed it was quite late and MC had yet to come back from work. Just as you were about to give her a call, you heard the sound of the door being unlocked.

MC walked in holding a multitude of things, the most obvious one being balloons that read Boy or Girl?

"Surprise!"

MC exclaims, you don't know if it was just you or the hormones but you started bawling. The love that you felt was immense, no words could explain it.

You waddled over to MC to help her but she waved you off and told you to take a seat on the couch as she set things up.

You waddled back to the couch and settled in to the cushions as MC worked quick with her set up.

As soon as she was done she set up her phone so that it would capture the background and us.

"We're gonna do this trend I saw on social media, so just follow my lead."

MC gave a brief explanation and you nodded in understanding.

"Hi I'm your Aunt MC and I think you guys are gonna be two beautiful baby girls."

You giggled, you knew that she already knew the genders but thought it was cute that she wanted to at least pretend that she didn't know.

"Hi my babies, I'm your mommy and I think you guys will be beautiful boy and girl."

You always wanted a daughter and a son, but you also would be happy with either gender as long as they were healthy.

"Okay, now we're gonna do the gender reveal. Take this glass and close your eyes, on the count of three we'll push it into the cakes and see what the genders are."

MC pushed one cake towards you and placed the other one in front of her.

Following her instructions, you placed the glass over the cake and closed your eyes.

"One, two, three!"

You brought the glass down and prayed you actually got some cake in there and not just frosting.

"Ok open your eyes!"

You could hear the smile in her voice.

You opened your eyes and looked at your glass and then MC's, they were both blue.

You pulled MC into a hug, you don't know if it was the hormones or the situation but you started crying, they were happy tears.

You felt so happy that you had such an amazing friend by your side, you didn't even wanna think what life would've been like if she wasn't in it.

In the midst of all the emotions and excitement you didn't notice the seat under you getting wet until you started to feel like you may have peed your pants.

You pulled back from MC and said,

"I think my water just broke."

[jjknowsball]

Battle of the Blondes

Summary: Paige’s lack of interest in current events besides basketball finally catches up to her and leads to a war against a certain blonde point guard

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Word count: 1.5k

Content Warning: mentions of cheating, jealousy, Fluff towards the end.

Notes: I feel like I have not posted in a while, so here is something to hold y’all over until I post perfection chapter 3.

(Also I love when y’all give your thoughts in my inbox, it makes my whole day.😭)

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

Paige could imagine one hundred different ways that she could have spent her Saturday, than being at the almost dead mall.

Don’t get her wrong, She loves a good fashion trip but it wasn’t fun when her girlfriend had already step out every time she had tried to show her something or seemed distracted with her head in her phone.

Azzi didn’t even turn to look at her when she tried to show her the new pink A’ones.

As if on cue, Azzi’s eyes lit up before turning to the blonde.

“I have to take this” Azzi announced before walking out of the exit at the front of the store. Paige groans, sitting down in a seat, and effectively giving up on showing her girlfriend anything that she was interested in.

———-

Paige almost zoned off until she had saw the brunette return in her peripheral vision. She would always feel Azzi’s presence even if she wasn’t looking for her.

One of her many Azzi Only superpowers.

There was something new about the brunette, or well someone new who was next to her.

Kate fucking Martin

Paige never told anyone this but she had always seen the other blonde as her “evil twin.” Too calm and nonchalant.

Plus ever since the DAWG camp, she hasn’t liked how close her and Azzi had become. The hug at the Ace game alone almost led to Paige putting a crack in her beloved iPad.

It hadn’t help that the contact between the two had gotten closer with the duo spending hours on the phone.

Paige didn’t understand how she was losing her and Azzi time to the girl who lived in a corn field or why Martin was currently in Connecticut.

“Hey, Paige” Kate said reaching out her hand with her same charismatic smile.

“Martin” Paige spat out, glaring at the older girl. Paige does not shake the other girls hand which cause her to stare at Paige, as if she wasn’t actively trying to take her girl. The exchange goes on for a while until Azzi breaks up the staring contest by taking both girls hands and leading them out the store.

————

The tension between the two blondes never truly subsides and gets worse as the shopping trip continued. Between the extreme clinginess that was even to much for Paige and Martin who was growing frustrated at the other blond’s antics. Azzi was at her wit ends.

“I’m hunger” Azzi announces after the first three stores, hoping to end the feud between the two girls by talking about something else.

Paige in an attempt to gain her good girlfriend points, started to direct Azzi towards the frozen yogurt shop where she knows that they have all of her favorite flavors and toppings.

This is until the other blonde opens her mouth

“Pretzels on me” Kate says, and Azzi is already following her, mind set from the aroma that the stand was producing.

Paige is seething as she feels like everything she tries to do the blonde tries to one up her, but in order to keep the peace, she takes the cinnamon pretzel from the other girl and shoves it down with her pride.

This is definitely War.

Martin wasn’t going to make her feel like a bitch in front of her own girlfriend.

———-

Paige tries to keep up with the other two girls but they were on a completely different wavelength.

They had bounced from store to store and were brainstorming so fast that it made Paige’s brain spin.

She eventually gave up on keep track of the duo, deciding that she deserved a much needed break at the Lego store.

Only once she walked in the store all Paige could think about was Azzi. How she would like the new line of frozen set, how they could make themselves into legos, how Azzi would explain that there was a difference between the two pink legos shades ( which Paige disagreed with.)

Feeling completely defeated, Paige grabbed the frozen set and race car before checking out and walking out of the store.

When she finally found Azzi, her heart had dropped for the third time today. The duo was in a high-end jewelry store, and there was an assortment of rings on the counter. Both girls looked at each with eyes full of excitement. The worse part was watching how happy Azzi was looking at all the rings and how smug Kate had looked as if she had already won.

Azzi had noticed Paige standing there and tried to signal her over, but Paige had felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her from Kate Martin metaphorically dunking on her.

She waved the younger off planning to spend the rest of the trip in food court which was better than being a third wheel to whatever this was.

———

Paige had felt as if she was losing in the fourth quarter of the most important game of her life.

She watches as Azzi helps Kate hide the jewelry bag before another girl appears. She hugs both Kate and the mysterious girl before turning around to face the table that Paige was at.

She fully expected the younger girl to approach the table and break up with her before running off in the sunset with Kate and the mysterious other blonde, leaving her out to dry.

Instead she was meet with a softer Azzi who took one of Paige’s headphones out that was playing a round of the NBA finals.

“What’s your problem” Azzi asked worried about her girlfriend’s current behavior “ You have been sulking all day.”

“Why don’t you go ask Martin” Paige mocked, throwing her hands up in exaggeration. “ You seem to be more worried about her issues than mine”

Paige knows that she is being childish but she is beyond hurt and the fabricated reality her mind is making up isn’t helping her case.

“Drop the attitude and tell me what your problem is” Azzi demanded, not liking when the blonde got in this mood or when they fought._

And like a golden retriever being reprimanded, she did what she was told

“I don’t like how close you and Martin have gotten” Paige pouted as she slouched in her seat picking at the Chinese food she had ordered “ You can tell me if you are cheating with her, or something”

The statement causes Azzi to stops eating her salad to observe the blonde before bursting out into laughter. Tears started to well in the brunette’s eyes as she doubles over at the blondes hissy fits.

“This is not funny” Paige commented, glaring in disgust that her girlfriend would find this a laughing matter.

“Babe ,she has a girlfriend, who she loves very much, who this whole trip is about” Azzi offered as confirmation

“Martin has a girlfriend?”Paige questioned.

“Yes, and she wanted me to help her with find gifts and a ring to ask her girlfriend to become her fiance. We didn’t tell you because we know you couldn’t handle the surprise and might of spoiled it once she got here” Azzi added on, before jokingly kicking the blonde under the table “I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you”

“How was I supposed to know” the blonde defended herself before letting out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. Her body reacting on its own when it came to Azzi.

“For someone who is on their iPad an awful lot, you sure don’t make good use of it.” Azzi commented as she cupped the older girls jaw, offering a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s go home and watch the last episode of white locus and build those Lego I know you bought”

And Paige can’t argue with that

———-

It isn’t until later that night when the two girls are intertwined with each other in Paige’s dorm, that Azzi brings up the events of the day.

“The way she is going to propose is so cute” Azzi admired.

“The way I will do it will be ten times better” Paige proclaimed. “I will have it at your grandparents do-“

Paige is cut off by Azzi placing a finger to her lips to silence her.

“You’re not supposed to tell me, it supposed to be a surprised” Azzi giggled into the side of the older girl.

Both girls fell into a natural silence at the mention of marriage. It was something they both had wanted but were too scared to talk about. Paige had found it comforting that it was something that the other girl thought about too.

Paige’s train of thought is interrupted when Azzi turns to face her before placing a kiss on her lips. The brunette sits up before saying.

“I still can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you with Kate Martin” Azzi said, voice coated with fake hurt.

“I always thought she was your favorite blonde” Paige joked, rubbing the younger girls back.

“If it is between you and her, I would always pick you” Azzi reaffirms softly, before drifting off to sleep.

In Paige’s head that means she won by a gazillion points .

——

(The next morning, She made sure to login to instagram to like the older girls proposal instagram post, before dm “truce?” to which the other girl laughed )

[thirteenfrogs]

‘hot & heavy’ — leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x fem!reader

based on hot & heavy by lucy dacus !

italics are flashbacks

not proofread and idk if makes sense

so. many. words. (7.8k)

—

being back here makes me hot in the face

hot blood in my pulsing veins

england, you know, is home.

you associate that word with the country so often that it always surprises you that the dictionary definition of home isn't simply the polaroid of your house in milton keynes that you took when you were 8.

england is home even when you leave, and it's home when you come back after years away.

being back in england — specifically in milton keynes — makes your cheeks warm, and you're not sure whether it's the uncharacteristically hot sun or something deeper in the pit of your stomach that makes you all too aware of the hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weighing on my brain

hot and heavy in the basement of your parents' place

your memories of milton keynes are varied — some are from your childhood, where you spent hours wishing on dandelions, kicking a ball around the neighbouring streets, and chasing the ice-cream van with a 50p coin you found in the gutter in the hopes of a screwball or a mr. whippy.

some memories are from your teenage years, where the bus ride to school was more entertaining than any parties your friends dragged you to in short dresses and the promise of a kiss from the good looking lad in the year above, no matter how much you insisted that you would much rather go to the cinema with your mates (and sneakily hold hands with your best friend).

few memories are from your adult years, when you decided to travel to neighbouring cities and spent hours exploring the intricacies of museum architecture and flirting to get free drinks in the new pub that opened around the corner from your secondary school.

every memory, though, includes her.

leah williamson — your childhood best friend, teenage love, and the reason why being back home feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time.

you used to be so sweet

leah used to pick flowers.

it was something that, more often than not, ended with you both being chased down the street by an angry neighbour who had fists in the air yelling that they were already on the phone to your mums and you would both be in for it when you got home.

it was always worth it, though, when after running so fast for so long you swear your legs could fall off, leah presents you with a fistful of whatever flowers were growing in that particular garden with some blades of grass and the roots still attached to the muddy bouquet. there would always be a dandelion, too, and the blonde girl would insist you make a wish just so she could pester you for hours after about what you had wished for.

and even when your mum does inevitably tell you off after the streetlights had come on and signalled your time to retreat home, the crumpled flowers you hold tight in your grasp remind you that tomorrow you'll do it all again, and the collection of wilted flowers on your windowsill will surely grow once more.

when she sees you again for the first time in almost 5 years, leah refrains from breaking into the nearest garden to steal you a flower and instead settles for a quick hug that feels more like home than any house she's ever lived in.

now you're a firecracker on a crowded street

couldn't look away even if i wanted

it’s merely a coincidence, you tell yourself, that your trip back home coincides with leah’s 26th birthday.

she invites you to a small get-together she’s having in london, and you try not to think about all the birthday traditions that have been broken in the years apart from your ex-best-friend. gone are the sleepovers you held the night before, gone are the parties your families had in your back-gardens, and gone are the shared slices of your favourite cakes.

get-togethers in hidden bars in london are new to you, but they seem familiar to leah and those she considers most important to her.

meeting up with her teammates and friends is a bittersweet experience, and you try not to think about how the leah they’re celebrating is wildly different to the leah you’re celebrating.

you look at the blonde and see the girl you once considered your better half, your extra limb, and they simply see the woman she is today.

leah’s the same as she always was, you notice from your seat at the bar, as she attracts the attention from the entire room without even trying. she’s still the same leah that was a thousand times more popular than you, and she’s still the same leah that never seemed to notice the hold she had on others.

you watch the way her eyes light up when she’s had a drink, and it takes you back to bonfire night when you were 7. when leah first held a sparkler on your crowded street, and her immediate thought was to try and cast a spell on you, giggling like a madman when you throw yourself to the floor like you had been struck.

you think the sparkle in her eyes is still there, and you pretend not to notice the way it brightens when she catches sight of you watching her. you couldn’t look away even if you wanted, and it takes a tap to your shoulder to snap you out of your leah-induced haze.

