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leclsrc · 1 year ago

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wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day.

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes.

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading.

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka.

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward.

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed.

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control.

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time.

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.”

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.”

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

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aothotties · 10 months ago

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Telling Nanami you want a baby

Warnings: MNDI, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. recieving), creampie, unprotected sex, fluff at the end

You and your husband were happily married. You had the house , the cars, the perfect life, the only thing that was missing was all the children you wanted.

You and Nanami had talked about having kids before but never really made good on it and after 3 years, you were ready.

You paced around the kitchen unsure what to say to him. What if he wasn't ready yet? You were on edge just thinking about it.

“You look nervous, what's wrong” he said as he walked up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist

“Oh nothing Kento it's just that…i think im ready” you said nervously

“For?” he asked in response

“A baby” you choked out

He didn't say anything, just held you there. He placed a kiss on your temple and said,

“Let's do it then, let's have a baby”

You were beyond excited, you were so ready to have a baby and start this new chapter with him. Nanami downloaded an app on yours and his phone to track your cycle and ovulation. He wanted to make sure you were doing it at the best time with the best chances.

Every ovulation week, like clockwork, Nanami was dicking you down making sure to pump you full of his seed

This week in particular was hell for you. You couldn't understand why you were so horny, you neglected the app but anyone could have told you that it was ovulation week from the way you were practically humping anything.

Your husband was running errands and you were home alone going crazy, you needed him so badly. As soon as he walked through the door you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his neck and got on your tip-toes to kiss him. He dropped the grocery bags on the floor and wrapped his large arms around your waist and kissed you back

You pulled back from the kiss and looked him in the eyes

“I missed you, Ken” you said seductively

Something about him had you in a trance. A fresh haircut, a tight white tee, and gray sweatpants, the combo had you dizzy and you needed him bad.

Nanami then pulled out his phone to check something then nodded with a smirk on his face

“Yeah, let's go” he said and lifted you so your legs were around his waist. He brought you to your shared bedroom and laid you on the bed and wasted no time getting to action

He slid your already soaked panties to the side and dived in like a starved man. He lapped at your folds while you moaned and your thighs trapped his head in place. He inserted a finger and curled it upward

“Ken, just like that” you whined

He hummed in response and continued drinking you like cold lemonade on a hot day. His finger bullied into you while his lips were latched onto your clit. You were on a high and you didn't want to come down. He coaxed your orgasm out of you and you spilled your juices onto his face and he lapped up every drop.

He stood up and removed his sweatpants and briefs. He turned you around and lined himself up at your entrance. His tip teased at you slit a few times before he slid in, a moan falling from your lips as he bottomed out.

He was fucking you at a mad pace, hitting your cervix, tip continually hitting your g-spot. Your back arched and you bucked your hips against his trust and the sound of skin slapping filled your bedroom. His thick balls were slapping at your clit adding more pleasure.

You could feel yourself about to reach the edge and looked back at him

“I'm about to Cum, Ken” you

You heard him groan and pick up the pace. You were gripping at the sheets below you and started to pull away as it was too much. Nanami grabbed your hair and pulled you back making sure you couldn't run

“Mm, better take it mama” he said

“C-cant, ‘ts to much” you whimpered

But he was having none of it. He released your hair and grabbed both of your hips to hold you in place. He was mesmerized by the way your ass was bouncing with each harsh thrust.

Your back arched even more and tears ran down your face from the stimulation. He was fucking you sooo good and was determined to knock you up

You release spilled on his thighs and the bed and he groaned from how you were squeezing him.

He hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled your body to his chest, manhandling you into a full nelson

He bounced your body up and down on his cock reaching deep inside your cunt

“Kent-o fuck thats so good” you screamed

You could feel every vein and even the mushroom head of his dick sliding in and out of you. This was his favorite position

“Gonna cum inside that pretty pussy of yours” he hummed

You felt his dick twitch inside you and after a few more pumps you felt him shoot his warm cum fill you to the brim. He held you in place until he was completely emptied inside you

He laid you down on the bed and you crawled over to put your feet on the headboard. He laid next to you and placed his hand on your tummy

“Can't wait to be a dad” he whispered

You smiled at him and placed your hand over his hoping this would be the time that you actually got pregnant

4 months later..

“Okay you ready?” your best friend asked while holding up her phone to record

Today was the day you found out the gender of your twins. You were excited and nervous at the same time

“Yes!” you said with a smile on your face

You and Nanami took your champagne glasses and hovered them over the beautiful cake that your mom had made for this moment.

“Okay, on three” he said

One…two..three

You shoved the glasses into the cake and pulled them out to reveal a bright pink center

You jumped up down and Nanami had tears in his eyes

“Girls! We’re having girls!” you yelled as you hugged your husband

He held you in his arms and cried on your shoulder, overwhelmed with joy

“You're going to be the best mommy and daddy ever” your best friend said

You and Nanami were so happy and excited for your girls to come.

Rachel

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk scenarios #nanami smut #nanami kento #husband nanami

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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year ago

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Good In Bed

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you're only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?

Warnings: brief mentions of smut but not smutty, jake kinda being an asshole, reader getting upset and yelling at him, fluff ending all the way baybay

Notes: u have no clue how much i love u @roleycoleyland for literally being the reason this got finished <;3 <;3 <3 title from Good In Bed by Dua Lipa <3

Masterlist

Jake pumps his hips hard into yours one final time, before he at last collapses beside you, chest sweaty and heaving, his eyes closed and his face raised to the ceiling. Your position had shifted from the pure force of your fucking, and somehow your head had fallen off the side of his bed, leaving you hanging slightly as you too try to catch your breath.

“Damn, I’ve missed this,” he says a short time later, shifting himself fully out from between your legs, and tucking his hands behind his head, the afterglow of a good lay lingering on him beautifully. Once upon a time his words might’ve sparked pride or even joy, but now they’re just one more cut that stings painfully before being swallowed up. You note sourly he doesn’t say he’s missed you, despite the fact he’s been gone ten weeks now, and against your better judgement you missed him.

You lay there on his bed in the late evening and regret every moment that led you to this point. You shouldn't have picked up when he called tonight, you shouldn't have come over for drinks, and you definitely shouldn't have had sex with him again.

It’s not that Jake isn't a nice guy, well, he isn’t always, but for the most part he was a mile more decent than most of the guys you’d actually dated in the past. From the start he was straightforward and blunt with you about what this thing between you would be, how much he was offering you, and to his credit, he rarely seemed to step outside of that. And like an idiot, you’d gone and gotten feelings for him anyway.

You should have stopped seeing him long before his most recent deployment, and you shouldn't have been there the night before he left for him to hit you with another straightforward and blunt assertion that you were only fuck buddies, nothing more.

The thing is, you and Jake got on well, so well in fact most people assumed that you were an item, and at this point maybe you were blinded by your feelings, but you couldn’t exactly see why you shouldn't be, aside form the fact that Jake didn’t seem to be interested in any sort of commitment, despite what that offered was basically what you had now, only he didn’t have to go out of his way to break your heart once a week.

After the last time, before he’d left for ten weeks, you’d sworn off him for good. You put his name in your phone as ‘DO NOT CALL’, you downloaded a few dating apps, you’d even been on a few dates… and then Jake had sauntered back into your life, invited you over for the night and just like none of your progress existed in the first place, you’d come at his beck and call.

You lay there feeling pathetic as it sinks in what you’ve done, but swallow back your emotions for now. You were an adult, you chose to do this with him tonight, you knew what it would do. Warm fingers make you jump as they wrap around your wrist, and you glance up to watch as Jake effortlessly tugs you back onto the bed, closer to him, never letting his hand leave your skin as he releases you to skim his fingers up and over your shoulder, drawing you even closer until you’re almost cuddling. You nearly pull away.

Jake wasn’t a post-sex cuddler, not really anyway. Aftercare? No problem, but this wasn’t exactly the sort of session that required aftercare, so you’re more than a little surprised by his continued affections, staying still as he curls himself onto his side to face you, hand dropping to grab at your thigh, which he hikes over his, as if this was something you normally did.

“You may need to give me a few before we go again,” you tell him, realising this position was probably just him gearing up for round two. Jake peeks an eye open at you, and lifts an eyebrow as though what you’ve said is very funny.

“I don’t think I’ve got more to give tonight,” he says, adjusting your leg around him again, pulling you in even more. You refrain from frowning, if only to avoid explaining to him why. Jake closes his eyes again and lets out a contented sigh. His hand stays curled around your leg, though he begins rhythmically smoothing his thumb back and forth over your skin after a few moments, and you begin to wonder at what point he’s going to withdraw from you like he usually does.

Luckily you’re saved from the dreaded wait, your phone buzzing loud and distractingly. You use it as the perfect excuse to extract yourself from him, instead moving to a sitting up cross-legged position as you reach for your phone, and draw the screen closer to your chest when you see who it’s from. Jake seems only a little disgruntled by your movement, though gets over it quickly, replacing his hand almost exactly where it once was around your thigh.

“What's going on?” he asks casually, eyes closed again as you tap out a reply. You spare him half a glance, but don’t feel much point in lying to him about things, seeing as he’d never done so with you.

“Just this guy I met on Tinder a while back.” you tell him lightly, completely missing how his eyes pop open immediately and he stares up at you with an unreadable expression.

“You’re on Tinder?” he asks, voice blank, finally making you look down at him properly. You blink and shrug, before going back to your phone.

“Sure, I mean, I don’t know how else to meet people these days, I kinda don’t get out much when Dagger’s not around,” you inform him, shifting in your place slightly as he withdraws his hand from your thigh to lay over his sternum instead.

Feeling the mood shift, but unsure as to why, you force out a laugh and shrug.

“It’s been sorta nice, trying to get back out there again properly, not just, you know, settling or whatever.” that makes Jake react clearly, frowning at you while pushing himself into an upright position. “Settling?!” he repeats, though it’s not really a question. You stare at him in confusion.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m getting past the point in my life where I wanna be doing this,” you getsure between the two of you. “All the time.”

Jake blinks at you in clear offence, before quickly his entire demeanour seems to change all at once, and his expression falls into a somewhat familiar cocky grin.

“Alright, I get it,” he says, only further confusing you and you’re caught off guard enough that when he reaches out and plucks your phone from your hands, you don’t have time to react.

“Hey! Jake!” you protest, suddenly a little panicked as he very easily plays keep-away from you, using one of his hands to do something on your screen, while the other easily bats away you various attempts to swipe your phone back.

“You don’t need any of this shit, alright?” Jake tells you almost condescendingly.

“Jake!” you warn, your voice growing less calm by the moment.

“There, gone. Deleted.” he says proudly, before at last turning your phone screen around to face you, and letting you take it back off him, which you do hurriedly, snatching it away and standing up from the bed.

“What the fuck?!” you demand, looking agape between your now tinder-less phone, and Jake. The blond looks more relaxed now, and all of a sudden any thought of keeping your brooding and your feelings to yourself goes out the window. Your eyes prickle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you do that?!” you shout. Jake has the smarts to at least drop his smug grin, but now he stares up at you in even more annoying surprise.

“I was just–” he starts, but you don’t even care what he has to say anymore.

“You don’t get to leave for ten weeks after, especially after reminding me that you don’t want me, and then just show up again and ruin my chances at finding someone who actually does!” your raised voice wobbles, and you don’t bother trying to hide your sniffling as you continue to lay into him. “That’s not fair! You’re being unfair!” you cry. “How many girls did you take home while you were away, huh?”

Jake blinks at you, a shade of indignance colouring his features now.

“None.” he tells you, but you can only scoff.

“Right. And how many did you flirt with? How many did you buy drinks for?” he stays silent at those questions, either not wanting to answer or no longer seeing the point in the face of your tirade. You stare at him until your eyesight blurs completely before at last you reel back from him.

Gasping a little at the state you’ve worked yourself into, you turn half away from him and wipe desperately at your eyes.

“Baby–” Jake starts, his fingers brushing your wrist, but you jerk away this time, pulling your hand and your phone to your chest.

“I need to go. I shouldn’t have come,” you tell him, collecting your clothes quickly before escaping into his bathroom.

You can't help but feel a little pathetic as you cry harder once you’re in the relative privacy of his ensuite, a strange but familiar disappointment lancing through you when he doesn't come after you. However upon swinging the door back open once you’re dressed, you find Jake standing in front of his bed, sweatpants now fastened around his hips, and a determined expression on his features.

“I’m not letting you leave like this,” he tells you firmly, as if he has any say in what you do. You scoff at him, but don’t cover up your still dripping eyes. If anything, his resolve seems to strengthen.

“Look, be pissed at me, I deserve it, but I’m not letting you drive home when you’ve been drinking,” his voice leaves little room for argument, and even though in the back of your mind you know he’s actually being the decent version of himself right now, you can’t help but snarl at him in disgust.

“Fine! Then I’ll call an uber. I’m not staying here.'' You're aware you sound a little childish, and you feel a small pang of regret when Jake’s face flashes with hurt that is quickly covered up by sternness. Going against all the signs you’re putting out to him right now, Jake moves forward and stops your movements to find your shoes by laying both hands on your shoulders. When you look up at him, eyes still blinking away tears, he seems sincere and pleading.

“Just… just stay here, I’ll sleep in the lounge, alright? Just don’t go home like this.”

You want to snap at him that he has no right to ask that of you, but somehow you think he already knows that, and is still asking anyway. You realise dully, that just like you always wanted, Jake was chasing you now, though, you aren’t sure you really want it anymore.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you–” he cuts himself off, just as you shrug out of his hold.

“Please do not talk to me right now.” is all you can manage by way of agreeing to his terms.

You can barely bring yourself to look at him as he goes about collecting up his pillow and a spare blanket, and a part of you feels cruel, but the bigger part of you is proud that you’ve finally put your foot down. Maybe at some other time you’d let him talk, but right now all you can think about or hear is every moment prior to this night when he’s hurt you.

You’d hoped you’d at least be able to fall asleep somewhat fast, but the longer you lay there, the longer you go over and over every little detail of your night until you find yourself downstairs, wrapped up in the throw blanket from Jake’s bed, and standing a few feet away from him on the couch. He sits up immediately when he noticed you, chucking his phone down and focusing intently on you. You note he doesn’t open his mouth, or attempt to speak yet, and you almost regret telling him not to earlier.

You stare at one another hard, until you have to suppress a small hiccup, at which point you frustratedly wipe your face with the back of your hand and cross your arms in front of you.

“Why did you do that?” You ask, amazed your voice sounds as firm as it does. Jake stares up at you with a mixture of uncertainty and something you want to say is remorse but you can’t bring yourself to believe right now that he would be.

“I’m not good at this stu—”

“—No, tell me why you did it.” You cut him off, not willing to listen to his self-pity right now. Jake closes his mouth and blinks up at you, staring intently for a few moments before he shifts in his seat. “Did you miss me?” You prompt after he continues to stare, eyes somewhat pleading. You understand relationships and vulnerability are hard for him, you’re willing to give him this olive branch for now. To his credit, Jake immediately nods, his hands coming together across his spread thighs to wring anxiously.

“Yes. I’m sorry—”

“—If you ever try any of that shit again, I’m kicking your ass,” you tell him. Jake blinks, then straightens up, and nods again. Your lip wobbles and this time when he reaches a hand out for you, he doesn’t grab you, but waits for you to shuffle forward toward him before pulling you in.

