#i haven’t spoken to her in 5+ years

[the-vi-llain]

there’s something poetic about this

[armouredheart]

.

[writingpostmidnight]

i am so fucking mad at my mom

[furinyaa]

Love getting home and being ambushed by my anti-vax aunt that’s so cool

[mensfrightsactivist]

y’all need to look up coco leilani on spotify

[mavigator]

i talked about it a little bit already but i have things to say about it. for context, i was born with amniotic band syndrome. the amniotic band wrapped around my left wrist in utero and stunted the growth of my hand. i was born with about half a palm, four nubs for fingers, and a twisted half of a thumb. i can open and close my thumb and pinkie joint like a claw.

yesterday at work i had a shift in the room with 5-10 year old kids. i had my left hand hidden in my sleeve (a bad habit of mine). a kid asked if he could see my hand, and even though internally i was debating running into traffic, i said “sure you can” and showed him my hands. he stared for a moment, looking disturbed, and then said “i don’t want to look at that anymore”. that hurt to hear, but i understand that kids are new to the world and he probably didn’t mean it out of malice. i put my hand away again, told him that it was okay, and that i was just born that way.

he then went on to talk about how he knows a kid with a similar hand to mine and called it “ugly”. i told him that wasn’t a very kind thing to say and that he wouldn’t feel good if someone said that to him, and he replied that no one would say that to him—because he has “normal hands”, and he’s glad he does because otherwise he’d be “ugly”. i tried to talk with him for a bit about how everybody is born differently, but he just started talking about a girl he knows with a “messed up face” and pulled on his face to make it look droopy. i went on some more about how it wasn’t very kind to talk about people that way, but the conversation moved on to something else.

i’ve told my supervisors about it and they’re going to have a talk with his mom. what i wanted to say is this: i’m genuinely not upset with the kid. kids are young and naturally curious, and he clearly simply hasn’t been taught about disabled people and kind ways to speak to/about others. which is why i am upset with his parent(s). i know he’s encountered visibly deformed/disabled people before (he said so himself!), yet his parent(s) clearly haven’t had any kind of discussion with him about proper language and behavior. i knew from birth that some people were just different than others, but my parents still made a point to assert to be kind to and accepting of others. i wonder if adults in his life are the type of people to hush him and usher him away when he points out someone in a wheelchair. that kind of thing doesn’t teach politeness. it tells children that disabled people are an Other than can’t be acknowledged or spoken about; which, to a child, means disability must be something bad.

i’m lucky enough that this was a relatively mild incident, and that i’m a grownup with thicker skin. i’m worried about the other kids he mentioned to me. has he been talking to them this way? when i was a kid, i had other kids scream, cry, and run away at the sight of my hand. or follow me around pointing at me and laughing at me. or tell me i couldn’t do something because i was ugly or incapable or whatever. one time a girl at an arcade climbed to the top of the skeeball machine, pointed at me, and screamed at me to put my hand away and wouldn’t stop crying until she couldn’t see me anymore. another time, a kid saw my hand, screamed at the top of her lungs, and ran into my friend’s arms, crying hysterically about how i was scaring her. that second incident made me cry so hard i threw up when i got home. i can kind of laugh it off now, but having people react to me that way as a child is something i’m still getting over. why do you think i have a habit of keeping my hand in my sleeve? it just irritates me to see children that have clearly not been taught basic manners and kindness—their parents Clearly missed something pretty important .

[theskywaslookingback]

When I was 12 I was going to be married and have two children - Kathryne Elizabeth and David Chase.

When I was 9 my mom told me that when she was pregnant with me and took a bath, I’d roll around in her stomach like a dolphin. The thought made me sick.

When I was 17 I was in love with a boy who was a good childhood friend, and I wanted to marry him so bad I chased him away (we haven’t spoken in 13 years).

When I was 15 I kissed a boy for the first time. We dated for six weeks. I kissed him twice more, and the first time he put his tongue in my mouth I gagged.

When I was 16 I told my best friend that I didn’t understand the big deal about sex. In fact, I thought it was kind of gross. She laughed and told me to grow up.

When I was 6 I licked a boy’s desk in school because I wanted to give him cooties. I thought it was something like chicken pox.

When I was 18 I kissed a girl for the first time and thought “oh”.

When I was 14 my friend stayed the night and wanted to know if I wanted to kiss her. I told her no, because she had a boyfriend. She said it didn’t count because we were girls.

When I was 20 my stepmom told me that she thought asexuals were broken or mentally ill in some way. I stormed off to my bedroom and cried, but I didn’t know what I was crying for.

When I was 18 I had sex with two girls. After it was over I lay by myself at the edge of the bed, cold and hollow inside, and didn’t understand what I was so upset about.

When I was 11 I wanted to be a stay at home mom when I grew up.

When I was 19 I had sex with a guy for the first time. I didn’t hate it, was my first thought. My second was that I needed a shower as fast as possible.

When I was 7 I was hugged by someone and screamed because I didn’t want them to touch me. I didn’t have the words for it back then.

When I was 20 I had a panic attack before my fiancé came over to visit, because I knew we’d be alone and I knew I couldn’t tell him no.

When I was 20 I told him no and it didn’t matter.

When I was 15 I got caught looking up porn on my dad’s laptop. I got in worse trouble because it was gay porn. “You’re just upset with boys right now, you’ll grow out of it.”

When I was 5 my dad would read parts of the Bible out loud every night. He paid special attention to the parts condemning homosexuality, like he knew somehow even then.

When I was 19 I heard the word asexual for the first time, and dismissed it out of hand.

When I was 25 I cradled it to my heart like a balm.

When I was 20 I decided I was never going to have children.

When I was 19 I thought I was pregnant, and decided to kill myself if I was.

When I was 26 I said the words ‘asexual lesbian’ for the first time to myself, and crawled under the covers to hide.

When I was 28 a friend sent me a comic about aromanticism. I saw all the parts of me that were on display there and decided I wasn’t strong enough to acknowledge it just yet.

When I was 27 I told my friend that the only time I wanted to be married was when I was sick and wanted to be taken care of. The rest of the time the thought terrified me.

When I was 15 I told myself that no one would ever love me.

When I was 29 I decided that I didn’t care.

When I was 13 I thought I knew exactly what my life would be like when I was 30.

When I was 30 I was relieved to have been so wrong.

[mercurygguk]

head over skates · jjk ; part i.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can't stand it.

so what happens when you're suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,514

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing

a/n; HEAD OVER SKATES SERIES IS HERE!!!! it’s a drabble series now so these chapters will be short but that’s better than nothing amirite :)) i hope you like this first part! enjoyyy <3 also, please lmk what you think!

“The project will be done in pairs of two–”

Jihyo copies your smirk from across the room as you lock eyes with her. You were thinking the same thing – you and her will pair up and do this project together. As best friends and classmates since freshman year, you’ve learned that you work the best alongside each other. However, both of your smirks crumble into tiny pieces as Professor Kim finishes her sentence.

“–which have already been decided beforehand.”

You let out a quiet, frustrated groan as you slump in your seat. Jihyo pouts and shoots a glare at Professor Kim without her noticing. You watch with a bored expression as she pulls up a document showing the pairs for the project. You skim the document until your eyes land on your name, written in Times New Roman right next to–

Oh, hell no.

The universe has a sick sense of humor, is the first thought your brain is able to process as you stare at the name written next to yours. It’s the name of the one person you haven’t spoken to since senior year of high school. It’s the name of the one person you still hold a grudge against. It’s the name of your childhood best friend and high school crush – Jeon Jungkook.

When you first met Jungkook, he was just 5 years old and nothing like the man he is today.

Back then he had just moved in across the street and it didn’t take long for you to realize he was the cutest, most shy little boy – you can ask anyone who knew him back then. He was careful with everything from animals to dead objects to other people and yet he was just a pinch of wild and reckless enough to allow himself to do some of the crazy stuff kids do when growing up. He was smaller than the other boys at his age; short and skinny, a round head, framed by his thick strands of black hair. He also had big, star-filled doe eyes that could convince any adult to let him have everything his way. And having his way was something Jungkook got used to as he grew older – sometimes a bit too much perhaps.

As his best friend during all the years going from elementary school through middle school and the first years of high school, you witnessed it first hand – teachers and his friends alike were all willing to go out of their way to make sure Jungkook was satisfied. No one really knows how that came to be – perhaps it had nothing to do with Jungkook at all but everything to do with the fact that his father was the board director at one of the biggest enterprises in the country.

Jungkook has always been very oblivious, hence why he didn’t put much thought into the special treatment he received from everyone as soon as people found out just how rich his parents were. 