“kei!” you throw your arms around the ginger in a warm hug, and she responds back eagerly.

“hi, y/n/n, it’s so good to see you again.” keira smiles, squeezing your shoulders gently.

“it’s been a while.” you agree, letting her take the seat next to you.

you find yourself sticking with keira and other familiar faces, such alex and georgia, for a lot of the night — getting tipsy as you reminisce on shared memories and anecdotes about a certain blonde who was drunkenly serenading the entire bar.

at one point, it’s just you and keira, both equally drunk as you laugh about that time leah fell off a swing and was convinced that a ghost had pushed her.

“she was mad — still is, i think.” keira grins, glancing over to leah as she dances around the room.

“it’s a wonder i survived so long.” you agree, a smile on your flushed cheeks.

“i always thought you were it for each other, you know.” keira muses quietly, glancing between you and leah across the room.

“me too.” you take a large gulp of whatever drink georgia had forced into your hand 5 minutes prior.

“i still do.” you glance up at her in confusion, but keira’s slightly slurred words continue, “i know i’m drunk, and i know you are too, but i really think you shouldn't give up on her. she never gave up on you, not really.” at your silence, keira backtracks slightly, wincing at her own drunken word-vomit. "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have- i know you're happy in spain now, i didn't mean to bring up old-"

"i’m moving back to london soon.”

and with that, you make your way to the bar to order another drink, eyes drifting around the room and automatically landing on the woman of the hour, who takes that as her cue to stumble over for the first time that night.

“dandelion! i didn’t think you were coming!” she shouts over the song that you know was once her favourite, wrapping her arm over your shoulder and squeezing you close in a once-familiar embrace.

“neither did i.” you admit quietly, never one to be able to lie to her.

“i’m glad you did, now we can sing our song!”

“no karaoke-“

“yes karaoke!”

and like no time had passed at all since you were leah and y/n, the blonde leads you to the small stage with a firm hand.

“one song, and then i’m sitting back down.” you say firmly, and leah simply grins, pushing a piece of hair out of your face as gently as she can with her clumsy hands.

“that’s my shy girl.” she coos as she pinches your cheek teasingly, and you simply roll your eyes. "you never were one for the stage, were you, dandelion?"

try to walk away but i come back to the start

led me to the floor even though i'm not a dancer

the night before your year 11 prom was spent in leah's bed — which was practically yours too with how much time you spent there growing up — laying side by side and staring at the ceiling as if the answer to why your cheeks were so warm was written above the bed.

"what if someone asks me to dance?" it's the first question you ask that betrays how nervous you really are for the upcoming event, and leah scoffs in response.

"tell them to shove off because you've already got a dance partner." the answer is so leah that you have to take a moment to roll your eyes, and because she apparently has eyes on the side of her head, she kicks you for it.

"i don't suppose that dance partner is you, is it?" you tease lightly, bumping your shoulder with hers and watching expectantly for her rebuttal.

"who else would it be?" she turns to look at you, blue eyes searching your face for the answer she knows she'll never get.

because the answer is nobody. there's not a single other person on planet earth you would trust to dance with you, and since there aren't any martians visiting any time soon, you'll stick with leah.

and stick with leah you do.

you're attached to her side when your mums take as many pictures as their cameras can physically hold, leah's hand settled on your waist and your head leaned against her shoulder as you stand outside your house. you pretend the blush on your cheeks is from the never-ending compliments from your families and the warm sun, and not the way that your best friend squeezes your hip gently to remind you pay attention to the cameras and not her.

you remain within arm's length of leah the entire night except for the 2 minutes that she disappeared to fetch you a drink that she knew you would need in the warm room, and even then she had tried to take you with her.

your interlocked pinky fingers keep you close as you make your way around the room, mindlessly chatting to your classmates.

you didn’t go near the dance floor, though, no matter how often leah tried to drag to towards it. you had made your opinions on dancing very clear and leah swore if that she heard the words “i’d rather die” come out of your mouth again then she’d kill you herself.

instead, the pair of you mingle with all of your friends and poke fun at the teachers’ outfits as they supervise the room with eagle eyes, though the blonde never lets up in her begging for a dance.

“come on, dandelion, just dance with me? please?” the pout on leah’s face is one you’ve seen many times in your decade of friendship, and not once have you ever had the heart to deny it.

“lee,” you whine, feeling your resolve crumble further when she steps closer. “i’m not a dancer. i don’t dance.”

“i do! i’ll show you how to do it.” she looks down at you with her most pleading expression, “please?”

“i’ll look-“

“you won’t look stupid, and don’t even think about suggesting it again.” she squeezes your pinky gently with her own, and you know you’re gone. “if anyone says anything, i’ll kick ‘em right in the face with these stupid heels — and that’s a promise!” you bite your lip hesitantly with a smile and leah presses further, “come on, y/n/n, please? don’t make me beg in-front of everyone here.”

“…fine. one dance.”

“that’s all i need, my girl.”

with leah’s hand in your own, you don’t feel nearly as nervous as you would’ve normally, and she leads you to the floor where you spend the rest of the night.

you find that you don’t hate dancing so much when leah’s your partner.

ask me all the questions that your parents wouldn't answer

"did you know that olivia in your geography class has two mums?”

it’s a tuesday night and leah’s in your bed. you’re 15 and there’s not much to do on a school night other than talk about whatever comes to mind. leah’s the first, tonight, and you wonder if she’ll finally let slip the reason she’s been deep in thought all day.

“really? she’s never mentioned it before.” you shrug, unsure of where your best friend is going with the conversation. “i guess she wouldn’t have a reason to, would she?”

leah bites her lip, clearly deep in thought. you have half a mind to tell her not to think so hard or her head will hurt, but you refrain.

“hey, what’s up?” you poke her cheek gently, hoping to snap her out of whatever headspace she was in. “you a homophobe or something? because i’ll have you know my cousin’s gay and-“

“i’m not a homophobe, you dick!” leah shoves you with a huff, and you grin at your success. “i’m just curious!”

“bi-curious or just curious?” you tilt your head, knowing it would only annoy her further.

“dandelion, i’m getting annoyed here.” she warns, glaring at you as best as she can with her 16-year-old baby face. “i’m just-“ she sighs, flopping back down on your bed. “do you think it’s…okay?”

“for?” you ask, laying down beside her.

“for two girls to…y’know, have a baby? get married?”

“i don’t see why it wouldn’t be okay?”

“i don’t see why either, but…” leah glares up at the ceiling. “when you think of getting married, what do you think of?”

you blink at the slight change of subject, but conversations with your best friend often go from topic to topic, so you shrug and answer honestly.

“cake- ow, leah! don’t hit me!”

“be serious for once!”

“i’m trying!” you huff, rubbing your shoulder from where she had so kindly elbowed you. “okay, when i think of getting married i think…a white dress, and some nice flowers. i think about songs i’d like to have play too. and cake.”

“what about who you’re marrying?”

“i don’t know, i never think of that.” you shrug, wondering what leah was getting at.

“well isla in our form class is convinced she’s going to marry jack, and she says she imagines it all the time. do you?”

“do i imagine marrying jack? god, no.” you snort at the idea. “he picks his nose still, did you know that?”

“y/n! be serious!” leah groans.

“stop beating around the bush and ask me what you really want to ask, then!” you huff, kicking her shin.

there’s silence for a moment, and you risk a glance towards the blonde.

she’s already looking at you — blue eyes piercing yours. “…do you ever think of marrying a girl?”

you roll over to your side and look back at her, eyes roaming over her freckled face that seemed awfully troubled for a simple tuesday night.

you shrug, “i dreamt i married lucy liu once, but i think that was because i fell asleep watching charlie’s angels.”

“was it…did it feel weird?” she furrows her brows the way she always does, and you reach out and press your thumb between them to remind her to stop.

“no, it was nice until she went all bridezilla on my dad. i can’t remember why, though. think he said her dress was ugly or something.” you remove your hand from leah’s face, but it doesn’t go far because the blonde reaches up and intertwines your pinkies and lays your hands on the pillow between your faces.

“i’d go bridezilla on him too. just for fun, though.” leah nods thoughtfully.

“and that’s why i wouldn’t marry you.” you roll your eyes, squeezing her finger.

“no? not even if i proposed with a million dandelions?” she asks with a smug smile, and you grin as she finally seems to relax.

“hmm…if you did that and got me a pretty ring, i wouldn’t say no.” you nod.

“the haribo ones aren’t good enough for you anymore?” she smiles, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips.

“diamonds are a girl’s best friend, lee. you gotta know that if you’re ever gonna propose to someone.” you poke her nose gently with your spare hand, and she grabs it with a gentle squeeze.

“i’ll keep it in mind.”

how could i deny a diamond in the rough?

it was awfully cliché, and you're aware of that, but leah had insisted that it was a rite of passage to play dancing queen on your 17th birthday, and so you allow the blonde to twirl you to her heart's content as the lyrics blare through your house. she sings along as she always does, never one to shy away from showing her passion for music and love for singing.

your families are scattered around the house and the back garden — leah’s grandmother playing scrabble with your aunt at the kitchen table, jacob kicking a football outside with your cousins, and both your’s and leah’s mums gossiping over a glass of wine while your dads manned the barbecue on the deck. to anyone else, this wouldn’t be considered a very good 17th birthday celebration, but to you it was perfect.

your other friends don’t understand that this is how you’d rather spend your birthday over getting drunk in a field (though, you weren’t opposed to that every now and then), and so it’s only leah who you spend the evening with, singing, dancing, and drinking as much as your families allow.

when it’s time to blow out your candles, it’s leah who stands beside you with a soft smile as your families sing the song you hate so much. it’s leah who presses a kiss to your cheek and tells you to close your eyes and make wish.

‘i wish it could always be like this.’

you open your eyes as watch as the smoke rises to ceiling, blushing as everyone cheers and claps, and giggling when jacob begs for the cake to be cut already.

“what did you wish for?” leah asks quietly, eyes solely on you as you watch your dad carry the cake over to the counter.

“you’ve asked me that almost everyday since we were 6, lee.” you chuckle, leaning into the arm she has around your waist. “and i’ve never once told you.”

