#it's weird that I forget about that place so often

[nanaken330]

tw: ramblings. Like seriously, even worse cuz it's UNEDITED so be warned.

Thinking abt Nanami catching fem!reader staring at his mouth/lips whenever they're conversing with e.o just cuz not too long ago, my lil sis told me Abt this particular habit of mine which hopefully doesn't come off weird to some ppl I've conversed with and I hope i didn't do it as often😭 CUZ I DEFINITELY DIDN'T REALIZE I WAS DOING THAT!

Anyway! Yeah, that's it.

In a cruel universe where he doesn't love her (but fortunately still alive and breathing cuz this universe's gege isn't really in the habit of k-wording off his children), he'd just ask if there's something wrong or if there's something he said that the reader doesn't understand, before the reader proceeded to deny that and asked him to continue his sentence. and that's that. (I say as I ignore that little bits about reader's smile wavered a bit ad she heard him continue talking in a business-like and somewhat formally distant tone no matter how long they've known e.o by then)

meanwhile, in another, maybe, slightly BETTER universe where they're both crushing on e.o (gojo gagged somewhere in the bg, before going quiet after being hit on the back of his head), when Nanami have already known of reader's habit of doing this (and prob also the fact that she did that more often when she was with him compared to anyone else), he'd often have to pause for a bit (to gather his composure and stopping himself from squishing her face out of cuteness aggression, maybe), clearing his throat lightly, with either his ears or the back of his neck reddening, before continuing his sentence as if nothing happened (just cuz he enjoys having her attention all to himself, and that she doesn't want her to feel embarrassed for being so obvious Abt it without even realizing).

AND FINALLY, in the much better universe where they're in love AND is officially together, he'd just found her reaction to be amusing and maybe even fond Abt it. He'd deliberately stopped talking mid sentence just to see if she'd notice before she'd blink a moment later, still maybe somewhat off minded, and once she finally gets some semblance of coherency, she'd ask if he could repeat his words, resulting in Nanami huffing out a small laugh before asking her to find somewhere to sit so they can take their time slowly and then begin to walk forward, not forgetting to take her hand to lead her somewhere.

Alternatively, he could even stop mid sentence to just, lean close to her face. Maybe he could even see her pupil widening, for what reason? Who knows, though he'd love it if it was because of him. But then again oddly enough, she still seem to be still a little bit out of it so in the end, maybe in a rare bout of mischief, he'd lean closer to give her a light kiss on her lips. Maybe a quick two and three, for good measure.

The kiss (or kisses) was so light that the touch doesn't even produces sound, but just enough to manage dragging reader from whatever daydream she's in.

"You're gone again." He'd say after leaning back to his original position. Meanwhile reader would still standing in the same place, blinking for a few times.

She'd sheepishly laugh, "Sorry, i was a little distracted before." And then she'd see the look in his eyes as if saying 'Obviously.'

---

End.

a/n. idk what I'm doing rn tbh

[shaunaenabler]

What do you think would change if Jackie lived?

Let's say that someone had the sense to go out and find Jackie before she could freeze to death, and Jackie ultimately survived, albeit maybe with injuries like losing some fingers/toes to frostbite. How would this change the events of seasons 2 and 3?

ooooh! now when i think of an au where jackie survives it's often one where she takes the place of allie in the og timeline.

so instead of allie's leg getting broken, this time things go even worse and taissa ends up hurting the wrong player (of course she never intended to hurt allie) and jackie is the one who gets injured.

because of this, shauna never attends the party and wilderness baby is never conceived because she's at the hospital with jackie and its her parents who drive her home. she does consider not going (isn't that reserves are for? im not a soccer expert lmafo) but jackie tells her not to be dumb. and shauna, the one who does want to get out of jackies shadow, decides to go because what if she's the one who makes the winning goal?

ok so when it comes to the plane crash, this time shauna is successful in getting van to safety (although it's very very close) instead of her going "surprise" later. because of this, we're not going to have the animosity that we see van have towards jackie in the og timeline. this will set up a loyalty between van & shauna. she won't forget it in a hurry.

now i love the taissa and shauna dynamic, but with the addition of taissa being the one responsible for jackies leg, i do think that it would be weird for them to not have any tension. however, it is possible for them to come together in a different way. especially with shauna saving jackies life.

because shauna isn't pregnant, imo laura lee does not attempt to fly that plane. is it possible that she or someone might try later when gets even worse? sure. but i do think shauna's pregnancy being removed does change things. of course, it wasn't just for her sake that laura lee did what she did (rescue was paramount) but it is used to empathise how dire things are.

without jackie there, we obviously don't have her interfere with travis & nat and I think travis would lose his virginity to nat (reminder that virginity is a construct and travis didn't owe his to anyone) as planned. so travis end up staying with everyone at doomcoming and getting (accidentally) drugged by misty. now if i recall correctly this is the same night that javi disappears, so this factor obviously makes travis even more determined to find him as in the og timeline. i also think that this would make him quite hostile to misty (who would feel extremely guilt ridden) because he thinks that if he hadn't been drugged he would have been able to look after javi. this is where i see nat kinda sticking up for misty - agreeing that it's fucked up but she didnt mean for it to happen and anyone of them could go missing any other night. this sets up the foundation of mistys devotion.

now when it comes to who has the honor of being the first supper - yeah that's going to be allie. we literally don't know much about allie so there's a lot of freedom there. from memory she is the youngest on the team (14) so this does play a factor in her isolation with these older girls however it is something that she does try to weaponize which pisses the other girls off very very quickly. like they're not interested in babying her just because she happens to be the youngest. like a key trait of her character (and she lowkey shares this in common with shauna lmafo) is wanting to be special, which is why we see her teen self be very QUICK to correct van about being the only freshman invited to prom and how 25 yrs later she still can't let go of the fact that she was meant to be on that doomed plane. so this time allie is the one who freezes to death. however, in my mind she goes outside the cabin with the intention of just making herself sick in order to "punish" the yjs for being "mean" to her. of course it's fucking stupid - but allie is 14! however, just like jackie - allie has no way of predicting that it'll snow.

with laura lee's survival, instead we have her be the one who discovers allies body. this traumatises the fuck out of her - in this timeline, laura isn't absent but she is silent and this fuels her guilt because she convinces herself that if she had stopped allie this would not have happened.

now the reason why jackies body isn't laid to rest for that long was not just because of the conditions but because of shauna. but shauna doesnt care about allie, she might feel bad for her, but honestly she probably thinks that she was an idiot for getting herself killed like that. but i can see allies body being kept the way jackies was at the insistence of laura lee - arguing that they dont have a right to cremate allie because her family might have different wishes for how they would want to lay her to rest. like if you've ever seen lost, which also involved a plane crash, one of the survivors brings this up as a legitimate concern when it comes to handling the dead. anyway, no one really has the heart to interfere with laura lee so they just leave her be. so instead of shauna in the meat shed it's laura lee and she's being tormented by ghost allie. ghost allie is all snarky and makes fun of laura's faith in god. just like we see with ghost jackie where we do see shauna project onto her (although i don't think its as simple as "jackie was always kind" as explained by @alicentsgf and she's mean, i can see laura projecting onto ghost allie and therefore she's nicer than she actually was. the other side of allie that the team never got to see. but is it actually allie? who knows.

eventually - this time - i think its either shauna or taissa who convinces laura lee that its time. they burn her body and laura lee offers up a prayer that she isn't even sure she believes in, while lottie holds her hand to comfort her. same things happen and yjs are attracted by the tantalising smell outside. they're starving to death and allies burnt corpse is the best thing they've ever smelled. this time, it's laura lee who ironically gives permission - the person who didn't think it was their place to infere with burial wishes is now the one who "blesses" their first cannibalism.

this helps reaffirm her belief in god- after all, why would he kill off allie so senselessly? because he meant for her death to indirectly spare the lives of the others, including laura lee. if god intends for laura lee to survive, then that must mean this will justify everything that she will do along with lottie? right? god wants her to live so that makes it ok.

what changes in s2 is that we're not going to have shauna beat up lottie because there is no dead baby. however, the hunt still happens because they're still at that same desperate point. with the addition of one more person - i do think that will change the odds and instead of natalie getting picked its misty. shauna is crying while holding the knife- because she doesnt take enjoyment from this - and instead it's natalie who interferes and helps her get away. like she thinks that she should at least have the chance to run first. javi will try to help like last time - and just like last time- he will fall through the ice. someone- im not sure who - will drag misty away from trying to help him because the wilderness only demands one scarifice. natalie helping to save mistys life will end up feeding into their dynamic later. we see mistys devotion develop but also nats eventual horror when she realises that the girl she tried to help was the one who broke the black box. I also think for a time, this will destroy travis & nats relationship.

as for the antler queen - lottie decides that it will be misty for the same reason natalie was chosen in the og timeline. she is fucking GLOWING during her "coronation". she's not an outsider anymore, she's literally a queen! shauna, tai, van aren't particularly happy. taissa for one believes she would be the better leader. shauna thinks the same thing however this time her resentment isn't excaberated by grief over her baby and jackie. however, the success that we see at the beginning of s3 with the girls survival thanks to natalie - this still happens but this time with misty making nat a "close advisor". that's not to say that misty is dumb, though. natalie isn't particularly happy about this - she would rather avoid misty given her complicated feelings right now - but she knows the girls survival is more important.