He tugs you forward to come stand between his legs, and bows his forehead to rest against your abdomen, his hands anchored at your hips.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t want you,” Jake mumbles, loud enough for you to hear, and you know this is a big admission for him.

“I know it probably doesn’t feel like it, but you can just, you know, tell me that…” you reply, letting your hands fall into his hair where you begin to smooth down some of the mess you made of it earlier. “I want you,” you say, realising while he may subconsciously know that, you’ve also never told him before. “I would never have let you mess me around if I didn’t,” you add with a short laugh, and flick his ear gently. Jake huffs, and lifts his head so he’s looking up at you now, chin resting on your belly.

“I don’t want you to date anyone else. I should have told you that back when I realised it…” he says softly, looking for the first time since you’ve known him like holding your eye contact is uncomfortable for him. “Is that okay?” He asks even quieter.

“Only if you don’t half ass it,” you peer down at him with playful scepticism.

Jake’s fingers at your hips tighten and his eyes narrow.

“I don’t half-ass anything,” he tells you sourly, before making a face. “Tonight notwithstanding.” he adds after a moment. You can’t help it then, you chortle, and hold the sides of his face. Jake smiles, seemingly proud of himself for making you laugh, and he adjusts his hold on you, moving his hands down to tug you into him, so your knees buckle and you’re forced to catch yourself on his shoulders just as he manoeuvres you to sit on his thigh.

“I’m sorry,” he says, far more seriously, leaning his forehead against yours now that you’re face to face. You cup his cheeks again, and dip forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You will be out on the curb so fast if you fuck me around again,” you tell him cheerfully, making him laugh this time.

“Noted,” he says, before he steals another kiss, longer this time.

When he pulls back at last, you feel yourself relax fully against him, and move to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Can we go to bed now?” he asks after a few seconds. You nod, stifling a suspiciously timed yawn, and yelp a little when he scoops your legs under his arm and stands, grinning smugly all the way back upstairs.

#jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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gpcwsl · 2 months ago

Text

Warnings: kissing, sad Lia :(.

Lia Wälti x Reader:

Moving on, together.

MasterList

The air inside Lia Wälti’s apartment was heavy with silence, the kind that lingered after too many nights spent alone and too many tears shed over someone who had already moved on. Lia sat curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her as she stared blankly at the TV. The movie playing was one she’d seen a dozen times before, but she wasn’t paying attention.

Her thoughts kept drifting back to Caitlin. Specifically, Caitlin and Katie. It wasn’t just that Caitlin had moved on so quickly after their breakup; it was who she’d moved on with. Katie McCabe—bright, fiery, and impossible to ignore. Seeing them together was like a fresh wound every time.

A knock on the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Lia hesitated before getting up, dragging herself to the door.

When she opened it, there you were—Y/n Y/l/n her closest friend, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other.

“I come bearing gifts,” you announced with a grin, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Y/n,” Lia said softly, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “You didn’t have to come over.”

You shrugged, setting the wine and snacks on the coffee table. “I know. But I wanted to.”

Lia offered a small, grateful smile before sinking back onto the couch. You joined her, uncorking the wine and pouring two glasses.

“Alright,” you said, handing her a glass. “What are we watching?”

Lia gestured vaguely at the TV. “I don’t even know. Something mindless.”

You nodded, settling in beside her. “Mindless is good. But I’m here for more than just wine and movies, you know. If you need to talk, I’m all ears.”

Lia hesitated, staring down at her wine glass. “It’s just… hard,” she admitted finally. “Seeing them together. I thought I was over it, but every time I see them, it feels like I’m back at square one.”

You placed a comforting hand on her knee. “It’s okay to feel that way, Lia. You loved her. You don’t just turn that off overnight.”

Lia looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one still hurting?”

“Because you’re human,” you said gently. “And because you cared deeply. But that doesn’t mean you’ll feel this way forever. It’ll get better. I promise.”

Weeks Turn Into Months

Over the next few months, you made it your mission to help Lia heal. You were there for her through everything—venting sessions, spontaneous movie nights, and even awkward encounters at team events where Caitlin and Katie were inevitably present. You never pushed her to move on before she was ready, but you gently encouraged her to take small steps toward rebuilding her happiness.

And slowly but surely, she began to heal.

What neither of you anticipated, however, was how the constant proximity and shared vulnerability would lead to something more. Lia found herself looking forward to your visits in a way that went beyond friendship. She’d catch herself staring at you when you weren’t looking, her heart skipping a beat every time you smiled at her.

It scared her. After everything she’d been through with Caitlin, the thought of opening her heart again felt impossible.

One evening, after a particularly long day of training, you and Lia found yourselves back on her couch, sharing a pizza and laughing over something silly. Lia was sprawled out on one end, her legs stretched across your lap.

“You’re terrible at this game,” she teased, watching as you struggled to beat her high score on a mobile app.

“I’m just warming up,” you retorted, your tongue poking out in concentration.

Lia laughed, the sound light and genuine. It was a sound you hadn’t heard from her in months, and it made your chest tighten with warmth.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, her tone soft.

You looked up from your phone, surprised. “For what?”

“For… everything,” Lia said, her gaze meeting yours. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these past few months.”

You smiled, reaching out to take her hand. “You don’t have to thank me, Lia. I care about you. That’s what friends are for.”

Lia’s breath hitched at the word friends. She wanted to tell you how much you meant to her, how her feelings had shifted into something deeper. But the fear of ruining what you already had held her back.

Instead, she squeezed your hand and said, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

It happened on a quiet night, weeks later. You were in Lia’s kitchen, washing the dishes after making dinner together. Lia stood beside you, drying them with a towel.

“Do you ever think about… us?” Lia asked suddenly, her voice tentative.

You paused, glancing at her. “Us?”

Lia hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “I mean… how close we’ve gotten. How different things feel between us now.”

Your heart began to race. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve thought about it.”

Lia set the towel down, her hands trembling slightly. “I think I’m in love with you,” she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

Silence filled the room as you stared at her, stunned. Lia’s face turned red, and she looked away, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to ruin—”

You stepped closer, cutting her off by gently taking her face in your hands. “Lia,” you said softly, tilting her head to meet your gaze. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Before she could respond, you leaned in, pressing your lips to hers. The kiss was tender and hesitant, filled with all the emotions that had been building between you for months. Lia froze for a moment, her breath catching, before melting into the kiss, her arms wrapping around your waist.

When you finally pulled back, Lia looked at you with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed. “Does this mean…?”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It means I feel the same way.”

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of stolen moments and cautious steps as you and Lia navigated the shift in your relationship. There were more kisses—on the couch during movie nights, in the kitchen while making dinner, and even after training sessions when no one was looking.

But there was also fear. Lia worried about opening her heart fully, about what might happen if things didn’t work out. One night, as you sat together on her balcony, watching the stars, she voiced her concerns.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her fingers laced with yours.

“Of what?” you asked gently.

“Of losing you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve become so important to me. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You turned to face her, your expression serious. “Lia, I’m not Caitlin. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Lia’s eyes filled with tears, and she leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and filled with hope.

For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe in love again. And this time, it felt like home.

#lia wälti x reader #lia walti #lia wälti #arsenal women #arsenal #woso community #woso fanfics

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nakylvr · 4 months ago

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what do we think about needy sub!manon, because HEAR ME OUT, her being so needy and turned on, sending you pics and audios of her fingering herself thinking about you and moaning your name, sending dirty messages while you're at work, just because SHE KNOWS THEY TURN YOU ON and that will lead to her getting filled with your strap when you get home 🤭

god i love sub!manon so bad 😵‍💫

— SAY SO 👑

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, sub!manon, dom!reader, slight mommy kink, strap on, masterbation, sending vids, praise

you had been at work since the early morning, trying to get everything done before your deadline you had for the end of the day. which meant you hardly saw manon this morning before you left. scribbling a quick note on her nightstand and heading out. it was now nearing the end of the day, and you were still at work, much to manon's dismay.

manon had been needy the whole day. texting you every other hour asking the same question of when you were going to be back, which usually took you another hour or two to respond. it had been over an hour since you last texted her back, when she came up with the perfect idea to get you to respond and come back home.

she changed into the lingerie set you got her a few weeks ago before grabbing her phone and laying down on the bed. opening the camera app, she holds the phone up to take a picture of her in the outfit. she sends the picture to you and waits to see if you respond.

your phone dings with a notification and you glance away from your screen for a split second to see that it's from manon and just reads "1 attached image" making you raise an eyebrow. picking up the phone, you open the message and your eyes subtly widen at the image.

baby, i'm at work. you text back.

she figured that'd be your response, which is why she was already pointing the camera down, recording, as she slips a finger into her wet heat. whimpering as she starts fingering herself, her eyes close and she moans your name when she slides a second finger in. "fuck...pl-please come home...i need you s-so bad, please mommy, 'm so wet for you," her moans get more desperate and whiny the more she talks, knowing how much it turns you on whenever she sends you videos of her touching herself. she stops the recording to send the video to you, not stopping her fingers as she lets out whiny moans.

your phone dings again, and you open the message to see a video attached. you glance around before playing the video and listening to it, your jaw almost dropping. you quickly press the call button on her name, which manon answers instantly, and you immediately hear her moaning on the other end. "you just couldn't wait, could you?" you whisper into the phone, collecting your things and getting up and leaving.

"no," manon whines on the other end of the phone. "you've been a-at work all day..."

"i'm leaving now," you tell her as you walk up to your car. "and you better have not came by the time i get there, understand?"

"okay"

you break multiple speeding laws trying to cut through traffic on the way back to the apartment. you fiddle with the key in the lock for a moment before getting the door open, tossing your bag on the table and letting the door close behind you. as soon as the door closes you hear noises coming from the bedroom, and you quickly walk over, opening the door. you're met with the sight of your girlfriend on the bed, legs spread and three fingers deep in her pussy, moaning out your name.

you walk up to the bed, crawling onto it which makes manon open her eyes and see you, gasping your name as she nears the verge of cumming. you tsk, shaking your head as you look down at her. "look at my poor baby, all worked up and needy," you fake pout as you speak. "you didn't cum, did you?"

manon quickly shakes her head. "n-no, i-i didn't," she replies past whimpers. "i-i swear."

you hum, nodding your head as you bring your hand down to pull her fingers out of her, smiling at the whine she lets out at the feeling disappearing. "don't worry princess, i'll make you feel good." you get on your knees and unbutton your pants, pulling them off to free the strap on you were already wearing. "c'mere, if you be a good girl and suck my cock i'll let you cum."

manon whimpers at your words, watching you undo your pants and reveal the faux cock underneath. she sits up a little, shuffling closer to you as she rests her hands on your thighs, looking up at you with her big brown eyes. you tap her cheek gently with your hand, grabbing the back of her head and nudging her closer. her lips part as she slowly takes you in her mouth, swirling her tongue around to get it as wet as possible, still staring up at you while taking all of it fully.

"there ya go, my good girl," you coo, pushing her hair out of her face. you thrust your hips, making her gag lightly and grip your thighs harder. you do it again just to hear that noise between a moan and a gag come from her as tears brink in her eyes, but she takes it. you do it one more time before pulling her off, a string of saliva connecting between while she takes deep breaths. "lay down for me, princess," you say, stroking her cheek softly with your hand.

she does as you tell her to, lying down on the bed as you situate yourself between her legs. you rub the tip of the strap up and down her slit before slipping all the way in, causing her to gasp in surprise as you give her no time to adjust before starting a fast pace. "f-fuck! oh my god- yn," manon whines your name, her arm reaching to grab your hand on her waist for some kind of leverage from the way you were pounding into her. "'ts too much!"

you slap her hand away when she grabs for you, grabbing both hands and pinning them on each side of her head, staring down at her watching the way she reacts. "this is what you wanted, isn't it? you were the one so fucking needy that you had to send me videos of you touching yourself while i was at work. you're gonna take it,"

all manon can do is moan and whine helplessly as you push the strap so deep that her eyes roll back, her mouth agape with loud, desperate noises coming from her. your tight grip on her wrists has her unable to move her hands which causes her to whine at not being able to touch you. she can hear your words and shakes her head, trying her best to respond. "i-i jus' wan-wanted-" she's cut off by a gasp when she feels the tip of the strap hit her g-spot, moaning loudly when you realize and keep hitting it. "fuck mo-mommy, please let me t-touch you, please," she begs shamelessly, not caring how she must sound right now.

you give in to her begging easily, letting go of her wrists that were now stinging lightly. immediately she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down closer to her as she kisses you deeply. moaning into the kiss, her nails drag down your back and scratching your skin. parting from the kiss, manon stares up at you with her brown eyes welling with tears, desperately moaning at the feeling of you filling her up so good.

"look at you," you smile down at her. "you look so pretty like this, my pretty girl. always so good for me," you coo, hissing quietly at her nails dragging down your back. "you close, sweetheart?"

manon nods feverishly, whimpering at your praising words that make her feel even closer to orgasming. "pl-please 'm so close, please let me cum!" her begging comes out more whiny as she nears the edge. her legs wrap around your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to her as she puts her face in the crook of your neck, whimpering into your skin.

you feel droplets of her tears hitting your skin, and you decide to give in, knowing how needy she had been all day waiting for you. "go ahead, sweetheart. you've been so good for me," you tell her, snapping your hips harder to get her to cum.

manon whines loudly into your neck, her body shaking as she finally climaxes after all day of not getting anything, a few tears falling from her eyes. she pants heavily against your skin as you slow down to a stop, pulling out of her slowly. a quiet whimper comes from her at the feeling, her eyes closing with tears resting on her lashes. she reaches out for you as you quickly take off the harness, grasping your arm and pulling you down to lay next to her.

"you okay?" you ask her softly.

"mhm," she hums, nodding her head as she curls into your side, resting her head on your chest. "i love you," she mumbles quietly.

"i love you too," you smile, pressing a short kiss on her head.

#katseye thoughts 💭#manon bannerman thoughts 💭#katseye x reader #manon x reader #nsfw.

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paintedonmyteeth · 1 year ago

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Pyramid Head thoughts 2🩸🔪 △

MORE PYRAMID HEAD BRAINROT WOOHOOO— Hell yeah brother. Anyways OH MY GOD I was getting pissed off from this app bc I couldn’t edit this when I had it in my drafts for some strange reason BUT IT’S ALL WORKING FINE NOW. Yay. I’ve also been slowly chipping away at my Pyramid Head x reader recently for the past few weeks and it’s coming along smoothly (surprisingly), hopefully today or so it’ll all be finished and I can polish it for any mistakes or typos I accidentally made then it’ll be tossed onto AO3. :))))))

It’s difficult having to be roaming about Silent Hill knowing that he now has a companion of his own to keep company in this shit hole, it’s a nice thought but now there’s the hassle with keeping an eye on you at all times.

Man loves you but you gotta fuckin’ STOP disappearing from his sight whenever he looks away from you.

Stop getting into trouble damnit it’s a good thing he’d been stalking you the whole time but seriously you’re gonna give him a tiny heart attack if you keep doing this. >:(

This is why he ends up having to carry you around wherever he goes because you can’t slip out from his grasp and it’s easier this way to prevent you from running off.