“i was hoping today would be different.” she pouts dramatically, “but, alas, my dandelion keeps her secrets.” the hand she places over her heart makes you roll your eyes fondly, and leah simply continues her theatrics for as long as she can before getting distracted with a slice of cake — typical.

you can’t help but feel like today is different, though. maybe it’s just because your head feels a little fuzzy from the beers your dad had allowed you to have, or maybe it’s because leah’s arm had been wrapped around your waist all day and you wonder how you’ll cope if she never does it again. either way, there’s something in the air that evening, and you feel it close in on you when leah shoves a piece of cake in your face, smearing icing across your cheeks with a laugh so loud, you wonder if you’ll go deaf.

you freeze in shock when it happens, and even though you can see everyone in the room cracking up, it’s leah’s laugh that captures your attention, and it’s her smile that you want to shove a piece of cake into.

so you do.

war is declared that night, and despite your mum’s protests about getting food everywhere, you and leah find yourselves in a cake fight that resembles the great snowball war of ‘05.

your cousins and jacob join in, like all children do, and you can hear your dad placing bets on who’ll be the first to tap out, but your attention is solely on your best friend and how stupidly beautiful she looks when she laughs. you don’t know anyone in the world who could pull off a cake-smeared face so well, but leah seems to do it in a way that has your heart beating faster with more than just adrenaline as you run around the kitchen with cake in your fists.

you know you’ll regret this all when you have to clean up later, and you know your hair will never forgive you for the amount of chocolate in it, but in those moments where cake is flying across the kitchen and out the back door, you know you’ll be okay.

eventually, your mum puts a stop to it all and orders your dad to hose you all off in the garden (something he takes sadistic pleasure in as you all scream and run away from the ice-cold water, leah even using your dog as a shield while you used her), and your aunt ends up taking your cousins home before they could catch a cold.

people start to leave slowly, giving you one last birthday wish and a kiss to the head, until finally it’s just you, leah, and your parents.

your mum sends you both upstairs with a reminder not to stay up too late gossiping like always, and you and leah simply share a look before running up the stairs and attempting to push one another down them.

after you take turns showering and changing into some pyjamas, you both settle on your bed with the lord of the rings trilogy lined up for the 4th time that month, just because it was leah’s favourite.

“that’s you.” you point to the screen where gollum currently is, like you always do, and leah smacks a pillow down on your face, like she always does. “that never gets old.” you grin.

“it never gets funny.” the blonde huffs, stealing popcorn out of your hand instead from the bowl like a civilised person. “one day that mouth of yours will get you in trouble, dandelion.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.” she nudges your shoulder with her own. “and i’ll have you know i look nothing like gollum; i’m far more beautiful.”

“that’s not a very nice thing to say about your twin, leah.” you shake your head disapprovingly, and leah scoffs.

“that’s it!” and before you can even begin to comprehend what’s happening, leah’s attacking you.

the pillow that was once behind her head is now in her hands as she swings it down on your face, and you barely have time to react before it comes down again. leah’s laugh is loud as you squeal, trying to escape her wrath to no avail.

“i surrender!” you finally shout after far too long, and leah grins triumphantly from her place above you.

your breathing is heavy, and your cheeks are warm, but leah’s eyes are comforting. they don’t hold your gaze like usual, and instead they glance down to your parted lips with an unrecognisable expression.

“you surrender?” she double checks, holding the pillow threateningly.

you nod, trying to catching your breath.

“and you won’t say anything else about my appearance?”

“my lips are sealed.” you nod, watching as leah drops the pillow

“i can’t think of anything clever to say about your mouth,” she says, brushing some of your hair out of your face gently, “i just…”

you hold your breath as leah leans in close, lips brushing against yours, tentatively, for the first time.

you think about the first time leah ever kissed you when you were 6. when you had just learned how to ride your bike and in your excitement to show your best friend, you stopped looking where you were going. you had hit the curb and flown over the handlebars and onto the pavement. it was leah who pulled you up to your feet, and it was her who pressed a magic kiss to your grazed palm to stop your tears.

you remember thinking it was best magic kiss you had ever gotten, because it worked in taking away like the pain like all magic kisses too.

now, though, you know it pales in comparison to this.

you don’t think anything could ever live up to feeling of leah’s soft lips on yours, and her gentle hold on your jaw. nothing will ever compare to the way she slowly pulls away, smiles at you, and then pulls you back in for another.

you led me in your world until you had enough

the day after your kiss with leah, you find that she’s nowhere to be found.

you don’t wake up to leah’s arms wrapped around you like you usually do after a sleepover, and a quick look around your house tells you that leah’s not downstairs critiquing your mum’s pancakes like usual either. your dog sits at the front door whining in the way he only does when he misses your best friend, and you wonder why leah left so early and where she could have possibly gone.

you find that as the day goes on, your worry for leah increases. she hasn't responded to — or even read — the numerous texts you've sent, and even jacob had simply shrugged his shoulders when you asked where she could be.

you're pretty much moments away from reporting her as missing when you hear her familiar laugh in the park near your house. you wonder if you've gone crazy enough to start hearing things, but once glance out your bedroom window confirms that leah is, in fact, at the park. she's kicking a ball around with some girls you recognise as her friends from football, and you wonder why she hasn't invited you like she normally does.

despite every cell and fibre in your body telling you to close your window and pretend you never saw her, you find yourself clipping the lead onto your dog's collar and walking him across the road like you had a reason to be there apart from confronting your stubborn best friend on why she had seemingly disappeared all day.

leah doesn’t notice you — if she does, she ignores you — as you approach, your dog tugging the lead with the insane strength that only appears whenever he sees leah.

“hey, y/n!” one of leah’s friends waves, and that’s when the blonde finally looks your way.

leah reluctantly kicks the ball away, sending her friends chasing after it, and turns to you with an air of coldness that you had never been on the receiving end of before.

“haven’t see you all day,” you remark casually, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes dismissively. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, fine.” leah shrugs, patting your dog’s head lightly as he happily licks her hand.

“oh.” you’re not really sure what to say after that. you watch her for a moment, taking notice of the way she avoids your gaze. “did you want to talk about-“

“look, i’m really sorry but my coach says i don’t need any distractions. can you leave me alone?”

with that, your best friend (?) walks away, leaving you standing there in confusion.

“coach says i don’t need distractions.”

you wonder if leah sees you as a distraction, or simply just the kiss. you hope it’s neither, but the way she seems to avoid you like the plague for weeks after your conversation tells you it’s probably both. she spends all her time with football, and even in school she seems to find a way to distance herself.

and so you see less of your best friend as her passion for football grows, and you feel selfish when you find yourself missing her.

you don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for her, but a part of you deep down knows that it’s because you don’t want her to be happy without you.

she is, though. and that hurts more than anything. leah seems perfectly fine to spend all her time with her football friends, and you find that your late night talks have been replaced with an occasional text asking about homework that never leads to anything more than a 1 minute conversation.

leah doesn’t call anymore, and so you don’t either. she doesn’t knock on your door and beg you to come out, so you take the long way around town to avoid her house.

you still attend her matches — because no matter how upset you are at her, she’s still your best friend and you’d always support her — but she doesn’t run to you at the end of the games anymore, instead she sticks close to her teammates and barely glances in your direction.

drifting away from leah is a slow process, and yet you feel completely blindsided because one minute she was your leah, and the next it felt like you barely knew her at all.

you knew that i wanted you to bend the rules

how did i believe i had a hold on you?

losing leah feels like losing a part of yourself, and you hate that it’s because, technically, you are.

you had always been leah and y/n.

when one of you wasn’t in school, teachers would ask the other where your other half was. when your mum made dinner every evening, there was always enough for another plate because she knew that your best friend would be there whether she was invited or not. when leah’s mum booked that family holiday to spain in 2008, there was an extra ticket with your name on it because she would never dream of separating leah from her y/n. you would never find one without the other, and that’s the way it always had been.

leah and y/n.

you don’t know how to just be y/n.

you find yourself looking to your side to tell her a funny thought that popped in your head, only to be met with nothing because leah’s not around anymore.

your parents don’t understand when you tell them you’ve simply grown apart, and neither do you, because ‘growing apart’ wasn’t in the cards for leah and y/n.

leah and y/n were supposed to stay together until the very end, even when the street lights turned off. leah and y/n were meant to stand by each other’s side, even when you were being lectured for stealing dandelions from mr. miller’s garden. leah and y/n were forever and always, like you had promised when you were 7.

but you’re not 7 anymore, and leah hadn’t given you a dandelion in so long, you wonder if you still know how to make a wish.

you were stupid to think you were ever important to leah. how did you believe you had a hold on her?

you were always stronger than people suspected

underestimated and overprotected

you knew that leah joining the senior squad for arsenal was inevitable — she was an amazing player with passion for the game and a love for arsenal that could rival even the biggest gooners.

it doesn’t surprise you at all to hear through the grapevine about leah’s permanent move to london, but you think that fate isn’t on your side when you find out she lives close to your new london flat that you share with your friends from university.

you’re just grateful that your busy school schedule and leah’s packed football life means no accidental meetings in the big city.

except it does. because of course it does.

you think maybe it's because your body had been accustomed to being near leah your entire life that it seeks her out even when you know it shouldn't. you think that must be why you always seem to bump into her no matter where you go.

it certainly doesn't help that you can't resist attending her matches too. call it routine, or simply call it love, but you don't think there's a single world where you wouldn't support the girl you once considered your best friend. watching leah play football had been a staple in your life for as long as you can remember, and there had been too much change in your life for you to ever consider giving this comfort up.

you pretend you don’t notice the way her eyes always seem to find your figure in the mostly-empty stands, and you always make sure to wear a jacket over your williamson jersey just so she doesn’t know that she’s the only reason you’re still there when everyone else goes home.

after a particularly good match, a few months into the season, leah finally picks up the courage to approach you. it had been months of longing stares from the pitch, showing off whenever she was near your section, and trying to catch your eye at the end of a match, and leah was now finally ready to speak to you.

properly. for the first time since she decided to be a coward almost a year ago and tell you you were a distraction instead of saying the truth.

the truth was that she loved you.

leah had loved you for as long as she could remember, and she was sure that she’d love you for the rest of her life.

the only thing to do now was ensure that you’d actually be in her life, so she could love you up close again.

it’s after a pretty intense match that leah finally had enough to confidence to approach you (after a few words of encouragement from alex, of course). you were sat in the stands, talking animatedly with another girl about the game.

leah swallows the brief feeling of jealousy, and walks towards your seat. you look up almost immediately, like you can sense her, and your expression doesn’t change. you pull your jacket tighter over your body, and leah catches sight of the red jersey beneath.

she hopes it’s her last name across your back.

“big fan?” leah nods towards your jersey as she leans over the barriers slightly, her voice surprisingly not giving away the nerves she was feeling at being face-to-face with you again after so long.

“oh, absolutely,” you agree, your voice dripping with the sarcasm that she knows too well, “i just love vicky losada.”

leah scoffs, “you’re wearing #6, really? let me see.” she gestures for you to take your jacket off, and you shake your head.

“6 my favourite number.” you shrug.

“14 is better.” she taps the #14 on her shorts pointedly.

“ever so humble, williamson.”

“you know me well, dandelion.” the nickname falls from her lips as easily as it used to, as if no time had passed at all since the last time she said it.

like you were still leah and y/n.

she seems to think so too, because leah grabs her own jersey and pulls it over her head. “here,” she says, holding it out to you, “it’s not a #6, but one day it will be. for you.”

you hesitantly take the warm jersey, “i’ll hold you to that.”

“wait, let me sign it.” leah grabs a sharpie that someone had left in the seat beside you and you hold the jersey out for her, trying to keep your eyes solely on her hands and not anywhere else. “there.”

“how much do you think this would go for on ebay?” you ask, folding the jersey and tucking it under your arm.

“not funny.” leah frowns, the familiar crease forming between her eyebrows. “you have to keep that.”

“we’ll see.” you grin, waving goodbye as you step back.

“see you next week.” leah waves, watching you go.

it’s only when you get home do you realise what she’s written on the jersey.

‘call me?’ with her phone number attached.

your roommate wonders what has you smiling so widely for the rest of the evening.