removing shaunas pregnancy means we're not going to have a storyline where ben basically emotionally abandons her while she's giving birth. imo, this will be a MAJOR influence going forward. imo, it is possible that shauna will be less determined to have him found guilty but she still doesn't trust him and thinks he's a threat.

so misty has this dilemma because ben is her "true love" but she's the antler queen, right? her people come first. so she's the one who decides that ben will have a trial. instead of misty acting as bens "defense lawyer" it's natalie. ben is found innocent and shauna doesnt try to jury tamper lmafo but she does still vote him guilty lol. so does melissa thanks to her crush on shauna.

later, misty and ben are alone. misty makes the same mistake as she did with crystal but this time she deliberately kills ben and immediately confesses to the group. of course, unlike with crystal, she doesn't really have a choice. it's not as though she can pretend that ben got lost. this mystifies the FUCK out of the group. why would misty kill ben when she probably was the one who wanted him to be innocent the most? this is where i can see misty doing something similar to travis - she doesn't believe in lotties visions but she lies about having one - that ben would be a danger to them. misty abdicates and gives the crown to natalie. in this timeline, as misty learns to butcher from animals, this means she insists that she be the one to butcher ben's body. she tells shauna how hard that it must have been for her to do that to javi, and that she misty wants to understand that pain. i think this will touch shauna and encourage her to stay with misty - partly to make sure she does it "right" but also do what nobody else did for her.

this is as far as I'll go in the wilderness.

now as for jackie. the presumed death of her best friend is going to break her heart. she's going to develop severe depression and blame herself for failing to convince shauna to stay home. she doesnt have any interest in going to college now - what's the point without shauna? her parents try to be gentle with her but now they're frustrated. well, she just needs time.

imo, jackie decides to stop worrying about it being "special" and decides to just sleep with jeff already. but she's crying when she kisses jeff. she doesn't know why she's crying but she is. didn't she want this? jeff is utterly mortified and this is where in his own guilt/grief he blurts out that he slept with shauna. at first jackie doesn't believe him - she thinks it's some sick joke but he convinces her that it's the truth.

jackie is devastated by this relevation. jeff tries to convince her that it was a mistake that they both regretted but jackie doesn't know what to think. she dumps him and tells jeff that if he even dares to breathe the same air as her shell kill him.

jackie goes through this period where she continuously breaks into shaunas house late at night, to have sex with strangers on shaunas bed. however, she continues to feel as though something is missing and it's not as she can blame it on inexperience. it's not until she overhears someone talking about how van and tai were together that something clicks for jackie. she goes to a party, gets drunk, and kisses a girl that looks like she could be shaunas ghost. and she feels more alive than she has in a year because for a moment, it was like she was kissing shauna. this of course scares the hell out of jackie, because it's the 90s, it's in conflict with the image she portrays, and she loved shauna, but not like that. right?

as for what would happen when shauna got back and in the adult timeline i would need to think on it more

[dashiellqvverty]

the thing about bbc merlin is that in many ways it is very tragic, in the sense that so much bad shit that happens could have easily been avoided if charcters had made different choices, hadn't been so wrapped up in prophecies, had trusted people and communicated openly literally ever, just generally got their heads out of their asses. like i know thats the point, they are trying so hard to do the right things and protect people but the story is unavoidable. HOWEVER it is all soooo fucking poorly executed that none of it is effective. so instead of thinking "wow what a tragic story about fate/destiny/whatever" you walk away like "well that fucking sucked for no reason. i hate that fuckass dragon" and i sometimes feel very cinemasins in the way i pick apart the logic but the thing is the show is written in a way that makes the characters come off as so stupid and always making terrible choices rather than like. tragic victims of circumstance.

[pyrriax]

it's so interesting catching up with people and having conversations you wouldn't have otherwise. ones that i know i wouldn't have been able to stomach in the past. maybe i have grown as a person over the past year and a half.

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Anybody else have an instance where their shoulder was bent weird while doing something and it felt like it was out of place but you could still use it and popped it right back but now it does that same thing every once in awhile and you’re starting to wonder if you dislocated it and healed it wrong?

[eyeheartboobiez]

nicknames that bruce + the batboys would call you

warnings: sexual themes in jason’s part, fem!reader a/n: just sumn slight. enjoy😁

⁎⁺˳ 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 ミ

❀ bruce grew up wealthy so he would definitely call you something more on the classy side

❀ things like darling, angel, dear, my love, etc.

❀ he also has a habit of referring to you as “my wife” (because he’s possessive asf)

❀ “sorry guys, i really can’t stay for another drink. i’ve got to get back to my wife.”

❀ “you said these shoes were dior? oh, im sure my wife would love these.”

❀ on the flip side, he also really likes referring to himself as your husband (one might say he does it for the ego boost)

❀ like whenever you too are meeting someone for the first time, he'll introduce you first and then only introduce himself as "your husband"

❀ because why should someone care about him, a mega rich billionaire, when his lovely and radiant wife is standing right next to him?

⁎⁺˳ 𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓀 ミ

❀ dick would definitely be the type to call you something super lovey-dovey and over the top

❀ sugarplum, honey bunches, buttercup, (and if he really wants to get on your nerves,) shnookums

❀ he knows it’s lame, but he genuinely doesn’t care

❀ since his love language is acts of service, you tend to hear a lot of "let me get that for ya, honeybun"

❀ or something like “hey sugarplum! im on my way home from work, you want me to pick up anything?”

❀ or even "don't worry about dinner honeylove, lemme take care of things tonight."

❀ regardless of how annoying it is, you can't help but love his teasing nicknames for you

❀ like you two are that annoying couple that everyone loves can't stand seeing at the function (i know valentine's day hatesss to see yall coming)

❀ off topic but if the two of you had a kid together, i imagine him nicknaming your daughter ‘love bug’ (AWWW)

⁎⁺˳ 𝒿𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 ミ

❀ despite his thick exterior, jason’s a lover boy at heart

❀ he’d call you stuff like babe, doll, sweetheart, hon, y’know all that cheesy stuff

❀ most importantly though, this boy lovesss to call you mama

❀ like for example, he usually likes to greet you with a casual "hey mama, you doin okay?" followed by a quick peck on the check

❀ or if you're being goofy trying to get him to feel better, he'll probably say something like "c'mon mama, cut it out" as a smile inevitably blossoms on his face

❀ alongside this, he also has a weird kink thing for calling himself papa

❀ either “thatsss it sweetheart, come to papa” or “let papa bear handle it, ‘kay? you just sit down there and look pretty f’me.”

❀ you have absolutely no idea where he got it from because jason swears up and down that he's never done it until he got in a relationship with you

⁎⁺˳ 𝓉𝒾𝓂 ミ

❀ while tim is such a sweetheart, so his pet names for you would most definitely reflect that

❀ sweets, pretty, baby love, cutie; simple stuff like that

❀ also, let’s not forget that this boy is a certified LEWSER, so that also shows within you guys’ relationship

❀ he sometimes calls you pookie (he’s chronically online…)

❀ he'd probably be up texting you at 2am (because why wouldn’t be be up at that time) and is like “hey pooks u wanna check out this new italian place i found? i saw that they serve a few of ur faves”

❀ he also has a nasty habit of referring to you as dude or bro

❀ you'll often get random tiktoks from him throughout the day like "bro look this is totally us" or "me & u fr🥹"

❀ sure it's corny but the sentiment is sweet so you don't really mind

❀ a lot of people think the relationship you both have may be a bit odd, but neither of you care (and that's all that matters <3)

[cannibology]

i think about this a lot. because the thing is, i don’t think either of them are truly to blame for the seals they broke. dean was tortured into submission and had no idea that there could be such massive consequences to giving in; sam was manipulated and deceived and honestly thought what he was doing would stop the apocalypse, not set it in stone. neither of them willingly chose to break a seal, and neither of them had any way of knowing what they were really doing. they were key pawns in a game they didn’t even realize was being played, not active participants in it. and i don’t think you can really blame someone for falling victim to that.

but if you are going to blame sam for his part in it, you also have to blame dean for his. either both of them are responsible for accidentally breaking the most important seals, or neither of them are.

didn't...didn't dean break the first seal? why is everyone on sam's case for being manipulated into killing lilith (which he thought was a good thing bc hey demon dead) but not on dean's case for torturing souls and LIKING it? protect sam winchester oml

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[errriiie]

The last practice before nationals

poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader minors DNI, all characters are 18 y.o

TW: smut, gangbang extra tags: porn with plot, praising, bodyworship, sharing is caring, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), oral (r! giving), little bit of spanking word count: 5.1k not proofread english is not writer's first language! you've always been so nice and sweet to Yellowjackets, the one and only soccer team in your school, Wiskayok High. But you also were naive and innocent enough to constantly overlook the fact that every single girl on the team wanted your attention. And when, the last day before their nationals, they finally decided to make things clear between you and them.

When Coach Martinez first introduced you to the girls, they weren't too impressed. Average hair, average eyes, average height. Nothing special or anything to look at more than usual. You weren't even, roughly speaking, a full-fledged part of the team. At least that's what Taissa said. She was always like that - confident and sure of her opinions, even if they were somewhat offensive.