Honestly, whenever Pyramid Head’s injured he’s not even gonna understand why you’re looking like you’re on the verge of bawling your eyes out.

‘Tis but a flesh wound’

But he’ll play along anyways if you were really worried and wanted to help him with injuries.

And he obviously enjoys the attention from you. :))

Cuddles 24/7, if you’re tired just take a break someplace safe and he’ll let you curl up in a ball in his hold, bc he absolutely adores having you in his arms.

Despite Pyramid Head not able to talk at all he does like hearing some of your rambles from time to time considering you’re the most talkative one between the both of you.

Pyramid Head likes giving you some small shiny little trinkets every now and then as small presents, bc you’re his and why the hell not shower you with some things every now and then?? He would’ve come back from patrolling around the town with some things like quarters, some pieces of jewelry, or weird little trinkets like teeth or small animal skulls, and those kinds of things if you’re into that.

He also likes receiving a few small gifts from you every now and then as well. Small things like little paper cranes or also some weird little trinkets you’ve been finding around Silent Hill, mainly bones, and you would craft into little charms. Gifts from either him or you would’ve all went into some ragged satchel you found so you could carry them with you at all times and you wouldn’t lose them.

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

#pyramid head #dead’s dying #dead’s hcs #pyramid head x reader #slasher x reader #gn reader #fluffies #brainrot hrs

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inkk-tv · 2 months ago

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[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ]

Chris plants his forehead on the table, taking a deep breath as he watches the astro turf. He’s well gone, but Lucy and Arthur, who is now just drawing shapes on the inside of her forearm, aren’t much better off. “You two are going to bankrupt me.”

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin.

in which: Chris attempts to not have another life crisis during a pub golf video and is failing miserably.

3.7k words [ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three ]

[oc x arthurtv x chrismd]

[warnings: Excessive drinking, sexual innuendos and light sexual content]

Chris is torn.

Logically, he knows football pub golf is a content gold mine. It could easily be one of the best videos of the year, especially with the team line ups. On the other hand, the last time Chris filmed a pub golf for Chip's channel some eight months ago, it ended with him so fucked he'd uprooted his entire life twenty four hours later.

Mid to late twenties was not a good time to have a sexuality crisis - and Chris speaks from experience. Why it took 11 drinks and joking that he'd shag his best mate for space hopper-ing over a bollard to realise he genuinely wanted to snog him silly, Chris isn't sure.

In retrospect, he'd probably fancied Arthur way back in sixth form, sitting with him in every class, dragging the poor bloke to join his football team. The biting should have been a hint. 'Cuteness aggression', as a session of hungover googling informed him, is horribly common. Chris was so torn up about it all that he talks it over with Shannon the night after, when he's not sure if the urge to vomit is from nerves, guilt or the hangover.

He tries to tell her that it doesn't have to change things, that he still loves her. But she still calls it off.

He can't really be mad at her for that, so it's amicable. The two of them weren't built to last much longer anyway; if marriage was in the cards, Shannon wouldn't get snippy anytime her mother brought it up and Chris wouldn't feel nauseous every time he saw an advert for rings. If they were destined for 'forever', talk of marriage wouldn't sound like an expiration date.

Chris spends a couple of months sorting out all his shit and takes a long hard look at his own feelings.

Everyone is sort of weird about the break-up. For a while they all sort of act like it's temporary. Once he puts out a statement though, his friends take that as confirmation that it's actually over. Arthur -Hill not TV- and George take him out drinking a few times as self declared experts in heartbreak and the single life. Their ventures have the three of them planning to move in together when their leases expire in October. Harry corrals him onto a few dating apps and Chris humours him because how is he supposed to tell the guy that women are the last thing on his mind and that he's head over heels (and possibly in love with) one of their mates, who is noticeably a bloke.

At least this time the pub golf is for his channel, so if there's another earth-shattering life crisis, he can edit it out at the least. Save himself the embarrassment of seeing the clip every few weeks on TikTok. Luckily, Chris is not the kind of man who loses all impulse control when faced with a couple of pints.

He is admittedly two shots up already and they've only just settled at hole four. If anything's going to set their team back, it's this. Chris knows the moment he sees Jamie, his production assistant, walk out with a tray of wine-glasses all of which were bordering on over-filled with rosé.

"Oh god," Lucy groans, her head pitching forwards to thud onto the table. Jamie just smiles as he places the three glasses around the halo of blonde hair. Her next complaint comes out muffled. "Why wine? I can't do wine."

"Come on, Luce." Chris grabs her shoulders to drag her back up straight, shaking them a few times for good measure. "Where's all that team spirit gone?"

"Come on En-ga-land, Score some fucking goals." She quotes, putting on the thick northern accent for it.

Seeing as Chris is a little too far gone to keep explaining the rules at each pub without hurling insults at his friends, Jamie's the one who does it this round, citing that each drink must be fed by a teammate.

"I got a great trick for this one," There's a bit of a slur to Arthur's words, but that could just be him and not the alcohol. Then again, he did do a shot when they got to the pub ‘for fun’ which will most definitely bite them in the arse. "We hold hands and squeeze depending on ho-"

Arthur hiccups halfway through his sentence and it's enough to get a snort out of Chris and devolve Lucy into giggles as he continues. " -how, how much you want."

Chris goes first, and Arthur’s hand is warm in his own as he pours the wine into his mouth.

Although, when it’s Arthur’s turn and Lucy grabs the wine glass off the table, she frowns. “You’re too tall for this.”

There's not that much of a gap between them with her heels factored in but it's enough that to get her arm up and angle the glass right, it would certainly be uncomfortable for Lucy.

“Come on, tip toes surely.” Arthur says, but she’s already got a hand on his shoulder.

“On your knees, Television.” She says it so calmly, pressing lightly on his shoulder- not enough to push Arthur down, Chris knows he’s stronger than he looks, but he goes anyway.

Something that’s horribly aroused stirs in Chris’s stomach, watching Arthur drop to his knees in front of Lucy, mouth open as she leans down just slightly to press the glass against his lips. He grips her wrist instead of her hand and swallows every mouthful of pretty pink rosé so eagerly that there’s evidence of it left on her skin, little crescent indented where his nails had dug in.

It’s awfully sobering to realise that Chris might actually have to fight a semi while filming.

There’s been jokes about it, in the past few years as his content has matured along with his audience and those sorts of comments were left in the final cut. But Christ, watching Arthur lick his lips clean of wine, not even moving to stand until Lucy pulls him to his feet by the hand, that’s enough to make anyone sexually attracted to men a little off kilter.

He’s never really had the ‘awkward boners’ at least not since his teenage years. Chris is pretty sure it’s something to do with the messy ball of crossed wires that is his sexuality, the fact he never really gets a hard on for someone he’s not head over heels for but he’s not really put much time into untangling that.

Although, he might need to do that soon.

Something about the way Arthur looks at her, as if from the moment she put her hand on him, she was everything- the centre of his universe.

Not that Chris can really blame him. Lucy’s always been captivating like that. He’s not a moron, Lucy’s attractive, objectively. She’s cute, green eyes, light tan to her skin that’s more from sunshine than genetics, and blonde hair that's half pulled back with a white ribbon, a couple strands falling in front of her face. Round cheeks that push up towards her eyes when she smiles, a little tip up to the end of her nose. She’s got the kind of features that would make Chris pause on those stupid dating apps he only swipes though when Harry’s looking over his shoulder.

Arthur yields so easily for her, blinking at her with those brown eyes and chewing his bottom lip a little, hands still messily entwined together as Harry makes a poor sex joke.

It’s an orbit that Chris has watched many men tumble into before, the gravitational pull of Lucy Bell. There’s something about the way she carries herself, a confidence that makes eyes drawn to her. On night outs, there’s mixed reactions. George and Arthur Hill love it, girls are more than happy to chat and linger at their table, eased in the risk of approaching a bunch of men in a club by the presence of a woman like Lucy.

He thinks about all the dickheads he’s seen try and fail to make a pass on her, as Chris picks up the final glass of rosé.

Lucy has, and will continue to, drink Chris under the table, but she is under or just about five foot six. And There's only so many miracles a liver that size can facilitate. Maybe she’s a little further finished than he thought, because when he holds the wine glass up to her, and clasps their palms together, she just isn’t taking it like she was earlier.

“Come on Luce, down in one.” He murmurs, “You got it.”

A little dribble of it runs down her chin and into the curve of her throat, but no one calls her on it and Lucy is left gagging on the taste of rosé that she’d downed. She’s squeezing his hands tight as she recoils and pulls a face. Chris rubs her back and gives it a couple of pats as she leans into his side. “I hate rosé.”

Arthur reappears with three glasses of water, precariously balanced in his hands and he deposits one in front of each of them. It’s the best drink Chris has been given all day and he can’t help the words that slip out. “Oh my god I love you.”

No one blinks at it though, not Arthur, not Chris. He’s said it before, there’s no reason for anyone to think it means anything more than it used to.

Lucy doesn’t bat an eye, just gives Arthur this awfully soft look before guzzling down half the glass in one go. Until Stephen drops a balled up napkin on the floor and kicks it between her feet, nutmegging her.

Honestly, Chris had sort of forgotten about writing that rule into the video and he sort of feels bad now. Lucy’s probably going to be the only victim of it for the afternoon, because everyone else is far enough gone that they’re a little fuzzy on the rules too.

She and Stephen do shots of baby guinness together (because apparently he just wanted to?) and Chris has to stare into his water glass, tracing patterns on the condensation with his thumb so he doesn’t stare at Arthur and imagine him at the foot of his bed, on his knees for Chris. Complacent and content.

Chris kind of wants to curl in on himself.

Beside him, Arthur’s hand slips down from Chris’ shoulder and along his back, stepping around both him and Lucy, hand slipping to her waist and along the curve of it as he ducks back inside the pub.

There’s jeers from the German team and Cal follows Arthur inside to make sure he’s not chundering in the bathroom.

“Chris, I’m not gonna lie,” Lucy leans into whisper, “I don’t think I’ll be standing by the end of this video.”

She looks utterly gone. Her eyes are wide, and there’s a little sheen to the column of her neck, maybe from the wine she’d dribbled or the haste to skull the water she was handed. This close, he can see the lines of her makeup, where the eyeliner is a little shaky right at her lash line and the few eyelashes that are clumpy with mascara.

It’s the drunkest he’s seen her in a while, and she’s probably only one drink off of ‘cartwheel Lucy’- the stage of intoxication where she feels the urge to display her impressive coordination that she, annoyingly, never loses no matter how much alcohol she’s ingested.

Chris tips his head forwards and bites her deltoid. Teeth sinking softly into the fabric of her jersey until he can just feel the solidness of her shoulder underneath. Lucy startels, a little, whines then swats at Chris until he retreats half a step.

She looks at the bite mark on her pristine England Jersey, wiping at Chris’ spit as she scoffs and scrunches her nose up a little. "I’m going to catch diseases off you at this rate.”

There’s about half a second where he considers making an STD joke, but there’s a camera sitting on them and it feels a little disrespectful to suggest something like that.

Lucy frowns down at the black line on the inside of her wrist. “Where’s Arthur, I need a tally mark.”

And the man of the hour is dragged from the Pub’s entrance, clinging to Cal, looking significantly more gone than he had five minutes ago. The wine must have been hitting hard.

Supposedly, there was no puke, but for the antics Arthur received a red card, putting the English team even further down the hole they’re stuck in. It doesn’t help that the other team all get their drinks down in one.

Not that Chris was really paying attention, he was too busy watching Arthur poke at Cal, enjoying pressing his buttons.

“How many holes do we have left?” He asks once he’s settled back into his stool.

Chris snorts. “Me after five drinks on a saturday night, am I right?”

Arthur holds his hand up for a high five, but Chris has his arms crossed and his brain is working a little slow to catch it before the palm is descending into a playful smack on his face. He grabs Arthur's hand with both of his and licks a fat stripe up his palm, tongue feeling the roughness of calluses from the gym and the faint taste of beer.

The reaction is immediate. “Noooo!”

Arthur recoils and wipes his hand of spit on Chris’ jersey.

Lord, Chris must be so much further gone than he thought, because he just devolves into giggles, even after fully licking his best mate’s hand. It’s only when Jess, his production manager, starts herding them down the footpath to the next pub that Chris finally gets a handle on his giggles.

Somehow, when they make it to Pub number five, everyone- including his own employees- goads Chris into climbing the tree opposite it. Which earns them two points deducted, so they’ve almost worked off the red card from Arthur’s endeavours with a toilet bowl at the second pub.

The Vodka Oranges are, mercifully, only one standard drink. Although, Lucy’s still looking a little queasy at the prospect of downing it. “I hope this doesn’t have pulp.”

Arthur frowns and holds his drink up in the light to get a better look. “I don’t think so.”

“If there’s pulp I might actually throw up. I can’t do the texture.”

“Can’t say I’m a big fan either.” The downwards tilt of Arthur’s lips is painfully cute and Chris kind of wants to lean over and bite at him, but he’s not supposed to be doing that today. Instead he huddles them closer together, like was in the plan for pub five and they have their half-time strategy meeting.

“If either of you puke, I swear to god I will never forgive you.” Chris says, focusing very hard on not slurring his words. “We can’t lose to Stephen Tries. He already carries this channel enough.”

“Come on- I’ve done plenty.” Arthur complains. “I got Harry three shots deeper.”

Admittedly, an impressive feat, but it’s still about thirty less shots than Harry WroeToShaw needs to start feeling the effects of Alcohol and far from enough to recover from all the penalty points he’s been earning. Chris tuts “Only one of us has climbed a tree so I really think that you guys need to step up to the plate at this point.”

The pair just stare at him, and for a moment, Chris sort of loses the plot in Arthur’s eyes. “You’ve got very nice eyes.”

They are. A nice dark brown that sort of looks like pots of honey, mesmerising while Chris blinks into them, with a sort of depth that makes it impossibly easy to sink into them. He’s better at it now, remembering to look away, but the alcohol’s got him a little slower to catch it.

“Christ, they are nice eyes.” Lucy agrees leaning in to get a better look at Arthur, who’s blushing a little from the attention, then towards Chris. “You’ve got good eyes too.”

Arthur nods eagerly. “He does have lovely eyes.”

“Lucy, your eyes are great.” Chris pivots, hoping to save his brain from malfunctioning, onto Lucy, planting a hand on her shoulder to lean in close and study her eyes.

They’re more green than blue, wide as she processes how close he’s gotten to her. He’s heard people say the grass is greener on the other side, but looking at Lucy’s eyes, it might just be true. It’s almost like staring at the overgrown grass of his childhood football pitch, some streaks a little darker than others, and the underlying feeling that there’s something to be found there, if one cared to look a little deeper than surface level.

“Oh, they are.” Arthur agrees, squinting a little as he peers at her.

All three of them have completely lost the whole ‘strategy meeting’ plot that was supposed to be their halftime regroup and by the time Chris untangles himself from their eyes, it’s time to down the vodka oranges that have been sweating condensation down their wrists.

Cal corrals both teams into a cheers and miraculously, everyone manages to get it down in one.

Thankfully, they’d figured people would be a bit gone by pub five, so a nice lengthy walk proceeds pub six.

