starsjulia

[starsjulia]

BROOOOOOO this is soooo messy so buckle up.

1) my ex girlfriend is dating a different ex girlfriends ex girlfriend.

2) the actual loml (who i never dated) was at a party i was at and had her new girl grind on her while staring into my soul the whole time

3) the guy i got with after incident number 2 to make the loml jealous had a girl friend THE WHOLE TIME!!! and his gf also had a thing with my ex from incident number 1

GET ME OUT OF THIS TOWN ASAPPP

[starsjulia]

Almost, Always // Leah Williamson

a/n : sorry i’ve been gone guys… i don’t really have an excuse but it’s whatever. also you know when you watch a show and see lesbians in love and remember what it was like to be in love, basically this is written on what it was like for me (i also miss my ex so much please come back)

warnings : suggestive but no explicit smut

It started, as these things often do, with a kiss that wasn’t meant to mean anything. One of those soft, lingering moments born out of laughter, tequila, and the kind of glances that last too long to be innocent. You remember it clearly because it was Leah. Leah with the wild hair and smart mouth and eyes that saw too much. Leah who teased you relentlessly in front of the girls but always walked you home when you stayed out too late. Leah who said, “It doesn’t have to be a thing,” with a smirk after that first night—right before she kissed you again and pushed you back against the headboard like you were the only thing she wanted to worship.

You lost count of how many times it happened after that. The first time was maybe an accident. The second? Just curiosity. The third? That was something else. That was her fingers on your skin like she was memorising you. That was gasping her name like it meant salvation. That was her smirking down at you after, sweaty and smug, whispering, “Told you it’d be good.”

But you never talked about it. Not really. You just… were. Tangled in each other more often than not, but no one ever said the word relationship. You weren’t her girlfriend. She wasn’t yours. You were something between best friends and soulmates and fuckbuddies and whatever else you could name—but it wasn’t defined. And weirdly, it worked. It shouldn’t have. But it did.

Leah was always showing up at your flat like she owned the place, dropping her keys on your table, making herself toast, wearing your jumpers, leaving her shampoo in your shower. She called it “convenience.” You called it “suspiciously girlfriend-like behaviour.” She winked and said, “Shut up and come here,” and you did, every time.

You’d wake up with her wrapped around you, legs tangled, her nose buried in your neck. Sometimes she’d fall asleep mid-conversation, her voice drifting off with a mumble, and you’d stare at her, wondering when exactly you’d become hers, unofficial as it all was.

And when you were out? It was constant chaos. The way she’d brush her fingers over your back when she walked past. The way you’d whisper something in her ear just to watch her face go pink. The way the others stared at you both like they were waiting for the inevitable.

At training, Beth would side-eye you constantly. “I swear to God, if you two start dry humping in the canteen again—”

You grinned. Leah shrugged. “Don’t be jealous, Beff.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “I’m jealous of your delusion.”

Katie, of course, just stared at the both of you and muttered, “Yous are absolutely unhinged.”

And maybe you were. But it was fun. It was flirty. It was yours.

Like that time you were at an Arsenal girls’ dinner, and you wore that red dress—the one that clung like sin and dipped just low enough to make Leah choke on her wine. You didn’t even have to say anything. She spent the whole night with her hand on your knee under the table, thumb moving in lazy circles, eyes dark with all the things she couldn’t say out loud.

“You wore that to kill me,” she hissed.

You smirked. “You’re not dead yet, are you?”

“I will be. On God.”

And later that night, in the taxi, with the driver politely pretending not to notice, she leaned over and whispered, “If you don’t let me take that dress off with my teeth, I swear to God—”

You kissed her before she could finish. Because yeah. You wanted her too. Always.

There were quiet nights too. Nights where it wasn’t about sex or flirting or chaos. Just you, curled into her side on the couch, her hand tangled with yours, a movie you weren’t watching playing in the background.

“Everyone thinks we’re dating,” you said once, voice quiet.

She snorted. “Aren’t we?”

You looked at her. “Are we?”

She didn’t answer. Just kissed your forehead, like that was enough.