While in middle school, he had yet to realize how girls were starting to look at him, how they would giggle whenever he would flash his boyish smile in their direction, how they would almost trip over each other to get his attention and call his name during lunch breaks only to blush and say ‘nevermind’ when he would finally react. Jungkook had yet to realize that he was becoming hotter and less shy. He was oblivious as ever but still cute nonetheless. 

And while all this went down, you watched from the sideline, wondering when he would realize – wondering when your friendship would end. Because it would. You knew that from the moment Jungkook flirtatiously smirked and winked at your friend one day without realizing. Or maybe he did. Either way, you realized it on his behalf – he was slowly becoming a big flirt.

It’s now five years later and you were right. And as much as you like to be right, you’ve never hated it more.

Your friendship did end.

It started fading out almost as soon as Jungkook realized what he was able to achieve with his good looks and flirty nature. Now you and Jungkook attend the same college but in two different worlds most of the time. The chances of you and him ever going back to being friends like you were when you were pre-teens are minimal. And it’s not like you’re trying to befriend him again.

Cocky jocks who think they’re the shit aren’t exactly your first choice when making friends. 

And somehow during your high school junior year, Jungkook became one of them. He picked up on the term ‘working out’ and found out he had muscles and how to grow them. He also found out how to use those exact muscles to make the girls swoon, making them feed his ego way more than what is considered healthy. And as if that wasn't enough, Jungkook began practicing hockey.

And guess what? He was damn good at it.

Ego overfed.

As time went by, you and Jungkook talked less. He was busy with his new friends, playing hockey, and hanging out with girls that were way more interesting than his best friend, also known as you. Eventually you found yourself spending time with other people instead of him, finding it tiring and painful to be the second choice whenever his other friends didn’t have time or when his parents would mention you and he would 'suddenly' remember you existed. 

The sight of different girls from school entering and leaving his house without his parents knowing wasn’t that fun either if you’re being honest.

Although, you never actually told him that – but you didn’t have to because the two of you were gliding apart by each day you spent doing your own thing. It hurt but your silly crush eventually turned into anger which later turned into despisal and borderline hatred towards your former best friend. Because Jeon Jungkook was nothing more than just another jock with an overfed ego and way too many fangirls trailing behind him everywhere he goes.

Your point is deemed proven the moment Jungkook gets up from his seat in the back and makes his way to you – said fangirls all turn their scowling gazes to you the second they realize what is happening. You feel his presence before he opens his mouth to greet you, something about it making your stomach churn as he plops down in the seat next to you.

“Hey, partner,” he grins when you slowly turn to face him. “What are the odds, huh?”

You don’t spare him a glance nor a reply as you get up from your seat, leaving him behind and trying your very best to ignore the way his eyes follow your every move. Your professor seems less than excited to see you standing next to her desk as she looks up at you.

“Mrs. Kim,” you offer her your best polite smile, “is there any chance it’s possible to change partners for this project? It seems-”

Professor Kim glances back to your spot where Jungkook is sitting in the next chair, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back, hints of a smirk on his lips as he watches you and Mrs. Kim. “Miss ____, the pairs have been decided beforehand for a reason. I was hoping to save time and energy by doing this and will not be spending said saved energy on splitting up pairs just because you’re unhappy with yours.”

You feel a frustrated whine push at the back of your throat as the words leave her red-tinted lips. “But-”

“____, I know you prefer to work with Jihyo in every class you share,” she pointedly and calmly says. “But as the professor, it is my job to challenge the students and push them out of their comfort zone. If there aren’t any actual issues with having Mr. Jeon as your partner, I suggest you take on the challenge and get the best out of it.”

The fake smile she shoots at you has you frowning as you turn on your heel, defeat hanging over you in a gray cloud as you make your way back to your seat. Jungkook’s smirk has widened and he seems more than satisfied by the fact that your request got rejected by the professor. You slump in your seat once again, stealing a glance at Jihyo who got paired up with none other than Kim Namjoon – the top student of this class and her crush.

What a lucky bitch.

“Cheer up, ____,” Jungkook’s voice intrudes your thoughts, pulling you back. He’s smiling smugly when you turn to face him for the first time since he sat down. “I promise I’ll behave.”

You huff out an unimpressed scoff and turn your attention to your notes, the grip on your pen so tight your knuckles turn white. You miss the way Jungkook’s smile falters a little as you look away.

This is going to be the longest three weeks of your life – you’re sure of it.

all rights reserved © mercurygguk · tumblr

[crljhnn]

Math tutor

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: Rodrick is continuously unsuccessful in asking you out, so when he finds out that you are now tutoring his younger brother he decides to use this to his advantage. The only problem, Greg doesn't play along.

No physical description of the reader; No use of y/n

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: None

>Posted on AO3 as well<

“So that means x equals 9.” The answer comes out more like a question.

You've been tutoring Greg for about three weeks now and he finally, for the first time since starting this school year, seems to understand what is going on during math class.

“Yes, that’s right!”

“Really?”

While Greg wasn’t the first Heffley you ever tutored, he was the first to actually listen to what you said and process your explanations.

A few years ago you were taking the same math class as his older brother Rodrick who, back then, quite literally begged you to give him some tutoring lessons. While you didn’t like the idea of spending extra time at school to teach someone math, him apparently being so desperate for help, tugged at your heartstrings, making you give in.

On top of that, him being kind of cute and your teeny-tiny crush on him helped convince you as well. However, this adoration you harbored for about three months at that point, died about 5 minutes into your session.

He was barely paying attention to what you were saying, focusing more on drumming his pencils on the edge of the desk while humming along, using every breath you took to change the subject, mostly telling you about this little band of his. The straw that broke the camels back was when he dared to ask why you wanted to end the session only 15 minutes in, following it up with a „That was fun, let’s study together again soon!“.

Since you felt rather disrespected by that, you haven’t really spoken to him since. The highest form of communication was a forced smile when he would greet you in the hallway. You don’t have any common classes anymore.

However, your fiasco concerning Rodricks tutoring lessons didn’t stop his mom from asking you to tutor her younger son who, unsurprisingly, was falling behind in math as well. The significant difference this time was, that you were being paid. So even if Greg turned out to be just as uninterested in what you were saying as his older brother, it wouldn’t be a complete waste of time, at least for you.

That’s how you ended up in the local library every Monday and Wednesday for the last few weeks, explaining math to the younger brother of your former crush.

Today was different though. Since the library had to close down for a week, because of renovations, you decided to meet at the Heffleys house instead.

The last thing Rodrick expected, when he went downstairs to raid the fridge for snacks, was finding his crush of 3 years sitting in his living room.

Having his eyes fixed on you, he misses the last step, causing him to stumble, managing in the last second to grasp the railing to stop himself from face-planting. The result was him reaching the end of the stairs with a loud crash.

“You surely know how to make a remarkable entrance.”

“Haha yeah, hi.” He nervously scratches the back of his head “What are you… hah… what are you doing here?” ‘Stay cool Rodrick, you got this!’

“What does it look like? She’s tutoring me dumbass” The oldest Heffley son honestly didn’t even realize his younger brothers presence until he spoke up.

“Ah cool, so uhm good luck?” With another awkward laugh, he turns around and runs back upstairs.

Back in his room, he begins to panic, if he would have known that you were here he would have prepared better. But he’s sure he can still wing it.

First of all, he’s calling the band over for practice, I mean, he has his own band, chicks dig that.

He has it all planned out in his head, he will put on nice clothes, a nice perfume, and maybe even a bit of eyeliner as well, surely you’re into that. Then he’s gonna go downstairs, let his band in, and have a little jamming session with the boys.

Then there are two possible ways how the plan could continue to play out.

Possibility one, you hear his band playing from the living room and are so impressed that you just have to go and get a closer look. After that, he is going to invite you to sit in on practice for a bit longer. At the end of the session mesmerized will be an understatement to describe your state of mind and you won’t even have to think about it twice when he finally asks you out on a date.

The second possible outcome of you hearing him play is that you, while amazed, are still too shy to come up to him, so he will take a little break to get himself something to drink. Like one of those movie cliches, he’s gonna come in all sweaty, taking a sip of water and then emptying the rest of the bottle over his face and body to ‚cool himself down. Women find that hot, right? You definitely won’t be able to take your eyes off of him then.

While he is daydreaming about you drooling over him, he simultaneously digs through his closet, trying to find this one specific band shirt, that he bought after overhearing you gushing about their newest album. At the same time as he finds it, he hears his friends pull up, making him change in record speed while leaving his room to go back downstairs.

“Oh my god thank you for finally changing your shirt, the last one was smelling disgusting after you’ve been wearing it for like two weeks straight.” Greg had picked up on Rodricks crush on his tutor instantly, quickly deciding that using this new information to mess with him is the best form of revenge for the years of torture his brother put him through.