Chris just about hangs off Arthur the whole time, who at first is a little distracted by texting George Clarkey in an attempt to convey how ‘sober’ he is, but eventually slings his arm over Chris’ shoulder and lets him stay there. He tries to not stir things, lest he be shoved away, instead basking in the bloody amazing smell of Arthur cologne as it mixes with his deodorant. Chris couldn’t name what either of them smell like, but it’s a scent that’s so uniquely Arthur he wouldn’t be able to associate it with anything else.

“George says he’s gonna come pick me up from the last pub.” He declares, shoving his phone into Chris’ face. It’s a little too close to read, but he squints and tries anyway. Arthur only gives him a few seconds before pulling the screen back and pocketing it.

At one point in their walk, Chris bites at his wrist where it hangs next to his face but it’s not enough to chase him off.

“Next pub golf, it’s twenty quid per bite.” Arthur grimaces, whipping the back of his hand of spit down the front of Chris’ jersey. “Lucy had the right idea.”

“I think you owe her a tally mark. Maybe.” Chris frowns, trying to recall if they’d added the last nip.

“Luce!” He calls. “Did we add the last tally? From Pub four with the rosé?”

She’s about ten meters ahead, tangled up with Stephen as he tries to wrangle her into some kind of hug or headlock, it’s a little unclear which. For a moment the pair of them freeze, and Lucy does that little frown and nose scrunch she does whenever she thinks particularly hard on something. “No!”

Then she kicks Stephen’s sneaker and he bowles over, caught off guard.

“Yellow card! Yellow card!” Arthur shouts, pointing so obnoxiously that Chris almost wants to tell him it’s rude. “Ref, that’s diving!”

Cal dishes out a Yellow card and Stephen goes back to trying to deck Lucy, via bowling her knees out from under her. But by the time they make it to pub six, he’s managed to weasel a piggy back out of her and the two of them pause by the gate to point out where ‘live music: ChrisMD Diss-Track cover band’ is written in neat print of the blackboard.

The two of them are gone, and it’s probably lucky that Lucy isn’t the kind of drunk that gets clumsy, otherwise the two of them would never have managed to make it through the beer garden benches without knocking into one. Arthur isn’t as lucky, knocking his shin against one on his way over to the tables his production team has claimed.

“Ow.” He whines as Chris gets his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, shaking him until they’re at the seats and he’s shoving him off in fake annoyance. “Get off you leach.”

He digs the pen out of his shorts pocket, and bites the cap off, keeping it wedged between his teeth as he calls out to Lucy. Her name comes out muffled around the cap but she deposits Stephen and collapses next to Arthur, who grabs her wrist. There’s an awful lot of concentration on his face for something as simple as drawing a line.

“We’ll put the fund towards a muzzle.” Lucy says off handedly, swiping the marker, and Arthur’s hand to draw a three-by-three grid on his skin.

They fall into their own little bubble as they start up a series of naughts and crosses games. Chris has to kick them under the table to gain their attention when Cal starts explaining the pub-quiz rules. The aim was to guess the cocktail themed pun based on the footballer’s name.

Chris wasn’t expecting greatness to begin with. He knows his footballers, but Arthur and Lucy don’t really know them by name and face- unless they play for the teams they support. There’s a much higher chance of a Man United player showing up than a Brighton player, so Lucy might be completely out of her depth.

They manage to break even only because the German team are shouting out the footballer’s names and failing to relate it back to a cocktail, so the three of them can steal the point out from under them By the end of it, they’re left with a martini, a strawberry daiquiri and a rum punch.

Chris gets the easy way out and is handed the martini, Lucy recoils once she finishes her rum punch, a shiver racking her spine and Arthur struggles to drink his daiquiri that is filled with ice, though a piss-weak paper straw.

But it’s down in one for all of them, even the other team.

As he hauls himself to his feet, the gin hits him like a truck. Enough that he stumbles half a step back. Chris knows, as he catches the worried look his production team are giving him, that his hope of ending the afternoon without puking, was a lost cause.

[ part one ] [ masterlist ] [ part three ]

ink note: part two! poor christopher's got it bad. this is our last chris chapter for a while, so pray for the poor lad.

[ if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

#arthurtv #arthurtv fics #arthurtv x oc #arthurtv x chrismd #arthur frederick #arthur frederick x oc #arthur frederick fics #chrismd #chrismd x oc #chrismd fics #chrismd x arthurtv x oc #chris dixon #chris dixon fics #chris dixon x oc

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swappingforgood · 9 months ago

Text

Missing it Already part 2

Still enjoying the effects of my orgasm, I go to Larry’s bedroom to see his large mattress and lay down. Letting my hands explore every inch of my new form. I’m still in shock, and honestly, being Larry for a week is not the worst thing ever. Day Three was not bad as I went to work and saw Larry in my body who was wearing gym clothes. "Oh, hey Boss,” Larry said as he greets me. I couldn’t help but notice how clean my house was, but I mean it would make sense since Larry is a cleaner. “Did…you clean this up by yourself?” I asked as I sit my larger frame on the couch. “I sure did. I had time after work and honestly figured you could use the break, so I decided to do both of our jobs,” Larry said as he walks around in my body. It’s kinda weird to hear my body sound so happy and cheery and full of energy. He then joins me on the couch and holds my hand. “Boss, you have been so kind to me that I really hope you get to relax in my body. Take the next few days off. I’ll see you on day 7; where will we swap back, okay?” Larry said as he ushered me outside my own home, but I didn’t think too hard about it. Honestly, he is right; I deserve a break. After going to my apartment and feeding my hungry body, I used my typical gay dating apps, but the only people who were interested were guys who looked like me, well, Larry. Bummed out, I didn’t let that stop me as I met up with this one twinkling only for him to ghost me and call me a fat slob. It made me upset because obviously I’m not a fat slob; Larry’s body is fat, not me. However, I find personal pleasure with myself, and on day 7, I go to my mansion and I’m greeted by Larry, who was wearing a robe and underwear. Showing off my hard-worked body and salt and pepper hair. “Hey boss, come on in, let’s celebrate,” Larry said as we share some drinks and discuss our weeks. I couldn’t help but let the alcohol talk for me as I mentioned his choice of attire. “Larry, why do you have my body dressed like that?” I said with a drunken slur as he moves closer to me and puts his hands on my belly. “I’m going to miss this body, so I figured, why not, and plus, you like what you see?” Larry said with my voice, which turned me the heck on, and he noticed it. Next thing I know, he is between my larger legs and we are grinding our cocks together as he whispers, “Do you miss this body?”. I moan in response, “I do; I missed it every day. I loved being in your body, but I miss mine,” Larry chuckles as he lowers our underwear and places his cock against my fat ass. “Let’s have sex as each other, please?” He said with a grin that I didn’t notice due to being drunk. I moaned as I felt my fat ass getting fucked by my former cock and Larry moans. “Can I call you Larry while I fuck you?” He says, and I nod in approval, giving into my desires. “Oh yes boss, fuck my fat body,” I say in a desperate tone as Larry grins and whispers into my ear. “I’m gonna cum inside you, Larry,” and it drives me over the edge. I feel my small cock spurt all over my stomach as I feel the warmth of the seed of my former cock filling my ass. As we lay down together and catch our breath, I ask. “That was amazing; you did good using my body like that, but can we swap back now?” Larry stays quiet as he gets up and grabs the amulet he kept by the bedside, and in a dark tone, he told me to touch it just like before, but nothing happened. I looked in utter shock as I noticed Larry had a massive grin on his face. "Whoops, did I forget to mention? If the swapped people have sex, then the swap would be permanent." I hold onto the amulet tightly and plea. “No, this can’t be happening. Larry, why didn’t you tell me?” “My name is not Larry anymore, you fat loser. It’s Michael, but to you, it’s sir. Now put on your clothes and get to work.”

#SwappingForGood #body swap #male body swap #body switch #gay bear #male transformation

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cottonlemonade · 1 year ago

Text

How You Met

word count: 832 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kenma x chubby!Reader feat. Kuroo (as The Wingman™ doing the most)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

“You need to get out more. Don’t you ever miss the sun and …”, Kuroo looked around his friend’s gaming room, noting empty take-out containers and energy drinks and balled up socks, “fresh air?”

“No.“, Kenma simply said as he rifled through the games on his computer, trying to decide which one he would stream tonight.

“Come on, let‘s go out. Not for a drink or anything, just for a walk.“

Kenma knew he wouldn‘t be able to hold out long against Kuroo‘s incessant pleas that were bound to follow and so he gave a demonstrative sigh and got up, ignoring the other‘s wide grin.

“Now isn‘t this nice?“, Kuroo took a deep breath of the crisp evening air.

Kenma just looked at his phone and tapped on a nearby checkpoint collecting his rewards.

“It‘s raining.“

“Hardly, drizzling at best. Do you wanna check out that new restaurant that just opened up?“

“No, let‘s go back home. We can order food.“

“We‘ve barely been out five minutes.“

That was already 5 times longer than Kenma preferred in a week.

“Look, the app says there is an event in the park over there. Why don‘t we check it out?“

Lured with the promise of a good game, Kenma shuffled after Kuroo, not hiding a groan of contempt that made Kuroo laugh, “Just like the good old days!“

According to the app the upcoming battle would take place at a fountain in the middle of the small aforementioned park. Only a few other people were already waiting there, periodically checking their phones for the event timer.

Kenma looked around, already thinking about what food he craved once he was back in his warm and cozy house.

There were two young school boys who, in Kuroo‘s opinion, should have gone to bed long ago, another man a little older than him - and you. You stood under a cream coloured umbrella, concentrating on your phone like the others. A fluffy white dog sat at your feet, leaning close to stay dry.

You looked really cute, stunningly cute actually, as far as he could tell in the dim light of the street lanterns, subdued by the misty air. The washed out video game shirt was tied to a knot at your hips, hugging your curvy shape. You reminded him of the big bunny plushie he had gotten a few years ago as part of a game promotion.

The event finally began. He tried to keep his focus on the game but snuck curious looks every now and then across the fountain. Did you live around here, too? How had he never seen you bef- oh, right.

After a few short minutes it was already over and everyone went their separate ways.

“So, what do you wanna have for dinner? Kenma? Hello? Hm?“

Kuroo‘s eyes followed the gaze of his friend and grinned when he spotted you, digging around in your bag.

“Kenma-kun?“, he said teasingly, leaning closer to his friend‘s ear, “You still with us?“

“Huh?“

The younger one snapped out of his daze.

“Why don‘t you go talk to her?“

“Talk to who?“

“Her.“, Kuroo nodded in your direction.

“Why would I?“

“Oh geez, I dunno. Because you‘re staring and for you that is basically equivalent to Tora salivating.“

“Am not.“, Kenma muttered defensively and hated that his ears turned hot.

“Uh huh. Hey, excuse me!”, Kuroo ignored the panicked tug on his jacket when he called out to you.

You looked up, then at them, looked around in confusion, then pointed at yourself.

“Yes.”, Kuroo called with a bright confident smile and walked over to you, Kenma who was still holding onto his jacket followed, but quickly let go before you noticed.

You seemed a bit worried at the tall figure calling out to you randomly in a park but calmed when he asked, “Did you score anything good?” He pointed to your phone.

“Oh. Yes, yes I did.” You turned your phone to show off the rewards.

“Nice. Didn’t you say you got something good, Kenma?”

The younger one nodded and turned his screen for you to see.

“Wow, lucky!”

“I’m Kuroo. This is Kenma.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m (y/n).”

Silence followed.

“And who is this?”

Kuroo pointed at the dog to your feet that sniffed his foot quizzically.

“That’s Plume. I named her after -“

“The berserker in Cloak and Dagger II.“, Kenma finished.

His ears turned hot again when your face lit up.

“Yes! Oh my god, I never met anyone offline who knows the game!“

Silence fell again, Kuroo tapped his foot impatiently.

“Hey, Kenma, isn‘t Cloak and Dagger a multiplayer game?“

“Yeah.“, Kenma replied, weirdly annoyed that his friend would ask such a dumb obvious question in front of you.

Another short stretch of silence.

Kuroo sighed. “Why don‘t you two exchange tags then? You could play together.“

“Oh! That would be great, but I mean, of course you don‘t have to.“, you said quickly.

“Oh no, he wants to.“

a/n: let‘s just pretend the picture is post-time skip - also this game is entirely made up and it took me way too long to think of a name

#kenma x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma fluff #hq kenma #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #kuroo deserves an award #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader

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xo-cori · 2 years ago

Text

because second’s not the same

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: morals become blurred in a motel room with your boyfriend's ex-girlfriend.

warnings: smut (MDNI), comphet on reader’s end, internalized homophobia, lots of angst, cheating, sorry owen you seem cool, submissive top!abby ftw, hair pulling, fingersucking, facesitting, abby makes reader answer a call while getting down n dirty, they both hate men (real)

a/n: my first fic on this godforsaken app, hopefully it’s okay! this is based off of an old halsey song called “is there somewhere,” i highly recommend listening while you read

When your phone chimes twice at exactly ten o’clock on a Friday night, your heartbeat quickens and the air is stolen from your lungs. Your body seems to know who it is before you do. Maybe that should concern you or serve as a reminder of how much of a problem this is becoming, but instead, you unlock your phone and read the much anticipated message.

abby: Hey

abby: What are you up to tonight??

you: hey, i was just reading a bit before bed

abby: Sounds like a real party

you: shut up lol

you: why do you ask?

abby: Don’t make me say it

you: i’m making you say it

There’s a hesitance on Abby’s side, made obvious by how the text bubble appears and disappears as she types and deletes a response. It takes her a good minute to send another message.

abby: Just wanted to know if you’d meet me

abby: Please

you: there we go. be there in 20

Before you know it, you’re driving fifteen miles over the speed limit, chest tight and craving a release that only Abby can bring. You eventually step out of your car and into the near-empty parking lot of the old motel that you’ve become awfully familiar with these past few weeks.

Your feet guide you along the farthest side of the building, straight towards a room marked ‘93,’ and you invite yourself in.

In less than five minutes, your shirts are on the floor and her hands are on your hips and god, her thigh feels so good between yours. She always seems to know exactly what you need. More importantly, she wastes no time with giving it to you.

“Fuck,” Abby says, “been waiting for this all week.”

You nod in agreement, lost in the way she grinds you onto her with seemingly no effort. She sighs contentedly when your back arches, chest pressing into hers, enveloping her in your warmth and melting away all the stress of a long day. There’s a piece of heaven in this room with her. How could she worry about anything outside of it?

“Me too,” you reply. One of your hands grasps at her shoulder in attempt to steady yourself, caressing the tense muscle, while the other gently tugs her hair. The dirty blonde strands feel like silk between your fingers and you can smell the pine shampoo that she uses. It invades all of your senses. It makes you desperate for more. So, you tug harder. Her head falls back against the headboard with a groan and you use it as an opening, diving in to press your lips to her neck.

It’s messy, just how Abby likes it. Her grip on you tightens and she lets out a broken gasp.

She needs this just as much as you do, if not more– but you’re much more generous with the teasing.

“Feel good?” You mumble into her throat, before picking another patch of skin to suckle on. Every touch sends a bolt of electricity up her spine and decorates her freckled skin with goosebumps.