—

things with leah don't go back to how they were — you doubt they ever will — but the new normal, you find, isn't so bad either. it definitely helped that leah had offered a sincere apology for what she had said and how she had been acting with a collection of your favourite snacks, your favourite movie, and a dandelion she had insisted you use to make a wish about her embarassing herself at her next match — which she seemed to think she deserved for how she had treated you.

you don't bother telling her that when you close your eyes and blow on the flower, you only wish for the best for her, like you always have.

you want the best for leah, and a part of you deep down knows that you don’t fit into that idea anymore.

you cherish the time you spend with your once-best friend, and you let her cart you around london with her teammates for months before you break the news that you’re leaving for good.

when i went away it was the only option

couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution

the job offer comes at the perfect time. if you didn’t know better, you’d probably say it was divine intervention or the years of dandelion wishes catching up to you and granting you this once and for all.

either way, you don’t dwell on what causes your boss to offer you a position in spain, you simply give a grateful smile and ask when you can start.

you try not to think about the fact that spain reminds you of leah — of that family holiday you were invited to back when you were 9. you try not to think of the hours you spent playing mermaids in the pool and getting sunburned while eating as much food as your little bodies could handle.

you think you’d be able to find a connection to leah no matter where in the world you are.

every time you walk past a group of children playing football, you’re taken back the hours of running around fields with your blonde best friend as she dribbled past you like you weren’t even there — and then letting you take the ball back moments later because she felt bad.

every time you go grocery shopping, your brain subconsciously reminds you which foods leah does and doesn’t like, as if she’ll be popping around for tea like you live on the same street again and not in a whole different country.

leah didn’t take that easily, either — the fact that you wouldn’t be within in walking distance of her anymore.

you remember the way her eyes shined with tears when you showed her your transfer email. you remember the way she begged you stay, insisting that the better pay and higher position wouldn’t matter if you moved in together. she promised she would take care of bills, and that all you’d have to do is stay.

she didn’t understand that it wasn’t like how it used to be.

leah wasn’t the sun. not anymore. your life had to revolve around something else now.

spain is quite sunny, anyway. you’re sure you’ll find something new.

the most that i could give to you was nothing at all

the best that i could offer was to miss your calls

you settle into your new home quickly, and when you ignore the constant ache in your chest, you find that spain makes you quite happy.

leah calls more than she did when you were in london, and you find yourself purposely ignoring them for the sake of letting her down easily. you lived in spain now, and leah lived in london. it just wouldn’t work.

you wish you were a big enough person to pick up the phone, but you knew that the second you hear her voice again, you’d be back to square one.

the most that you can give is nothing at all.

try to walk away but i come back to the start

and it happens over and over and over and over again

over and over and over and over again

i wish i was over it, over it, over it, over it

even in spain, you think of leah.

you always think of leah.

you watch her games whenever you can — both for england and for arsenal. you buy a williamson #6 jersey when she changes her number and you wear it proudly whenever you sit in front of the tv and watch her play the game you had become so accustomed to.

the signed jersey from all those years ago is the one you wear to sleep. leah’s message has long since faded, and it doesn’t smell like her anymore, but the comfort it brings is the same as it always was.

every birthday, you find yourself staring at the candles wondering what you should wish for. back when you had leah everything, you could always come up with something new to wish for. now, though, you don’t know. there’s only one thing you want, and you can’t have her it. when you close your eyes, the warmth of the candles in front of your face uncomfortably familiar, you only see images of leah. you see her smiling, laughing, and playing.

you wish for her happiness.

you’re not sure what that means for you.

a hidden gem, my own goldmine

you had the wide and wild eyes

leah isn’t just your favourite footballer anymore.

she’s an inspiration to thousands of people, one of the best in her field, and you know deep down that you’ve done the right thing by leaving.

she’s doing everything she ever wanted, what does it matter if she’s not doing it with you?

you’re sure she doesn’t miss you, anyway.

you pretend not to notice when leah views your instagram stories, and you act like it doesn’t make your ache to reach out to her.

but you can’t.

you were a secret to yourself

you couldn't keep from anyone else

now you're the biggest brightest flame

you are a fire that can’t be tamed

you're better than ever, but i knew you when

leah williamson, england captain. but you remember when she was simply leah, the girl with legs too long for her body and a smile too wide for someone in the middle getting told off for tracking mud into her mum's kitchen.

leah williamson, european champion. but you were there when she was just leah williamson, the teenager determined to prove herself and make her family proud.

you held her when she had a bad game, and you cheered on the sidelines when she played her first match as a gunner.

before she was anyone else, she was your best friend.

but...she had always been more than that, hadn't she?

she was always meant for more than you and your garden bouquets and your late night conversations.

she was always going to be more than that little street on milton keynes, and maybe you had always known that you were doomed for heartbreak.

leah williamson had never really been yours.

not even when you were 16, and she told you she liked you the way girls should like boys.

she wasn't yours when she tentatively pressed her lips against yours for the first time on your 17th birthday.

she wasn't even yours when she promised she was.

she had always been her own person, and you were simply the idiot on the sidelines with your arms open for whenever she felt like being someone else’s for a moment.

she had never been yours, but you had known since the day she first presented you with a stolen flower when you were 6 that you were hers.

leah wasn't yours, much like that dandelion wasn't really yours either. because she had ripped it from the ground outside mr. miller's house much like she had done to your heart when she told you that you were a distraction.

you’ve had a long time to get over leah, and an even longer time to find yourself outside of being her best friend. but either you simply don’t want to, or that birthday wish you made when you were turning 17 really did come true, because you find that leah’s the only person you want even after years apart. even after leah had broken your heart and failed to fix it, you still want her to hold you at the end of the night and tell you everything she thinks and feels, and you want nothing more than to listen to her voice and the steady beat of her heart and know that you’re home.

you think that maybe it’s not a bad thing to still want leah. maybe you can start over. you can be leah and y/n again.

it's bittersweet to see you again.

you spend most of your time home falling back into routine with leah, much like the one you had when you were 16.

and while the conversations no longer revolve around who of your classmates fancies who, or how badly you think you did on your recent exam, you feel the same warmth on your cheeks as you did when leah first held your hand so many years before.

your inside jokes still make you laugh harder than any comedy show you've been to, and leah's arm over your shoulder fits better than that tailored coat you got for your 21st birthday.

being back with leah feels right, and that terrifies you.

because it was wrong, wasn't it?

it was wrong to look at leah and see everything you could've had.

but when she catches your eye and glances down to your lips with pink cheeks, you think maybe you'll always be the girls in milton keynes, and maybe the flowers blooming the ground would belong to you once again.

the grin on her lips makes you hot in the face, hot blood in your pulsing veins.

heavy memories weigh on your brain as she presses her lips against yours like they were coming home, and you register her slide something soft into your palm as she kisses you.

reluctantly, you pull away with bated breath and open your hand, peering down curiously at what you now hold.

a dandelion.

“make a wish, y/n.”

you glance up at leah — your leah.

“i don’t think i need to.”

—

[moody-alcoholic]

The soldier next door.

I have been struck by the block, so instead of working on my main project I wrote this instead... Fuck it I'm counting it as a freaky Friday even though its 3am on a Saturday.

Masterlist

Part 2

MDNI +18 content

Summary: John Price x reader, reader is female. 3.2k words.

CW: MDNI +18 content Language, alcohol, masturbation, PIV sex, fingering. Honestly this is just blind first draft dribbles so you have been warned.

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

It felt like it was the hottest day of the year when your fridge decided to stop working. You spent a good 10 minuets prying it out of it’s spot in the kitchen to see if the plug had somehow come loose. When you saw it was still plugged in you turned to the internet, looking up the model number trying to find the instruction manual. You looked for leaking, listened for tapping noises, tried it in a different plug, nothing.

You reluctantly looked online and called for a repair man. He said he would be at least an hour, you could work with that you would have to get new milk but that’s not the end of the world- Shit. The cake! You pulled the door open seeing the smooth cream frosting already starting to crack. No this was bad you wouldn’t have time to make a new one. You pull it out wracking your brain on what to do. Surly your neighbours could help? It was a long shot, it’s the middle of the day on a Tuesday, they’re probably all at work. You play with the idea in your head then decide to try. You need to save this cake. You walk into the hallway trying the door to your right first knocking and ringing the bell. Nothing.

You move to the opposite door doing the same. You wait for a few seconds about to give up and switch floor when the door opens. A man stands here for a second you freeze gawking at him surprised he was even in in the first place. John he had introduced himself to you when you first moved in a year ago, but he’s hardly ever around must work overseas or something. He’s here now though, and he looks way more handsome then you remember.

“Can I help you?” He says pulling you out of your head.

“My fridge, it’s stopped working. I have this cake it’s for my niece's birthday. Do you have room in your fridge to store it? An hour at least I have a repair man on the way.” You say. He pauses for a second then moves to the side.

“Sure, come in.” He says. You follow him through to his kitchen as he opens the fridge moving things around.

“Do you bake for a living?” He asks as he takes it out your hands.

“No it’s a hobby, mainly for family and friends that sort of thing.” You say watching him squeeze it in, next to the microwave meals and the beer. You try not to be nosey moving you eyes elsewhere.

“I didn’t think you would be in, I don’t see you around a lot.” You say as he stand back up closing the door. He’s well built, looks older then you suspect he actually is.

“I work abroad a lot.” He says. “What happened to your fridge anyway?”

“I don’t know it just stopped working.” You explain.

“Have you checked the fuse?” He asks. You look up at him confused shaking your head.

“Mind if I come take a look?” he asks.

“Yeah sure.” You say. He tells you he’ll be back in a second and you wait sheepishly looking round his flat. The place is bigger then yours but it looks like it’s hardly been lived in, guess if you work abroad a lot then you don’t really live in it much. There are a few pictures though, you want to move closer to look but you hear a door close, he walks towards you with a tool box and you head over to your place. He crouches down by the fridge plug and opens the box you stand behind him looking over his shoulder.

“What kind of work is it, like offshore mining?” You ask as he unscrews the plug. He chuckles.

“I’m military.” He says, he looks a bit old to be military, you think. It would be rude to ask his age, now you’re getting a better look at him he doesn't look that old, he could even be late 30’s especially with how fit he is.

“See,” he says taking something out the plug and turning to show you, you take it in your hand you’re not quite sure what it’s supposed to look like but it clearly looks burnt.

“Just a blown fuse, I’ll replace it.” He says his hand going back into the took kit.

“Thank you,” You say putting the thing on the side and picking up your phone. You felt embarrassed, you’d gone to all the fuss of calling a repair man only for your neighbour to fix the problem in less then a minute. You make the awkward call to cancel the repair man, when you come back in the kitchen he’s moving the fridge back in place, his arms stretched out pushing it like it’s nothing. You try not to stare as he turns back to look at you.

“Thank you really, what can I do to make it up to you?” You ask. He smiles going down to pick up his tool box.

“Don’t worry about it it’s just a fuse.” He says.

“Please let me make it up to you.” You say feeling silly about the whole thing, you should have thought about the fuse, you should have checked that first. He sighs walking to the door.

“Okay, I have a work event coming up make me a cake and we’re even.” He says.

“Yes I can do that no problem.” You nod enthusiastically. He smiles as he leaves your flat.

“Okay, it’s next Wednesday, is that enough time?” He asks.

“Yeah plenty of time.” You smile back at him.

“Great I’ll come pick it up Wednesday afternoon.” He nods, looking at you like he is waiting for something as you stand in the doorway.

“Yeah, the cake sorry.” You say suddenly remembering the reason for all this in the first place. You try to hide your blushing as go back in his flat to pick it up.

——————————

When Wednesday comes around you’re a bundle of nerves. John didn’t tell you anything about what kind of cake he wanted, and you had been too nervous to ask. So you deiced to bake a classic Victoria sponge with some homemade raspberry jam your mother had given you. You can’t go wrong with that it’s a classic! You think to yourself. What if he thinks it’s too basic? Maybe you should have done a chocolate cake or something, red velvet always impresses people. You try not to work yourself up about it as you sprinkle powdered sugar on the top, leaving it to cool on the side. Fifteen minutes later there is a knock at the door. You go to open it. John is dressed up in military formals, you’ve only ever seen people dressed up like him on TV for royal events or the remembrance parades. He looks amazing, there’s a buzz running through your body as you step aside to let him in.