“Ugh shut up.” He turns to you “He’s lying you know. I change my clothes an appropriate amount of times. I actually just got ready for band practice. You remember me telling you about my band right? The boys are gonna be here any minute now.” He tries to be casual by leaning against the railing of the stairs but ends up stumbling instead.

“Yeah, I remember,” You don’t seem too happy about it though “But why do you have your shirt on backwards?”

Rodricks head snaps down. Fuck. Greg giggles. An awkward silence follows.

He's saved by the doorbell ringing, followed by the other Löded Diaper members walking in.

“Hi bro!”

“Yo Rodrick!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Why do you have your shirt on backwards?”

This time it’s you who giggles.

Sensing how embarrassed their band founder is, the boys take pity on him and rush him away.

After Rodrick explained his plan to his friends, resulting in him getting hyped up by them, they played for a while. After about 30 minutes he concludes that you won’t make the first move, which brings him to execute plan B of his strategy: to take matters into his own hands.

“You got this man!” He jogs back towards the living room, expecting to find you and his younger brother still studying but instead, he is greeted with Greg sitting in front of the tv playing video games.

“Oh is your tutoring session over already?” He tries to sound unbordered but fails horribly.

“Yeah you know I found it really hard to concentrate with this loud music, so we cut today short.” Greg grins up at the oldest Heffley child.

“Listen up you little shit-” he doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he could use Gregs help for his own benefit since you always seem to flee when he tries to make a move. It was the same a few years ago.

He had it all planned out back then as well. First, he was gonna ask you out for a study date, well that didn’t quite work out and it ended up more like a tutoring session. However, the result was that you two were spending some alone time together, so you could say that he roughly reached his initial goal. At least he counted it as a success.

Then Rodrick was going to make you fall for him. And how was he gonna do that? By impressing you of course. And what is the best way to impress a girl? Being in a band! Easy.

Well, that didn’t work out, driving you away even further. So maybe he could use his younger brother to get some inside info on what you like in men and what makes you fall for them.

Rodrick is fast to lay out his new plan to Greg.

“And why would I assist you with that? What is in it for me?” As expected, he is not exactly keen on helping his older brother out. So threatening it is.

“Cause if you don’t, you will regret it.” Greg is about to refuse again when he gets an idea. This would be the perfect way to get revenge on Rodrick. He is just gonna spin around everything you say and make his older brother ruin every chance he's ever had with you.

“Alright fine, I’ll do it.”

—

“Okay spit it out!” You and Greg are seated at your usual table at the library “You haven’t been able to sit still since you got here, what’s wrong?”

“I have a question.” He is not looking at you.

“Okay shoot!”

Greg has been thinking about how to interrogate you about your type without raising suspicions since the day he agreed to help Rodrick. “So there is this girl I kind of like and I wanted to ask you for advice. If a guy would want to go out with you, what would he need to do to stir your interest?”

“Well, every girl is different so-”

“Yeah but what about you?”

That confuses you a bit, but Greg asking you for girl advice was cute enough for you to not overanalyze it further.

“Well me personally, I like sweet and considerate guys,…”

—

“So what did she say?!” Rodrick was waiting for his younger brother at the front door, attacking him with questions as soon as he was close enough to hear.

“Calm down! So first of all she said, that she likes assholes you know, just your typical badboy!”

—

“…you know, the kind of guy who listens to what you have to say and really values your opinion. I want someone who actually hears what I say and shows that he is interested in me as a person...”

—

“She wants someone who is just a natural leader, an alpha, someone who makes decisions for her and shows dominance by interrupting her frequently. Also don’t seem too eager, she said she finds that overwhelming and just too much. Play it cool, act like you don’t care.”

—

“… so that means I also prefer deeper compliments, not just about my looks. Of course, it's nice to be called pretty every once in a while, but there is nothing worse than a guy repeatedly telling you how attractive you are, without ever appreciating anything else about you! Like is that the only thing about me that you like, my looks?…”

—

“She also likes to be complimented about her looks a lot, the more the better. Don’t even bother with any other kinds of compliments. ”

—

“… And lastly, never compliment a woman by putting other women down. The whole ‘Oh you're just not like other girls’ thing is deeply rooted in misogyny. It’s never a flattering compliment when it's only working because you are putting someone else down.”

—

“And lastly, she wants to feel special, you know, the best compliments include a comparison, for example, tell her how she is prettier than other women!”

Rodrick was hastily writing everything down.

“Thank you so much, I owe you!”

“No problem”

—

While you forgot about Gregs weird behavior as soon as you go back to explaining math, you are reminded of it again later, when he asks you to have your next session at his house, without giving an actual reason.

The weirdness reached its peak when he, shortly after you arrived at his house the next week, excused himself to quote ‘Look for, uh… you know,… a thing? That’s in my room’, then went to the bathroom instead, and ‘coincidentally’ as soon as he left his older brother showed up.

“Heyyy what’s up?” Rodrick mentally revises the list he learned by heart last night.

‘Be an asshole’ he kicks your water bottle that was standing next to you, “Oops…”

“Rodrick what the fu-”

‘Show dominance’

“Pick it up!”

“Excuse me? What is wrong wit-”,

‘Act like you don’t care’

“Quit talking like I care about what you have to say, what was your name again?”

“Wh- We both know that you know my name, what the fu-”,

‘Compliment her looks’

“You’re hot!”

And lastly, ‘Make her feel special by comparing her to other women’

“Especially compared to the other girls at school”.

A perfect delivery. He did everything that Greg told him to do. But why did you seem so angry? You looked like you were ready to swing at him.

That’s when he saw it. His shitty little brother was watching the interaction through the slightly opened bathroom door, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. When he catches Rodricks eye he slams the door shut.

“I’m gonna kill you!” He is sprinting towards the room his brother is hiding in, banging his fists against the door.

“What the fuck is going on?” You haven’t been so confused in a long time. That’s when it clicked for you too. That’s why Greg was acting so weird, that’s why he asked about YOUR dating preferences specifically. He asked for advice for Rodrick but must have messed with his brother, based on the older ones reaction.

“Rodrick, were you trying to hit on me?” Your voice is heavily laced with disbelief.

The boy stopped his obnoxious assault on the door.

“Did it work?”

You barely hold in your laugh. “Sure.”

“Wait really?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Your smile is kinder now, finding this side of Rodrick, where he is eager to appeal to you, really endearing. Shit, are your feelings for him coming back? You definitely were completely over your crush before, so how did he so easily wrap you around his finger again?

“I would have never guessed that you out of all people were into me, you know, after the little stunt you pulled a while ago.”

“What do you mean?” Rodrick is confused, when did he do something that made you believe that he wasn’t interested in you?

“Our tutoring session? When you completely disrespected me by not even listening to me after you were the one to ask for help.”

“I was listening to you! It's just hard to concentrate when you are so… you! And your voice is so…” Wow he just has this way with words “And I didn't intend for it to be actually studying when I ask you. I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you, maybe impress you a bit, my band being the impressive part by the way, and then later ask you out on a date.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

“And this little scene that played out just now, I guess that was Gregs doing?”

“Yes, since it didn’t work out the last two times I tried to get you to go out with me, I thought this was the best way to do it.”

Oh, your crush was definitely back, and bigger than ever at that.

“Well you never actually asked me out, maybe that would have been enough.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know, guess you have to ask to find out.”

[rosemariiaa]

~The Weight of Want~

part: 5

pairing: Paige x Azzi

a/n: surprise,this is kind of rushed and shorter than expected!! happy reading lovelies 💌

themes: teasing , language, drinking

The leaves outside were turning shades of orange and gold, and the air had that crispness that signaled Halloween was just around the corner. Paige stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her hat, feeling more anxious than she’d like to admit. It had been almost a year since everything had “fallen apart” , and while she had tried to take Caroline’s advice to heart—focusing more on her studies, basketball, and just enjoying life—tonight felt different.

What if Azzi was there? The thought sent a rush of anxiety through her. Fuck. I haven’t seen her in months. They’d left things on somewhat good terms, but there had been no real closure. The idea of seeing that doe-eyed brunette again, with her cheeky smile and deep dimples, sent a rush of warmth through her. Get it together, Paige. It’s been a year.. But were you really ever over someone who made your heart race just by being in the same room?

“Yo P! Are you ready yet, or are you just gonna stand there and stare at yourself all night?” KK’s voice cut through her thoughts, impatience thick in the air.

“Yeah, just—” she started, but KK barged in, a teasing grin plastered on her face.

KK leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. “You look like a grinning tomato. Are you ready to scare people with that outfit or what?” Paige rolled her eyes, letting out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that bad! Just give me a sec!”