Still, Abby does what she does best, and clings to any power she still has. You don’t resist when she grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you back onto the bed. In fact, you only spread your legs wider so she can situate herself between them. Then, without wasting another moment, her lips come crashing down onto yours.

It’s always your favorite part of the night; when she kisses you so passionately that you can almost fool yourself into thinking it means something.

This isn’t supposed to mean anything, though.

You assure yourself that the sparks you feel are all make-believe, silently wrestling with the fact that you’ve never once felt this with Owen. Not even close.

Her tongue quickly finds yours in a heated battle for dominance that she’s already lost. There’s no telling just how long this goes on for– you’re so focused on the feeling of her large hands running up and down your body, soothing all the shame you feel about this arrangement as you caress her cheek with your thumb.

It’s a loving gesture. Too loving, Abby thinks. She shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but she does.

When she pulls away, your half-lidded eyes land on the redness on her face, her swollen lips, her hair that’s all messy from your wandering fingers. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts a glow to one side of her face, and a shadow on the other. The thumb that was once on her cheek starts moving toward her mouth, until it pushes past her waiting lips and she accepts it with a pleased hum.

You watch her intently as you press down on the center of her tongue. Her brows furrow up and she lets out a whine.

After a few more moments, you pull your thumb from Abby’s mouth and smear her own saliva across her lips. She opens her eyes to look down at you, finally, and you offer a warm smile. “You just take it.” You observe aloud. “Whatever I want, you just let it happen.”

It’s a stark difference from your relationship with Owen. There’s never any concern for what you want; though, to be honest, you wouldn’t be in a relationship with him if you could get actually get what you want. It’d be Abby’s apartment you go to every weekend. There’d be no motel and no deleted messages and no acting like mere acquaintances when Owen gets all of his friends together, including her and you.

If you could get what you wanted, you don’t think you’d ever want anything else ever again.

“Yeah.” She agrees, slightly muffled until you fully pull your hand away. “Whatever you want.”

Part of you feels bad. You have this woman wrapped around your finger, and you have to act like it’s nothing more than a convenience.

In reality, it’s everything to you.

So, the other part of you plans to take whatever you can from her.

“You really mean that?” You ask.

“Would I lie to you?” She asks in return.

You pat her cheek. “Lay down, then.”

Without another word, Abby does as she’s told. The two of you switch positions and she watches you peel off the rest of your clothes, while she lays in a grey sports bra and a pair of boxers.

She starts to feel excited when she thinks you’ll move down further like usual, your face nestled between her legs until you’re pulling orgasm from orgasm out of her.

Her heart nearly stops, though, when she sees you pull off your own panties and begin crawling up her body.

‘Excited’ doesn’t do it justice. You’ve hardly done anything and she already feels like she might die of happiness.

You feel her hands grab your ass, encouraging you to move much faster than you are, and you hesitantly oblige. “You can push me off if you need to, yeah?” You clarify. “Don’t wanna suffocate you or anything.”

Abby nods with a quiet mm-hmm only to appease you, but in her mind, suffocating to death while you sit on her face would be an honor. She’d probably die beneath you before the thought of pushing you off ever crosses her mind. For now, though, you do your best to be gentle as she ushers you to fully hover over her mouth.

Then, she pulls you down onto it.

A strangled moan escapes you when her tongue immediately finds its target, her patience clearly worn thin as she latches to your clit. Your hands fly down to grab her hair in attempt to ground yourself, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you’re having an out-of-body experience.

The worst part? Only Abby can make you feel this way.

Guilty, and so, so good.

Maybe she doesn’t know the extent of your feelings, but she knows your body like the back of her hand, and she uses that to her advantage. Her fingers dig into the pillowy flesh above your hip bones, surely hard enough to leave a few bruises, but you never complain about marks until you see them in the morning.

“Abs,” you manage breathlessly, “ease up, baby–”

You’re cut off by another moan as she somehow manages to pull you down further, unrelenting and making it impossible for you to escape. Not that you’d want to, anyways. So, you just grab her hair with one hand and grab the headboard with the other as your eyes flutter shut.

That is, until you hear your phone vibrate on the bedside table. Once, twice, three times; you soon realize that it isn’t stopping.

“Fuck.” You groan.

Abby looks up at you and slightly moves you down so she can speak, seemingly much more entertained by this than you. “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Owen,” you say truthfully, “I was supposed to go over to his place tonight, but here we are.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you blew him off for me?”

“No shit. I’ll just silence it and pretend I fell asleep.” You grumble. Then, you reach over to grab the phone before she takes a hold of your wrist.

“Answer it.” She says.

You can’t help but laugh despite the forming pit of anxiety in your stomach, because you know that she’s dead serious. “What?”

“You heard me. Answer it or I’ll stop.” She repeats, making your eyes widen.

“…Fine, but can you please—” You’re interrupted by Abby pressing the green button for you, and you quickly bring the phone towards your ear.

The sound of Owen’s voice makes your chest feel tight. “Hey,” he says with an obvious concern in his voice. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you can only let out a gasp when you feel Abby’s lips wrap around your clit. Thankfully, her tongue moves more slowly than before, deciding to show you some mercy. “Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, I fell asleep– I’m sorry, I really don’t feel good today. Think I might’ve caught something.”

It’s a pathetic excuse, but you can only hope he buys it. “Oh, that’s… uh, not good.” He mumbles, which makes you roll your eyes. “Do you want me to bring anything to your place? I have this cold medicine that could literally heal the bubonic plague, and I’m pretty sure I have some soup in one of these cabinets somewhere,”

You can hear him rummaging around on the other line. “No!” You blurt out. The last thing you need is Owen stopping by just to find out that you aren’t home. “No, I’m okay. Appreciate it, though.”

“You sure? If you’re worried about me getting sick, I can just leave it outside the door.” He continues.

“Really, Owen, it’s fine. Pretty sure I’ll feel better in the morning,” you assure him.

He sighs. “Whatever you say. Just let me know if you change your mind, okay? I’ll bring whatever you need.”

He’s kind. Too kind, considering your current situation. Abby’s mouth is latched to the most sensitive parts of you, her blue eyes staring up at you as you try your hardest to keep your voice steady. She kneads at the back of your thighs, getting you into a rhythm while you rut against her tongue.

All the while, you’re on the phone with a man who deserves much better. You’re aware of this. You tilt your head back with a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” you reply, “thanks, Owen. ‘Night.”

You don’t even wait for him to say it back before you hang up the phone, quickly throwing it off of the bed onto the carpeted floor. Abby smiles, and you can feel it. You reach down to grab a handful of her hair and pull it as hard as you can– which isn’t very hard, but it still makes her whine. “Fuck you,” you huff, thighs tensing on either side of her head, “I’m so close, Abs.”

Any annoyance you feel is overshadowed by the orgasm creeping up on you much quicker than usual. You already know that you’ll never forgive yourself for being so turned on by something so horrible.

Abby sticks her tongue out so that you can ride it, letting out moans of encouragement as you finally tip over the edge. Your mouth falls open and a gush of wetness fills Abby’s, which she happily laps up with her warm tongue. Her hands wander over your shivering body, listening to your muffled moans with her eyes trained on your face; more specifically, the tears that begin to run down your cheeks.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to crawl off of her face and crash into the bed beneath you, much to Abby’s dismay, but she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she crawls to your side, placing a strong arm over your stomach so she can pull you closer.

Though all of your instincts scream to push her away, you just curl into her and bury your face in the crook of her neck. She thinks maybe, just maybe, everything is fine; of course, until she hears you let out a quiet sob. One of her hands comes up to rub your back, a soothing gesture that only makes you cry harder.

“Hey,” Abby whispers, “are you… did I do something wrong? Was it the phone thing? ‘Cause if it is, I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”

“It isn’t that.” You mutter.

It’s only a half-lie. Honestly, you aren’t crying because you spoke to your boyfriend as if you weren’t hooking up with his ex, no. You’re crying because you thought it was the hottest thing ever.

“Isn’t it, though?” She questions. “Seriously, I fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t fuck up, Abs– I swear, it’s not you, it’s just… this. All of this. I don’t like it.” You do your best to reassure her, but it only causes more confusion.

“What, and you think I do? Because I don’t. I like you, though, so I deal with it. That’s what we agreed to.” Abby says. You can tell she’s upset no matter how gentle her voice is. There’s a certain bite to it, a venom that you’re quick to pick up on. “He’s my friend too, you know. This isn’t easy for me either.”

This comment makes you rear back a bit, looking up at her with furrowed brows. “I know that, Abby. None of this is easy for either of us. He’s my boyfriend, and he was yours at one point, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” she scoffs.

You give her a stern look. “I’m serious. This is gonna end one way or another. Someone’s gonna find out.”

Her grip on your waist tightens. “No one’s gonna find out if we don’t let them find out.”

“You don’t know that.” You shake your head. “All it takes is one fuck up.”

“So, what do you wanna do? You wanna break this off now and go back to being acquaintances?” Abby asks, voice raised defensively.

“Obviously not!” You yell, sitting up and dragging the comforter along so you can cover yourself. “I love you, Abby. I love being with you and talking to you and—”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that.” She interrupts you, which is probably for the better.

It’s different for Abby, being one of Owen’s closest friends, because he’s unaware of how well she knows you and so he feels comfortable confiding in her about your relationship. A big problem he seems to have is that you’ve never once said the word love. Not to him, at least. Not about him.

Yet, here you are, throwing that word around just for her.

She wants to feel honored, but she finds herself only feeling guilt. The kind that makes her throat tighten and her heart drop.

You groan in frustration. “But it’s true!”

“So make it untrue!” She shouts back. “You can’t just… say shit like that, and expect me to be okay with it. You’re supposed to love Owen.”

A confession bubbles up in your chest, one that you know you should shake away, but your mouth moves before your brain can catch up. “But I don’t.” You mumble. “I want to. I just can’t.”

Abby stares at you like she’s seen a ghost. All conversations she’s had with Owen about you– ones about how he’d propose to you someday, wondering if you’d want to have kids, asking if it was too early on in the relationship to think about saving for a house– they all become null. The worst part? Abby thinks she might know exactly how you feel. “You can’t? What does that mean?” She asks.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” You reply. “I try, but I can’t. We go on dates, and the whole time, I’m just waiting for it to be over. We watch a movie together, and I pretend to fall asleep so he doesn’t try anything. It’s exhausting, Abby. None of it feels right. Every single fucking guy I’ve been with– it never feels right. The only relief has been you.”

Abby listens to your rant with a blank expression, reaching up to wipe some stray tears from your cheeks with her thumb. “So, you’re gay.” She says.

You quickly grab her wrist and shove her hand away. “I’m not gay.” You hiss.

She sighs. “You just sat on my face. You’re a little gay.”

“Okay, fine, maybe a little!” You throw your hands up defensively. “But I don’t like other women. I like you.”

Truthfully, it’s all too much for Abby to take in at once; she does her best to appear, knowing her best bet is to calm you down, but she can’t imagine how much it would break Owen to know this. To know that he’s now been left by two women due to a sexuality crisis. Would he think it’s his fault? Would he guess that Abby had something to do with it? She likes you too, maybe more than she knows, but it’s an impossible situation.

When you’re met with silence on Abby’s end, you continue. “You’re gonna think I’m horrible for this, but it’s true; I’ve been waiting for him to fuck up so I have a reason to leave him. Some nights, he tells me he’s going to a party and I’ll go to sleep hoping I wake up to a text from Manny about how Owen got a little too drunk and some girl looked enough like me,” you shrug, “I’ve had that scenario in my head for weeks. It’s so convenient.”

“You’re fucked up,” Abby shakes her head, “fantasizing about him cheating while you’re sleeping with his friend? Jesus.”

“But it’s true, right? Then I could just leave him. No goodbye, no nothing. I’d give him all his sweatshirts back and let him see me wearing yours instead.” You say, and she immediately recognizes that tone in your voice. Something dark, something you put on when you know what you want and you’re set on getting it.

It hurts to hear you talk about her friend like he’s nothing more than an obstacle. It hurts even more to know that, deep down, she’d felt the exact same way once.

Wishing he’d leave her, knowing that he never would.

“Yeah.” She huffs, now visibly doing her best to avoid eye contact. Her eyes skitter around the room and it doesn’t take long for you to regret speaking your mind. “That sounds like an easy way out, but you should know by now that there’s nothing easy about being with Owen. Nothing’s easy about cheating, either.”

You nod in agreement. There’s a heavy silence after that, one that leaves you both staring down and biting your cheeks and feeling like all your sins had been laid out in front of you. The weight of it all is overbearing, but still so worth it.

“It’s easier with you,” you mutter after a minute, “and I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t feel the same.”

“I wouldn’t.” Abby agrees, deciding to leave it at that. “Do you… uh, do you wanna stay the night? Here, with me?”

Finally, your eyes meet hers, and she hates the way this simple action reignites the spark inside of her. You tilt your head. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t really return the favor, huh?”

Her jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as she fights back a smile. She shouldn’t be so infatuated with you– your every movement, every word– but she is.

The smile escapes her efforts and she shakes her head. “No. No, you didn’t.”

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut

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o0o0thorn0o0o · 8 months ago

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Late, I know, but…! Only by two days, so I’ll still label/tag it:

Ichihime Week, Day 7: Mythical Lovers / Rainbow

I was planning on adding in magpies in the background this time, but I was getting lazy, and it’s already late, so maybe next time ^^;

(Also I was thinking of making a rainbow version, but it didn't come out as I would have liked? Idk. I still think it’s cute, though, so I put it under the cut)

Alrighty, listen: I really didn’t mean to wait this long to post. But, like, very shortly after Eid, my iPad’s storage filled up, like, to the point I couldn’t even access my mail (that’s how I found out, pfft). I was wondering why I’d ever need 256 GB 4 years ago… but still, it was $100 extra bucks. Sure, it was a grad gift, but 128 GB was expensive enough—still a lot of storage, too… Not enough, clearly!

Hoarding layers (and recoloring my own art, pfft) has really caught up to me… but also, it wouldn’t help too much if I didn’t either. After deleting what I could bear to part with, that took away around 5 GB, but merging layers in other works barely made a dent.

So I’ve spent these past few weeks wondering what to do, thinking about emailing my 2019 (imported from my 5s) and 2020 works to an email I also created 4 years ago for some reason I totally forgot about and never used so that I don’t end up taking any space in my actual one and then uploading them onto two (since I really don’t want my files corrupting) USBs via my laptop, trying to get those USBs from Target (but since I was adamant this time in getting 256 GB USBs—I don’t want to have to worry about storage for a longgggg time—there were none in stock), ordering them off of eBay instead since my dad insisted on their cheapness, waiting a week for them, then transferring them to that email and uploading them onto its Google drive if the files was too big…

But that was taking much too long and still left space on my iPad while I was doing it. I managed to complete the 2019 and 2020 pieces from my iPad, but it also only ended up being around 1 GB… So, like, I need to clear more years (breaks my heart, it does ;~; Sure, I still have access to them via that email and those USBs, but it’s not convenient anymore, and there are still pieces I plan on getting back to… ackkkkk).