But you didn't mind, and even agreed. You were just an equipment manager, and you only became one because your mother and father were very close with Coach Martinez and asked him to find you a place out of old friendship. Of course, the coach made up a different story for everyone about how you came to be on the team - but every time you remembered the truth of your presence here, you wondered if you had the right to wear your signature yellow and blue bomber jacket. You felt ashamed, even though you didn't act like someone who got in because they got a pass. You were responsible, punctual, but you didn’t forget about empathy and responsiveness when communicating with girls. Over time, you began to be noticed by more than just Misty Quigley, who shared the same position with you.

Misty Quigley herself wasn’t too bad. Well, she was… weird. But you decided that everyone had their own cockroaches in their heads and she was just trying to make friends this way.

"You know, if we ever run out of food, I’ve always wondered what human flesh tastes like. I mean, they say it’s like pork, right? Maybe we should start taking notes just in case." Misty once said while you were cleaning up the cones after practice. You looked at her with wide eyes, full of confusion.

"Excuse me? Misty, this is a little weird…" You awkwardly continued to do your job, while Misty burned a hole in you with her gaze. Misty tilts her head slightly, her expression shifting from playful to earnest.

"Oh, come on! I was just joking… mostly. But think about it—survival is all about adapting, right? It’s just a thought experiment! Besides, we’ve got to keep our spirits up somehow. Want to talk about your favorite horror movie instead? I promise I won’t suggest cannibalism this time!”

But Misty didn’t always say such creepy things. She could talk about history, especially about Roman emperors, about her experience in first aid and medicine in general, about her interests, of which there were quite a few, but no one except you, apparently, wanted to listen to her. You didn’t understand the reasons and were patient with her. Misty immediately began to appreciate this - she did not throw away potential loved ones. Then Natalie Scatorccio appeared. Natalie did not have much experience with love, including the manifestation of care towards her. You didn't know anything about her, except that she lived in a van and was an extremely good and promising soccer player. But the more Misty shared the good news about your "endless love and care", trying to brag that she had such a tasty morsel and not the rest of the team, Nat couldn't help but become interested in you. People who lack love often don't quite realize how much they subconsciously want to find it.

She caught you after practice once and started talking to you. Nat herself didn't understand why she wanted to come back to you more and more every day - was it your manner of speech or how brightly you smiled at her after silly stories? She wanted to blush under your gentle gaze, and her heart beat strangely when you waved at her after she made a good pass to the other team members. But of course it wasn't always like that. The more attached she became to you, the more she focused on looking into your unexpectedly deep eyes, rather than at the ball.

"Natalie, don't you want to start playing properly? What are you constantly distracted by?" Lottie narrows her eyes when Natalie refuses to pass the ball to her and tries to dribble the ball to the goal herself, but hits the wall.

"Forget it, Lots. I'm just having a bad day." Natalie waved it off. It was odd that for someone having a bad day, she was smiling so stubbornly and persistently in the wrong direction. Lottie couldn't help but realize that she was looking at you. Perhaps you needed to have a heart-to-heart talk.

So, Charlotte Matthews quickly became next.

After practice, she caught you doing your job as you were supposed to, and called you out on it. She was annoyed, but more curious about your relationship with Natalie. You were blushing and apologetic, and it was hard to deny that you weren't to blame for Nat's deteriorating performance.

And then Lottie discovered that your shy face was extremely hard to get out of her head. Inadvertently, you began to talk after and before practice, Lottie sharing some details about upcoming parties at her house and inviting you. You, of course, refused. Your parents expected you to be decent, and Lottie didn't like rejection and didn't know what rejection was, being a rich girl. So she made it her goal to get you at least once. Or twice. So trying to get under your skin, subtly courting you, and trying to get through to your difficult parents was already routine. Including giving expensive gifts.

"Tai, have you seen the new hair clip in Y/N's hair? Those things cost a lot of money, I tell you, I saw it in the window of that expensive jewelry store." Vanessa was amazed at the new accessory you now had.

"I didn't really pay attention to it, to be honest. What do you… mean? Do you want one like that? I didn't think it was your style." Taissa chuckled, and Van rolled her eyes.

"Haha, very funny, but that's not what I mean… Hey, Lottie! Does Y/N have a rich mommy and daddy like yours?"

Lottie, passing by, chuckled, clearly filled with pride. "Not really. That was my gift. Y/N is very nice, you know. You shouldn't have doubted her, Taissa."

Then Taissa Turner and Vanessa Palmer appeared. They were already in a relationship and were amazed to see how quickly you changed the team's attitude for the better. And yet, from the very beginning, you were a black sheep for Taissa. Van, however, did not treat you with great disdain. She preferred to give people a chance to prove themselves first, and only then draw her own conclusions. However, they quickly liked you. Taissa was surprised that you had previously attended law and jurisprudence classes, and these topics interested her greatly. Van was pleasantly pleased with your taste in films and comics. You complemented their couple with something that they could not complement each other with on their own, after all, no relationship can simply be perfect. It was a matter of time before they both wanted your attention more than was possible. Van often invited you to her home to read or watch something, and Taissa loved to discuss social issues with you. You turned out to be more than either of them could have thought.

"Tai, I'm sorry, but I've already taken up Y/N's time for the evening with myself." Van smiled tenderly at Taissa.

Taissa raised an eyebrow in surprise, seemingly hoping for something. "Damn. How did you manage to come to an agreement with her faster than me? Maybe you'll take me with you?" she said with awkward hope. "Of course, I don't understand a damn thing about your conversations, but still…"

"No way, babe. You'll steal her attention again." Van shook her head.

"Why do I keep hearing everyone talking about Y/N from every corner of the room?" Jackie folded her arms in displeasure as she found herself next to the couple. "I understand that she's new and all that… but what's so unique about her? I swear, we won't get to nationals like this."

Jackie Taylor was annoyed by your popularity within the Yellowjackets. She could see the effect you had on the girls - they were going crazy trying to get a piece of you. She wasn't interested in you at all, but she had a feeling that if she didn't get a little bit closer, they would dethrone her and make you the team captain and even make you their mascot. She had to do something, and fast.

One day, Jackie stayed with you after practice, kindly offering to help you clean up the equipment. When you both walked into the warehouse, she almost pinned you against the wall, demanding answers to her questions.

"Y/N, I can see something's going on. I understand that you want to be friends with everyone, sure, but… we're trying really hard to get to nationals. And you're being way too… outgoing, you know? You need to stop. For the good of our team, as captain, I'm asking you to…"

"Your hair looks great today. Even after playing so hard." You blurted out, unable to contain your genuine respect. "Oh. Sorry. Keep going."

Jackie froze, her combative attitude seeming to completely falter. "You… you think so? Finally, someone sees how much I work on this hair, trying to get it just right every morning! I use powder and hairspray literally all the time, and no one has even bothered to compliment me… until you, of course."

Jackie took pity on you after that. Not when you were willing to spend hours shopping for clothes with her, stealing your clothes and trying on what she told you to try on, making you her model. No one had ever shown such steely restraint with Jackie Taylor, and every time she put on your makeup, it was so hard for her to resist the pounding of her heart and the strange desire to cover your lips with hers. But there was a catch to being with Jackie. The amount of time you spent together didn't sit well with Shauna Shipman. She was the only one who showed no interest in you at all. She didn't care about you, and that was surprising. She never, not once, approached you. You doubted she even knew your name, although considering Jackie told her everything, your name was the only thing she knew about you.

And the fact that you were a real suck-up. That's what she called you when she decided to have it out with you.

"What do you have with Jackie? Do you think I can't see how you're trying to pull the wool over her and everyone else's eyes?" Shauna narrows her eyes, looming over you. "What is it about you? Are you such a good suck-up?"

You felt hurt, but even more so, you felt a seething injustice. "I don't know what you're talking about, Shauna, I was just trying to be friends with everyone. It's not my fault they saw something in me."

Shauna snorted, unsure of what to do with you. "Well. Fine. Just stay away from Jackie, okay? And you'll be fine." Shauna had already turned away from you, about to leave. She adjusted her backpack, but a book fell out. You quickly picked it up.

"You dropped…" You looked at the cover, sighing in surprise. "Pride and Prejudice? That's my favorite book!" You exclaimed, surprising Shauna. She rolled her eyes, simply taking it from you, pretending not to care, but in reality, she was even a little impressed. You were left standing in the hallway, not quite sure what you did wrong.

And then you were surprised when Shauna came to you wanting to discuss the book, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps she was so eager to discuss her interests with someone that she decided to choose the worst option of all - you (Jackie, as expected, did not like reading books at all). You liked to read in your spare time, and Shauna was pleased that you had read a lot of female writers from the 18th and 19th centuries. She sometimes shared her thoughts on them with you, but the main thing was that at one point she made you a playlist of songs named after you. You were flattered and too busy enjoying the gift to notice how much Shauna blushed as she tried to hold your hand.

You didn't even know it would be like this. It seemed like almost all the girls on the team were literally tearing you apart. You'd never received so many gifts, compliments, and, it seemed, hints? Of course, you were pleased. You were a girl, after all. And you suddenly had little free time. Sometimes you spent time with two or even three girls at once a day. Of course, sometimes this led to conflicts between them, but they never dragged you into it. You were untouchable.

But you didn't expect that they would all decide to fix it in one day.