“Seriously, though, why are you so jittery?” KK asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re acting like you’re about to walk into an exam you didn’t study for or something.” “I’m not jittery!” Paige protested, but the high pitch of her voice gave her away. I’m totally jittery.

KK stepped into the room, inspecting her costume. “Oh, really? Because you’ve been checking your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline.

Paige thumped KK’s forehead again, causing her to stumble back, hands flying up in mock defense. “Shut up. I’m just making sure I have everything I need.”

KK smirked, leaning in closer. “Look at you, still worried about something. What’s really going on?”

Paige tried to shake off the feeling, but it wouldn’t leave. “Nothing, okay? It’s just… I might be a little nervous about tonight.”

KK crossed her arms and leaned in, eyes narrowed playfully. “Nervous about what? You know it’s just a party, right? It’s not like you’re going to a funeral.”

“Yeah, but—what if…Azzi is there?” Paige blurted, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of seeing Azzi again sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t shake it off.

KK raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk creeping onto her face. “Oh god, don’t get your hopes up! You haven’t even spoken to her in forever! You think she’s just gonna pop up outta nowhere?”

“I don’t know!” Paige snapped, her nerves getting the best of her. “I mean, she doesn’t even like these types of events. But… still.”

“Girl, boo! Don’t get any ideas!” KK teased, shaking her head. “I’m over that! We’ve both moved on—she’s with Laila. She’s fine,” Paige insisted, though the words felt a little hollow.

“Yeah, about that…” KK said, raising an eyebrow. “I heard Laila cheated on her.”

“Wait, what? Seriously?” Paige’s heart skipped a beat. That’s… actually kind of great. “Good for her. I mean… fuck Laila, honestly.”

“Oh god, you’re so pussy whipped!” KK exclaimed, laughing at her friend.

Paige opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. KK shot her a knowing look. “Yeah, exactly. You haven’t even talked or fucked any girls since that talk with Azzi. Hell, you can’t even look at anyone else unless you’re stalking Azzi’s Insta.”

Paige fell silent, her heart racing as KK’s words hung in the air. She knew it was true, and that realization settled uncomfortably in her stomach. I can’t be this way. But I can’t help.

“Let’s just go, okay?” Paige finally said, brushing off the tension as she grabbed her bag. “We’re gonna be late.”

KK laughed again, clearly enjoying the view of the angry blonde. “Alright, alright! Just don’t get all mopey on me tonight. We’re here to have fun!”

As they left the apartment, Paige’s mind raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. With a final glance in the mirror, she reminded herself that she wasn’t that scared girl anymore. Tonight was about having fun, enjoying herself, and maybe, just maybe, reconnecting with someone she had lost.

As they made their way to the party, Paige felt a flicker of hope amidst the nerves. Whatever happens, I’ll handle it. I’m ready. But are you?

———-

Azzi stood in front of her mirror, giving herself a once-over. The red cropped V-line top clung to her like it was made just for her, and those matching shorts? They fit her ass perfectly. She slipped into her red ankle boots, feeling like a total badass. The devil horns in her curls added the perfect touch—she felt like a cute little menace.

“Fuck Laila,” she muttered, still remembering how that whole shitshow had unfolded. Catching Laila in bed with some girl from accounting had stung, but the aftermath? So much better. She thinks she can just lie her way out? Nope, not this time. Surprisingly, Azzi had bounced back quicker than she expected. Maybe it was because she realized she didn’t need the drama.

Since then, she had tried going out with a few girls. But each time, it felt like they were just a distraction. Whatever, I don’t need that right now. She shrugged off the thought. Tonight was about fun, not some half-assed date that wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you ready yet, Az? You’re taking forever!” Caroline’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah! Chill, I’m coming!” Azzi shouted back, giving herself one last look. The flutter of anxiety mixed with excitement in her stomach as she thought about the party. What if Paige was there?

Get it together, girl. She took a deep breath, shaking off the nerves. It’s been months. You’ve got this.

As she stepped out of her room, she could hear the laughter and chatter of her friends in the living room. They were buzzing with energy, and she couldn’t help but feel it too. Tonight was going to be wild, and she was ready to let loose. With one last glance in the mirror, she adjusted her devil horns, smirking at her reflection. If Paige showed up, cool. If not? Whatever. She was done worrying about things that were out of her control.

“Let’s go!” she called out, confidence surging through her. Tonight, she was going to enjoy herself, and nothing was going to hold her back.

———-

Paige’s Pov

As I step into the bar, the energy hits me like a wave. It’s packed, and I scan the room, heart pounding when I spot Azzi leaning against the bar, a playful smile dancing on her lips as she chats with some guys. She’s wearing a fitted red top that draws the eye. my eye. And I can’t help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. After everything that happened, this feels like a test.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way over, trying to look casual. “Hey,” I say, the word barely escaping my lips. Azzi turns to me, eyebrows raised, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Hey,” she replies, her voice steady but cautious. “How are you?”

“Good,” I say too quickly, my heart racing. “You? I heard about… well, you know.” I try to keep my tone light, but it feels heavy. She shrugs, her expression hardening a little. “It’s whatever,” she says dismissively, taking a sip of her drink. “How’ve you been?”

I swallow, wishing I had something witty to say. “Oh, you know, the usual. Just… focusing on basketball.” I glance down, feeling a twinge of discomfort. We stand in awkward silence, both sipping our drinks. The tension hangs between us, thick and unyielding. It feels surreal to be in the same space after everything, and I can’t help but steal glances at her.

“Been hanging out with anyone special?” Azzi asks, tilting her head slightly. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but I can sense the underlying curiosity.

I shake my head, my heart sinking a little. “Not really. Just been busy. How about you?”

She smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure, no one at all? You really expect me to believe that, Paige?”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I do. I haven’t talked to anyone since… you know.”

Her expression softens again, just a flicker, but it’s enough to catch me off guard. “Oh. Right.”

Another moment of silence stretches between us, and I can’t help but steal another glance. It’s strange, seeing her like this—confident but still vulnerable.

———-

Hours later

A little while later, I notice she’s already four shots down, laughing a bit too loudly. “Damn, Azzi, slow down!” I call out, amusement lacing my tone.

She just sticks her tongue out at me, a defiant grin on her face. “No way!”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Whatever you say, little drunken devil.” I hop up on the bar next to her, facing her directly. “Want a sip?” I push my drink towards her.

Azzi takes the glass, swirling the straw a little while keeping intense eye contact with me. She takes a sip and lets out a soft moan at the taste. I can’t help but stare, captivated by the girl in front of me, a rush of memories flooding back.

“Stop staring,” she teases, but there’s a softness in her voice.

“I can’t help it,” I admit, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

Her smile widens as she leans in a little closer, her lips barely a breath away. “You’re really trying to play it cool, huh? Because it’s not working.”

“Yeah, well, you know me,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but I can feel my heart pounding. “Always cool under pressure.”

Azzi leans back slightly, crossing her arms with a playful smirk. “Right. Like the time you tripped over your own feet in front of everyone during practice?”

I laugh, the memory fresh. “Okay, that was one time! But it was just a… tactical error!” “Sure, Paige. Tactical,” she says with a wink, and I feel the warmth in my cheeks deepen.

Suddenly, she hops off her chair and moves closer, her body mere inches from mine. Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Do you miss me?”

The question takes me off guard, and I blink at her, trying to process. “Uh, yeah. Did you?”

Azzi bites her bottom lip, a small nod confirming what I’m hoping to hear. “A lot.”

That makes me smile, and without thinking, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. “I’ve missed you,” I say, my gaze drifting over her outfit. I lick my lips.

Azzi notices, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Is that better?” she asks, pulling the zipper of her top down slightly, revealing a hint more cleavage.

I smirk, nodding. “Definitely.”

Wrapping my hands around her waist, I pull her closer, staring deep into her brown eyes, my heart racing as I scan her face. The moment stretches between us, thick with unspoken words. I can feel the tension building, and before I can think too much about it, I whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

Without waiting for my full permission, Azzi closes the gap between us, her lips crashing onto mine. The kiss is electric, filled with urgency and desire. I can’t help but explore her back with my hands, finally letting them drop down to her ass. She sighs against my mouth, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

We break apart, breathless, both trying to catch our breaths.

Azzi looks up at me, her gaze softer now. “I’m tired. I wanna go home.”

“Okay,” I reply, still trying to process everything that just happened.

She looks up at me, her thumb grazing my cheek, then my lips. “Can you take me home, P?”

My breath hitches, and I nod, my heart racing. “Yeah, I can do that.”