It wasn’t always perfect. Sometimes she got distant. Sometimes you panicked and pulled away. But you always came back. Always found your way back to each other like gravity. Like fate. Like something inevitable.

And it got harder and harder to pretend you weren’t in love with her. Because you were. You are.

Like that time she was away for England camp, and you got sick, and she called you five times a day to check on you, sending Deliveroo to your flat, threatening to murder your immune system personally.

Like when she found you crying once after a shit day, and instead of asking questions, she just pulled you into her lap and held you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“You’re allowed to fall apart,” she whispered into your hair. “Just not without me.”

One night, after a win, after too many drinks, after a celebration that ended with the both of you tucked into each other in a corner of the pub, she looked at you and said, “You ruin me, you know that?”

You blinked. “In a good way or a bad way?”

She smiled, slow and lazy and full of something that felt like forever. “The best.”

Then she pulled you into a kiss so soft it broke something inside you.

Eventually, something had to give. You knew that. She knew that.

So when she showed up at your place one night with a bottle of wine, your hoodie on, and a nervous look in her eyes, you knew something was different.

“I want to call you mine,” she said.

You stared at her. “You already do.”

She shook her head. “No. I mean—mine. Girlfriend. Partner. The real thing.”

You swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’ve been sure. For ages. I just… didn’t want to scare you.”

You grinned. “Terrified, actually.”

“But still here?”

“Always.”

And then she kissed you. And that kiss? That kiss tasted like something new. Something real. Something that was always going to happen.

Because this thing between you? It was never casual. Not really. It was fire and softness and chaos and safety. It was teasing and inside jokes and clothes stolen from each other’s wardrobes. It was forehead kisses and hand squeezes and whispering “marry me” half-jokingly when you caught each other staring. It was Leah saying “I’d fight a bear for you,” and you replying, “Good, because I attract danger.”

It was everything. It is everything.

Almost, always. Now? Just always.

[starsjulia]

Mesmerized by her in this pic

[starsjulia]

in spain for 4 days, alexia putellas wya

[starsjulia]

Finally updated my masterlist after like two months… Whoops 😅

[starsjulia]

not built for this // part two

a/n : thank you for all the love on the last one, you can read part one here, enjoy my lovelies! i’m also thinking about making a final and third part so if that’s something you’d like to see please do let me know, my inbox is always open!!

warnings : bullying, cyber bullying.

“Bet she only got that score ‘cause she’s autistic.”

“Yeah, isn’t she meant to be, like, thick?”

“Nah, she’s prolly just revises cus she can’t do nothing else”

Your stomach twists. You stare down at your English test, the red-inked “9” in the corner blurring in your vision. You should be happy. You were happy. Or at least you had been for the five minutes before the results were handed out to the rest of the class.

Someone snickers. “Neek.”

Your grip on your pen tightens.

“She probably sits there memorizing dictionaries or some shit—”

”—Or maybe her mum paid for her grade.”

A crumpled piece of paper hits the back of your head. You exhale sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to stay still. If you turn around, if you look at them, you know you’ll either scream or burst into tears.

You’re not going to cry in front of them.

Not again.

⸻

At break, you don’t even bother trying to sit with anyone. You go straight to the toilets, locking yourself in a cubicle, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor.

Your phone buzzes.

Mum.

You exhale shakily before pressing call.

“Hey, love. Everything okay?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. The walls feel like they’re closing in.

“Can you pick me up?” Your voice cracks.

Leah sighs on the other end. “What happened now?”

“Mum, please.” You clench your jaw, willing yourself not to cry.

Leah hesitates. “My love i’m at training, what do you want me to do?”

Silence.

A sharp knock on the cubicle door makes you jump.

“Oi, you in there?” A voice outside sneers. “Hiding again, are we?”

Your throat tightens.

“I have to go.” You end the call before Leah can respond.

⸻

Third period is even worse.

You try your hardest to focus, really, you do. You keep your head down, do the work, but it doesn’t matter.

Halfway through the lesson, you use your timeout card to leave. You just need a second to breathe. But when you come back, something feels off.

Your bag.

You reach inside and…

Your pencil case is gone. So is a revision guide.