Despite everything, training for Nationals continued. Luckily, the Yellow Jackets team still managed to get their game together and win the filtration game that determined their participation in the competition. Everyone, of course, was incredibly happy. As were you for your favorite team.

There was just one thing. Your parents forbade you to fly with them. You begged as much as you could, but they were adamant. They wanted you to stay home and use your free time from your team to good use, studying and preparing for college. You shed so many tears in front of them, almost begging, but nothing worked. Sometimes you wanted to curse your parents.

Tomorrow, everyone was supposed to fly to Nationals. You entered the locker room, terribly dejected. You were immediately noticed, and the girls were insanely worried. Lately, all of them had been very attentive to you.

"You don't look well, Y/N," Natalie said, her smile from earlier quickly fading.

"Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Maybe a stomach ache?" Misty jumped up to you as if your life depended on it.

"Get away from her, Misty. Y/N might need some space." Vanessa shook her head, and was just as concerned about you.

"I-it's okay…" you sniffed. "It's just… I couldn't convince them. I did everything I could, I begged as hard as I could, and they still refused me. You… you'll have to celebrate your victory at the nationals without me." your eyes sadly looked around at everyone. The shared sadness touched every girl present.

"Y/N… I'm so sorry." Lottie took your hands in hers, looking at you sadly, but Jackie quickly jumped up to her.

"How so? Do they not care at all that you want to fly with us?" she snorts, angry at your family. Being spoiled by her own parents, she did not understand this attitude, especially towards you.

"At least you will be here when we return." Taissa tried to find the positives, although she was disappointed too.

"It does not make much sense, she will not be able to share the joy of us taking the first place in the moment." Shauna said, shaking her head. There was silence between all of you. You were so upset that you didn't even notice how all the girls were looking at each other meaningfully and nodding silently. Suddenly Lottie ran a gentle hand down your cheek, took your chin.

"Don't be so upset, Y/N," Lottie said softly, looking soothingly into your eyes. "You know… in all this time that you've been part of our team, we've grown attached to you. You've always been so kind to us. I think we can come to an agreement and find a way to thank you properly."

You were very embarrassed, and suddenly you felt a little awkward. "I was just being myself, you don't have to do anything for me." You, of course, felt pleased. But you were surprised when you felt hands behind you, and out of the corner of your eye you could see blonde strands of hair, and then you heard the familiar voice of Nat, who decided to come up to you from behind.

"Don't be such a shy princess. Why don't you let us comfort you?" she almost purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. It felt… oddly pleasant, like a wave of excitement had washed over you.

"I, um… I don't know… how are you going to do that?" you ask. You can already see and feel Misty wrap her arms around your right hand, stroking it, looking at you in awe.

"You see, Y/N, you have some kind of influence over all of us." Lottie continues. Jackie glares at Matthews, apparently annoyed that Lottie is in charge. While she's busy burning a jealous hole in someone else's body, Shauna approaches you, her hands stroking your neck, and you shiver, vaguely aware of where this is all heading.

"We feel an irresistible… attraction to you. It's hard for us to share you between us. Haven't you noticed how hard we try to please you?" Lottie asks, genuinely concerned. "And you still wouldn't give in to any of us. We tried to figure out what you wanted, but we failed every time. So we thought you'd have to try each one before you figured out which one of us you wanted to be with."

Your brain was already running out, and now that Van's hand was stubbornly touching your thigh, and Taissa was holding your waist, whispering something in your ear, you completely stopped thinking. You were surrounded by a crowd of girls with whom you spent all your free time so happily, and they were trying to get you all the time. Was it all of them? Each of them wanted you to be their girlfriend? These thoughts left you shocked and you didn't even know how close or far from the truth it was. You, of course, dreamed about them. About each of them at least once, though about some more than others. But for you it was not serious, you did nothing! Did they really want it that much?

You yourself do not notice how you let out a quiet sigh when Shauna kisses your neck. She does it roughly, as if she is having difficulty containing the desire that is accumulating in her. Shauna is silent, examining, analyzing and suppressing in herself, and then explodes like a time bomb. And now she wants to explode at any moment.

Misty's hand undoes the button of your pants in irritation, and Van and Taissa pull them down. You are brought back to reality, and you feel panicked. You were definitely not prepared for being undressed.

"W-wait, there's no need to go anywhere-" you break off with a groan. Nat, still standing and supporting you from behind, bites your ear, licks it, makes your sensitive earlobe wet. You sigh at the newness of this strange, disorienting sensation.

"Don't worry, sweet thing. Everything is going to be just fine." Natalie purrs, and you can't tell if she's stoned or not. Your pants are thrown to the floor. And then your panties. You are naked for all the girls, and they are looking at you so mesmerized, like this is the best thing they've ever seen in their lives. Even Jackie and Lottie, standing behind you, are watching you in awe.

This time, Van is first. Her tongue touches your already wet cunt, and she circles it, tasting you. You moan, and Natalie tugs your hair a little, exposing more of your neck. Taissa gives you a couple of loud slaps on your ass, interested in seeing your reaction. You shudder and your hips jerk, because you like it. Misty's hand goes under your shirt and gropes your breasts, pulling your nipples almost painfully, while Shauna leaves wet marks on your collarbone from her mouth, wanting to leave marks on you that will definitely last until their collective return from Nationals.

You are so turned on, and you feel stimulation from all sides. Your hand wants to reach for Van's red head, to press it harder, but Nat, watching you like a hawk, pulls you back.

"Let her do it herself." She whispers in your ear. You nod frantically, it's best not to argue with them. A few more movements of Van on your clit, her skillful tongue, which had probably done the same with Taisa before, could easily bring you to orgasm. You moaned more actively, your chest moved a hundred times more intensely, and then she pulled away.

"She's ready, Lottie." Van said, wiping her mouth. It was hard for you to understand what was happening, and you just whined, saddened that you were not allowed to come. For a moment, everyone broke away from you. Everyone was listening to Lottie.

"We'll help you after you help us, Y/N," Lottie says with a smile that sounds like she's some kind of prophet. "We've been waiting so long to get your attention. We think we deserve to come first. But I promise you won't regret it."

You nodded at her, mesmerized, but you felt like this wasn't quite the Lottie you knew. She was so mysterious, and you couldn't tell what was on her mind.

"Get away from her, all of you." Lottie commanded. "And you, Y/N, sit on your knees, please. Put something down so it won't hurt her to sit on the floor."

Van and Nat dutifully laid out their own jackets so your knees wouldn't hurt from what you were about to do. It was a pleasant moment of care. You obediently settled down on your knees in front of Lottie. You were literally being eaten with their eyes, and you were ready for what was to happen.

Lottie was already reaching for her shorts, but Jackie spoke up. "Sorry, Lottie… but I'll be the first." She said, raising her chin high. Jackie's voice was filled with nervous confidence, and she tried to withstand Lottie's and the other girls' piercing gaze. "I'm the captain of our team, and I want to be the first one to do this. What made you think you could lead?"

Lottie was silent, and you couldn't even understand what she was thinking right now. Then she nodded, and her voice was cold. "Okay. Be the first. But don't ruin it too soon."

You didn't understand the meaning of the words, but Jackie frantically replaced Lottie, pulled down her shorts, and the taste of her cunt quickly imprinted on your tongue. You didn't know what Jackie really wanted to achieve by this - to let you fuck her first or she just felt depressed because of how Lottie quickly took control and everyone, even Shauna, was ready to obey her. In any case, you didn't mind. You devotedly licked her pussy and tried to watch Jackie's reaction, just to please her. In your fantasies, you tried many times to make Jackie as good as you could. In your mind, Jackie was not the type to give - she liked to receive more, and if she had to be on top in your fantasies, she was so gentle and timid, afraid to make an extra move, that it only excited you more. But here she was — trying to have your whole mouth, like she had been fantasizing about it for so long that you were almost dizzy with the realization. Your drool and her juices were running down her thighs while she moaned, and the others were watching, some daring to stick their hands down their own shorts. A couple of minutes passed and Jackie came convulsively, sitting down on the bench. Now she wouldn’t object. She had no strength.

Shauna was next. She was never patient, not with what she liked - her hand grabbed your hair (no one protested, everyone decided she deserved it for scoring the final goal during the nationals qualifiers) and she pulled herself roughly-gently towards her vagina. Your eyes rolled back and you almost got lost in her thick dark pubic hair, but fuck, she was delicious and you were ready to continue as long as it took. You even forgot how to breathe sometimes - Shauna was a little rough, muttering something harshly under her breath and moaning, repeating your sweet name. She came quickly and took a step to the side, pulling up her shorts and retreating to the bathroom, apparently to rethink something.

Then there was Taissa… and Van. They were both allowed near you at the same time. You were dumbfounded, not knowing how to cope with taming two pussies at the same time, but you didn't even have time to wipe the saliva and cum from your mouth, as the red vagina was in your mouth. You had to change one pussy to the other every 15-20 seconds, trying to lick both like never before. You were forbidden to use your hands, but they both frantically encouraged you as best they could, while your tongue circled their clits, and the dirty noise filled the locker room, already filled with heat and languid sighs.

"You're holding up great, Y/N… Come on, help Van a little…" Taissa whispered, tearing you away from her pussy, because you stubbornly did not want to stop. However, upon hearing her order, you quickly set to work on Van, drawing a sigh of excitement from her, and ten seconds later, an orgasm. Taissa followed.