———-

goodnight 😊

tags: @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @ohbueckers @sierrale8ne @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 1

Finnick Odair x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The first thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was the hands of Capital doctors grabbing at you. Three weeks in the arena had left you extremely weak and you had a bad cut on your face but none of that mattered. They were touching you and you didn’t like that.

The second thing you remember after they lifted you from the arena was waking up chained to your hospital bed, surrounded by peacekeepers and President Snow.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the old man stated. “I wish you wouldn’t be so difficult with us.”

“Difficult?” you ask with what little voice you have left.

“It seems that you won’t let us treat your wounds, or let anyone get close to you for that matter,” he states. “The poor doctor was just trying to take your temperature when you stabbed him with a scalpel.”

“He was touching me,” you reply.

“Oh my dear we have a long road ahead of us if you are planning on remaining… difficult.”

You hadn’t meant to kill so many people. First it was 6 in the arena, then it was the doctor in the capital, then it was your first client, then it was another capital doctor and a peacekeeper trying to restrain you. By the time you came down from your lapse in sanity, you had been sentenced to house arrest in District 4’s victors village.

“Feral” is what they called you. To everyone outside of your home you were uncontrollable; crazy; even dangerous. To yourself, you were broken; confused; misunderstood. To him, you were everything.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Linessa, the District 4 escort, calls out as she reaps the tributes for the 75th annual Hunger Games. Mags moves to volunteer but you quickly shoot her a look and she backs down. She knows you won’t hurt her, in fact, she’s one of the few people who genuinely cares for you, but she knows not to interfere when your mind is made up.

Annie shrinks into Mags’ side as you shuffle past her towards the escort. She’s another poor, misunderstood being like you. The two of you have never been friends for the simple reason that she is absolutely terrified of you and sometimes her meltdowns set you off. Maybe in a different reality you two would be friends, but not in this one.

Peacekeepers follow you to the front of the stage as you drag your shackled feet forward. This is the first time anyone besides the victors has seen you in around 5 years, and they’re getting a good look at what “feral” looks like.

The peacekeepers hold a gun to your back as you stand on the stage, head high. It’s so hot out you’re hoping you’ll sweat enough to slip your hands out of your cuffs. The district center looks the same as the last time you saw it all those years ago.

“Finnick Odair,” Linessa reads out and your head immediately snaps towards her. She lets out a small shriek and the peacekeepers tighten their hold on their guns as Finnick makes his way to the front to stand next to you. Of course, they don’t let him get anywhere near you, but you wouldn’t hurt him. You would burn the whole world to the ground if it meant protecting him.

The peacekeepers allow Mags to join you and Finnick on the train but they don’t let her anywhere near you. Finnick tries to tell them that you’re fine and won’t hurt anyone but they won’t listen.

You’re done trying to advocate for yourself. In fact, it’s useless. You haven’t spoken to anyone besides Finnick in five years. Not since your client…

Anyways, peacekeepers escort you to your room and set up guard in the hall. They’re too scared to be in the room with you, and none of the avoxes will go near you.

You wouldn’t have even been fed if it weren’t for Finnick barging into your room (despite the peacekeepers’ protests) with a plate of food. The peacekeepers made him keep the door open so they could monitor the situation but at least you could eat.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks as you pick at your food. You shrug your shoulders in response. He goes to lay his hand close to yours in comfort, causing one of the peace keepers to pipe up.

“Hey!” he yells, causing you to jump. “Back up Mr. Odair. We’ve been advised not to let anyone get within five feet of it.”

Finnick stands up and moves himself between you and the peacekeepers.

“First of all,” he states. “She is not an ‘it’. She’s a human being like the rest of us. Secondly, she is not a danger to me. She would never hurt me and even if she tried we both know I would win that fight. Scaring her like that is only going to set her off, and I won’t hold her back if she does. The best thing you can do, for everyone’s safety, is treat her like a human being, absolutely do not touch her, and no yelling. She’s not an animal, she’s traumatized.”

“Sir we’ve been ordered to shoot her at the first sign of agression. The capital doctors have advised us that she’s a danger to those around her,” the peacekeeper states.

“The capital doctors haven’t seen her in over five years!” Finnick exclaims. “They don’t know the first thing about her. Now get out and let us eat in peace. Don’t forget I’ve killed people too.”

The peacekeepers, visibly shaken, leave your room and allow the door to close. Finnick sits back down on your bed with you to resume your meal.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

[tgmsunmontue]

Peer reviewed

3k Hangster (one-shot). Mature (to explicit maybe?)

Secretly married Hangster in an academic environment. Outsider POV then Hangster back and forth with a 5+1 feel (“feel” because it’s a 9+1). This was inspired by one of the academics I manage/work with who came into my office and declared “I haven’t spoken to him in three years and I’m not about to start now!” and I just sat there and went… why are you so proud of being apparently incapable of being baseline professional with a colleague?

…            …            …

FIRST TIME

                “Oh my god! Have you heard what’s happening down in the engineering staff offices?”

                “They haven't set fire to the place again have they?”

                “That was one time. But no, two of our new staff have arrived and it sounds like they’ve about to have a brawl in the corridor.”

                “Seriously?”

                “Yeah! Want to go walk past under the premise of getting a coffee?”

                “Definitely.”

                Jane and Sarah stand and watch. Professor Bradshaw and Professor Seresin are standing almost nose-to-nose, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing in anger and any second one of them is just going to push the other, and the other is then going to be justified in taking a swing. Sarah can see it all playing out in her minds’ eye and she wonders exactly what has set them off. She wonders if this would be a new record for HR, for people to get fired before they even officially start. Because physical altercations are definitely a firable offense, she knows because it’s happened before.

                And they’ve put so much work in finding these professors. They had met them both when they came for their interviews, about a week apart. She’d had to shmooze and try to sell the University and location just as much as the job. Their school might not have big student numbers, but their research is world class and both Seresin and Bradshaw bring a lot to the table in terms of research capabilities and student supervision and mentorship. Now if they could just get along with each other.

                Then Professor Seresin says something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, but Professor Bradshaw goes bright red, shoves Professor Seresin and stalks off, so it can’t have been anything good.

                Okay then.

                Maybe they shouldn’t have placed the new guys in offices side-by-side thinking they might get on with one another.

…            …            …

                “Do you feel better for a nap?”

                “Fuck you… but yes. And I’m sorry I lost my temper. I was just tired and –”

                “Hungry and stressed and jetlagged. Yeah babe, I know. Thanks for taking over…”

                “You’re welcome. Although I think everyone assumes we hate each other.”

                “Oh. That’s…”

                “Well, we weren’t going to advertise the fact we’re married.”

                “No. But… to have everyone think we hate each other?”

                “What? It’ll just be like when we started dating… everyone getting sick of our shit and wanting to bang out heads together.”

                “Jake… we were post-docs then. We’re professionals now.”

                “Speak for yourself. I plan on pretending we’re holding a grudge about who got the better office.”

                “Jake, you got the better office.”

                “And you can hold a grudge better than anyone I know. So it works perfectly. Also you’re going to spend more time in the workshop or lab and I spend more time in the front of fucking screen running models so it makes sense that I get the nicer office…”

                “You didn’t raise either of those points when we were fighting earlier…”

                “Well, I knew telling you I wanted to fuck you on my brand new desk would shut you up.”

                “You’re lucky I love you.”

---------------------------

SECOND TIME

                It’s a networking event, mainly aimed at making industry partners aware of what research is currently being undertaken and what potential opportunities there are for collaboration. She’s done her best with the program, to ensure Bradley and Jake can avoid each other. Bradley presented first and Jake is almost last. They’re both on a first name basis with her now after the months of working together, she’s helped them both with different aspects of moving to another country however she notes that they still refer to each other by last names. They’re the only ones to still do that.

                On top of that Bradley seems to be trying to maybe kill Jake with the power of his mind, staring at him with heated intensity like his mere presence is an affront to Bradley somehow. She’s noticed his temper gets worse when he’s tired or his blood sugar dips low and has taken to stocking a bowl of candy on her desk, which Bradley seems to take from every afternoon. Maybe she should go and ensure he’s eaten.

…            …            …

                “You’re so good for me baby… way to make a boring work event far more interesting. Thinking about this inside of you all night while you walked around looking so good in your suit. Fuck…”

---------------------------

THIRD TIME

                It’s meant to be a social activity, just a friendly game of badminton or table tennis. Except apparently Bradley and Jake are competitive at even the most benign of social interactions and are currently trying to kill each other using ping pong balls. Other staff are backing away with either fear or simple self-preservation, not wanting to be caught in the cross-fire of whatever this has turned into. The taunts they’re throwing back and forth are a little too barbed to be considered friendly, but not barbed enough to be nasty. Either way, no one seems to be having much fun.

…            …            …

                “Pretty sure we’re not meant to be using the disabled bathroom for sex.”