Instead, there’s an empty crisp packet and some scrunched-up tissue.

Your hands tremble.

“Everything okay?” the teacher asks.

No.

No, everything is not okay.

But you don’t say anything. You just clench your fists, sit down, and stare blankly at the board.

The girls behind you giggle.

⸻

By the time you get home, you feel like you’re going to burst.

You throw your bag down, heading straight for the kitchen where Leah is sorting Jamie’s school things.

“Mum, I got a nine on my English test.”

Leah turns, her expression softening. “Did you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Leah’s smile is genuine. “That’s amazing, hun. I knew you could do it.” She pulls you into a hug. You hold on tightly.

For a moment, everything feels okay.

Then your phone buzzes. Again.

Leah frowns. “That thing’s been going off all day.”

“It’s nothing.” You shove it in your pocket.

Jamie, sitting at the kitchen table, raises a brow. “Who even texts you that much?”

“Shut up, Jamie.”

Leah folds her arms. “It’s not like—” She hesitates. “I just mean, that’s a lot of notifications.”

“It’s fine.”

Leah studies you for a second but doesn’t push.

Later, when you’re in the shower, she walks past the kitchen counter where your phone sits, screen lighting up over and over again. Her stomach tightens.

She glances up the stairs, making sure you’re still in the bathroom.

Then she picks it up.

And unlocks it.

The first thing she sees is a group chat.

She clicks on it.

Her stomach drops.

⸻

Screenshots. Photos. Messages.

Leah scrolls, her hands shaking.

“How is ur mum so hot but ur so ugly??”

“bet u can’t even make eye contact reading this lmao”

“Why doesn’t ur mum just send u to a sped school?? No one wants u here”

“Nice lanyard you weirdo”

Her breath catches in her throat.

She keeps scrolling.

Texts from unknown numbers.

More abuse. More hate.

Her pulse pounds in her ears.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until a tear drips onto the screen.

Then the bathroom door opens.

You walk out, hair damp, and freeze when you see her standing there, phone clutched in her hand, face pale with fury.

“(Y/N)…what the fuck is this?”

Your blood runs cold. “Mum—”

“How long has this been going on?”

Silence.

“how long?”

You swallow hard. “A while.”

“And you didn’t TELL me?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It really does matter!”

You look away. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Leah stares at you, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m calling the school.”

⸻

The meeting is tense.

Leah sits across from the headteacher and your head of year, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She slams the phone onto the table. “Explain this.”

The headteacher shifts uncomfortably. “Miss Williamson—”

“She told you she was being bullied. I told you. you know dam well that my daughter comes into this office almost everyday because your classrooms are unbearable for her. And you did NOTHING.”

“We were handling—”

“Handling it?!” Leah’s voice cracks. “Are you fucking joking?”

You shrink in your seat, your face burning.

The headteacher clears his throat. “Miss Williamson, we understand you’re upset, but—”

“You don’t understand SHIT.” Leah’s hands tremble. “She’s not coming back here. Ever.”

Your breath hitches. “Mum….”

“No.” Leah turns to you, eyes softening. “I should’ve done this a long time ago, love.”

You look down, blinking rapidly. “I can handle it.”

Leah exhales sharply. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You bite your lip. “I know I’m not easy….”

“Don’t you ever say that.” Leah’s voice breaks. “I love you more than anything. Do you hear me?”

You sniffle. “Yeah.”

Leah pulls you into a hug.

“You’re coming home. And we’re going to figure this out, alright?”

⸻

Later that night, Beth comes over.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls you into the warmest hug you’ve ever felt.

“You know you’re perfect, right?” she murmurs.

You let out a weak laugh. “Doubt it.”

Beth nudges you. “They’re just jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “Doubt that too.”

Beth squeezes your hand. “Well, I don’t.”

For the first time in forever, you believe her.

And for the first time in forever—

You feel safe.

⸻

[starsjulia]

[starsjulia]

i have loved both your autistic teen reader x leah and your autistic reader x leah so much, as someone who is neurodivergent i am so grateful💗

ugh thank you so much lovely, so happy you enjoyed it!!! there’s a series by storiesxox05 on wattpad which is quite similar but the oc is leah’s sister, and i think you would love that one if you liked mine!!