Contemplating it some more and discussing it with a friend, much as I abhor subscription services, I finally decided to purchase a premium membership on Ibis for that 20 GB of cloud storage. I can afford the 30 bucks a year, and I like the app anyway—serves me good—and not having to watch an ad every 18 hours to access my go-to brushes would be nice, plus having access to the other stuff, but yeah: ✋🌈✨cloud storage✨🌈 🤚

Anyway, I’m pretty sure a good chunk of what’s taking up my space is actually the cache, as I’m already more than halfway through my drawings, and I’m not sure if I’ll reach that 75 GB of storage Ibis was apparently taking up with just my drawings. So I’ll probably need to download everything, then delete the app and redownload it ‘cause stupid IOS doesn’t let you easily clear it 🫠

Anyway, I really thought I’d be done by now, but am not—that said, I managed to clear out around 10 GB off of Ibis (not my iPad; I somehow managed to gain back 5?? Somewhere?? I’ve no clue; I don’t see it), which is wayyy more than enough to get one drawing done for IH week, so I paused the whole storage thing for now. I actually tried to get day one’s drawing done on the 6th, but I’m dealing with perspective that’s hurting my brain, so I decided to get day seven’s done instead, ‘cause I thought I’d be on time…

Me? On time? Man, who knew I was so funny… 😒

But yeah, day seven is done! I’ll definitely revisit that day one drawing in the future, but not anytime soon. As if I wasn’t backed up already, this whole storage mess has backlogged even further, and there are other dates coming up 😮‍💨 And, y’know, gotta finish the storage transfer, too… Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Anyway, on a more positive note, gradient maps are actually very neat to use—had a little too much fun, eheh. I won’t confess how much time I spent testing it out on this piece, but here be my favorite:

They’re so golden <3 ☺️

#bleach #inoue orihime #kurosaki ichigo #ichihime #ihweek2024 #ichihime week #fanart #digital art #the cons of digital art man…#and well me being a hoarder too but shhhh 🤫

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pileofboneswrites · 24 days ago

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THINGS ARE DIFFERENT.

SUMMARY — this year brought a world of horrors for you. a car accident just weeks before your first day of sophomore year leaves you with no memory of the last year of your life. six months later, things have settled for you; you've got perfect grades, you're a cheerleader and your boyfriend is the quarterback. life is great, perfect even, until a certain raven-haired boy comes crashing into your life, causing chaos and triggering some of your memories to come back.

PAIRING — sweet pea x fem!andrews!reader | reggie mantle x fem!andrews! reader

WORD COUNT — 9.6k

WARNINGS — shitty friends, mentions of a car accident, cheating (caught in the act), lying, angst, fighting, swearing, i think that's it???? (let me know if i missed anything!!!!)

A/N — the plot of riverdale is kind of muddled in this fic; hiram logde's plans are apart of it somewhat, but jason is still alive. no mention of "yn" everyone mostly refers to her as andrews, reg refers to reader as "sunshine" a few times, and fred refers to her as kiddo, also the absolute SHITSHOW i went through to post this, oh my god, tumblr formatting is FUCKED (i usually write everything in my notes app or on wattpad bc i have lost so many partially done fics to shitty service). like i get WHY, but AHHHHHHHH (that's me screaming at the top of my lungs,,, 24 hour loop edition), not proof read

MASTERLIST | RIVERDALE

YOU.

"ronnie needs our support on this," your twin brother archie explains, he's leaning against the door frame of your bedroom.

your back is to him, and you're trying to get ready to head out for school. your homework, laptop and other things sit spewed around your room. utter chaos from your midnight homework session. you straighten yourself, finally meeting his eyes.

"yeah, and? veronica is your girlfriend, not mine archie." you reply, leaning down to shove your laptop into your school bag.

"please?" he pleads, and you roll your eyes.

veronica lodge's dad is no good for riverdale, you can feel it. every move he makes seems to rattle one of archie's friends, or cause a disturbance within the town. since hiram rolled in it seems like one half of riverdale is always up in arms. first jughead when the serpents trashed the drive-in, and the northsiders because of the southsiders joining the now only school in riverdale.

"arch, i don't have the same kind of love from my friends you do. i step on their toes over this, i'm going to be an outcast." you reply, zipping up your bag.

"you can always hang with us," archie sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "i know that betty misses you a lot, same with jughead."

"then why haven't they reached out?" you snap, sick of the conversation at hand.

archie always gets your hopes up, then plans fall through or they "unintentionally" leave you out. so, you're done. they know that you don't remember anything from the last year; the good, the bad or the petty. you're done trying to change things when with every effort you're shot down. you want normalcy. you want your friends back, but if they're not going to tell you what's going on, or make an effort, then why should you?

"just think about it, okay?" archie says, and you shake my head.

you throw my bag over your shoulder and push past him. you pause in the hallway, guilt creeping up on you, but ultimately decide not to worry about it. archie's been babying you, coddling you even since the accident. which to an extent you can understand it; you could have died. at the same time you feel like you never have a moment to yourself. archie's always lurking. you jog down the stairs, patting vegas as you slip out the front door onto the footpath.

the weather is hazy, it's damp out, fog lining the streets obscuring vision twenty feet head. you thank the powers that be for you remember a jacket. you pull your hood up as you walk towards the sidewalk, but you catch sight of your boyfriend's car parked on the street.

"morning princess," reggie calls through the open passenger window.

"morning reg," you reply pulling the door open and sliding into the passenger seat.

"did you hear about southside high closing?" he prompts after you give him a quick peck on the lips. "means all the trash is going to be clogging the halls of riverdale high,"

"yeah, arch filled me in this morning. you'd think after all the drama surrounding archie and the serpents he'd be less than excited about them transferring in." you sigh, tossing your bag into the backseat.

"he's on their side?" reggie asks, mouth twisting in disgust.

"guess so," you shrug, pulling on your seatbelt as reggie pulls away from the curb.

"but you're not?"

"i'm indifferent," you reply. "i don't care one way or the other,"

"cheryl's going to hate it," he says, and you shrug again.

the drive is relatively short, and silent. when you and reggie aren't making out, it's usually pretty quiet. you're together on the principle of "it makes sense". that's quite literally how he phrased it when he asked you out. and to an extent he's right. it makes sense for a football player to be dating a cheerleader. it makes sense. that being said, your relationship is entirely physical and for show. you're more along the lines of friends with benefits than an actual relationship. he only calls you when there's a party, or he's horny. romantic, you know. reggie grabs your backpack, and you climb out of the car.

"morning!" betty shouts, climbing out of her mom's car.

"hey," you reply, watching as she b-lines towards you.

"you friends with cooper again?" reggie whispers, leaning against the passenger side door.

"no, her friends want my support about the southside," you whisper back, plastering on a fake smile.

"good morning," mrs. cooper says as she drives past.

"good morning mrs. cooper!" you reply cheerily, she smiles and waves before turning out onto the street.

"hey, can we talk for a minute?" betty asks, stopping a few feet away.

she looks like she always does. blonde hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, makeup pretty minimal and natural, and her signature grey crown sweatshirt.

"sure," you say, and reggie leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, as you grab your backpack from him. "see you in homeroom."

he just smirks at you, as you turn away. you feel his eyes on your back until the two of you slip inside of the school. you feel slightly more at ease without reggie by your side. you follow betty to the room dedicated to the blue and gold (your school newspaper). betty drops into her seat at her desk, and you drop your bag on the table and plop down in the chair on the otherside of her desk. you sit, crossing your arms over your chest.

"whats do you want?" you ask, your question coming out ruder than you'd intended.

"i uh, i wanted to touch base." she says, averting eye conact.

"touch base? we haven't spoken since before my accident, betty. what do you really want?" you snap, becoming both annoyed and upset that she didn't actually mean it.

you could have played dumb, you could have gossiped, you could have gave her a life update. but you spend so much time being fake with your 'friends' that you can't handle any more superficial small talk that neither of you will remember. she looks taken a back by your brashness, and you feel a twinge of guilt. just a twinge.

"i—" she starts, but you cut her off as you forcfully shove your chair back, causing an awful screeching sound as it drags across the tile floor.

"look, cooper, if you need something, be straight with me and don't get my hopes up to use me for information." you grab your backpack and trudge into the hallway crashing straight into someone sending you flying back.

you grunt, bracing for the impact but instead you feel two hands on my arms steadying me. you peak your eyes open, and see a tall guy with dark hair and a leather jacket.

"oh shit, i'm sorry," you mutter slipping past him as you rush up the stairs.

you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, like someone's watching you. you turn your head as you head up, and see the guy who caught you staring in your direction. he looks pissed, and you wonder for a brief moment if that anger is directed at you. you feel someone poke you in the shoulder and you turn your head to look at them. you jump in shock at how close she is.

"you good?" cheryl asks, the usual distaste in her voice, one eyebrow raised in question.

"yeah, fine," you reply walking in step with her, glancing down the stairs, to see a brown and pink haired girl pulling him away.

"—and i don't know why she wants this so bad—" cheryl's voice drifts off into backgroung noise, something that tends to happen more and more frequently.

that guy looked weirdly familiar. you swear you've seen his face before but you can't seem to place it. which is also happening more, and more frequently to you. you know it's going to bug the hell out of you.

"—and i said—" cheryl continues, as you head towards english.

"andrews!" you feel two arms wrap around your middle, and you're yanked backwards and lifted up.

"ahhhhhh!" you shout, startled by the sudden movement and contact, your kneejerk reaction is to raise your elbow and throw it into the first piece of flesh you connect with.

"andr- shit!" a familiar voice yells, as you free fall to the ground, landing on your ass hard. "what the hell, dude!?"

you lift my head and see cheryl's twin brother jason leaning over, clutching his stomach in pain. you clap your hand over your mouth in a mix of embarrassment. he glances down at you, rubbing the tender area, mouthing 'what the fuck' over and over.

"shit! jason, i'm so sorry—" you say, quickly standing up, he waves you away so he can take a second.

"what has you so jumpy this morning?" cheryl asks, crossing her arms and raising both her eye brows at me.

"no clue," you reply truthfully.

"too much caffeine likely," jason says, standing up right and throwing his arms cross both mine and cheryl's shoulders to guide us to class.

"how many cups a day are you drinking?"

"two," you reply, no hesitation.

you haven't been sleeping much lately, or at all really. you weren't sure what was worse; the lack of sleep, or the fact that when you do manage to fall alseep all you seem to dream of is the four agonizing hours you were trapped in your car after the accident.

"four with extra espresso." jason chirps, and you mock elbow him and he flinches, dropping his arm from your shoulder to shield himself. "not cool dude,"

"aw, prwincess," you mutter tapping his cheek with your hand.

you duck under his arms at a weak attempt to catch you, and slide into class dropping into your usual seat beside ethel muggs. mrs. leroy has all the desks grouped in twos. she likes to assign a lot of partner assignments and classwork, so you ended up with desk pairs.

"good morning," ethel says brightly, and you smile at her.

"good morning ethel, how was your weekend?"

"it was good, how was yours?"

"it was okay," you reply and shrug as mrs. leroy, our english teacher waddles into the room.

she drops her bag beside her desk and takes off her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair before standing at the front of the room and clearing her throat.

"alright guys, we have a bunch of new students joining us. i'm sure you heard about the students from southside high tranfering in, and we're going to be very welcoming. as such, i've decided to change up your desk partners to kick off our next project." she says, and everyone groans. "hey! who knows, maybe you'll meet your new best friend!"

you drop your head down on the desk as she continues to speak.

"i call your pairs and you'll move to the assigned set of desk pairs, every up."

everyone obeys, clearing to the back, front and sides of the room as she spends the next fifteen minutes reseating you.

"mr. blossom and ms. topaz, these desks please." jason nudges your foot as he passes.

"she's pretty," he mouths and you roll your eyes, a shit eating grin on his face.

"mr. sweet pea, and ms. andrews."

"sweet pea, what kind of name is that?" cheryl snickers, rolling her eyes.

you step forward, dropping into the closest desk to you, ducking your head to look into your backpack for my notebook and pencil. you drop them onto the desk, and look ahead to the board.

"uh, excuse me—?" you turn my head, and see the guy who caught me in the hallway.

"yeah?"

he's cute. messy—but like the intentional kind of messy—dark hair, with curls over his forehead, and dark eyes. there's a hint of ink poking out over the collar of his leather jacket, you catch sight of a snake's head.

"can i— uh— can i borrow a pencil or pen?" he asks, and you nod, turning to dig into you backpack for one.

you feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you dig. you pull out the first pen you find and hand it over. he reaches out, grabbing hold of it, and your fingers briefly touch. a shiver immediately shoots down my spine, and you drop your hand. you get a flash of a memory, it's difficult to piece together what you're remembering. you see a flash of a half empty vodka bottle, a leather jacket, and a tattoo gun. you gather your things, and jump out of your seat rushing to the bathroom, you hastily shove your notebook away and drop your bag upon entering the bathroom. you drop to your knees in front of the first toilet you find, and empty the contents of your stomach. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean back against the stall dividers, trying to catch your breath.

it was like for a brief moment you was there. you could hear the tattoo gun buzzing, you could feel the scratch against your skin and you could taste the vodka. you stand up, and walk over to the mirror. maybe you're losing your mind. you would notice a tattoo, wouldn't you? if you didn't know to look for one, maybe you wouldn't... you lift your hoodie a little, and catch sight of one of the snake's heads poking out from under the underwire of your bra.

"holy shit," you breath, pulling your hoodie back down.

you lean down, and turn on the water slashing it onto your face. you stare hard at yourself in the mirror. how could you not see something like that? why didn't anyone tell you? you were told that you grew apart from your friends, but by the looks of things you had a whole other set that no one knew about, or at the very least didn't want you to go back to. the bell rings, signaling the end of first period, and you stand there staring at yourself in the mirror. the door opens slightly, and the brown and pick haired girl sticks her head in and sees you.

"hey, are you okay?" she asks, opening the door fully to come in.

"uh, yeah, i think so." you reply, and she nods, not pushing the topic any further, which you appreciate.

checking in on you is a small act of kindness that not even my so-called 'best friend' cheryl could give. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, and pull it out, turning away from the sink to lean on it. think of the devil, a text from cheryl.

you don't reply, you just sigh, and shove your phone back into your pocket. you look up and catch the girl's reflection staring at you.

"uh, sorry." she says and you shake your head, mustering a small smile.

"it's okay, i'm—," you say, sticking out your hand to her.

"actually, we've met bef—" she cuts you off, but is cut off by the bell ringing.

then there's a loud bang on the door, and it opens slightly.

"topaz! we need to talk," it's sweet pea.

she throws you a sympathetic smile and heads out to the hallway. you there for another few minutes, fully aware of the fact that you're missing chemistry before you pull your phone back out, and call your dad. i can't handle this, i'm incredibly overwhelmed. all of this is too much. i know toni? i'm a southside serpent?

"hey kiddo, what's up?" he asks, answering on the first ring, it's his coffee break. "aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"i am," you reply, your voice shaking, immediately giving away how you're feeling. "i just— dad—"

"sweetheart?" he prompts.

fred andrews, a saint walking, ever understanding. you're incredibly blessed to have him for a dad. you force yourself to take a shaky breath, you're on the verge of tears and your eyes burn.

"can i have a day? i just— i'm so overwhelmed. can i go home?" you ask, the dam breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"yeah, kiddo, i'll come get you and sign you out for the day, okay?" he says, and you whisper okay. "hang tight, i'll be there soon."