                “Not my fucking fault you’re so hot I can’t control myself.”

---------------------------

FORTH TIME

                The annual school strategy meeting happens and they just need to keep Bradley and Jake on opposite sides of the room. Her and Jane have got this down to a fine art now, although the idea of trying to keep the two of them in the same room for an entire workday is stretching even their abilities. Fortunately the program leaders for both Jake and Bradley seem to be happy to assist in keeping them separated but also in expediating the material by arranging for half of it to be discussed at a later point. Considering some of the arguing that has already happened it’s a very good thing they don’t have to compete for funding internally.

…            …            …

                “Okay, definitely a benefit of everyone thinking we can’t stand each other, making meetings shorter.”

                “Don’t you feel a little bad that we’re deceiving them?”

                “Did you not hear what I just said?”

---------------------------

FIFTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw.”

                “Seresin. What can I help you with?”

                The lack of title is definitely deliberate and if there were guns involved the safety would be off, or the hammer would be getting cocked… Instead Jake is looking amused more than anything else, although there’s a slight hue of pink high on his cheeks which bely his potential anger at the disrespect. It’s not often they’re both in the administration office at the same time, and they’re both gritting their teeth and grimacing. She cannot believe that they’re apparently incapable of being more civil to one another.

                “Just found your phone in the break room and thought I’d bring it up to the office. And here you are…”

                “And here I am…”

                Jake is indeed holding a phone out, pinched between his thumb and forefinger like he might catch something from it. Bradley reaches out a hand to take it and like it’s almost slow motion the phone tumbles from Jake’s fingers just as Bradley is about to take it and it hits the floor.

                “Oops. Sorry. Butter fingers,” Jake says, but he’s smirking and even Sarah is annoyed on Bradley’s behalf. That was clearly deliberate. Bradley is bending to retrieve his phone, rolling his eyes and muttering thanks under his breath, which Sarah decides is far more polite than she’d be.

                “Oh, my pleasure.”

…            …            …

                Jake pushes Bradley up against his office door, locking it and grinning like an idiot as he presses kisses along the curve of Bradley’s jaw.

                “God, you’re such an asshole.”

                “Yeah, but I wanted to see you bend over in those jeans again. Damn Bradley…” Jake says, and he runs a hand over Bradley’s ass again, very appreciative of said ass.

                “Workplace harassment.”

                “You like being harassed by me at work.”

                “Yeah, what do you think that says about my mental state?”

                “That you love me?”

---------------------------

SIXTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw won’t be in today. And probably not tomorrow.”

                “Um,” Sarah blinks. “Is he…” Alive? She’s a little scared to ask.

                “He’s got some type of stomach flu, puking and feverish. I said I’d take his classes for him.”

                “That’s… nice of you.”

                “Hmm. I always like it when people owe me favors.”

                Huh. She smiles and nods and decides to send Bradley a message to check in and maybe suggest he doesn’t eat any food that Jake brings him. Just in case.

…            …            …

                “You’re the best.”

                “And you’re adorable.”

                “I’m miserable.”

                “And very adorable with it.”

                “Did you know that Sarah thinks you’re poisoning me?”

                “What? Since when?”

                “She sent me a message saying to be careful about taking anything from you, just in case.”

                Jake rolls his eyes and presses a quick kiss to Bradley’s forehead.

                “If I catch this from you, then you can worry about me poisoning you. But not before then.”

                “Love you too babe.”

---------------------------

SEVENTH TIME

                “I’m really sorry Bradley, it’s just with how late notice it is we can’t find another room anywhere close by. I’ve asked that if another room is made available you’re moved to it immediately.”

                “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind sharing a room. I promise.”

                “What’s wrong?” Jake asks, coming into the office, and he’s looking at Bradley with narrowed eyes and even when Bradley smiles at Jake all he gets in response is a frown and Bradley simply rolls his eyes, like he finds Jake’s action endearing somehow rather than grossly unprofessional.

                “There weren’t any more rooms available, so I’ve had to place you in the same room. Separate beds though!”

                “I’d rather share with someone I know than a complete stranger,” Bradley says.

                “So I have to put up with him farting and snoring in my room?”

                “Excuse you! Like I don’t have to put up with the same from you!”

                “I’m really sorry Jake, it’s just –”

                “It’s fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s not within your control. Bradshaw and I can play nice for a few days I’m sure. Can’t we Bradshaw?”

                “Well, we can certainly try.”

                “That’s the spirit!”

                “We can even share a ride to the airport, seeing as we live in the same apartment building.”

                “Who knows, we might come back best friends.”

                “I think people will just be impressed we both come back alive and don’t kill each other.”

                They walk away in the same direction and Sarah bites a knuckle and looks across at Jane.

                “You know, I think they’re starting to mature. That was almost a civil conversation. They only looked like they wanted to hit each other about half the time…”

…            …            …

                “Yes, hi, we’re here to check in. A room for Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Oh! We’ve actually had a cancellation. There’s another room available. Your assistant was very adamant that if there was a cancellation we moved you to separate rooms.”

                “It’s fine. We’d prefer to share.”

---------------------------

EIGHTH TIME

                “Hi. Can you tell me where to find Professor Seresin’s office?”

                “Aren’t you one of Professor Bradshaw’s students?”

                “Yeah, but he said I’d be best to talk to Professor Seresin, because he knows more.”

                “Really? Hmm. Well, their offices are side by side, so if you’d been looking at the name plates on the doors you would have noticed you had to walk past Professor Seresin’s office to get here.”

                “Oh. Okay then. Thank you.”

                Sarah turns to Jane, eyes wide and disbelieving look on her face.

                “Do you think they’re thawing toward one another?”

                “Who knows? Maybe that conference they both went to forced them to get on?

                Later, when they’re walking back to the office from their lunch break Jake and Bradley are arguing in the corridor and Sarah lets out a sigh and shrugs. Things had been looking so promising.

…            …            …

                “No Bradley, I stand by what I told the student. I do have a better understanding of the measurement and applications for sensors. I build the fucking circuits and run models out my ears before I even reach the build stage.”

                “Yeah, I know you do, but it’s a final year capstone project. Not a Masters or PhD. You’re overthinking it and making it far bigger than it needs to be. You overwhelmed him with your enthusiasm. I wasn’t telling you no, I was just needing you to dial it down.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah. I know. Lucky I love you.”

---------------------------

NINTH TIME

                “Oh, they definitely looked like they’d been pushing each other around.”

                “Seriously? At least they’re smart enough to never do it where there are witnesses. Otherwise it would be an HR nightmare. Do you think there’s maybe something more there though?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well… I got the receipt for the hotel where they stayed, and they ended up staying in the same room. By choice. I know there was an extra room because I phoned up the morning they were meant to be checking in, and there had been a cancellation. But they decided not to use it.”

                “Okay. That is odd.”

                “Plus there was one time I got mail for Jake Seresin-Bradshaw. Do you think they’ve gone and joined forces for some type of research?”

                “More likely gone halves on a subscription of some type. Those things are like, ridiculously expensive. Their research kind of overlaps right? It’s why they knew each other… didn’t they do their undergraduate degrees at the same University?”

…            …            …

                “A love bite Bradley? Really?”

                “Yep. Now you match about half your first-year students.”

                “You’re such an asshole.”

                “Mmm. I do work very hard at it.”

---------------------------

TENTH TIME

                “Jake. Fantastic presentation. Just wondering if I could maybe interest you in a drink?”

                Sarah doesn’t give the person asking much of a chance. Jake is always so very calm and aloof at these types of events, perfectly pleasant and professional for the most part. Except when it comes to Bradley, although it’s been a couple of years now and their banter back-and-forth could almost be classified as friendly.

                “A drink to talk about a potential professional partnership?” Jake asks, smile bland and not reaching his eyes.

                “Well, no,” their voice drops lower. “More a potential personal relationship…?”

                “I think my husband might have something to say about that, and also I'm not at all interested.”

                What the actual fuck Sarah thinks to herself. Since when has Jake been married? And to declare it quite loudly in a room full means there’s no back tracking.

                “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were… unavailable. You’ve never mentioned a husband before.”

                “No, I haven’t. But we have been married for coming up to five years.”

                Five years!!! Sarah thinks to herself.

                “You called?” Bradley asks, voice dry and Sarah cannot fucking believe it.

                “Hi. Yes. I did. Ready to go home?”

                “Ready when you are.”

                Sarah needs to reassess every time she remembers them interacting, because they’re still looking at each other, but now that she knows they’re married it puts a whole different lens on why that level of intensity might be there in the gaze they’re sharing.

                Oh.

                They’ve been eye-fucking each other.