[starsjulia]

would you consider maybe turning your recent autistic teen read x leah into a series!?

i have a part two in the works!!

[starsjulia]

Not Built for This

leah williamson x autistic teen reader

a/n : i watched adolescence and it reminded me of my time at school as someone who’s neurodivergent, and it really isn’t fun so here’s a fic about it

warnings : bullying, british secondary schools, slightest allusion to suicidal ideation, a pretty heavy fic all in all

That awful, heavy feeling settled in your chest before you’d even moved. You checked your phone, even though you knew there’d be nothing there to save you. No last-minute reason not to go.

Downstairs, your little brother Alfie was already ready, eating breakfast like this was just any other day. Like school was fine. Like it didn’t make his skin crawl. Like he didn’t want to throw up just thinking about it.

You weren’t like him.

And you weren’t like your mum, either. Leah had liked school. She’d been good at it. She’d played football, she’d had friends, she’d never been this.

And when you sat at the table, still in your pyjamas, Leah sighed. “(Y/N), come on. Not today.”

“Mum, please,” you whispered.

Leah’s expression hardened. “No. We’re not doing this again.”

You clenched your fists. “You don’t get it.”

“I get that you need to go,” she snapped. “Your attendance is awful, (Y/N), you have to be in school.”

“I can’t,” you choked out.

But Leah was already shaking her head. “You don’t even try anymore.”

That wasn’t true. You tried every day. But trying didn’t matter when you were drowning.

So you swallowed it down, put your uniform on, and got in the car.

Because you had no choice.

⸻

You knew something was coming the second Mia looked at you in form. That sharp, cruel glint in her eye.

But you weren’t expecting the paper ball that smacked you in the head halfway through the register.

Heat rose in your cheeks, and you whipped around. Mia and her friends giggled like it was so funny.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, turning back.

Another one hit your back.

Your body went rigid.

You could feel the teacher watching you now.

And then a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe if your mum spent less time playing football and more time fixing you, you wouldn’t be such a freak.”

Your blood ran cold.

And before you could stop yourself, you’d spun around, chair scraping loudly, everyone staring.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Mia smirked. “Touched a nerve?”

You saw red.

“(Y/N), enough,” your tutor snapped. “Sit down.”

Your hands shook as you sat.

You couldn’t do this.

⸻

The second the bell rang, you bolted.

Straight to the toilets. Again.

Your hands fumbled with your phone as you locked yourself in a cubicle.

Leah picked up after three rings.

“(Y/N)?”

“I need to go home,” you gasped out. Your whole body felt like it was buzzing. “Mum, please.”

Leah sighed. “(Y/N)—”

“Mum, they said you should’ve fixed me,” you choked out.

Silence.

Then, quietly, “Who said that?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Mia. Them. Everyone.”

Leah exhaled sharply. “I—”

“Please,” you whispered. “I’ll do anything. I’ll study, I’ll do extra work, I’ll never ask you for anything else, just please take me out of school.”

Leah’s voice was tight. “You know I can’t do that, (Y/N).”

You let out a shaky breath. “Then I can’t do this anymore.”

Leah was quiet.

And then, softer than before, “Just get through today, okay?”

But you knew she wasn’t coming.

She wasn’t going to save you.

And that hurt more than anything.

⸻

You tried to stay quiet in class. You really did.

But Mr. Davies was pushing your buttons. Again.

“(Y/N), what’s the answer?”

You blinked at him. “I don’t know.”

His lips thinned. “You never know, do you?���

Your jaw clenched. “I do know. Just not when you put me on the spot.”

“Excuses,” he muttered. “You don’t even try, do you?”

Your nails dug into your palms. “I do try. But I have a support plan, and you’re not supposed to—”

“You don’t look autistic.”

The class went silent.

Your chest tightened.

And then, before you could stop yourself—

“Fuck right off, you don’t have any right-”

Gasps.

“(Y/N), get out,” Mr. Davies snapped.

Your whole body shook.

You grabbed your bag, stormed out, but you couldn’t breathe.