Then there was Nat. You licked your lips, ready to receive her. You were surprised that her pussy was shaved, maybe she was getting ready and wanted to please you? This thought caused a sweet warmth in you. And Nat's pussy tasted sweet too. You sucked on her clit, wanting to please her in a way that no guy had ever done. Natalie moaned surprisingly softly, and it excited you so much that there was almost no dry spot left in your panties. She let you use your hands, and you held her by the hips, because she was shaking while your wet tongue caressed her tender folds, and the hot air from her nose came straight to her pubis. Needless to say, Nat came quickly, but for some time she did not want to leave your mouth? Misty didn't even ask your permission. Her head was wrapped around yours, her fingers tangled in your soft hair, and she was holding you to her bushy pussy like she was dying without it. You were taken aback, but that didn't stop you from wanting to please her, even if her actions were met with disapproval from the other girls. No one wanted to be played with more roughly than the rest. You licked her, trying to please her as much as possible - Misty looked like she was not easy to please, but she was whispering so sweetly in your ear, praise and advice, that your arousal literally flowed out of your panties.

"Yes, t-that's it, Y/N… That's just perfect, oh, you're so beautiful. You're just an angel, a little perfection." She muttered selflessly, her glasses falling to the tip of her nose as she came loudly in your mouth.

You were exhausted, but Lottie was still there. She was the last one. You looked up at her, tired, sluggish, and excited. She gave you a quick smile, but there was undisguised triumph in her eyes. She had you after all. Did we mention that Lottie hated rejection and not getting what she wanted?

Lottie lifted your chin, gently stroked your hair and tidied it up, wiped the tears of pleasure from your eyelashes. She let you dive into her pussy yourself, start licking it yourself, as if you were in some kind of licking contest and were going to take first place there. She let you keep glancing at her, watching every movement of her moaning mouth and trembling hands, just to please her. Your heart was beating so fast and it was so hot and you wanted to please her so much, plunging your sweet tongue into her pussy over and over again, that you had a hard time holding on. Lottie took the longest, savoring every second and apparently holding herself back. Eventually she pulled your head away from her, pressed her pussy to your forehead and came, covering you even more with her wetness. You were all for it.

"You did well, Y/N. You love us so much, you were ready for everyone." Lottie said tiredly. She nodded to the girls, and they sat around you. "Now you've earned a reward, huh?" You nodded vigorously, needing release. You were so wet, and almost whining with excitement. Your head ended up in Shauna's lap, and Nat, Misty and Jackie quickly found themselves at your feet. Misty nibbled on your calves and thighs, often not hesitating to do it quickly and hard, while Jackie, on the contrary, licked them like a kitten, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. This crazy contrast made you breathe quickly and roll your eyes, and all for the sake of Shauna watching this cute picture. Nat touched your pussy with her tongue, her two fingers slid inside your wet cunt - after such a long abstinence, taking two fingers at once was not at all difficult. You moaned, letting them all work on you while the others watched. Natalie's tongue was trying so hard to please you, playfully sucking and pulling on your clit, playing with your labia and purposely quickly driving her fingers into you, wanting to bring you to the peak and play on you like guitar strings.

"We love you, Y/N, such a gift for us." Jackie purrs, watching Natalie fuck your helpless pussy.

"You're the best!" Misty agrees with a smile, biting you and licking it slobberily.

"All that's left is to cum." Shauna says calmly, not hiding her smirk, constantly keeping her eyes on herself. "Come on. Nat's mouth is waiting for it."

As if on cue, you spill into Natalie's mouth with a loud moan. Everyone exhales relaxedly, and Natalie cleans your pussy with her tongue. "You're just sweet, princess." She smirks at her own abilities.

You let yourself sink into the girls' arms, catching your breath. You don't know yet that later they'll help you get dressed, each of them will kiss you on the lips, and you'll tell them to talk about it after Nationals. In the end, you still can't seem to choose one. You love them all, and you're waiting for them to return to Wiskayok, safe and sound, with victory in hand.

[steddiehyperfixation]

not nothing

@steddiebingo prompt: friends to lovers | 1.6k words | T | 3+1 fic (three times steve and eddie kissed drunk + one time sober)

"Never have I ever...kissed someone sober," Eddie says, sitting on the floor in the living room of his and Steve's apartment with Steve, Robin, and Nancy. The girls are in town from college for a long weekend, and they've taken it upon themselves to fill Steve and Eddie in on the college experience of playing drinking games.

They all (except Eddie of course) take a sip of their drinks at Eddie's statement. They also all look at him with varying degrees of surprise, confusion, or maybe even concern at this information.

“What, really?” Robin asks.

“Uh huh.” He doesn't think it's that crazy. He certainly doesn't think it's all that unexpected from him either. They all know he's never had a proper boyfriend before or anything, and he’s not particularly looking for one either. He's perfectly happy with his life as it is and the people in it. A handful of drunken experiences at clubs and parties is more than enough for him.

Steve frowns at him. “No, that can't be true. You and I have kissed before.”

“Yeah, while drunk.”

“You guys have kissed?” asks Nancy, her eyes slightly wide as if she's more shocked by this fact than the previous one.

“Yeah,” Eddie repeats, “while drunk.”

“And how often does that happen?” Nancy continues to question. God, it's like an interrogation in here all of the sudden.

“It's only been like…” Steve shrugs, glancing at Eddie like he's trying to remember. “What, a couple times?”

“Three times,” Eddie says, “I think.” As if he could ever forget, as if he can't still recall each and every instance in vivid technicolor. No matter how drunk he'd been, kissing Steve Harrington has a way of burning itself into the memory of even the most alcohol-soaked of minds.

1.

The first time it happened, Steve had been in a slump for weeks after getting broken up with, and Eddie, tired of watching him sullenly skulk about their apartment like a ghost, had finally dragged him out to the club, making it his own personal mission to find him a stranger to kiss to help him get over his ex. They took too many shots and danced to shitty pop music while Eddie kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they might be Steve’s type. Steve only frowned and shook his head at every girl Eddie pointed out.

After about 7 shots and Eddie’s 12th attempt to nudge him towards somebody, Steve had rolled his eyes in annoyance and shouted over the music, “If you want me to be kissed so badly, why don’t you do it?”

So Eddie did. No thought at all, just grabbed him and kissed him. Steve stiffened slightly in surprise like he hadn’t actually expected him to do it, but then he kissed back almost immediately, and there they were: making out messily on the dance floor with flashing lights and too-loud music thudding like a heartbeat all around them.

It felt like dancing; fun, mindless movements, heat and warmth and thrill. It felt like taking another shot; blood turned to fire and mind dazing over.

Eddie woke up the next morning still feeling it on his lips.

They talked about it, briefly, in the kitchen over coffee after commiserating together about their mutual hangovers. “It’s not weird that we kissed, right?” Eddie asked, just checking. He couldn’t tell yet if he felt weird about it himself or not.

“Nah, of course not,” Steve had brushed it off with a wave of his hand and a good-natured grin. “I used to kiss my friends all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

So it wasn’t a big deal. And they didn’t talk about it again.

2.

The second time it happened was at a 4th of July house party thrown by a friend of an acquaintance, since all of their own friends were out of town. The place was full of people they didn't know who all knew each other, so they had a few drinks and tried to mingle but eventually they both ended up alone together on a balcony, relieved to be in only familiar company, quietly watching the beginnings of neighborhood fireworks crackle in the indigo sky.

“I’m bored,” Eddie announced, the quiet making him itchy and the alcohol in his veins making him want to do something.

“Me too.” Steve finished off his drink of about 90% vodka and 10% Sprite (which Eddie knew because he was drinking the same exact thing, having poured them both himself at the free self-serve bar), and glanced sideways at him. “Wanna make out?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agreed without question. He set his drink aside and Steve's lips were on his in a matter of seconds.

3.

The third time it happened, they didn’t even need to ask anymore, not really. They were out, just the two of them, drunk on a nightclub dance floor again and Steve just wordlessly lifted his hands as if to hold Eddie’s face and raised his eyebrows. Eddie shrugged, why the hell not, and leaned in.

+1.

They were nothing, those kisses, just a fun thing with a friend. Brushed past and moved on from easily, not buried in shame or secrecy but simply inconsequential and not worth lingering on, then and now. Nancy’s still got this look like she thinks there’s more of a story here, but she too moves on with the conversation as the game of Never Have I Ever continues, and Steve and Eddie’s drunk kisses are brushed past once again. No big deal. Nothing.

Eddie is just fine with that. He doesn’t mind it all being nothing, because if it’s not nothing - if he lets himself think even for a second that it’s not nothing - then to him it would be everything. And that’s simply too much.

But anyways, he's not lingering on it. The party goes on and Eddie's taking a drink at Robin’s “Never have I ever kissed a man,” and it's all forgotten now.

At least, he expects it to be all forgotten. But then the next morning he's sitting in the kitchen eating fucking toast when Steve walks in, pauses for a second, and then asks, “Have you really actually never kissed anyone while sober?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie confirms, mouth full. “Really actually.”

Steve puts a bagel in the toaster then leans back against the counter as he looks at Eddie. “Would you want to?”

Eddie blinks, swallows his mouthful of toast. “What, are you offering?”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugs. Like it's nothing. “I mean, if you want. It's not like we've never kissed before.”