"thanks dad," you say, and hang up.

you stare at your reflection, your eyes are puffy and you look like hell. your hair is a mess, but you really don't have the energy to fix it. you grab a couple paper towels from the dispenser and wipe your face. you grab your backpack and head down to the office. you drop into one of the chairs across from mrs. bell's desk to wait.

"oh, hi," she says, exiting mr. weatherbee's office holding a folder. "how can i help you dear?"

"i'm not feeling well, my dad's coming to pick me up." you reply, forcing a small smile.

"oh i'm sorry to hear that dear, i hope you feel better," she gives you a sympathetic look as she plops down at her desk.

you're used to the look; the sad eyes with a small forced smile, you'd recived it a lot since the accident. there were no fatalities thankfully, but it drastically changed your life. at least you have to assume it did, you'd lost a year's worth of memories and it only took you a severe concussion and a couple weeks of physical therapy.

"good morning, dorris," comes your dad's voice, he steps into the office and mrs. bell smiles at him.

"well hello, fred." she says, a faint smile on her lips.

everyone on this side of town loves your dad. fred andrews is the kind of guy who will drop everything if you're in a bind, whether you're a friend or not. he signs you out on the sign out clipboard and turns to you.

"ready to go?" he asks, and you nod, standing up.

he slings an arm around your shoulders, and you wrap an arm around his middle as you walk. he doesn't ask you any questions, but you're sure when you get home he's going to have some.

SWEETPEA.

"she acts like she's never met us before," fangs says, sitting down beside sweet pea on the steps leading up to the bleachers.

they need privacy to talk about what's happening, this was the closest thing sweet pea could find. especially with all the gawking, stares and judgemental looks they'd been receiving since showing up to their new school this morning.

"i know, she didn't even say "hi" or anything. it's the least she could have done given everything," sweet pea grumbles, watching as toni walks towards them.

"she doesn't remember us," toni says, coming to a stop in front of them. "she literally doesn't remember us. like at all, she introduced herself to me in the bathroom,"

"what the hell?" fangs mutters, "maybe it's an elaborate plan to keep her summer in the snakes den a secret?"

"that is the dumbest thing i have ever heard," toni says crossing her arms over her chest. "you heard how she was talking before she ghosted us, she was over it all, the cliques, school, all of it."

"she said we were her family," sweet pea mumbles, "and then she disappeared. maybe it was all a lie,"

"jesus christ, or maybe, something bad happened to her, and she actually doesn't remember us." toni replies, the annoyance in her voice prominent. "and if she didn't remember us, then how would she know to contact us?"

"i sent her over a hundred texts since she disappeared, none of them have even been opened."

"case and point," toni says, rolling her eyes. "look, sit and stew in your misery, or confront her. i don't know about you guys, but i plan on getting my friend back."

with that toni turns on her heel, and heads back towards the school. fangs sighs, and stands up, brushing the dust off his ass as he turns to stand where toni had just been.

"maybe she's right," he says, looking down at sweet pea. "we know elly, she wouldn't just up and ghost us like this unless something happened. i want our friend back, and i'm with toni on trying by any means necessary to get her back,"

fangs studies sweet pea's face, looking for any indication that he's heard anything he said. after a moment, fangs sighs again, and turns to follow toni back into the school. sweet pea sits there on the bleachers, he watches as his friends grow smaller and smaller the further they get. he groans, and throws his head back. he's frustrated. he hasn't heard a damn thing from you in months, and then he sees you at his new school and suddenly his whole world collapses. he sighs, and pulls his cellphone out of the pocket of his leather jacket. he opens up his texts, and pulls up your messages.

you never showed up, you never called, you just disappeared. well, apparently you hadn't, but for sweet pea you did. other than toni and fangs he had no other friends in common at the time. no way of getting a hold of you when his calls all suddenly hit you voicemail. now here you are, back in his life, but so far from his reach. he had hoped a million times over the last six months that he'd find out what happened, that he'd get some kind of explanation or closure. something. anything.

but when his eyes landed on you, it was like all the anger towards you, and the situation melted away. for a second, it was like you were never gone. then that daydream snapped, and you were rushing away. not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. it hurt. his phone vibrates in his hand, and it brings him back. back to the bleachers, back to the harsh reality that you might have no clue who he is, back to the anger that swirls in his head, back to how much he loves you, and how much his heart hurts because you might no remember any of it.

he looks down at the screen, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as the bell rings again.

YOU.

"alright, so, what's up?" he asks, as you drop onto the couch.

vegas jumps up beside you, and drops his head into your lap. you run your fingers through his soft fur and try to figure out a way to start this conversation.

"what was i like over the summer?" you ask, looking up at him.

he's standing by the front door, leaning against the archway leading into the living room. he's got his arms crossed and he's watching you silently.

"you were like you are now," he shrugs, "you didn't spend much time home, at first you were busy with cheryl and then you got a job."

"a job?" you ask, that's new information. "where?"

"the twilight drive-in," he replies, "you made some new friends with your co-workers, or so you said. you and archie were barely home over the summer,"

there's a few moments of silence as you digest this new information.

"dad?"

"yeah kiddo?"

"where was i going? why was i in that car?"

"truthfully, i don't know. archie said the two of you had gotten in a pretty heated fight, and you'd stormed out. a few hours later i got a call from sheriff keller,"

you nod, and sigh, leaning forward. you rest your elbows on your knees, and rub your eyes.

"i had a memory come back," you say after a minute, you don't look up at him. "it was weird though, it was really intense. it was like i was inside the memory."

"do you know what triggered it?"

"no," you lie, until you figure out what's going on with you, you plan to keep sweet pea and toni out of things. "it just hit me in the middle of english, and i had to get out of the room. i went to the bathroom and i puked."

"you puked?"

"yeah, nausea hit me seconds after the memory."

"well, at least you're making progress. the doctor said it could take a while,"

you nod, finally looking up at him. he checks his watch, and comes into the livingroom.

"you take it easy okay? don't strain yourself," he kisses your forehead and heads back to the front door. "i love you,"

"love you too dad," you murmur, watching him leave.

when you can no longer hear the rumble of his truck, you decide to head up to your room. until the accident you'd kept a near meticulous set of diaries, if you can find the one you was working on, maybe it can shed some light on what's going on.

it's weird, you're you, living in your body, but up until six months ago you were a completely different person. it's like living inside a stranger. you step into your room, it's a mess. clothes litter the floor, spilling from your closet, empty take away coffee cups, empty mugs from downstairs and energy drink cans litter the top of your dresser and desk. you go to the hall closet across from your room and grab a garbage bag and head back in. might as well clean up.

a few hours later you stand in the center of your now clean room. all your clean clothes have been re-folded or hung up, all the dirty clothes are in the wash and there's not a single thing out of place. except for—you squint, dropping to your knees in front of your bed, leaning down to pull two cardboard boxes from underneath. one is marked MY NOTEBOOKS, DON'T TOUCH (THAT MEANS YOU ARCH) in all caps—obviously your diaries, but the other has no label. you take off the lid and audibly gasp at the contents. sitting on top is a leather jacket with the southside serpents logo on the back, under the jacket is a dark green journal, a white handled switchblade, your old cellphone and a set of keys.

the screen on the phone is shattered, pretty near unusable by most people's standards. no one knew where your phone was after the crash. you'd just written it off as lost... finding it here, in this box changes things. you put it on the charger, and sit cross legged on the floor. maybe it'll be able to turn it on, if not you could to take it to a repair shop. you pick up the jacket, and check all the pockets. inside the left pocket is a half crumpled note, you pull it out and flatten it. it's definitely not your writing. it has one sentence, and it crushes you.

i love you too - sweet pea

you drop your hand holding the paper into your lap. that just makes everything even worse. does he know that you lost your memories? does he know about the accident? does toni? do they think you're pretending? were you on your way to see him when you crashed?

"fuck," you whisper, pulling your knees up to your chest.

you wanted the truth, and you got it, well part of it. how do you process all of this? how do you fix this? god, you just want to scream. throw things. have a little bit of a meltdown. it won't fix anything, but it might make you feel better. you rest your forehead on the edge of your bed and sit there on the floor, the jacket half hanging out of the box.

"hey?" comes archie's voice from the hallway, i jump at the sound. "hey- are you okay?"

you kick the box under your bed and glance up to see archie. he stops at the threshold, looking intently at you. you hear more sets of feet coming up the steps.

"i—"

you want to lie, you want to tell him you're fine. say everything's a-ok. but it's not. it's really not. and then betty, jughead and veronica come up behind archie and the damn breaks. you start violently, and uncontrollably sobbing into my arms. how did you wake up a year and a half older with such resentment for your three best friends? how did your life fall apart so quickly?

"hey, sh, sh, you're okay, everything's okay," archie says dropping to his knees to envelope you in a hug.

the other drop down on the floor with you. veronica and betty rub your back soothingly. you need to apologize, but you can't stop crying. maybe that's just as well, still a meltdown, just a different kind you suppose.

"i'm sorry!" you cry, frantically wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

you dislike crying in front of people, and you know most people don't like having someone cry in front of them. you try and steady your breathing.

"hey, you don't have to apologize," veronica says. "we've all kind of been terrible friends since your accident,"

"that's why we're here," betty adds, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

"that's why they're here," jughead says, and betty swats at him and misses. "hey! let me finish woman! i was going to say, i've been a great friend. we had lots of fun working at the drive-in together,"

"jug..." betty says softly, using that same tone people often use when they're tip-toing around things that might hurt you. she shakes her head slightly, "she doesn't—"

"hey! don't talk about me like i'm not here!" you say loudly, all three of them turn to look at you. "i'm not fragile, you don't have to choose your words carefully around me, i have amnesia not brain damage."

"you're right," veronica says, staring each of them down until they nod. "we all need to stop treating you like glass,"

you quickly stand, your back to them for a minute. you take a deep breath, and turn around.

"arch, what were we fighting about when i left?" you ask, and he looks at you for a moment before swallowing, hard.

"you felt abandoned," he says, his eyes falling to the black rug they're sitting on. "you were upset because we were going on our annual nyc trip, but i'd also promised ronnie i'd help her with something in the morning, and i wanted to push the trip back by two, three hours. and you got really upset and exploded on me—it was entirely justified on your end—there was a lot of things you wanted to do together over the summer and i either canceled or forgot. i was a shitty brother."

"no, arch, you weren't. i'm sure i was just being drama—" you start, but archie raises his hand and you stop.

"no, i was being selfish. i made you a promise, and i broke it. i'm sorry," archie says, standing up and pulling you into a tight hug. "i'm sorry, i really am."

"and we're sorry," jughead says, as archie lets you go. "we thought that giving you some space would be a good thing, but we all got a little caught up in our own shit."

"i understand that, however, i've been alone pretty much for six months." you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

"you've had cheryl, and jason, and reggie—you seemed like you were pretty happy..." betty says, and you shrug, looking away from her.

"cheryl is nice— but all we talk about is her. jason's fun to hang with but we have nothing in common other than reggie and cheryl. and reggie.." you sigh, staring out your window over their heads. "reggie made sense."

"he made sense?" veronica asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"picking reggie made sense, and don't get me wrong i do like reggie, he's a great guy—a good listener, great at solving problems, fun to hang out with and all—but there's no connection." you sigh, you briefly contemplate telling them about the jacket, about your supposed summer with the serpents, but decide against it for now.

"are you going to break up with him?" archie asks, and you shrug in reply.

"i probably should," you sigh again, why does all of this have to be so damn hard? "did he ask about me when i disappeared this morning?"

"yeah, i told him you weren't feeling well. dad text me about you being home," archie says, and you nod.

"well, i say we grab dinner at pops tonight like old times," veronica says when the silence goes on a beat too long.

"honestly, i would love that, but i have to tie up some lose ends first. i'll meet you guys there at," you pause, walking over to your old phone, tapping the screen, relief shoots through you when it lights up, "say, 6?"

"sounds good," betty says, and they all stand up.

you unplug your phone, pocketing it as jughead, archie and veronica file out, heading back downstairs, but betty lingers.

"you okay, cooper?" you ask, teasingly.

she turns towards you sharply, hands clasped behind her back, "this morning, i— i really was trying to touch base with you. i know that the whole southside thing kind of has half the school losing it, but you told archie no, and i wasn't going to push it. he mentioned that you were upset about the group not reconnecting with you after everything, and i just wanted to see how you were— are."

"i owe you an apology for how i acted, i was frustrated with arch, not that that's an excuse, but i just kind of snapped. i'm really sorry, i shouldn't have taken that out on you betty,"

"your anger is justified, we should have been by you every step of the way—"

"you were busy, things happen. i missed you guys, sure, but this entire thing has been insane. i woke up six months ago with no memories from the last year. and to be fair, it's not like i made much of an effort with you guys."

"well, we're all okay now. and, you could never truly get rid of us,"

you let out a short laugh, throwing your arm over her shoulder, leading her out into the hallway.

"and you couldn't get rid of me if you tried," you say, and betty grins at you, her arm circling your back as you descend the stairs.

you're standing outside the mantle's house, trying to decide if now is really the best time to be doing this, but your rationality wins out and you move towards the door before you lose your nerve. you raise your hand to knock, but the door flies open and you're met face to face with mrs. mantle.

"hi dear, are you okay?" she asks, a warm smile on her face.

"yes. ma'am, i just..." you were not prepared for his mom to open the door.

that was actually the worse possible thing that could have happened. mrs. mantle has always been such a kind, and wonderful person towards you. you almost wonder if she's the reason you'd let things between you and reggie continue as long as they have.

"sorry, is reggie home?" you ask, and she nods, stepping out of the way to let you in.

"he's upstairs doing homework, are you staying for supper?"

the longer you speak to her the more you're dreading following through with this. she's such a nice lady, and you're not entirely sure how reggie's going to handle this. you really don't want to lose her.

you force yourself to shake your head, "no ma'am, i just have to talk to reggie and then i have dinner plans with my brother,"

she nods again, and you slip your shoes off, and head upstairs.

you've been here so many times that you don't even have to think about where you're going. as such, this leaves time for you to panic and try to talk yourself out of it. you're not sure why. reggie had been a crush of yours for a long time, from middle school to freshman year at least. when you woke up without your memories from the last year, you'd still felt that way about him. you'd been excited when he initially asked you out. mind you that excitement fizzled rather quickly, realizing what the arrangement meant for your relationship.

you were disappointed, sure, but you weren't blindsided by any means. reggie had always given you the kind of vibe that he wasn't interested in settling down just yet. so, when you push his partially closed door open and find him with his tongue down the throat of a different cheerleader, you're not entirely shocked. the girl notices you first, she's younger than you and reggie by at least a year, and she squeals, pulling away from him. he doesn't notice you at first, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion before he follows her eyeline. they both look like deer, and you're the headlights.

"uh, h-hey..." reggie musters, sitting down beside the girl, "i think you should probably go,"

"y-yeah, g-go...." she says, jumping up and flying out of the room.

you stare at him, unsure of how to continue. sure, he'd made this infinitely easier on you, but at the same time you still find yourself hurting a bit.

"i'm sorry," he says, dropping his head into his hands.