You weren’t going to make it to the Head of Year’s office before breaking down.

⸻

The Meltdown in the Office

You paced, pulling at your sleeves, breathing too fast.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you gasped.

Your Head of Year frowned. “What do you mean?”

Your breath shuddered. “Any of it. School. People. Even existing is too much now.”

Your Head of Year’s face changed. “(Y/N)…”

“I’m done,” you choked out. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t even do anything anymore, let alone school.”

Your Head of Year studied you for a long moment. Then: “We have to call home.”

Your stomach dropped. “No. No, please.”

“We have to.”

“She won’t get it,” you whispered. “She’ll just be mad.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I just want to be homeschooled. I can’t take this anymore.”

Your Head of Year hesitated.

But you knew nothing would change.

No one was going to save you.

⸻

Breaking at Home

The second you walked through the door, Leah was there. Arms crossed.

“What happened this time?”

You froze.

She didn’t look angry. Just… exhausted.

Something inside you snapped.

Your legs gave out, and you collapsed right there in the hallway.

Sobbing.

Leah froze.

“(Y/N)—?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you choked out.

Her arms wrapped around you. “Shh, hey, hey—”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be here anymore, Mum.”

Leah’s grip tightened.

For the first time, she really looked at you. And maybe—maybe—she finally understood.

Her voice was hoarse. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed her.

[starsjulia]

THE HARD LAUNCH?!!! i’m throwing up 😫

[starsjulia]

cleansing the timeline with alba's birthday pottery session, featuring alexia and eli

[starsjulia]

Best Birthday Ever // Leah Williamson

a/n : someone requested this but i can’t find it for the life of me… sorry!

warnings : leah and reader are caught in the act…

It was a beautiful, peaceful morning, birds chirping, the sun shining, the perfect day for your birthday celebrations.

Unfortunately, no one had informed Beth Mead that she was about to experience a horror worse than any she had faced on a football pitch.

Beth had arrived early, eager to surprise you for your birthday, thinking herself thoughtful and considerate. The plan was simple: let herself in (Leah never locked the door anyway), set up some decorations, and bask in the glory of being the best friend ever.

However, what she walked into was not a scene of domestic bliss.

No, what Beth Mead walked into was a nightmare.

A full-blown, trauma-inducing, therapy-requiring nightmare.

Because there, in the middle of the living room sofa, where guests would soon be expected to sit, was Leah Williamson. And she was on top of you.

In the act.

Beth’s entire body seized up. Her soul attempted to evacuate her body. Her mouth opened, but her brain refused to form words.

Meanwhile, you screamed like you were being set on fire.

Leah, on the other hand, simply turned her head, grinned, and greeted Beth as if she hadn’t just been caught mid-thrust.

“Oh, morning, Beth! You’re early.”

Beth finally found the ability to move and immediately hurled her house keys at Leah’s head.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL—LEAH?! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?!”

Leah dodged them effortlessly, still looking far too amused for someone in her position.

“I mean, I’d have thought that was pretty obvious, mate.”

You, meanwhile, were in hell.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” you whispered, slamming your hands over your face as if that would somehow make you disappear.

Beth was now backing out of the room, as if she had walked into the den of Satan himself. “I NEED A PRIEST. I NEED HOLY WATER. I NEED TO UNSEE EVERYTHING. OH MY GOD—YOU TWO ARE VILE.”

Leah, completely unashamed, simply shrugged, still finding the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

“Oh, come off it, Mead. Bit dramatic, isn’t it?”

Beth pointed an accusing finger. “Dramatic?! DRAMATIC?! I JUST WALKED INTO LIVE ACTION PORN IN ME BEST MATE’S HOUSE! YOU THINK I’M BEING DRAMATIC?!”

Leah burst out laughing again.

You were seconds away from physically dragging Leah into another dimension where you could live in peace, away from the shame of this moment.

“Leah, for the love of God, shut up.”

Beth was now full-body shaking. “I came here to decorate. For the birthday party. I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE.” She let out a breath. “AND YOU TWO—YOU TWO WERE DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT AT TEN IN THE BLOODY MORNING.”