“You look good.” You say walking to the kitchen and looking through the cupboard for your cake tin.

“Thank you,” he says moving over to look at the cake.

“It looks delicious,” he says.

“You don’t think it’s too boring? You’re dressed up so fancy.” You say as you gently put the cake in the tin.

“Victoria sponge is a classic everyone will love it.” He says as you turn to hand him the tin.

“Bring the tin back whenever.” You say as he heads for the door.

“I will.”

“Have fun at your event.” You say as he steps into the lift, he nods smiling at you.

You’re out on the balcony sipping a glass of wine when you hear the door to the next apartment opening. You look over pulling your eyes away from the social media binge you had been on. It’s John, you feel nerves come back, you look away trying to ignore him feeling like you’re invading his privacy. The sound of a lighter has you spinning your head back to see, he’s smoking a cigar. So that’s where that smell comes from, you thought it was the neighbours above you. He turns his head and spots you looking you quickly turn away looking back at your phone.

“Hey,” he calls.

“Hey,” you reply looking back at him. He’s being lit up from the light from inside his flat. His features look so defined, his arm muscles look bigger, his freshly groomed beard casts a shadow across his face making him look older. When he puffs on his cigar it lights up his face and his eyes feel like they’re burning into you. It awakens a feeling in you, a feeling you haven’t felt in a while, maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the yearning for human contact but right now you want to fuck your neighbour.

“They loved the cake by the way.” He says.

“Good, what did you think?” You ask.

“Lovely, I can bring the tin over if you want?” He says. Yes please bring the tin over and fuck me.

“It’s okay, bring it back whenever.” You reply. He nods.

“How was the event?” You ask.

“Boring, they always are.” You watch as he takes another puff of the cigar taping the ash on the floor.

“You’re up late.” He says.

“It’s not that late.” You say looking down at your phone. Shit. It was almost midnight, guess the social media rabbit hole had gone on for longer then then you thought.

“I guess I lost track of time.” You reply. You watch as he extinguishes the butt of the cigar on the wall.

“Don’t stay out too long it’s going to rain soon.” He says opening the door to head back in.

“Yeah I won’t.” You reply. He smiles looking back at you one last time then heads inside. You pick your phone back up not even paying attention to what you were looking at. You finish your wine too flustered to focus on anything and head inside. You take a long hot shower trying to wash away the thoughts coming into your mind, the thoughts of John, of riding him till he fills you up, his face between your legs as you cum on his mouth. It doesn’t work, if anything it’s made you more desperate. You dig through your drawers for your barely used pink vibrator eagerly jumping into bed. That night you fuck yourself, coming over and over until your fingers cramp, each time moaning his name. You were well and truly screwed.

——————————

The next day early afternoon there was a knock at the door. You were in a world of your own replying to some work e-mails. You get up to answer it and it’s John with the cake tin. You blush almost imminently thinking back to last night, his name leaving your mouth as you came on your fingers.

“I washed it for you I didn’t know if I should or not.” He says, you take it out his hands.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You reply your mouth suddenly dry.

“You okay?” He asks. No.

“Yeah, it’s hot.” You say. He smiles, that tingle comes back between your legs.

“Yeah the weather is nice for once.” He says.

“If you need another cake, let me know, or I can do cupcakes too.” You say.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles.

“Tea?” You ask, the tingle being replaced with nerves, he looks down at his watch.

“Yeah, sure thank you.” He says you move aside to let him in and he makes his way over to the kitchen. You pass him checking the kettle and filling it up.

“How do you take it?” You ask.

“Milk and a little sugar.” He replies, you can feel his eyes on you as he stands behind you, the hairs sticking up on the back of your neck. You put the teabags in the cup as you hear him take another step towards you, he’s stood next to you his hand finds the small of your back.

“Need a hand?” he asks, his voice sounds lower all of a sudden deeper.

“I think I got it.” You say looking up at him his face centimetres away from yours. You look into his eyes, he has nice eyes, blue they look almost translucent in the light. His hand pulls you closer to him your body turning towards him.

“Every time I come home I get reminded how beautiful you are.” He says. For a second you think you’re imaging it, maybe you’re dreaming, did you hit your head this morning? You’re stood just looking at him your mouth hanging open as you stare up at him. He kisses you his tongue working it’s way into your mouth stroking yours. You press your face into him as his hands grip your waist. His beard is tickling your face but you don’t care, he’s gentle not what you were expecting, although you didn’t know what you were expecting.

You hear the kettle click and you’re about to break from the kiss but his hands slip under your armpits and he pulls you up to sit on the counter. You gasp as your lips leave his. You lean back your head hitting the cupboards as he pushes his hands up your top. You raise your arms and pull it over your head as his lips kiss your stomach. You reach back un-cliping your bra throwing it in the sink. He stops kissing your stomach his hands working their way up to your breasts. He cups them one in each hand giving them a squeeze.

“Perfect, everything about you is so bloody perfect.” He says before locking his lips round one of your nipples. You moan your hand gripping his hair as his tongue flicks your nipple. Your other hand moving to your free breast massaging it. John looks up at you his eyes glistening as he kisses you again.

“Want to move to the bedroom?” You ask him between breaths. He nods, you’re about to move your body to jump off the counter but he scoops his arms round your back pulling you onto him. You lock your legs round his waist, and your arms round his neck so you don’t fall and lead him to the bedroom. He puts you down on the bed taking his shirt off before laying next to you, he’s hairy, of course he is, well built too, defined muscles, you’re looking at him up and down your eyes moving back to his face. His hand traces your breasts down your stomach your waistband, he’s almost too gentle, his touch making you crave his hands all over you at once.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.” He says going back to kiss you before you can reply. It’s a deep kiss, a needy kiss, sloppy and hot your tongues in each others mouths. He breaks away first looking down your body. You grab the waist of your shorts and underwear pulling them down, now you’re being needy, desperate for his touch. He smiles moving to help you pull them off and throw them on the floor. He stands up at the foot of your bed undoing his belt, you can tell by the bulge in his pants he’s already hard, you’re almost licking your lips in anticipation as he pulls them down standing back up and throwing them to the side. Christ he’s big, you try not to stare which only makes him chuckle and heat rushes to your cheeks. He bends down picking his jeans back up pulling a condom out the back pocket.

“You always walk about with a condom on you?” You ask.

“Only when you’re around.” He winks, you blush again smiling, you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. You spread your legs as he rolls the condom down his uncut length, you try to keep your mouth closed as he steps towards you. He bends over you his dogtags hit your chest, as he kisses you again your hand wraps round the back of his neck and you run your fingers up his hair. His free hand makes it’s way up your thigh till it reaches your cunt. His fingers part your folds, he’s gentle making sure to touch everything, explore each part of you feeling your reaction. When his fingers push into you, you break away from the kiss gasping. He chuckles his mouth moving to kiss your neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out. You’re so wet, feeling your self dripping all the way down to your ass. When he starts hitting your g-spot you moan, his mouth leaving your neck to watch you squirm.

He pulls his fingers out rubbing the juices round your swollen clit making you twitch. He hums and you look up at him smiling. He pulls you down the bed a bit lining himself up with your entrance. You feel him push inside you and you moan with him, he’s big, stretching you out, you let out a breath as you take him all the way. You prop yourself up on your elbows looking up at him as he slowly thrusts in and out of you like he’s trying to test your limit. His free hand makes it’s way to your stomach pressing you down as you arch your back, you fall back on the bed as his thumb starts rubbing your clit. The new sensation makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as he speeds up his rubbing matching his thrusts. You want to move your hands to your breasts but you feel too good just lying there and taking it, moaning his name telling him how good he feels, he replies with a chuckle increasing the pressure on your clit making your body squirm.

“Like that huh?” He says in a low commanding voice.

“Yes- please don’t stop.” You pant as you get closer to the edge. Your legs start shaking as his free hand grips your waist, almost pulling you down on him harder.

“John-” his name leaves your lips as you clench round him.

“Yeah, come for me baby.” His words are like music to your ears you’re not really even paying attention just hearing him grunt and moan as he presses inside you, telling you how good you’re taking him, you cum arching your back, calling his name. He cums too you can feel each pulse of his cock burred deep inside you as he slows down bending over you his dogtags falling back on your chest as he pants his hands gripping the bedding.

You look up at him his eyes closed mouth open, after a second he opens his eyes looking at you. You smile at him and he leans down kissing you, a long deep kiss with his gentle tongue. When he pulls away he stands up brushing his hand over your clit making you shudder. You feel a sudden emptiness in you belly as he flops onto the bed next to you. You reach over laying up against him your arm spread over his chest.

“Your cake was really amazing.” He says turning his head to meet your eyes. You nod.

“Better then sex?” You ask a cheeky smile on your face. He chuckles kissing your nose.

“No, not better then sex, but pretty bloody close.” You smile reaching over kissing him.

[rivalsispunk]

Beneath The Surface (Chapter 2 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)

Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader

Series summary: Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), mention of male appendages (IYKYK), more warnings added per chapter

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter summary: Declan grapples with the risk of hiring you while you grapple with whether or not you're good enough. Once the verdict is in, you both realise you may have jumped in feet first a little too hastily.

A/N: Things are heating up in more ways than one and I am soooo ready for you guys to meet the silently unhinged Declan... Oh, and in this universe, Declan did end up interviewing Margaret Thatcher. Also not entirely proofread so may be some mistakes. Happy reading!

© rivalsispunk please do not steal, copy, or translate any of my work onto other platforms!

Chapter Two: Beneath The Surface

“A promise of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love.”

You’ve spent the last half hour reading, then rereading, the same page of Pride and Prejudice, your creature-comfort book since you were a young teenager. Normally, you’d be able to recite the passage from memory by now, but your mind has been elsewhere than focussed on the words in front of you. It’s been over a week since your interview with Declan and you’ve heard nothing. Zilch. Nada. For days, your brain has been stuck in a constant loop of questions you’ve no answers for.

Why hasn’t he called? 

Why haven’t you heard anything? 

Did he find someone better?

That last one has been the most burning question of them all, coupled with the memory of Declan’s gravelly voice telling you, I’d be lucky to have ya.

So, why hasn’t he called?

It’s not lost on you that you sound more like a needy girl hanging out for a guy after a date than someone waiting to hear back about a job you weren’t even sure you wanted until the moment you were sat in his office. But you do want it.

The job, that is.

Taggie was none the wiser, too. She’d told you her father had barely given her an inkling of where his head was at, and that he remained suspiciously mum on the outcome of the interviews he’d had in the days succeeding yours. “I think he’s just been busy,” she countered, mentioning that Declan had been on edge in the lead up and preparation for his televised interview with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. You were well aware, and knew how much the opportunity meant to him, so you’d made a conscious effort to stay away from The Priory, as not to overwhelm Declan or put any additional pressure on him to make a decision about the assistant position. Instead, you’d met Taggie in town for afternoon tea on the days she wasn’t preparing for an event, or a meal at Bar Sinister when time called for a catch up. But the Thatcher interview was days ago now — a roaring success with both viewers and ratings — and you were getting restless for news.

Slamming your worn out copy of Pride and Prejudice shut, you reach for the phone by your bedside and dial your best friend for what feels like the fiftieth time this week. You’ve called The Priory so often in recent days that she doesn’t even say hello when she answers.

“Still no word yet,” she sighs down the line. “He’s in an awful mood tonight, though. Went straight up to his office when he got home, refused dinner. I think Mummy being away is getting to him.”

You hum in agreement, not that you have any real insight on the matter. “I’m sure he’s fine, Tag. Probably tired of putting up with that Tony Baddingam’s shit. I told you what a right arse he was to your dad when I was there, didn’t you?”