“Right, yeah.” Eddie sets down his half-eaten toast, the bread sticking to the inside of his mouth now, too dry all of the sudden. “I just, um. I think I’d probably be bad at it sober. You know, like, I’d get too in my head about it or whatever.”

Steve shrugs that off too, smiles and makes light of it, “I don't care. Even if you were bad at it, I’m willing to bet you real money you probably still wouldn't be the worst kiss I've ever had.”

Eddie laughs, grateful for Steve's humor and reassurance, but still he shakes his head. The mere suggestion is already making his heartbeat faster and his face feel warmer, and he can't let himself get like this, not over Steve. Not over nothing. “Yeah, I still just- I still just shouldn't though.”

“Okay,” Steve says simply. His bagel pops out of the toaster and his attention diverts to plating the two bagel halves and spreading them with cream cheese. Eddie, assuming that's the end of the conversation, relaxes somewhat and resumes his breakfast. But then Steve's turning around, taking his seat at the kitchen table opposite Eddie, and asking, “Not that it matters at all, but can I ask why?”

“I already told you-”

“Yeah, you think you’ll be bad at it, I know. But that's not the only reason, I can tell.”

Eddie shoves the rest of his toast in his mouth to avoid the responsibility of an immediate reply. He stands and takes his plate to the sink. Only with his back turned does he find the courage to answer honestly. “Because it wouldn't be nothing,” he admits as he rinses off his plate, hoping just a little bit that the running water might drown out his words. “If I kissed you sober, I think it would mean something to me. I think it would really, really mean something to me.”

A pause - an awful, agonizing pause in which Eddie, certain he's just fucked up a perfectly good friendship, seriously considers sticking his head under the faucet and attempting to drown himself - and then Steve says, barely louder than the water, “And you think it wouldn't to me?”

Eddie immediately shuts off the sink and turns to look at him. “Would it?”

“Yeah.” Steve's eyes have gone soft. “Eddie, it always has. Why do you think I'm asking? Why do you think I've been asking?” He smiles, a little sheepishly and with a self-deprecating shrug. “I was just…trying to play it cool.”

There are so many ways Eddie could respond to that, ranging from incredulous to teasing, but a wave of fondness rolls through him so completely there's really only one thing he can say: “Get over here and kiss me right now.”

Steve wastes no time in standing up and moving towards him, and Eddie rushes to meet him in the middle. They crash into each other, bodies colliding and hands gripping tight, but when their lips meet it's surprisingly gentle.

Eddie's first sober kiss happens right there in the kitchen, barefoot in his pajamas with his roommate, his best friend, Steve Harrington; and it couldn’t be more perfect. And it's everything.

[victoryai]

7th Lord in the Signs (spouse focused)

I already wrote on 1st lord in the signs here so I guess you understand what I mean by 7th Lord in the signs.

7th lord in the signs is only concerned about which sign the 7th house Lord is in. It don matter here which planet is your 7th lord but rather which sign your 7th lord is placed in.

7th Lord in Aries: Spouse acts in a direct and straightforward manner, often driven by impulse. Has a prominent face card, with a nice build, but not very tall. Making decisions spontaneously, and sometimes lacking strategy. Hardly procrastinates I guess 🤷 and very adamant in nature. Good thing that they're decisive In nature and able to defend their territory.

7th Lord in Taurus: Spouse is concerned about money, financial stability and security and food 😉. Or better still, spouse has good looking pockets and might be a big spender. Wants all the luxury and comfort, believes that sharing is not 🚫 caring and everyone should have their own stuff, probably stingy 🤷, a foodie, plumpy in nature, clear skin, beautiful/handsome of course.

7th Lord in Gemini: Spouse is likely to be on the slimer side, not to tall too, likes music, dances and writes stuff in free time. Has a small 🤏 feature somewhere on the face, maybe small crafty eyes 😂, does a lot of overthinking, wonders how he/she is supposed to digest all the goddamn information, good communicator and can probably spend the whole time talking to you, admirable wit.

7th Lord in Cancer: Spouse is traditional in nature, family oriented and too sensitive sometimes. Seems like a kind person, hardly weird and in their senses most of the time. Loves privacy and prefers to sulk than spill it out sometimes. Rollercoaster emotions range from 🤣😂😅😄😁 to 😐🥲😪😭. Not tall too. Probably plumpy in body nature and attitude.

7th Lord in Leo: Spouse has big dreams, and one of them is being a star, spouse loves to be appreciated (I mean who doesn't want that). If it's a lady,she's wants nothing less than baby girl treatment. Considers flirting a good exercise to check if their still attractive 😂. Will probably tell you that they had a lot of options but settled for you, just kidding of course, also hates to be unnoticed, 😎

7th lord in Virgo: Spouse is very practical in nature and can notice the tiniest of details. Calls a spade a spade probably because it's a spade 🤷. More logical than emotional, interested in health and wellness, probably loves animals alot. Very organized and put together, more on the slim side and looks younger than actual age. Never forgets anything that is important, and stands through with you during tough times.

©Victoryai

7th Lord in Libra: Spouse is beautiful of course, diplomatic in nature and friendly, has a good deal of acquaintances, more feminine in nature and behavior, popular among the ladies 🤷, has great taste and hardly ever sober. Spouse is well liked by a lot of people and is balanced in nature. Takes a little too much time in making decisions but they make good ones. Not aggressive and hardly oppressive.

7th Lord in Scorpio: Spouse is magnetism itself, a secretive person very different from the rest. Has an air of detachment to them but if they get attached to you, then 💀. Probably, gets things from others easily, has gone through some major shit and transformation, not easy to decode, beautiful/handsome of course , has probably a experienced near death situation.

7th Lord in Sagittarius: Spouse has a great deal of knowledge and experience. Probably travels alot or is a foreigner to you in some way. Always in good spirits and hardly ever down except it gets too hard. Will probably tell you an ancient story you haven't heard of. Good humor and face that always looks like he/she is laughing. Religious person or has strong beliefs.

7th Lord in Capricorn: Spouse is a serious person and doesn't fool around most of the time. Might be a public figure or someone who has to keep up with their reputation in public. Looks a lot better in older years, is a leader and has a great deal of responsibilities sometimes, someone in a place of authority to others, will make a good Boss and father figure.

7th Lord in Aquarius: Spouse is unconventional and refuses to accept some "norms", innovative thinking, preferring to walk alone than follow a wrong crowd. Spouse is spontaneous in nature, getting ideas on random days and mostly bad timing😂, eccentric and a lil 🤏 weird, might be in the crowd but is not part of the crowd, possesses unusual intellect. OMG I think your spouse is so much like me🤔😂

7th Lord in Pisces: Spouse is easily lost in thoughts, empathetic in nature and emotionally smart. Has one particular activity he/she is addicted to, has spiritual gifts and probably interested in spirituality itself, Painfully quiet sometimes and preferring isolation rather than company. Has a big heart and forgives a lot, but do they forget?🤔. Sleeps too much or dreams too much. Could be very deceptive too 🤫.

©Victoryai

[rensukepie]

Heyy!!! Are you taking writing requests? If you are, can you please write about Sae catching his virgin girlfriend masterbating while moaning his name? :3 I cannot get this thought out of my head and I love your posts so yeah :) Thank you <333

#.༊*·˚— “caught you.” —༊* i. s

༊ contains + warnings : virgin!reader, boyfriend!sae, masturbating mention, oral(f!receiving), n!pple play, pet names (pretty girl, sweet girl, baby, etc), lmk if i need to add any warnings!

༊ synopsis : when your boyfriend catches you pleasuring yourself, he just wants to guide you through, especially since you’re a virgin.

༊ authors note : thank you so much for this request anon! i’ve actually thought about this a few times and wanted to write it, but i always would forget about it… i need more requests about sae inside of my inbox

3 new messages from : pretty girl

saeeeee

what time are you gonna come home?

miss you baby :((

he thought that the messages that you just sent to him were cute, but at the same time, he thought it was kind of weird, especially because of the fact that you don’t ask him this question often. maybe you were planning something out for him?

2 new messages from : sae <3

it’s gonna take a while but soon baby i promise

miss you too, baby. this meeting is so boring

great. that gave you enough time for what you wanted and needed to do.

you don’t know what it is, but lately, sae has been making feel so hot and bothered! he makes the place between your thighs feel wet for him even though he isn’t even doing anything! all you want is for that feeling to go away… how is he making you feel this way if you’re a virgin? you just have so many questions…

༊*·˚—

“m—mmf! s—sae… ohh…” you whimpered out loud, as you had asked sae earlier what time he’d be coming home from his boring meeting beforehand, your tiny fingers rubbing at your now wet cunt and clit, pretending that your fingers were sae’s instead.

but what you didn’t know was that his meeting ended a lot faster than usual, his car parking in the driveway before unlocking the door, which you surprisingly didn’t hear.

as he’s walking towards the door of the bedroom, he hears whimpering and moaning coming from it, peaking from the door since it was open slightly.

“b—baby… need you… so bad…a—ahh….” you mewl sweetly not knowing he was behind the door, his cock slowly getting hard in his pants as he watched you. “saeeeee… wan’to cum…”

he decides to go into the room quietly, opening the door as your eyes are closed and everything around you is out of your head, only focusing on the way your fingers pump in and out of you.

you don’t notice him still, but he’s staring right at you as you continue to ramble incoherent sentences about him, until he decides to speak up.