Leah smirked. “Well, actually, it was more like half-nine, wasn’t it, babe?”

You threw a cushion at her face.

Beth, still vibrating with horror, took a deep breath and slowly backed toward the door.

“I’m leaving,” she announced.

Leah pouted. “You just got here.”

“I AM LEAVING. I AM GOING TO GO HOME, I AM GOING TO PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED, AND I AM NEVER COMING TO THIS HOUSE WITHOUT KNOCKING EVER AGAIN.”

She pointed one last, trembling finger. “And you two? You are sick, perverted freaks, and I hope you know that.”

Then, without another word, she turned and walked out the door.

Leah?

Leah was howling with laughter.

You?

You were seconds away from death via sheer embarrassment.

“I am never looking her in the eyes again,” you mumbled into your hands.

⸻

A Few Hours Later

The trauma had not subsided.

Beth had returned (hesitantly, after triple-checking that the house was safe), and the rest of the team had arrived for the party.

Unfortunately, Beth Mead was not one to suffer in silence.

The second everyone was gathered around, drinks in hand, music playing, she stood up, cleared her throat, and raised her voice so everyone could hear.

“Right, I’d just like to take a moment to formally announce that I will no longer be accepting invitations to Leah and Y/N’s house unless I have legal documentation stating that they are both fully clothed at all times.”

The room erupted in confused laughter.

You froze.

Leah smirked, immediately knowing what was coming.

“Beth, don’t you—”

“Oh, I fucking will.” Beth turned to the crowd. “Do you lot know what I had the absolute displeasure of walking into this morning?”

You slammed your face into your hands.

“BETHANY, PLEASE.”

Beth ignored you, taking a dramatic pause before announcing, loudly and proudly:

“LEAH WILLIAMSON RAW-DOGGING ONE OF MY BEST MATES ON THE LIVING ROOM SOFA.”

Silence.

Absolute, stunned silence.

Then…

Chaos.

Viv fell off her chair.

Lotte screamed.

Katie had to physically hold onto the table to keep herself upright.

You?

You were considering moving to another country.

Meanwhile, Leah?

Leah was laughing her head off.

Beth took a triumphant sip of her beer.

“Happy birthday, Y/N. Hope it was worth scarring me for life.”

[starsjulia]

when the light went out // leah williamson

a/n : i listened to let down by radio head while writing this, so if you need to understand the vibe of the fic i think that explains it all, also there’s an amazing series called broken vows on here but about ap and this is kinda the opposite reaction?

warnings : cheating, angst, depression.

Leah always thought if she ever lost you, it would be in a storm of screaming and shattered glass. She thought you’d fight, that you’d demand to know why she did it, that you’d make her feel every ounce of pain she deserved. She thought you’d cry, curse her name, shove her away, something.

She never thought you’d just… disappear.

Not physically. You were still there, moving through the same rooms, sitting at the same table, answering questions when they were asked. But you weren’t there. Not really.

She could feel it the second you found out. The way the light just flickered out inside you, the warmth drained from your voice. You had been so alive before. You were the kind of person who made a room feel brighter just by stepping into it, who hummed little songs while you made coffee, who danced barefoot in the kitchen just because you could. You were the kind of person who made people feel something, made them want to be better just by being around you.

But the moment you learned the truth, you stopped.

It was late. Leah had barely made it through the door when she saw you sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at your phone, your hands trembling just slightly. She knew, instantly. She didn’t have to ask. She didn’t have to see the message or hear the accusation. It was written all over your face.

You didn’t look at her when you asked, “How long?”

She swallowed hard. “Baby….”

“How long, Leah?”

She couldn’t lie. Not to you. “A few months.”

There was a long, empty silence. She waited for something, anything. She thought maybe you’d scream, maybe you’d throw your phone at her head, maybe you’d cry.

But you didn’t. You just nodded.

And Leah swore she saw something inside you die.

She thought it was shock. That the rage would come later, that the fight would still happen, that she’d wake up the next day and find you sobbing, demanding answers. She would’ve taken it. She deserved it.

But the fight never came.

You weren’t mad. You weren’t anything.