“You did. Honestly, I didn’t think about anyone else at Corinium when I suggested you work for Daddy. It’s one thing for you to be under him, but to be at the beck and call of Lord Baddingham, too?” You practically hear Tag shudder down the line. “Makes me feel ill the way he treats the women who work for him.”

You push aside any runaway thoughts elicited by Taggie’s mention of you under Declan and shrug. “It’s fine, Tag. I’ve dealt with enough Baddinghams in my time to know to tread carefully.” You pull the phone cable taut and pluck it with your finger. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve got the job anyway. I should have heard by now.”

In the room above Taggie, Declan stubs out his cigarette, reclining in his office chair as he listens to his daughter’s voice reverberate through the house. One final plume of smoke emerges from the pile of ashes and butts that have accumulated in the tray over the last twenty-four hours. He ought to be prepping for his next TV interview, a fairly benign chat with a local farmer who has grand plans for the land on the outskirts of the Cotswolds. A piece of cake, he’d told Tony earlier today when he was asked how his preparation was coming. However, he’d flicked through his notes and research God knows how many times this evening, yet couldn’t recall one lick of fact about his upcoming subject. Instead, he’d spent hours — no, days — agonising over whether he should hire you. His producer, Cameron Cook, was breathing down his neck for him to hire someone so he was spread less thin, but it’s not an easy task. On paper, you’re the perfect choice. Hell, in reality, you’re the perfect choice. Still, he prayed that one of the interviewees after you would prove better candidates (and notably male), but no one measured up to you. Sure, they were intelligent. Passionate, somewhat. But then there was you; intelligent and passionate, and looking far too delectable in that bloody skirt that belongs to his fucking wife. Yes, his wife — that’s if she still even wants to be called that — who’s been gone for weeks without as much as a phone call or letter to the house. Their son, Patrick, had mentioned that she’d phoned a couple of weeks ago to inform him she was back in the city, but spared their university-bound child the details of her whereabouts. Declan loves Maud, despite her shortcomings — of which there are many — but he couldn’t help but resent his wife for her absence, and moreover, for the constant dull ache that had been burdening his cock since seeing her skirt on you. He rationalised that if Maud was here, he wouldn’t be up at night thinking obscene thoughts about his daughter’s best friend who had showed up to his office all smiles and curves in his wife’s long-forgotten hand-me-downs. Every time Declan closes his eyes he sees the shallow dimple that adorns your left cheek. He gets random flashbacks of that black lace bra he imagines holds perfect breasts, if he just allows his mind to wander.

He flexes his hand in an attempt to rid it of the itch that’s been daring him to relieve himself ever since you left his Corinium office. There have been countless instances over the last week where he wondered if he just gave in — just a little, just a stroke, something, anything — that the ache will go away. But there’s a bigger part of him that’s afraid that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop, and then how will he ever be able to face you again? Face Taggie again, knowing the pure filth that’s taken him over in the moments when he’s alone?

Cameron had demanded that afternoon that he chooses someone to pick up his slack by the weekend so help her God or she’ll stick him with an intern with more boobs for brains, and he knows — he knows — he can’t be stuck with someone with the same level IQ as a stale loaf of bread. He’d combust. So, against his better judgement, he decides as he lights yet another cigarette, that he’ll offer you the job as his assistant.

So help him God.

The phone rang just after half seven as you took your first bite of marmite toast. “Do you want the good news or the best news first?” You wince at Taggie’s chirpiness so early in the morning.

“Umm, best ‘til last,” you option. “Good news first.”

“Well, I’m making shepherd’s pie for dinner and you’re coming over.”

“Alright,” you giggle. “And the other news?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating you making shepherd’s pie?”

“No, you nitwit! We’re celebrating you! You got the job! Daddy just told me on his way out this morning.”

Your chair whines against the floorboards of your flat as you shoot to your feet. “I got the job?”

“You got the job!” Taggie shrieks down the line. “Daddy said he was going to phone you when he gets to the office but I couldn’t wait to tell you myself. I know you’ve been anxious waiting to hear back.”

“Oh, Tag, I can’t believe it! I really thought he’d found someone more suited,” you express, cheeks pinching with a grin.

“He said he was very impressed with you,” your friend continues, voice laced with pride. “He also suggested we go shopping for some new officewear.”

“So, he hated my outfit, is what you’re saying.” Him and everybody else at that bloody station.

“No, it’s not that. I think him seeing you in Mummy’s clothes freaked him out a little, is all,” Taggie confesses. “He’s been a bit all over the shop since she’s been gone and I suppose when it comes to her, out of sight, out of mind is best.”

You think back to Declan spluttering his tea everywhere during your interview, and his little explosion afterwards. It makes sense that he doesn’t wanted be reminded of the woman who stepped out on him. You were just glad his reaction wasn’t to something you had done.

You and Taggie chat for a few minutes more about potential shopping destinations and your plans for the day before she rushes through a goodbye, eager to get to the market to pick up groceries for your celebratory meal. An hour later, Declan calls.

“Morning, it’s Declan,” he says, words stifled by the cigarette between his lips. “Declan O’Hara.”

You bite down a smile at the unnecessary clarification. You do the same to thwart your enthusiasm at finally receiving his call. “Hiya. It’s nice to hear from you. How’re you this morning, Declan?”

“Yeah, good, good. Tony’s riding my arse as per usual but other than that, good.” Silence reigns as you wait for Declan to relay the good news. After a moment, he clears his throat like he just remembered you’re on the other end of the line. “Look, I don’t have long, but I wanted to give you a bell to let you know the assistant job is yours. If you want it.”

Although you were already aware of the job offer, you do a happy jig in your kitchen. “Yes, thank you! Of course, I accept.”

“Great. Does Monday work as a start date?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be there. Thank you, Declan.”

“Welcome. Chat soon.”

The line goes dead not second later, and while you’re still overcome with excitement about the new job, your chat with your new boss seemed off. Declan seemed off. Far removed from the chatty, friendly man you sat across from at Corinium just days ago. But like he said, Tony was on his back. He’s probably just… tense.

It becomes clear to Declan as he watches you and Taggie move seamlessly around the kitchen while clearing up after dinner that you’re effervescent. Far more than he’s ever noticed, in all the times you’ve visited his daughter over the recent months, and it bothers him. He hated how his pulse quickened at the sight of you on his doorstep two hours earlier, David Bowie T-shirt peeking out from beneath your checkered coat. If you were at least the tiniest bit irksome or slow-witted or just plain dull, he’d be able to reckon with the fact that his reaction to you was purely chemical. Just another man taken by a young woman’s good looks. But then again, if he found you any of those things, he wouldn’t dare allow you anywhere near his work, near his research. Nor would he be impressed with his daughter adopting a friend as such, either. 

Your laughter trills, egged on by the celebratory champagne Taggie had provided, and Declan catches the tailend of his daughter flinging a handful of dishsoap suds in your direction. You were a good girl, a good friend, being there for Taggie in the last few months. Always willing to lend a hand, or an ear, certainly a shoulder to cry on more than Declan liked to think about or admit. But you were just that: a girl. A girl who was now his assistant. He’ll be damned if he were to become another man at Corinium taking advantage of that power imbalance, which is why he replaces his glass of bubbles with a whiskey and retires to his office after supper, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead as he goes.

You decide to sleepover at The Priory after consuming a few too many glasses of champagne for it be considered safe to drive home. Although, sleepover may be too generous of a word because you’ve barely slept a wink since sinking into bed beside Taggie over an hour ago. Your friend, however, had no trouble drifting off, only to start snoring so loudly the whole bed vibrates. You’ve already tried covering your head with a pillow and the counting backwards from one hundred trick to coax yourself to sleep, but it’s no use. You slide out from under the poppy-printed covers and tip-toe downstairs in a sweater hanging on the back of Taggie’s bedroom door. You’re swimming in the woollen brown garment. It falls to mid-thigh and is sleeves are at least half an arm-length too long, but it keeps the chill at bay when you swing open The Priory’s back door. You slide on a pair of Wellington boots that sit on the doormat and step out into the biting air. In it, the inches of skin between the hem of the sweater and your long socks prickle with goosebumps, and your breath forms a fog under the soft glow of fairy lights leftover from a garden party the O’Hara’s hosted in the summer. Somewhere in the distance, a owl twoos and foxes rustle through shrubbery. When you lived in the city, the nights were overrun with sirens and drunken hooligans singing football chants down the alleyways and other racket that made it very difficult to hear yourself think. Meanwhile, out here, in the countryside, you could just be.

“Nice sweater.”

“Fuck!” The sudden verbiage shocks your shoulders to your ears. There’s no mistaking that voice, yet you have to scan the area to see where the Irish lilt is stemming from. It’s not until you hear the swish of water that you realise he’s in the hot tub that’s tucked away from the courtyard, his silhouette barely visible against the night. “Declan. You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry,” he croaks. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “Taggie’s snoring like a freight train.”

As your eyes adjust to the dark, you just catch Declan’s moustache quirk with a lazy smile. “Just like her mother.”

The comment coaxes you closer to the tub, waiting for Declan to elaborate, but whatever story he might’ve spieled evaporates with the steam from the water. The heated pool was just another of Maud’s extravagant buys, and Declan hated the addition when it showed up in a delivery van, during summer, of all seasons, because he knew it would be forgotten about in a matter of days once she’d found something new to obsess over. There was always something with Maud. If it wasn’t an extravagant purchase to distract herself with, it was a lover, and if it wasn’t a lover, it was a trip far, far away from the Cotswolds. Her recent truancy being case in point.

There’s hardly any light in this corner of the yard, aside from a small golden glimmer beneath the hot tub surface, but it’s enough for you to take in Declan’s form. He’s lax, whiskey in hand, with his head reclined against the lip of the pool. You notice the thick smattering of chest hair across the breadth of his torso, dark and unruly. The few men you’ve ever been with have been around your age, either trimmed or unable to grow body hair where its desired. But then again, they were just boys in the scheme of things. Declan has always been so fucking manly. His already dark hair black with water, pushed away from his face like he’s slicked it back with his hands. It hasn’t stopped miniscule curls frizzing to fruition at his temples. Declan takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“If I’m being honest, I thought you’d be a tad more excited when I spoke to you this morning.” The subject change surprises you.

“Oh, trust me, I was! But–“

“But Taggie had already broken the news to you by then, hadn’t she?”

You look down at your feet, not wanting to give your friend away, but Declan knows his daughter has a hard time keeping a lid on her excitement. “It’s alright,” he chuckles. “She means well.”

“She’s a good friend. They’re hard to come by.”

You’re telling me, Declan thinks, taking a one-handed inventory of his own close companions.

The frosty air hugs you and your toes seize under its bite, even through your socks and boots. “Do you mind?” You point to the hot tub. It takes a moment for it to click in Declan’s brain that you’re asking if you can join him. It would be rude for him to say no. Stupid for him to say yes. Instead, he gives a non-commital shrug and whispers Lord, help me into his glass. Over its rim, he watches you perch on the edge of the tub to while you toe off your wellies. They land with a thud on the pavement and you giggle to yourself, oops, when one ricochets into a nearby shrub. Muscles zip up the back of your leg when you peel off your socks, and Declan has to force himself to look away when the hem of your sweater — no, his sweater, one of many Taggie had stolen away — rides dangerously high on your thighs as you swing your legs over the lip of the heated pool. He’s thankful that only one of the lights below the surface is in working order because his prick rouses when a satisfied hum seeps from you as your feet kiss the warm surface. Declan’s jaw ticks. The devil on his shoulder probes that you’re purposely torturing him and his conscious bites back that he’s a sleazy bastard for thinking as much. You’re not doing anything. You’re just here.

Get a grip on yourself, O’Hara, he scolds, and chases it with a swig of whiskey he only hopes will burn away the filthy thoughts you manage to conjure for him.