"despite our "arrangement", reg," you use air quotes, "i thought you respected me more than this,"

"i do!" his voice comes out loud, then softer, "i do."

the silence that follows is deafening, and feels like it stretches for hours. he doesn't look at you the whole time, his eyes trained on the ground.

"well, you've made this decision a whole lot easier for me. i'm breaking up with you, reg." you sigh, "i don't hate you; i'm not mad at you; i am a bit disappointed, but i think we were kind of doomed from the start. maybe in a couple months we can try to be friends, just friends. if you're down with that..."

he raises his head, guilt written clear across his features, but he nods, "i'm sorry, sunshine. i really, really am."

"i know reg," you say, leaning down to give his hand a squeeze. "so am i,"

you turn to leave, hesitanting in the doorway.

"reg?"

"yeah?"

you turn to look at him, "see you around,"

4:50pm. you have about an hour and ten minutes before you have to meet archie and the others. you plop down on your bed, and flip your diary open. there are only eight entries.

entry 1: may 16th

i can't do this anymore. faking everything. it's driving me fucking insane. betty, ronnie, and archie are always flaking on me. internship this. summer job that. charity this. sorry i forgot that. jug is the only one who hasn't consistently left me hanging, and we're not even all that close. that being said, out of all of them, i'm starting to change my tune on that. he's even offered to talk to his manager about possibly getting me a summer job at the twilight. which would be killer, i'm there for most of the showings anyway. at least i'll get paid for doing something i already enjoy. then at least i'll have something going on. i'm honestly not ok with them constantly rescheduling things but for whatever reason i just sit there and take it. i need to start putting myself first, and find some friends that put in just as much effort as i do. i wonder if the three of them will even notice if i stop putting in the effort.

entry 2: may 19th

guess who has a new job!!! me!!!!!!!! i'm so excited, i don't think i've been this happy about something in a long time. i start tomorrow night, and jug's already introduced me to some of his coworkers. i'll be working in concession. we're even allowed to sit outside and watch the movie when we're between customers. i'm so looking forward to having this. betty, ronnie and i were supposed to go shopping today but they both just texted to cancel. go figure.

entry 3: may 20th

first day was a success! my new coworkers are so nice, i even made quick friends with a girl named toni. she's got pink highlights in her hair which really suit her. i also overheard that she's a southside serpent. mind you she doesn't really seem like the kind of people i’ve been told are in that motorcycle gang. then again, you're not supposed to believe everything you hear.

okay!! it's later now, and toni asked me if i wanted to hang out with her and her friends at the quarry tomorrow!! that's the first time in a really long time someone’s asked me to do something with them! i, of course said yes! i’m so excited!!

just got back from the quarry, i had so much fun. more fun than i’ve had all year! toni is so much fun to be around, she has the best energy, and it's just so refreshing to be around someone who actually wants to do things and live in the moment. the last time i hung out with ronnie and betty they were both glued to their cellphones, undoubtedly texting jug and archie. i also met her two best friends sweet pea and fangs, who are also super cool. they were really nice, and welcoming. i was pretty nervous, because i’d seen the two of them at the drive-in with fp a bunch of times, so i knew they were serpents, but they were both so nice! i’m really starting to wonder if the serpents are as “bad” and as much of a problem as other northsiders insist they are.

entry 4: june 21st

oh god, it’s been a month since my last entry. i have so much to write about… i honestly don't know where to start. i’ve been hanging out with toni, sweet pea and fangs pretty consistently since that day they invited me to the quarry. i’ve stopped chasing archie and his friends to hang out, and i was right in my guess that they wouldn't notice if i stopped trying. i haven't received a single text from any of them. i mean, i have from archie, but he’s my brother so that doesn't really count in my opinion. and i guess jug too, but we're coworkers and he was the only non-flake before anyway. either way, it’s been so nice having toni, fangs and sweet pea reaching out to make plans with me and when i reach out to them they actually follow through. we all have a lot in common; we enjoy a lot of the same music and tv shows.

toni is a god with her camera, i don't think i’ve seen more beautiful photography, and she takes the BEST candids. she’s taken so many pictures of us, she’s going to get me some physical copies for my scrapbook.

fangs can get you ANYTHING. he’s such a smooth talker that people just end up giving him things. he even got us into a sold out _ show. i’m really not sure how he managed, but we got escorted by security to the barricade.

i was supposed to go with betty, archie and ronnie, but i decided to flake on them for a change. that did get me a few texts from each of them, and i didn't answer them. i just turned off my phone and enjoyed the show. it was amazing!!!!!! i had an absolute blast.

i’ve also been spending more time with sweet pea… alone… (obviously, with toni & fangs too) he’s nothing like i thought he’d be when we met. here i go again judging a book by its cover, shame on me. but he’s so sweet, it took a bit to get him to open up to me, toni says he’s just protective, which i both completely agree and understand. with friends as cool as those two, i don't blame him. he goes out of his way for everyone; holding the door for old ladies, standing in the middle of a busy street so kids can cross. he seems so scary and mean, but that's just his defence. we've been getting a really close, and every time he asks me to hangout i get butterflies.

we're hanging out tonight too, i’m going to pick him up in twenty minutes and we're going to the quarry. i’m sitting in a booth at pop’s waiting for our food. i really like him, and i enjoy spending time with him. toni said she’s never seen him so happy, and that she thinks he likes me. i really hope he does, because i like him. i might even tell him as much tonight… that might be a bit too much, actually. i don't know. oh, pop’s calling my order, i’ll update you later!

just got back from the quarry, and oh. my. god. sweet pea kissed me! i was all nervous, and i decided i was going to tell him how i felt and before i got the words out, he leaned over and just did it! i’ve had a few kisses before, some good, some not so much, but this one? it was the BEST i’ve ever had. that thing you read about in fanfics or novels about fireworks or butterflies, it's REAL. he asked me out on a date too, and i’m literally so excited. i called toni before i added this update and she squealed. she was right, he does like me. mine and sweet pea’s date is wednesday night, we're going to watch a movieat the drive-in and then in the morning we're all going camping at sweetwater river.

my phone is ringing… it’s archie? weird, he usually texts me. i’m going to answer him, i’ll be right back.

just got off the phone with arch. mom is coming down from chicago for the weekend, and we were supposed to go together to pick her up, now he’s backed out on me and i have to go alone. what could be more important than picking mom up from the airport?! especially considering we rarely see her. whatever, i guess it’ll give us time to talk.

entry 5: june 30th

just dropped mom back off at the airport. this visit was so fucked. i picked her up, we had a lovely conversation, and then she asked me where arch was and i had to lie to her. he said he was going to call her and let her know, but apparently he didn't. then, he didn’t show up for family dinner, which he was also supposed to help me cook (spoiler: he DIDN’T). when mom and dad asked where he was, i was like a dear caught in headlights. i have no fucking clue!! i called him, and BAM! voicemail. mom calls him and woah, he picks up first ring. he lies, and gets away with it. arch was gone all weekend which screwed up my itinerary. i mean, seeing mom was the highlight, obviously, but archie and i planned all this stuff and we didn't get to do any of it. not to mention, archie had promised he’s take mom to the airport because he was gone all weekend, and then he didn't show! again! i had plans with toni, and i had to apologize and cancel on her (which isn't fair to her or me (but fuck us i guess??)) anyway, i’m banking on archie cancelling our yearly trip to nyc with everything going on. i’d lay money on it now.

entry 6: july 1st

i’m so mad right now. archie saw me and sweet pea coming out of pop’s with lunch, and got in sweets face. he has NO RIGHT. especially considering how much he's left me hanging lately. i will admit, i did something i shouldn't have, but he said something he definitely shouldn't have (that i shant repeat here (just know it's vile)) and i then punched him. sweets then threw me over his shoulder and carried me to my car. i bruised the crap out of my hand, archie’s got a hard face i guess. toni and fangs tried to lighten the mood when we got back but i couldn't help myself. sweet pea and i ended up leaving early, and we just drove around for a while. when i finally did calm down, he thanked me for standing up for him. why wouldn't i?? archie has no right to treat any of my friends like that, let alone my maybe boyfriend (we haven't really labelled it yet). and archie’s one to talk about people’s “priorities” and who they “really” are, seeing as toni, sweet pea and fangs have done nothing but be great friends and have been there for me all summer and he (MY! TWIN! BROTHER!) couldn’t even see his mother while she was down from chicago. i haven't seen archie since our altercation at pop’s and i’m more than okay with that.

entry 7: august 15th

sweet pea and i got into a fight. it’s nothing major, and i know he’s just looking out for me, but somethings aren’t really any of his business. namely, things involving my family. i was telling him about mine and archie’s annual trip to nyc, and how this will be the first year that it’s just the two of us. mom and dad usually go with us, and it’s the highlight of our summer. i’ve been really looking forward to it, and that i’m hoping this will help mend the tear we’ve both been helping create in our relationship. i’m not going to entirely blame arch because i’ve definitely not helped… especially when i punched him in the face in july. he’s finally speaking to me again. it took a couple of weeks and awkwardly dodging each other but we’re at least talking again. which is progress i guess. we haven’t talked about it either. he just walked into my room last tuesday and started telling about this video he saw, and then everything was fine again. we’ve always been like that, but what archie said really isn’t ok, and what i did really isn’t ok either. i plan to bring it up on our trip. anyway, back to sweets, he’s worried i’m going to get super hyped up about this trip and then archie’s going to yank the carpet from under my feet (kind of like he’s been doing all summer, but i digress). we leave in two days, and so far everything seems to be going well. i should apologize to sweets before we leave though, cause i did kind of snap at him… adding that to the to-do list.

entry 8: august 17th

fuck archie. FUCK. HIM. sweets was right. FUCK EVERYTHING. GODDAMN NORTHSIDERS.

that was it, the last entry. you wrote that the night of your accident. that's why you were in your car. that's where you were headed. you close the diary, and smack it off your forehead. you close your eyes, and then let out a scream of frustration. you throw the book across your room, and pull your old phone from your pocket. you sift through your text threads, you'd sent more outgoing messages to betty, veronica and archie then they'd sent back to you for months before your accident. turns out they weren't just shitty friends afterwards.

you pause for a moment, your finger hovering over fp jones' contact. why would you have jughead's dad's number? up until hiram started causing a stir in town, jughead hadn't even been living with his dad so you never would've needed to contact him. you click it and a bunch of text messages load in.

things were falling into place for you. they were shitty friends before. you were going to need new ones regardless, that's how you ended up in friendship purgatory at riverdale high. cheryl just isn't your cup of tea, and you're still not sure how you feel about reggie after everything you witnessed this afternoon. one thing you do know; you owe some people an explanation. you close out of the messages, and go to your gallery. the first picture that you see is one of you, toni, sweet pea and fangs, your faces all pressed together cheek to cheek, smiling widely. you smile, and then suddenly it's like a damn breaks and a years worth of memories come flooding in. you drop the phone, and rush downstairs, grabbing your keys from the bowl by the front door.

"you guys are terrible fucking friends," you say, not really caring to control the level of your voice as you stomp towards your brother and his friends. "not you jug, you're fine, i'm talking about these three."

archie, veronica and betty share confused looks then look up at you. you tower over their table, anger coursing through you. you stare the three of them down quietly, eyes darting from one to the other, to the other.

"uh, didn't we already go over that?" veronica asks, her tone light and joking.

"not really," you say, "i got my memories back, and you guys were fucking terrible. what did i do to deserve being cancelled on, and forgotten about so easily by you three? especially you arch, you're my brother. my twin. you of everyone are supposed to have my back!"

betty and veronica's eyes drop to their laps, and archie freezes, his eyes wide.

"while i appreciate your apology from before archie, with all the facts, i don't accept. what you did was fucking shitty, and i never would have done that to you. never. as for you two, if you don't like me, or just don't like hanging out with me, or just don't want to be my friend, stop making plans with me. i'm done being treated like that, and if any of you want to make things right, actually make things right, you'll be able to find me with my real friends; toni, sweet pea and fangs. who, unlike you three, actually like spending time with me. and for the record, are really good people, and deserve to be treated with respect." you turn on your heels to leave, and then pause at the last booth, whipping back around, "also, fuck you guys."

you pray that you're right about this. you never hung out with them during school, so you weren't sure if they were going to be at the quarry tonight. the weather's still nice, so you're hoping that you're right. you turn onto the familiar dirt road, and catch sight of their bikes in the distance of your headlights. relief washes over you as you get closer, you see three figures walking towards you and you pull in beside the bikes, like you had so many times before. you turn the car off, and jump out.

"fucking hell, andrews! you scared the shit out of us!" you hear fangs yell, a bark of laughter leaving him.

"guys--" you say, walking closer to them, your heart beating hard against your ribs.

you almost wonder if it's going to beat right out of your chest, you're so nervous, but you're so happy to see them. you missed them.

"told you she knew who we were." sweet pea sneers, cutting you off. "what schools out so you can be friends with us again?"

"what? no--" you start but he cuts you off again.

"where were you? why are you back now?" he bites out, and toni smacks him.

"shut up and let her talk." toni says, nodding at you. "go,"

"i got into a car accident on august 17th. i have no idea how, or what happened, but i was trapped in that car for four hours, and spent two days in a coma. then when i woke up, i couldn't remember anything that happened over the last year. i now remember everything, and am really, really sorry for unintentionally ghosting you guys for six months." you pause to take a breath, and gage their reactions, "i know how this all sounds, but i promise i'm telling the truth,"

toni smirks, stepping forward to throw her arms around you, "i'm glad you're back, i fucking missed you."

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

she turns to look at fangs, and sweet pea and holds her hand out, “c’mon boys, cough it up.”

begrudgingly, they both pull five dollars out of their pockets and drop it into her hand. fangs then moves past her, and scoops you into a bone crushing hug.

“missed you,” he whispers, then lets you go.

“missed you too,” you smile, and the pair of them slowly slink back to the fire they’d been sitting around, giving you and sweet pea space.

sweet pea stares at you, dark eyes unreadable, his posture tense. it takes you back to how he was when you met for the first time. closed off, on guard, and analytical. you want to reach out for him, wrap yourself around him and never let go. you’re not sure he’s ready for that, so you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. your fingers catching the slip of paper he’d given you months ago, curling around it, you put it out and his eyes close briefly.

“i understand if you need space,” you say carefully, unfolding the small scrap. “but if you ever actually meant this, you have to know that i never would have left you hanging like that intentionally.”

he takes the note from you, his eyes leaving yours to look at it. he stays quiet for what feels like an eternity.

“i know.” he finally speaks, eyes still on the note. “deep down, i knew you wouldn't have left. not when you socked your brother for me. i was just so mad… at myself for what i said to you last, at you, for not following through on your text… then seeing you at school– it didn't make sense. instead of really thinking about it, like toni did, i just–” his eyes meet yours again, “i don't know, i let my fears take hold, i guess.”

"i--"

"JUST KISS ALREADY; YOU LOVE HER, HE LOVES YOU, THE END-"

"FANGS, SHUT UP!" toni yells, the sound of her smacking him and him asking her to stop follows.

you and sweet pea share a glance, and then both break out in giggles. when the giggles subside, you step closer to him, your hand landing on his shoulder.

"i love you, sweets, and if you need time--"

"i've had enough time, what i need now, is you." he says before pulling you against him, and kissing you.

he pulls back briefly, letting you catch your breath, "i love you too,"

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