You moved through life like a ghost, floating from room to room, answering questions with empty words.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

At first, Leah thought maybe you were just trying to process it, that you were burying it down so deep it hadn’t hit you yet. But days passed. Then weeks. Then a whole month. And you still didn’t feel anything. You didn’t yell. You didn’t cry. You didn’t talk about it.

You just stopped being you.

You didn’t hum while making coffee anymore. You didn’t dance around the kitchen with your daughter in your arms. You didn’t tease Leah about stupid things. The house felt quiet, even when you were in it.

And it scared the hell out of her.

She caught herself watching you constantly, waiting for some kind of reaction, some kind of spark that would prove you were still in there somewhere. But there was nothing. You weren’t sad. You weren’t happy. You weren’t anything.

Leah thought she could hide it from your daughter. Thought maybe if she held things together long enough, the little girl wouldn’t notice. But kids always see the things adults try to bury.

“Mummy,” she whispered one night, her small voice hesitant, “why is Mama acting so weird?”

Leah’s stomach clenched. She forced a smile. “What do you mean, baby?”

Her little brows furrowed. “She doesn’t smile anymore.”

Leah swallowed past the lump in her throat. “She’s just tired, sweetheart.”

But her daughter wasn’t convinced.

“She doesn’t look tired,” she whispered. “She looks, like gone.”

And Leah? Leah didn’t know how to tell her she felt the exact same way.

It wasn’t until weeks later that she finally brought up the divorce. She didn’t want to. God, she didn’t want to. But she didn’t see another way. You were already gone in every way that mattered, and even though it broke her apart, she knew she had to let you go.

You were sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, when she finally forced the words out. “I think we should talk about the divorce.”

She braced herself for some kind of reaction. Maybe you’d flinch. Maybe you’d argue. Maybe you’d break down and finally let her see what you were feeling.

But you didn’t even blink.

You nodded once. “Okay.”

That was it. No questions. No hesitation. No why now? Just okay.

And Leah had never hated herself more.

She knew she deserved this. She had done this to you. She had taken the brightest thing in her life and snuffed it out. And maybe that was her punishment, to live with the version of you that she created. The one who couldn’t even care enough to hate her.

She had started to believe you weren’t capable of breaking anymore, that maybe this was just who you were now. That you would never feel again.

But one night, long after your daughter had gone to sleep, Leah woke up to something she hadn’t heard in months. A sound she almost didn’t recognize.

You were sobbing.

At first, she thought she imagined it. But then she heard it again, broken, muffled cries coming from the bathroom down the hall.

Leah’s stomach twisted painfully as she pushed the door open.

And there you were.

Curled up on the cold tile floor, hands gripping your own arms like you were trying to hold yourself together, tears spilling down your cheeks so hard you could barely breathe.

Leah’s breath caught. “Baby….”

But as soon as she spoke, your head snapped up, your eyes wide and terrified.

You looked at her like she was a stranger.

And for the first time since she lost you,

She saw you feel.

And it wasn’t anger.

It was grief.

It was the deep, shattering, all-consuming agony of knowing you had lost something you could never get back.

Your hands trembled as you wiped at your face, scrambling to stand, trying so desperately to hide it.

But Leah had already seen.

And for the first time since she lost you, she felt the full weight of what she had done.

And she didn’t know if she could ever fix it.

⸻

[starsjulia]

our little, messy, perfect life // leah williamsom

a/n : ugh i miss my future wife and kids

warnings : none! some more tooth rotting fluff

You were sprawled out across the bed, half-asleep, refusing to acknowledge the very real fact that morning had arrived. Leah, already awake and freshly showered, was standing over you with her arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her lips.

“You do realise you have to get up at some point?” she mused, nudging your side with her knee.

“I created life—twice. Out of pure love for you,” you continued, peeking at her through your fingers. “And how do you repay me? By making me get out of bed before noon? It’s honestly offensive.”

Leah huffed out a laugh before leaning down and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” she admitted easily, running a hand through your hair. “Now, come on. Rosie’s been calling for you, and Emilia is—well, she’s being Emilia.”

That was enough to make you finally move, if only because your youngest had an uncanny ability to make you feel guilty with just one sad little “Mummy?”