“You got another one of them?” When he faces you again, you’re pointing at the glass that’s fogged up in his sweaty palm.

“The champagne not enough for ya?”

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t want to share, just say so.”

“You can’t handle this.”

“Are you really going to sit there and tell a girl what she can and can’t handle?” you press, eyes locked in on his. “You’d be surprised what I can handle, Declan.” You don’t mean for it to sound so provocative, but challenging him has set your whole body ablaze. For good measure, you quirk an eyebrow at Declan, and the subtle move has his cock doing the same in the confines of his striped swim shorts. Without another word, Declan floats across the hot tub to where you’re seated and presses his glass into your hand. You offer a thank you in the form of a gentle smile before pressing your full, blush lips to the rim. Tilting the glass to the sky, you can feel Declan’s heavy gaze on you, watching. Waiting. You allow your eyes to fall shut as the bitter prickle of the whiskey waves over your tongue, so you don’t see him slide a hand to the back of his neck. His nails dig crecsents into the skin there, both as punishment for and distraction from the fact his mind is trekking to dark places where your lips are pressed somewhere far more sinister. He can’t keep his eyes off you while you drain what’s left of the whiskey, your eyes fluttering open when you realise there’s nothing left.

“I told you I could handle it,” you tell Declan, ignoring the slight burn that stings at the back of your throat. You both reach your hand into the small space between you, fingers grazing as you pass the glass back to Declan. 

The air between the two of you is charged. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone lit a match and the whole world went up in flames taking the pair of you with it. That same pained look that took Declan’s expression over during your interview rears its head again. Before you get the opportunity to put a name to it, a door creaks in the distance and your name echoes into the night.

“Are you out there?”

Taggie.

Taggie.

There’s a flurry of movement as Declan slides to the opposite side of the hot tub again and you all but catapult yourself onto the pavement as if you’d been caught redhanded. Doing what, you weren’t entirely sure, but you were certain it wasn’t a good look. You yank your socks over your damp feet, followed by the wellies and make a start for where the kitchen light illuminates your friend in the doorway.

“There you are!” she sighs, almost relieved, when you meet her at the step. “You alright? I thought you might’ve driven home after all.” “God, no. I’m fine! Just…” you glance over your shoulder to where the blaze of a cigarette burns in the darkness. “Just getting some air.”

Loved writing this chapter, and things are just getting started!! Reblog, share, comment: it all means the world to me!! <3

Previous chapters: Chapter 1: The Interview

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Waiting for Superman

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: fluff

Summary: For decades, you’ve been coasting through life thinking you’ll never find “the one” until you take Spencer to a bookstore, and he manages to find something to pass the time.

Square Filled: waiting for superman by daughtry for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Spencer loves books. He reads nearly twenty of them in a week. However, he is a fan of nonfiction, not fiction like you love. The new bookstore that just opened near your house only had fiction books stocked, nothing that would ever catch Spencer’s eyes. Still, he goes because it’s what you love.

Most people who know Spencer know that he is patient, calculating, thoughtful, and very friendly. That all gets thrown out the window when he comes to the bookstore with you. He’s like an impatient child who only comes along because he has to. He gets bored very easily since his big brain is always running away from him, so it takes a lot to keep him engaged. It’s why he’s so good at his job. His mind is constantly engaged by whatever unsub has made it to the briefing room.

Spencer huffs as he follows you around the bookstore, and you pick a romance book off the shelf.

“You know you didn't have to come with me.”

“I want to hang out with you, even if it means being in here.”

“How romantic,” you roll your eyes playfully.

“Are you almost done? I know of another bookstore that has books we’d both like.”

“Spencer, this one is closer, and we have to meet my parents for lunch. If we went to the other one, we wouldn’t get back until late.” Spencer leans against the bookshelf and is quiet for maybe five seconds. “Okay, how about you go to the cafe and get something to drink, yeah?”

Spencer grumbles but doesn’t answer you. You go back to reading the backs of books, pushing Spencer aside in your mind. He leaves your side to go find something else to do. If this is Spencer’s only flaw, then you consider yourself pretty lucky. You were at the point in your life where you thought you’d be alone forever.

Every date you went on, you weren't connecting to anyone. Either they were too boring, too stinky, too full of themselves, or they had their eyes on other girls. None of them were ever right until you met Spencer. He kept his attention on you every time you two were together, always put your first, and made sure to remember every detail you’d tell him about yourself.

Okay, that last one is his natural ability to remember everything, but he made a conscious decision to do it.

You spent what felt like a lifetime for someone like Spencer, so you’re not going to let him go that easily.

Over the next hour, you read and grab books that are interesting to you until you have a pile in your hands. You had just gotten paid and felt like spending a chunk of your paycheck on books. Knowing there is nothing for Spencer in here, you search for him in the small bookstore. He’s upstairs sitting in a book nook with half a dozen kids sitting around him. Their parents are near just watching Spencer read a book to them.

His eyes are wide, he does funny voices for the characters, and he engages each of the kids in the story he’s reading. You set your books down on a table and lean against it, content with watching him. Each kid is mesmerized and hooked to every word he’s saying, and the parents don’t mind the nice break from their children.

“What about the dragon? Who is going to slay it?” a child asks.

“Princess Annabelle is.” All the children gasp. “I know. Usually, the prince does but I think Princess Annabelle is tired of waiting for someone to do it for her. Let’s see how she does it.”

Spencer flips to the next page and continues to the story. He looks up and locks eyes with you, and you give him a slow-growing smile.

It’s right here and now that you’ve decided this is the man you’re going to marry. You’ve been waiting decades for your Superman to show up, and it’s been in front of your face the whole time.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[jezabelle9299]

Secret Santa S.R x FEM!reader

Overture- You brought stockings to put on everyone's desk, with a small surprise inside your boyfriends. But of course you can just tell him it was you. That's no fun

CWs-Spencer is NOT athletic

A/N- I simply could not work on homework or finals today. It was snowing outside so my most pressing matter was looking at that for 20 minutes that turned out to actually be well over an hour. If it doesn't make any sense then just pretend it does, ok? This was like 4 different plots before I landed on this-- But if you want to read the other things I'm doing this month you could do that HERE

In order to beat everyone to the office you had to leave before the sun was up, normally making it an impossible task, but today it was worth it. The team was getting almost a week of holiday leave, and you wanted to perform a little surprise. You bought some simple stockings, adding little felt and glitter letters to personalize them. You spent almost an hour last night filling them for each person with candy and little trinkets you thought each of them might like. Of course, you wanted to stay anonymous– hence the early hour. 

You ran the file room on their floor, keeping up the digitizing of records, and finding paper files for the agents when needed. Almost no one needed, so you got close with Spencer very quickly. Close turned into a huge crush, which turned into a now 7 month long relationship. That 7 month long relationship led to you now, borrowing a cart from the mailroom to transport all of these stockings to your boyfriend and all of his wonderful colleagues’ desks. 

You had a plan– you were going to see just how good of a profiler he really was. There would be no note on them, and you knew his team would never suspect you as the bearer of gifts. They rarely needed something, and when they did Spencer was the first to jump up and grab it for them. They all figured he had a little crush on you, which while true– it was much more than that. 

When the team showed up, all around the same time– they immediately noticed the stockings hanging from the side of their desks. They looked around, seeing if anyone was lurking around waiting for their reaction, but you were already tucked away in your small office. You waited, almost expectantly for Spencer to figure out who it was, but as the day went on, he was stumped. Accusations were thrown around among the team, the glitter on some of the stockings leading straight to Penelope, then to JJ, even some people saying it was Spencer. But yet was anyone to suspect you– even Spencer. 

It wasn’t until around 4 o’clock, you were getting ready to go home early, and as the team had just about finished all of their paperwork they were saying their goodbyes. Derek put on his Santa hat, and decided to tease Spencer about his ‘little crush’ on you.

“Hey, maybe that filing girl you’re obsessed with made them– she could be your secret admirer.” 

Derek laughed, but Spencer didn’t. He knew everything about you by this point– you told him everything about your day, most days. You couldn’t keep a secret even this small– but the idea stuck somewhere in the back of Spencer’s brain. 

And there it stayed, until he was packing up for the day. When he was grabbing his stocking off of its little hook, supporting the bottom while he pulled on the top, he felt something on the inside– snug against the fabric. not something that could come from a manufacturer, either. He unpacked the entire thing, right on his desk, and hand sewn into the bottom of the sock was a little pocket. He folded the whole thing inside out so he could open it, finding a folded up post-it note that only said “Come find me when you figure it out” with a little star next to it. He knew then that Morgan was right, that you were his secret admirer— Well secret to everyone else at least. 

He quickly packed his belongings, including his new little gift, moving even faster when he saw the time– it was almost 7. He hopped on the train, and bounded up the stairs to your apartment. Once he got to your door he was a certifiable mess– his cardigan was hanging off one of his shoulders, his hands full and he was crouching trying to catch his breath. Adorable.

Just as you were wondering if he’d actually notice the small pocket, a hasty knock on your door caught your attention– it was definitely Spencer.

“Hi Spence, how was work?” You were stifling the giggle threatening to come out. He kept trying to catch his breath, not looking up at you when he held up your small yellow note.

“You found me!” He finally looked up at you when he got back fully standing, still visibly exhausted. You were wearing your little pajamas, and Spencer could hardly think of words to describe you right now. 

“You look really pretty.”

“Thank you– are you ok?”

“Yeah, just– I ran here from the train station.” Again you had to stifle a laugh because why on Earth would he run when it was only a 15 minute walk.

“Can I ask why?”

“You were waiting on me– it took me so long to figure it out, I didn’t want to waste another second.”

“You’re so sweet– and you’re just in time. I was about to put on a movie, and I have one more surprise for you.” You opened the door the rest of the way, motioning for him to come inside your apartment. He set his things down, and– finally being able to take a full breath, asked the question that was on his mind the whole train ride– I mean when did you have the time?” 

“How did you plan all of this?”

“I have a lot of time at work. Now the last surprise.” You grabbed a pair of pajama pants off your dining room table, matching in print to the ones you had on now. 

“Matching?”

“Yeah– but only if you want to wear them, you don’t have to of course, and I promise I won’t be upset– I mean I know I kind of just sprung this whole thing on you and–” Spencer grabbed your face gently with both of his hands and that finally got you to pause to breathe.

“I love them. And– and I love you.” He’d never said that to you, or anyone, before. But it felt right. 

“I love you too Spencer.”

“How about you get situated, I have an outfit change to get to.” He held up the pajamas you got him as he gave you one more kiss on the cheek.

[fungateshortcakes]

omg… my brain… it’s too HORNY…

bc i just read ur pegging logan fic and my first thought was “omg how would he feel ab a ribbed/bad dragon dildo” 😵‍💫😵‍💫

u do not have to write anything for this if u don’t wanna i just need someone to hear me out on this 👀 bc i know he’d whimper every time one of the little bumps hits a good spot in him 😫😫 AUGH IM GOING INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE

YEEEEESSS I'VE BEEN SAYING THIS OFC I WILL WRITE SOMETHING

call me insane but I just spent the last hour browsing through the bad dragon website to look for some XL dildos Logan would go for because they are extra textured

So here is a short list of bad dragon toys I found if anyone wants to search up what they look like before we start with the real fun part

Slater the stone wyvern (extra large)

Reggie the mothman (extra large)

Flint the uncut studded dragon (extra large)

Abyss the Kaiju King (extra large)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

So, we can all agree that Logan likes his toys big. Like extra extra large. Of course he started out smaller but with time, he managed to take bigger and bigger toys, larger in length and thicker in girth. It would be a great accomplishment for him if he was able to sink down just a bit further every time he tried out a new and bigger toy.