                During meetings, events, social get togethers… when they’ve been pushing each other around.

                Oh.

                Right.

                Good for them.

…            …            …

                “What made you decide to declare our matrimonial state tonight?” Bradley asks, and it’s a struggle to talk, Jake’s mouth on his neck sucking, biting and kissing. His fingers have already undone the buttons of Bradley’s shirt and pushed it off, now working on his belt.

                “Novelty had worn off. I want the novelty of being able to hold your hand, or kiss you if I want to or…”

                “Or simply say we’re married?”

                “Yeah. That too.”

THE END

[olliewrites-stuff]

In Which You Play Orpheus

In which you play Orpheus,

And you are broken-hearted and desolate.

The loss of your Eurydice for the

Second and final time

Carves your soul into

Mourning lyrics in a language

Only the bereft can decipher.

In which you stand there, frozen,

Mourning the first and only time

Turning towards your lover

Has ended in heart-break.

In which you play Orpheus,

But this time,

The Gods decide to make you

Suffer

Instead of ending you.

In which you are Orpheus and

You have just lost your Eurydice,

But also,

In which you have been granted

Immortality

Until reaching an age the Gods decide

Your existence on this plane

Without HER

Can cease.

In which you are newly-immortal,

And your immortality is certain -

And you refuse to disclose just how

You know it to be fact.

In which those pages of your book -

With the screaming and the

Crying and the

Desperate clutching,

Are stuck together never to be read aloud,

And that's how you prefer it to be.

In which you are Orpheus,

And you can't escape Her.

She whispers through the trees.

She cries desperately for you

In the thunderstorms.

The cheeky quirk of Her lip is

Reflected on other people’s faces …

And it HURTS.

By Gods,

It HURTS.

The absence in your life

And soul so profound that you

Cannot breathe.

In which you attend the group sessions,

Just like your friends suggested,

But the way in which the facilitator

Says Her name makes you

Clench your fists and

Refuse to make eye-contact with

Anyone.

This suffering is overwhelming,

But sharing it would be like

Sharing what little of Her

You have left, and -

You're not strong enough to let that go.

In which you lose control one day,

Throwing a chair across the room

When the soft-spoken woman

To your right,

Who is wearing her hair like She used to,

Speaks your name in Her timbre.

In which you become a cyclone,

A Category 5 descending on the home

You used to share,

Snatching up all of Her things and

Hurling them into a space

Never to be seen again.

Everything seems to pause as you

Come across a picture of

The two of you.

Everything gets deceivingly quiet

As the eye of Cyclone Orpheus

Overtakes you.

Your eyes dart from smiling eyes to

Lovestruck smile,

And all of a sudden,

The storm is back in action.

Smashing,

Crashing,

Banging,

Screaming,

Crying -

Your rage is

s u f f o c a t i n g

and

t e r r i f y i n g,

But FUCK

Does it feel good to cause damage,

Even though the chaos you can create

Is no match for the damage

She caused YOU, and -

...You've ripped the picture in half

And are suddenly human again,

Kneeling in the centre of your carnage

As you realise what you’ve done.

In which you quietly and reverently

Pack up the rest of Her belongings,

Vowing to actually attempt

Living

The rest of your life.

For Her if no-one else.

In which time passes and

You lose track of it;

Surviving one day becomes

Surviving two,

Then three,

And soon,

Years,

Decades - maybe even centuries -

Pass,

And it’s only after you catch yourself

Smiling as you think of the sweet

Grecian girl with the dazzling smile

You’ve bumped into a few times,

That you realise you’re not

Occupied with thoughts of

Your Eurydice.

In which you graze your shoulder as you

Scramble to where you’d left all of Her stuff

To collect dust.

Light floods the space as you scurry to

Surround yourself in Her presence again,

To prove you haven’t stopped

Thinking about Her,

That you haven’t given up on Her,

That you haven’t

f o r g o t t e n

Her.

"See? See!

I’ve still got that scarf you wore every year,

And that photo album from that one time...

And see, see?

Look at all the SHIT I have that

Proves I can’t live without you!"

You stop.

Breathe in and out deeply…

In which you play Orpheus,

And have lost your Eurydice.

In which you realise that between

Forcing yourself to be busy

So you didn’t have time to grieve,

And doing your best to live

As She would have wanted,

You had found a way to grieve.

To move on.

To live without her.

In which you no longer grieve,

But can still hear Her

Softly whispering through the trees.

You can hear Her in the thunderstorms.

You can see the cheeky quirk of Her lip

In people you’ve since befriended.

And you are okay.

The reminders bring back

Fond memories, now,

Reminding you of the time you DID

Get to spend with Her,

And the happiness you felt then

That you can recognise again now.

In which you play an immortal Orpheus who

Has lost his Eurydice,

And you realise She is gone,

But not forgotten.

© O.M.A

[gigisimsonmars]

Reunions

Jake Seresin x F!Reader. This is my first fic, so please be nice! Dedicated to @sebsxphia - so proud of you! Thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse for reading this over. Tagging a few people who might be interested: @blue-aconite @anniesocsandgeneralstore @wildbornsiren @seresinhangmanjake @callsignvalley @theharddeck

Warnings: pregnancy scare, situationships, anxiety.

You stand on your tip-toes, peering around the heads of the people in front of you on the dock, trying to get a glimpse of the gangway. Jake will be in his camo uniform, blending into the crowd of sailors walking off the carrier. The sun is so bright, the wind blowing the sea air off the water and mixing with the smells of the crowd around you. You feel a little nauseous. You haven’t seen him in three months.

An excited little girl knocks into you, hopping up and down, tugging on her father’s hand. “Mommy! Can you see Mommy?” Her father is smiling, even as the lines of exhaustion from the past few months carve down his cheeks. “She’s almost here, baby.” You stare a little too long. The noise of the crowd, the pressure of the bodies around you, the light, it’s all pressing down on you. You’re a little lightheaded. You look again at the gangway but can’t pick Jake out.

You’re staring at a family reunion, parents clutching their gangly son – do they really let kids join this young? He looks sixteen – when Jake finds you.

He looks perfect, bronzed by the sun, sea glass eyes full of light. He asked you to come get him, and he emailed you every week while he was away and called twice, and he calls you sweetheart -  

“Sweetheart, you okay?” He’s been speaking. You should have been listening. You missed his first words to you.

“I-,” the words aren’t coming. Jake looks at you a moment, carefully.

“Too much noise?” he asks gently, so gently that it’s out of place in this boisterous scene. You nod, still unable to call up your voice.

“C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” He slings his arm around your waist and leads you back to the parking lot. Opens the passenger door for you, closes it gently. Slings his seabag into the trunk and comes around, settles into the driver’s seat.

You fold your hands tightly in your lap, braced against your stomach. It’s an old habit, to make yourself smaller. You haven’t been this tense around him since he drove you home after your fifth date.

Jake starts the car. The radio station you had on starts to play. He glances over at you as the old Garth Brooks song fills the car. You started listening to music like this with him, and kept listening when he left you. You’re pretty sure that George Strait will be in your Spotify Top 5 list this year.

The two of you head back to your place. Jake’s has been shut up for weeks, though you’ve been keeping an eye on it. He likes yours better anyway. You have soft pillows and pretty art posters on the walls, and a spice rack that you actually use. He complains that your couch isn’t big enough for a six foot naval aviator and his girl (your stomach flips again remembering when he said that), but you’ve managed okay.

Jake pulls into the apartment parking lot. There’s always a spot open for golden boy somehow, even though you usually have to circle around a couple of times and park in the back. He gets out, gets his bag, opens your door and takes your hand. You walk into the building together, take off your shoes together, bumping into each other in the small entryway to your place. You go into the living room and sit on the couch. You still haven’t spoken.

Jake joins you after he goes to the bathroom. He must have splashed water on his face, you can see the droplets on his collar. He’s tense now, too, you can tell.

“I thought I was pregnant.”

The words fall like a stone into water. His eyes widen, and drop to your flat stomach. Your hands are braced there again. You’d only been seeing him for two months before he left.

“I wasn’t – I’ve never skipped a period before, so I thought maybe – but it was probably just stress.” Stress from work, stress from family, stress from your maybe-boyfriend going to sea for three months, whatever.

But that week when you thought maybe? You’d thought about children as a hazy, dreamy someday. But this was real. You could have really had a baby – a sweet-faced baby with a round tummy and big green eyes. You could have made room in your apartment, changed your work schedule, spent Saturday mornings at the library story hour instead of sleeping off Friday night. You could have had a baby with a man who didn’t love you and probably didn’t even want to be a father.

Jake sucks in a deep breath, then exhales. “Sweetheart…” he clearly doesn’t know what to say. You’ve dropped this on him with no warning.