With a deep sigh of suffering, you hauled yourself out of bed, dramatically placing a hand on your back. “See, this is what carrying your children has done to me. I’m basically ancient now.”

Leah smacked your bum on the way out of the bedroom, making you yelp. “Oi!”

“Just making sure you’re still alive,” she teased. “Wouldn’t want you keeling over before breakfast.”

You shot her a glare over your shoulder, but she just grinned, looking far too pleased with herself.

By the time you made it downstairs, Rosie was already seated in her highchair, her chubby little hands smacking the tray impatiently. The second she saw you, her whole face lit up like you’d just promised her the world.

“MUMMY!”

Your heart melted instantly, and you rushed over to scoop her up, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled. “Oh, my beautiful girl! Did Mama ignore you all morning? Did she?”

Leah gasped. “Excuse me, I did not! We had a very lovely morning together, thank you very much.”

Rosie, ever the little traitor, grinned and pointed at Leah. “Mama mean.”

You gasped dramatically. “I knew it!”

Leah groaned, but you could see the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile. “Brilliant. I love how I do all the work, and you swoop in at the last second and become the favourite.”

“What can I say? I’m just naturally irresistible.”

Before Leah could respond, heavy footsteps stomped into the kitchen, announcing the arrival of your teenage daughter.

Emilia slumped into a chair with all the grace of someone who had been forced to wake up against their will. “Morning,” she mumbled, barely looking up from her phone.

“Good morning, my favourite firstborn,” you greeted, ruffling her hair as you passed.

She groaned, shoving your hand away. “Mum, stop.”

Leah smirked. “Yeah, babe, stop. You’re embarrassing her.”

“Oh, sorry, Leah,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Forgive me for loving my own child.”

Rosie, sensing an opportunity, reached for Emilia next. “Milaaaa, hug.”

And just like that, the moody teenager melted. Emilia might’ve been in the phase where she was “too cool” for her parents, but her baby sister was her biggest weakness. With a dramatic sigh, she pulled Rosie into her lap, letting the toddler squish her cheeks in her tiny hands.

“You’re the only one I like,” Emilia muttered, glaring at you and Leah.

Leah gasped. “Wow. Wounded.”

“You’ll recover,” Emilia deadpanned, scrolling on her phone with one hand while Rosie clung to her like a koala.

Breakfast was its usual mix of chaos and banter. Emilia spent half the time texting her boyfriend, Harry, while you and Leah made it your mission to annoy her as much as possible.

“So, what are we thinking?” you asked, smirking. “Should we finally meet this Harry kid?”

Emilia groaned. “No.”

Leah hummed. “I think we should. I mean, it’s only fair, right? Our baby girl dating some random boy? What if he’s secretly a criminal?”

Emilia scoffed. “He’s not a criminal.”

“But how do you know?” you teased. “Have you checked his criminal record? Asked for references?”

Leah nodded along. “Maybe we should call his mum. Set up a little meeting.”

Emilia’s eyes widened in horror. “Mum, no! You cannot do that.”

You and Leah burst out laughing as Emilia groaned into her hands.

“God, you guys are the worst.”

Leah slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, but you love us.”

Emilia didn’t respond, but the small smirk she tried to hide gave her away.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of family chaos. You and Leah took Rosie to the park, where she insisted on going down the slide approximately 300 times, each time demanding that “Mummy watch!” as if you weren’t already staring at her like she was the greatest thing to ever exist.

Later, when Emilia finally left to go see her boyfriend (after an embarrassing amount of warnings from you and Leah), you and Leah collapsed onto the couch together, Rosie fast asleep between you.

Leah turned her head to look at you, a small smile playing on her lips. “We made some pretty great kids, huh?”

You hummed, brushing a stray curl from Rosie’s forehead. “We did.”

Leah reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “And you—god, I love you.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Leah rolled her eyes but leaned in anyway, kissing you slowly, sweetly.

Yeah, life in the Williamson household was chaotic, messy, and loud. But it was also filled with more love than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

[starsjulia]

if anyone has any requests please sent them my way!!!

[starsjulia]