Doing this was one of his greatest pleasures. After an especially hard mission he was longing to unwind with a fat cock stretching him open. He loves it so much, he is such a slut for monster cock. Sometimes you'd arrive a bit late to your shared bedroom and find Logan on your bed, three fingers plunged into his sopping hole as he eagerly prepped himself. His fingers weren't enough, never enough. They couldn't sooth that ache deep within him, the primal need to be full and stretched and stuffed. He let out a sigh of relief the second a girthy, phat dick would slip right past his tight ring of muscle and settle deep in his tummy until there was a bulge there. He just sobs out in ecstasy and lets himself completely surrender to the pleasure rocking his body with every thrust.

You will know when the bumps hit these sensitive spots inside him because he will arch his back, the curve of his spine perfectly visible as he starts to beg. "Fuck....mhmnn yes, right there. Right there please, keep going"

The schlickschlickschlick sound that could be heard every time his hole gripped the bumps and ridges on the toy tight when it was pulled out made him shiver. The dildo was nicely glistening with fake cum lube, spit and his arousal. Your eyes were trained on where the silicone cock disappeared inside of him and the way his hole fitted over the textured surface.

"You get fucked like this every damn day like the insatable bitch you are until you're gaping. And you're still so tight every time"

Logan loveslovesloves textured dildos so much. Not that he doesn't use the smooth ones at all, it depends in what mood he is in. But most of the time he wants to feel the bumps, ridges, lines and dents against his aching walls and feel every slight texture fucking him open and abusing his sweet spot. You knew exactly which angle you needed to fuck him to hit his arousal swollen prostate with precision.

"Mmm,yeah fuck, milk me dry" he mewls out, his cock throbbing lewdly against the bulge on his tummy, leaking all over the sheets. He gets so cute and whiny like this. He makes sounds no one would think were possible coming from him. His face is flushed and squished against the pillows, tears staining his cheeks, his eyes rolling back. Spit in his mouth please.

He wants you to keep fucking him even after he came multiple times because it's just that good.

When you aren't there to fuck him for whatever reason, he gets so needy. Of course he can ride the toys but that's just not the same as you pounding him from behind and slut shaming him. And his legs gave out pretty fast. So the fucking machine you bought him was the best present ever. When you were gone, he could still get fucked by any monster cock he desired and for as long as he wanted. It still didn't come close to you but it was good enough.

Sometimes you used the fucking machine even though you were here, controlling the speed and roughness of the thrusts to drive him mad.

[huskyscc]

lacy

pairings - jenna ortega x g!n reader (no pronouns specified)

wc - 2100+ (not proofread)

warnings - none

summary - you thought jenna was someone with the perfect life, she seemed happy enough. you just didn't know how bad she was struggling with everything.

masterlist

» [Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo now playing] «

1:45 ────〇── 2:57 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

for the longest time, all you could remember was her talent and carefree nature.

you remember a lot about her, actually. how she would laugh over stupid things and not have a care in the world. when her natural talent was brought up, she always remained humble about it and even made small jokes about it. you loved her confidence, but you yearned for it. at least something along those lines.

it started ever since you were kids, seven or eight years old at least. you and Jenna were best friends, stuck together like glue at the hip 24/7. there was never a day where you two would be separated or apart. it drove your parents crazy.

You two would spend everyday hanging out together, and as you grew, so did your bond... though, your play dates and sleepovers were always canceled early because Jenna usually had to do something along the lines of acting or of some sort.

It was just a few times every few weeks at first, then almost every week, then daily. it cut the time between the two of you, causing your distance to become thicker as she spent more and more time away from her childhood era.

some days, you would just spend sitting on the sidewalk along Jenna's home as you waited for her, knowing she wasn't going to show up. the feeling never went away, the yearning for her to return. you were 13 when she came back.

by the time she did come back for more than a few days, she was... different. not in a bad, mean way, no. she was different in her demeanor and how she acted.

she was especially different with how she talked towards you. her eyes roamed you experimentally, as if studying you for a moment before she spoke. you finally went to cut the silence, though she beat you to it.

"You've... grown." Jenna spoke softly in a soft murmur, her eyes still glancing at you as if recognizing- no, remembering you to memory. you tried to catch up with Jenna, but her news was much more interesting than you catching a few frogs here and there and crashing your bike.

you wanted to be a good friend, listening intently as she spoke so highly of her new career that she enjoyed. you saw the way her eyes sparked - the way they hadn't sparked like that since before she left made your stomach turn in anxiety.

it was a small grow in your belly at first, though you ignored it with the feeling of success for Jenna. you showered her constantly with affection and amusement.

you continued to push the feeling away, though it only seemed to gnaw harder at you as you both continued to grow.

───

Jenna was leaving for the night. she had told you previously a few days back that she would be hosting SNL monologue, which you were impressed about.

"It's a bit weird, don't ya think? I mean, not this place. I love being here," Jenna gestured to the comfort of the shared hotel between the two of you.

"you mean weird as in...?" you perk, your mind curious as you glance at her. she looked up at you and gave an awkward smile, "uh.. not being home?" she took a breath before slumping beside you on the couch.

you nod in agreement, sniffing as her perfume hit you. "yeah, but not too weird. I like being here with you, anyway." you say in a lighthearted tone, to which Jenna gave a warm smile to.

"are you gonna watch my monologue? what if I forget it? what if someone else forgets their part?" she started rambling, her brain working 100 miles per hour as each what if theory grew within.

"Jen." you say in a gentle yet firm tone, trying to ground her once more. she gave a look of slight embarrassment but nodded in question.

"yeah..?" she inquired. you chuckle slightly as you move a stray strand of hair from her face. "you're overthinking this. you know how great you are!" you say with a soft expression, honesty gleaming in your eyes.

Jenna gave an honest, lighthearted smile at your words as she slowly nodded her head in agreement. "yeah," she took a deep breath in. "I probably am just overthinking this," she laughed it off.

Jenna was always on the more talented side of things when it came to remembering and acting out things. you were just... there. you weren't excellent at anything, you were just there for Jenna and she was there for you.

as Jenna prepared to leave, she gave you a small hum of goodbye. she stammered out the apartments as you call out to her, "see you! and i'll watch it, promise!" you promised her, to which she gave a warm smile of gratitude before she finally left for the night.

The glow of the TV was bright against the dimly lit room. you were slumped into the couch, wearing a pair of shorts and a hoodie that you found on your floor. most likely Jenna's.

you had watched Jenna's monologue, to which she did amazing with, no doubt. you just... felt that pit in your stomach once more.

you wanted to excuse it, trying to convince yourself that you were feeling excited for your friend as you watched her grow into the woman she is today... but you would be lying if you said that.

that was far from the truth. it's not that you were jealous of Jenna and her success, you were jealous of how carefree she seemed to be and how at bay she looked 25/8.

you, on the other hand, were almost always stressing about your job and if you'd get fired based off something as small as forgetting to move a box from one place to another.

Jenna loved her job from what you had heard, and it even gave her more opportunities. way more than you ever got. Jenna just seemed more talented than you in everything.

It seemed that she poisoned every little thing that you did with her own charm, causing you to have no effect on anything or anyone.

you didn't know how to handle it, you just wanted that ache in your stomach to disappear.

you give a long exhale, pressing your back into the couch cushions with a hum of contentment. you turn the TV off, slipping a blanket up to your chest as you got comfortable whilst waiting for Jenna.

It wasn't much longer until she came, giving a small yawn as she walked through the door. she seemed tired. you turn your head in an instant, humming at her presence. "hey! I told you that you'd do good." you say.

Jenna gives a hearty laugh, her dimples evident before she threw her bag aside and crawled onto the couch with a slump onto the cushion. "I'm so exhausted." she murmured.

initially, you took it as a more rhetorical statement than serious. you figured she was just tired from doing so much today - you didn't consider the fact that it might be her expressing how mentally drained she was.

you give a small chuckle at her words, turning your head to look at the brunette girl as you toss the blanket over her, as well. "is that so?" you perk an eyebrow, as if not believing her. "you're naturally talented. surely, it can't be too hard?" you offer.

Jenna gives a shake of her head, her expression puzzled as she eyed you. "too hard?" she scoffed slightly. she gave a small huff, her brows pinched together in confusion as she glanced at you. "i'm exhausted." she empathized the word now, her eyes softened in a drained way. she gave a small frown.

you glance at her frown, then back up to her eyes. "...you mean, like, mentally?" you perk quietly, as if afraid to say the wrong thing to the girl, who nods her head. your expression falls flat as realization hits you like a train. was being naturally talented and pursuing it really that hard? your stomach churned.

"this is so tiring. I feel like I don't get to hangout with you anymore because of work- even if we live together!" she carries on her words with a small droop of her shoulders. she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, and you could see the sadness building up inside her.

you gave a small puzzled look, not expecting this from her. talented, carefree Jenna... maybe you should have expected it. I mean, no one is perfect? "but-" you began, though, your mouth remained stuck open as your throat dried and your words died out.

Jenna looked at you, curious as to what you were going to continue saying with hooded eyes. it was just then you took notice of Jenna. real notice. you took in her appearance at once, your eyes flickering with concern and empathy.

her eyes were worn and seemingly empty, showing little to no expression as the eye bags under her eyes are evident when her face is studied. her hair is ruffled and there's a bit of torn skin on her bottom lip, indicating her anxiety getting the best of her.

"oh, baby..." the words slipped from your tongue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jenna gave a small wince as you moved, her eyes tired. "c'mere," you breathe softly as you open your arms up for her, your chest burning with sympathy for the brown haired girl.

Jenna looks up at you before crawling within your grasp, her heartbeat staggered as she rested against you. you open your mouth to speak, your words coming out softer and weaker than intended. "i'm sorry- I had no clue you were so... tired." you say gently.

Jenna shakes her head against the fabric of your hoodie, her gaze unwavering as she looks up to you. "y/n," she sniffled. "I- I didn't know how to tell you. I thought living together would be the perfect solution but-" her voice chokes out as it creeps away.

"perfect solution to what, Jen?" you asked softly, trying to grasp an understanding of how her mind exactly worked and how her thought process brought her to this moment.

"the perfect solution for feeling so... empty and lost." she exhaled. she brought her gaze to the ground below, messing with her fingers in an anxious state whilst hiding from your gaze, as if scared.

you frowned at her honest words, rubbing her back softly as she choked out her words. "I should've noticed. don't feel bad, Jen." you coo gently, trying to calm her nerves. yet, she still shook her head, her eyes brimmed with tears.

"I am so tired. all the time. I want to be the best for you and for everyone else who's looking up to me, like my fans! but, i-" you cut her words off with a sigh. "Jenna." you say, a bit stern.

She gives you a hesitant look, her gaze curious as she glanced up at you. "yeah?" she said in a breathy voice, her eyes softened as her gaze met yours.

"you don't have to make anyone the happiest besides yourself. if you aren't happy, you shouldn't push yourself until you're emptied out... you should take a break." you whisper softly, as if nervous that if your tone was a bit higher, she'd be scared off.

Jenna nodded slightly in understanding, her movements slow as she took it into thought. "but, my fans-" she started. "forget your fans. just for now. worry about yourself so your fans don't have to, yeah?" you say with a small, reassuring smile.

Jenna listened with an intent glare, taking every word to heart. "yeah... yeah, okay." she muttered quietly at last, her gaze soft as she looked up at you.

you give her a ruffle of her hair as you pull her beside you, allowing her to be enveloped whole by the blanket. you wipe her eyes of her damp tears, giving her a concerned yet caring glare.

Jenna looked at you once more before taking a small breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply before nuzzling into the side of the hoodie. she took in a whiff of your scent, her body easing against yours as she closed her eyes. she was tired.

you whisper sweet words, small promises, and even heartfelt comments as she drifted off. you toy with her hair for a bit longer before moving your fingers away, holding her against you like a lifeline as you closed your eyes, as well.

oh, how wrong you were about someone who seemed to be made of perfect angel dust.