You stand up, pace into the kitchen. You consciously tidied up your breakfast dishes this morning even though you usually leave them for after dinner. Jake is fastidious. You run the sponge over the stovetop instead. You can never get all the grease off. Jake can.

You hear him get up and follow you. He’s leaning against the doorframe, you know without looking. You’re throwing off mixed signals, you know that. You’re not angry at him. You want him to touch you again. But you’re afraid of what he’s going to say next. If he says that the two of you weren’t serious, that it was a good thing, that he likes you a lot but he’s not cut out for fatherhood, you will either chuck the sponge straight at his head or splinter all over your kitchen floor.

“Would it have been so bad?”

What.

You spin around and gawk at him.

“I mean, we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months, but I thought you wanted kids?”

What.

“I know we’ve never talked about it but it was pretty obvious when you were playing with Payback’s kid.”

Payback’s kid is adorable. She has the entire Dagger Squad wrapped around her finger. You’re pretty sure that she has never been put down the whole time she’s been in North Island. Right before everyone deployed you all had a picnic on the beach. She was wearing the tiniest sunhat you had ever seen and punched Fanboy with her tiny baby fist when he stopped her from eating sand.

“I – what?”

Jake shifts uncomfortably. You’ve never seen him like this. He’s always so confident and smooth, whether he’s sliding up beside you at the bar or opening a car door for you or carrying you to his bedroom or kissing you goodbye and whispering for you to meet him on the dock when he gets back.

“We would have figured it out.” The light through your window dapples across his face. It must be windy, you can see the branches of the tree moving from their shadows.

You literally had never considered the conversation going this way.

“Unless you didn’t – unless I’m not the one – then I guess –”

“You are.” You didn’t even realize that your mouth had started forming the words until they were out. “I didn’t – we’ve never talked about kids, or exclusivity or anything. I didn’t want to assume…” You know that your eyes are big and hopeful and watery.

Jake’s face relaxed the second you started speaking. He crosses the kitchen to you, takes the sponge from you gently and tosses it in the sink. Blindly you grope for a dishcloth to dry your hands before they come to rest lightly on his shoulders.

“Sweetheart, it’s been you since I dropped you off on your doorstep after our first date.”

Oh. Now you’re crying.

He kisses your cheeks, kisses the tears away, then lightly sets his mouth to yours. It’s the first time in three months. You’ve missed him so, so much. The week you thought you were carrying his child you’d curled yourself around your belly every night, thinking that there was a piece of him in there. It had hurt so much more than you had expected when the test came back negative.

Jake finally pulls away, looks at you with such tenderness.

“You want a baby?”

You nod, shakily. It still feels risky to admit it. Five months together, three of those apart, isn’t long at all.

“You’d better come with me to Texas for Thanksgiving then. My dad says he’ll give me my grandma’s ring whenever I’m ready, but he wants to meet you first.”

You suck in a breath. He’s told his family about you?

“Sweetheart, I like to think I’m pretty good at reading you, but I need to hear the words.”

You tip up your chin a bit. “Oh, was that a proposal?”

He grins down at you, eyes flashing.

“Oh, you’ll know when I propose, sweetheart.”

Your smile matches his.

“I guess you also know what I’ll say, then.”

[avenging-fandoms]

Imagine you and Pedro are broken up/on the break and he gets invited to the met gala, he knows it’s your absolute dream (although you’re not famous) to attend and asks you to be his plus one?

kinda cheesy but you'll beg for more

-

You and Pedro were together for 18 months before you split. Each day was agony for both of you, splitting up almost 5 months ago. It was a mutual decision as you two couldn't see each other as much as you wanted.

Pedro held the Met Gala invitation in between his thumb and index finger with his phone in the other. Your text from New Years were on his screen- he didn’t answer.

Pedro always remembered how much you adored the Met Gala. Looking at all of the outfits and watching videos of people talking about them. You loved his Met Gala outfit from 2019 and would always ask for him to wear it to dinner once and he would laugh.

You smiled behind your wine glass as you took a sip, setting your glass on the table and grabbing your clutch. “I’m going to run to the bathroom really quick.” your date nods at you and you stand up, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket as you open the door.

“Pedro?”

“Hi honey. I uh… I got something in the mail today..”

“Pedro you haven’t spoken to me since-“

“I want you to come to the Met Gala with me.” he spoke loudly over you and your sentence stops, the letters poking the inside of your throat with your eyes trained to the wall.

“Wha..? What? What? What are you talking about?” you manage to sputter and try to keep your composure as an older woman washed her hands.

“I got an invitation to the Met Gala and was asked if I was going to bring a plus one, and I know you’ve dreamed of it for so long.”

You left the bathroom and headed outside, fumbling your keys as you slammed the door. “Pedro, you haven’t spoken to me in forever. You ignored me on New Year’s and that was it.”

“Okay, yeah, I ignored it. I didn’t want to talk to you because it hurt me. We had just split, I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you by taking you to the Met Gala.”

—

After weeks of designing, altering and fitting, you were ready for the fucking Met Gala.

Your dress was everything you dreamed of. The red complimented you so well and your jewelry was amazing.

You hadn’t seen Pedro at all this whole time. You were finally all finished and most of the team started to clean and scattered. You sat in your chair and scrolled on your phone, hearing a knock on the door.

“Yn?”

You stood up immediately, fingers rubbing against your palms as the team cleared the room and the door closed. “Hi.”

“You look..” his mouth turned dry as his eyes moved all over you, the ghost of a smirk on his face. He was falling in love all over again. “Like the most beautiful rose in a field, honey.”

“Did you purposely make us match?”

“No, but I love it.”

“Your shorts..” you inhale and cross your arms, Pedro sticking his leg out to show off his shorts.

“What, do I look weird?” He asked in a panic and you bite your lip softly, shaking your head.

“Quite the opposite, Pedrito.”

—

No one knew who you were. You were someone who worked at a school, not on sets in front of cameras.

Your hand held Pedro’s bicep tightly as you two start walking the carpet, posing for the cameras. You had no idea how to pose, how to properly smile on the carpet, you were struggling.

Pedro’s puppy dog eyes never left your face as he watched the joy in your face. Your left arm wrapped around his back and your right hand on his chest just above his stomach. He looked at the cameras and put his hand on yours, fingers rubbing your hand.

You two drop your hand and Pedro held up your dress as you both walked. You looked at him with a shimmer in your eyes and he winked at you. You stopped and went to head off the carpet but he grabbed your hand, pulling you into him. "Where are you going? This is all you've been dreaming of for years."

"I thought you'd want pictures to yourself, since you're the actual star." You smile and he shakes his head, letting go of your hand and extending his fingers.

"Wearing that dress, I'm not the star here, honey. Why do you try some solo shots?" He gestured to an open spot and you widen your eyes.

"No one will want pictures of me, Pedro. They don't know my name." He backed you up into the spot and smirked.

"Oh, they will. Enjoy it, Yn. You deserve it" He nods and goes back to where he was, looking at you before taking pictures himself.

You took a deep breath and posed, cameras flashing in your eyes. You turn and faced your back to them, looking over your shoulder to them and feeling so confident. You look at Pedro who took a deep breath as he watched you, grateful you said yes.

You started to run out of poses and blew a kiss, Pedro gripping his heart as you meet up with him. "How was it? You looked wonderful!" He beamed and you giggle, holding his hands as you shake them.

"Pedro this is amazing, I can't believe this is actual real life, thank you!" You smile and hug him tightly, Pedro rubbing your back as you sway. "Okay, wardrobe change. I can't party in this big thing."

You found a room to change and Pedro waited outside. You peek out the door and he raised his eyebrows. "Can you help me unzip and unclip and stuff? I can't do it all by myself."

"Uh.. yeah. Yeah, of course." You opened the door and Pedro walked in and you closed the door. You stand in front of the mirror and move your hair, Pedro humming and talking to himself as he worked on it. "How come your team isn't here?"

"Probably dipped 'cause I'm not famous." You joke and he rolls his eyes. The dress became loose and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Oh my god, thank you, Pedrito." He backed up but you looked up at him. "Help me step out?"

"Yes." He smiles and you cover your chest, Pedro bringing the dress down and putting it on the hanger as you slid on the new dress and smoothed it over your body. "Oh.. that dress is perfect, honey."

"I feel like Jessica Rabbit." You fix your hair and grab his bicep. "Ready?" You look at Pedro, who's already looking at you. "What?"

"I'm really glad you came with me, Yn. I know I've been ignoring you I just.." You drop your hand as your eyes search for his next words. "I couldn't stop thinking about you so talking to you would've made getting over you harder."

"And how is inviting me to the Met Gala helping you get over me?"

"I never can."