“need me that bad, huh?” he says, breaking his silence, making you jump out of your bed and hide your body underneath the covers.

“oh c’mon, sweet girl, don’t get all shy with me now..” he says to tease you. “you weren’t shy when you were touching yourself earlier, so why now?”

“i—i don’t know…” you whimper, feeling embarrassed that he had just caught you. “m’sorry…”

“it’s okay, pretty girl..” he coos, his large, soft hands running back and forth onto your sides underneath the covers as he hovers over you. “m’here now, right?” he murmurs as he slowly takes the covers off of you, your wet slit on display for his eyes.

“mm.. your pussy’so pretty… you’ve been so rough on her, baby…“ he says as he kisses your cunt before giving kitten licks at it, his tongue licking at the right places as he explores your body and what you like.

“s—sae… too much…” you mewl, grabbing his pinkish-red hair softly as he continues to pleasure you with his tongue.

“learning so much about you today…” he coos into your pussy as he continues to give attention to your needy slit. “like how you get wet so easily when i give your pussy the slightest attention..” he laughs. “its fucking cute..”

“sae… hic—stop bein’ s’mean… hmff…” you squeal at him. you hate how right he is, you really do get wet easily, and its all just from his actions alone.

“sorry, sweet girl. couldn’t help it, you’re too pretty right now..” he whispers as he pulls away from your glistening pussy for a little bit. “ever had a finger in here?” he says as his thumb circles the hard bud on your chest, waiting for your reply.

“o—only my own… why?..” you say softly, confused on why he pulled away from you to ask such a question. you aren’t confused for long before he continues his movements, his fingers joining his wet tongue as he inserts them inside of you. “s—sae… haah—..”

“feels good doesn’t it?” he murmurs, but you cant hear it as your mind starts to go cloudy due to the stimulation of his fingers and tongue combined—its all too much on your virgin body.

and it’s especially too much on your body because it hasn’t even been a couple of minutes since sae put his fingers inside of you, but you feel as if you need to cum already. your body feels as if it’s lighting on fire and your sensitive cunt is twitching against his fingers.

“saeee… i—“

“yeah? youre gonna cum, hm? i can feel you clenching my fingers, baby..” he groans near your ear as you feel your orgasm rushing over your body quickly.

…

after you both get done cleaning yourselves up, you both go to bed, kissing each other and saying sweet words to each other.

he doesn’t say it with words since he’s bad with them, but sae really does love you.

[twovialsofamortentia]

a woman, not a wife. 💍

a/n: when i’m in a yearning competition and my opponent is james potter. this WRECKED me to write i was giggling kicking my legs screaming.

🎧 midnight rain - taylor swift, haunted- beyonce

warnings: smut, mdni, everyone is 18+, unprotected sex, breeding IM SORRY IT JUST HAPPENED, james is the giver (he gets the job done), mentions of james’ mental health being poor, mentions of not eating (nothing ED related)

You loved spring. Being born in late March would do that to you. You loved your birthday- well, you had done. Your whole life. Now, everyone was always weird to you about it, because it was the day before James’.

You had tried and failed at not thinking about James. Reminding yourself that you had broken up and that he definitely didn’t care anymore was usually enough for you. Sometimes it wasn’t, though, and you found him worming his way back into your head before you could stop it.

You shook your head to physically derail your train of thought, gazing out into the courtyard, perched in one of the sills that separated it from the busy corridor. You could hear people passing behind you, but you were focused on the grass just mere feet away from you. How it was constantly growing, getting better. Moving on from being cut. Even when the wind blew so forcefully that the flowers didn’t survive, the grass remained, secure in itself. You cursed yourself for envying grass.

While you were wishing you were a plant in the courtyard, James had been watching you gaze out of the window for a minute or so. He was meant to be on his way to potions, a lesson you were both supposed to be in, but was taking a short detour.

“You go,” he told the boys, who sighed at him and looked between one another, knowing it was no use.

“Hopeless twat.” Sirius told him sympathetically, but the three boys left anyway.

James was lost in thought about you. His mind was going over every memory he had of you, the sound of your laugh, the way you always had a story to tell, the way you just knew him. And how he now missed it all, which annoyed him more than he cared to admit.

Once you had finished moping about the grass being less of a sappy idiot than you were, you turned around to stand up. Your eyes were on your feet, at first, because it would be just your luck if you tripped and laddered your new tights, and you were clumsy.

When your gaze came up from the ground, they landed on James, who was looking at you. Every so often, since you had gone your separate ways, he would catch your eye and you’d forget, at first. You’d go instinctively to smile at him, or to reach out and push the stray hairs from his face, then remember it wasn’t your place anymore.

You stood still, fingers tightening around your bag so you didn’t drop it and make yourself feel even more stupid, and swallowed deeply.

James felt a pang in his chest every time you caught eyes now. A reminder that you were no longer his- that the two of you weren’t what you had been so sure would last forever. He hated it.

James shoved his hands into his pockets, for fear that if he didn’t he would reach out for you, take you by the hips and pull you flush against him so he could lean down and press a kiss to your forehead.

Instead, he opted to smile at you. It wasn’t a conscious choice to do it, but James told himself that was all he was allowed to do. Not one of his cocky, playful grins, though. A soft one, one like he used to give you when you’d tell him off for kissing you in a room full of people, or when you’d roll onto your front in the morning, prop yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him with tired eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” you replied, stunned. You were unsure of whether it was the sun beating down on your back that was making you clammy, or the fact that James was stood in front of you, like he had a million times, and neither one of you was moving to touch the other. To be closer, never close enough.

He couldn’t tell if the feeling in his gut was desire or frustration, because James wanted nothing more than to touch you, but he couldn’t. He elected it something so, so much worse- unrequited love.

Oh, how wrong he was.

“Are you-“ you tried, but the words died in your throat, because they weren’t even close to what you wanted to say. “Are you alright?”

The same question you would ask James every time he’d turned up to your dorm, sat on the edge of your bed, staring at his hands while you rubbed small circles into his back and encouraged him to talk about it. Every time you caught him pushing a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots, an indicator he was stressed. Every time you’d prefaced the words with ‘oh, darling.’ as you pulled him into your embrace, running your hands soothingly up and down his arms.

“Yeah.” he said finally. “You?”

You nodded, because if you had spoken your answer, it would have been a dead giveaway that you were lying.

Your heart hammered as you stared back at James, because you knew that if he didn’t say something mean to you, you’d start getting ahead of yourself again, and convince yourself it was all just a horrible dream- that you wanted the same thing, that nothing had changed, and the three weeks you’d been apart never happened.

A part of James hated himself for making you nod, instead of hearing that you were fine in your voice. Your voice, because if there was one thing of yours that he couldn’t get enough of, it was your voice. Soft and melodic, always laced with a touch of sarcasm, even when you had just woken up and were trying to blink the sleep from your eyes.

But he couldn’t afford himself that luxury anymore. So he stood where he was, watching you carefully, almost as though he was searching for something in your eyes.

“Did you have a good birthday? Last week?” James asked, because he really did want to know. He’d spent the whole day minding his own business, not causing any trouble or drawing any attention to him, so that you could have it the way you wanted it, somewhat normal in the midst of all this mess.

“Yeah.” you smiled faintly, looking at the floor for a second. Your birthday was an odd occasion, because the girls tried to make it extra special for you. As if one day of being back around everyone else would make you forget that you had ruined every a fortnight before. That the next day, you’d wake up at a sensible time, instead of at the crack of dawn to sneak into James’ dorm and vow to make the whole day about him.

“Did you?”

James remembered those days, when you dragged him out of bed before anyone else was awake, with your fingers wrapped gently around his wrists and a sleepy smile on your face as you climbed onto his bed.

‘Get up now if you want to eat your birthday cake for breakfast.’ you would say, taking his face in your hands.

“Yeah, it was alright.” James said dismissively, but he couldn’t help the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile at the memory of you. “Didn’t eat my cake at the crack of dawn, though.”

“Why not?” you let a smile spread across your own lips, now, as you let go of your bag, dropping it onto the floor with a quiet thud- a giveaway that you were relaxing, finally.

“Because I didn’t have you waking me up at five o’clock.” James said, and it came out slightly more poignantly than he had intended at first. “I thought about it, though.”

“You should have,” you shrugged, still smiling softly. “I actually thought about waking you up, but- didn’t want it to be… weird.”

“You should have.” James echoed your words. Should have seemed to be the dominant theme, at the moment, and James found himself cursing every should have- every time he walked past you and should have said hello; every time you asked him if he was alright and he should have said no, this is torture, please come back to me.

You giggled shyly, looking away from James for a second, feeling the need to focus your gaze somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t a six foot tall reminder of the worst loss you’d ever suffered.

“Okay.” was all you said, smiling. “Are you going to class?”

James caught the quick glance you had spared at the floor, and wanted nothing more than to reach out and lift your chin up with his fingers, to force you into looking at him again.

He just shook his head at your question instead.

“I have to see Poppy.” James replied, suddenly feeling more embarrassed than he ever had to admit something to you. “You know-”

“Yes. I know.” you smiled sympathetically. James frequented the hospital wing almost as much as Remus did. He’d always been candid with you about his mood, because sometimes you worked under Madame Pomfrey at the weekends, since you wanted to pursue a career in healing.

Depressive, she called him, but you thought that made James sound a bit more mopey than he was. Apparently that was the proper term for it.

You were worried about James as of late, not knowing the toll that breaking up would’ve had on him. It was a habit of yours to ask him frequently how things were, because you didn’t quite understand, at first, but you wanted to.

“How are you coping?”

“Like complete shit.” he laughed, but there was no humour in it at all. James ran a hand through his hair again, looking down at you.

“No-” he started, biting the inside of his cheek. “No, it’s been-”

He felt a lump forming in his throat, because James had never struggled to talk to you before, and now he was struggling to get a single sentence out.

“Oh, James.” you replied, trying and failing to drop the sadness from your tone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” he murmured, because he didn’t want you to blame yourself. “I understand, it’s- we want different things.” James took a deep breath, but it didn’t do much to calm his racing heart, especially not when you were looking at him like that- like you still loved him.

“Yeah.” your gaze drifted to the floor as you said it.

Three weeks ago, when you sat on James’ bed crying your eyes out, you both came to the conclusion that maybe you just wanted to go different ways with your lives. James wanted it all, a massive wedding, a house like his parents’, a football team of kids.

You wanted life: travel; a career; love that grows and strengthens over time, instead of exploding like a firework- pretty at first, but sure to fizzle out eventually.

It had never occurred to either of you when you sat there in the middle of the night- bed curtains closed, window curtains open, wiping each other’s tears away- that maybe you could have had both. Since then, because all you had done was think about James, the thought had crossed your mind a few times, but you pushed it out, because you had missed your chance. The deal was done.

As much as he wanted to spend forever staring into your eyes, James knew that if he did, he might say something he regretted.

So James stayed silent for a couple of moments, his gaze focused on you. He took in the way you chewed lightly on your lip, how you rubbed your palms against your skirt- all things you did when you were nervous.

“There was a party- on my birthday.” he said finally, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You should have been there.”

“I was.”

James looked at you like you’d just stabbed him.

“I spent the whole night miserable in the windowsill.” you laughed dryly. “You looked like you had fun. That was all I wanted, just to make sure- make sure you were okay. And you were.”

James nodded, and it was his turn to shift his gaze to the floor. Okay was the general consensus at the moment, but okay didn’t mean good, or happy, or coping well, it just meant not completely coming apart at the seams.

Even then, okay felt like a bit of a stretch for James. He was good at putting it on, coming off as confident when he didn’t feel it.

“I was pretending.” he admitted, rocking back and forth on his heels, gaze still on the floor.

You nodded, reaching down to grab your bag from where you’d dropped it by your feet.

“I know.”

James just watched you as you picked your bag back up, a mix of irritation and despair rising rapidly in his chest. He didn’t want you to leave, he wanted you to yell at him, to kiss him, to just do something.

“Where are you going?” he ended up asking.

“Common room.” you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I have a free. I’ll see you, James.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded at your response. Then, just as you started to walk away, he suddenly said, “Wait, one more thing.”

“Yeah?” you turned on your heels, hair fanning out around you as you did.

James took a deep, shuddery breath as soon as he saw you standing there, before deciding that the best course of action was to swallow his pride and just say it.

“I still love you.” he admitted, hands shoving into his pockets.

“I still love you.” you answered, the remnants of a smile on your face. You answered casually, as you used to when James would kiss you goodbye, and tell you I love you, my girl. The words were different, sure. They were evidence of change, of the loss you’d both suffered, but they were said in the same way. Time might have passed, but the love stayed. You knew it wasn’t dissipating any time soon.

“Bye.” you told him, smiling, and then you walked away.

You didn’t see James again until after you had skipped dinner that evening. All of the girls were still down in the hall, so you were alone in the dorm.

The intention had been to put some soft music on and get some homework done, but, as it usually panned out lately, you found yourself laying out on the bed, blasting the record, and thinking about how much you missed James.

Before today, it seemed nonsensical to you to go back to James and tell him you still loved him. That you’d been moping for weeks, a ghost of a girl, desperate to wake up in the morning having dreamed it all.

You had broken up, agreed to go your separate ways, so that was that, whether or not it was the worst decision you’d ever made.

Wait, one more thing.

You felt like an idiot. To be frank, you felt exactly the same way you did when you first got together with James, and Sirius and Remus shoved him through the door of your dorm and slammed it behind them, with a chaste, synchronised “James has something to tell you!”

I still love you.

You didn’t know why you expected James to move on. You could never have possibly pictured him, James Potter, still being hung up on someone three weeks after agreeing to split up. You just assumed that he would stay the way he was, sunshine in a bottle, and you would change enough for the both of you.

But fuck, James was hung up on you.

He loved you so dearly, with everything he had because it was all he had, and he still never felt like it was enough. James loved hard. He loved everyone hard. That was just his way. But you, you were his whole world. His Earth; bringing him in and making him feel grounded. You felt like home because you were his home. You were everything. The whole world. An angel. His angel.

Everything James thought, he showed you. He’d whisper it in your ear in the middle of the night, he’d tell you he thought you were beautiful in front of his friends, he’d grab you and kiss you after winning a Quidditch game, he’d grab you and kiss you after losing a Quidditch game.

Now, though, James had no one to tell it to. Before- when it was okay to love you- he’d have no problem shouting it from the rooftops, but now James wasn’t supposed to love you. He was supposed to leave you, to not look at you and feel as if he were going to burst. James was never one for doing as he was told.

His legs brought him up the stairs before his mind had registered it, and he stopped in front of the door. This time, there was no one to pound on it, to wrench it open and shove James through it, then slam it shut behind him and hold it closed in case he tried to escape.

James was younger- shorter, too, and more naïve- the first time he stood, nervous about whether or not you’d want him to be in love with you. He’d never thought it would happen again.

You sighed when you heard the door, closing your eyes. Your peace had finally been disturbed. It was most likely to be one of the girls, knocking so that they didn’t disturb you if you were crying.

They tried to get you to come down for dinner, but you couldn’t be told. It wasn’t that you weren’t wanting to eat like Lily worried about- Lily was always nervous that her friends weren’t eating well- but because you didn’t have the effort in you to go all the way down and back up. Marlene vowed to sneak you up something good, anyway.

“Come in!” you called, and secretly, you had hoped it was Marlene. There was something about her that was just so comforting when you were upset, even though she was far from it on the surface. The other girls were always soothing and condescending, Marlene only did it when she had to.

When he heard your voice, James sighed. He’d never been particularly nervous to see you before, which is the reason he took a few more moments to open the door, pushing it open, and letting it fall closed behind him, the small click making it sound rather final as it shut.

He was met with the sight of you lying on the bed, hair splayed out around your head as a record blared softly in the background. The way you looked up at the door as it opened made you look so innocent that it broke James’ heart when it was quickly replaced by a look of shock.

“James.” you sat up abruptly, reaching out to twist the dial of your record player, turning it down. It was Lily’s really, but you girls shared everything.

You blinked a few times, trying to establish if this was some sick and twisted candlelight hallucination you were having. As you sat up, you realised it wasn’t, and you felt as if you had been in this situation before.

James stood up straight, shoving his hands into his pockets. He felt stupid and embarrassed, because he suddenly felt like he did a few years ago- terrified of saying the wrong thing and losing his chance.

“Um, I just-” he began, but immediately wanted to kick himself for it not being a witty first sentence.

Concern clouded over your face, and you swung your legs off of the bed so you could stand up. You didn’t cross the room, but you took a few steps away from your bed, stopping a few feet away from James.

“Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, fine.” he nodded, swallowing. “Listen..”

James had never struggled quite like this before. He’d been confident in his entire life- in everything he’d done, and everyone he’d met. His mouth had always run away with him, which was often the butt of a joke from the other marauders, but right now, right here, he felt like a small child. Words were failing him, and James never had trouble with words.

“I’m listening.” you told him gently, nodding softly as you caught his eye. “I’m listening.”

As confident and as cocky as James outwardly appeared to everyone else, the people closest to him knew that every now and then, James needed reassuring. He got in his own head when his feelings were too big to squash down; and sometimes he just needed to talk about it. He didn’t even really care if anyone understood, just as long as they listened.

James took a breath, and you noticed the shake in it as he inhaled. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he couldn’t do it. It was getting increasingly harder to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to love you, not when you were looking at him like you did.

“I know we want different things,” he began suddenly, the words blurting out before he could stop them. “I get that, love, I do. But this is torture.”

You swallowed, dropping your gaze to the floor. It was a while since you’d had the conversation, the I’m not just a wife, I’m a woman, conversation, and it wasn’t one you’d wanted to have again.

“Okay...” you said at first, because James looked like he was gearing up to say a bit more.

James folded his arms, trying to stop himself from fidgeting. He was worried that if he didn’t stop, he’d have to do something more embarrassing than fidgeting, like run and hug you.

“I miss you.” he said, and his voice broke halfway through the simple sentence, the words coming out more desperate than he had planned. “I want a future with you. I- We can make it work. The future I want, and the one you want, we can make them go together.”

“I don’t know.” you sighed, your own voice shaky. “I don’t want to take away your idea of a life because I want something different, that’s not fair. You deserve someone who wants the same thing you do.”

“I know that’s what we said, and I thought it too.” James replied, pushing a hand through his hair and tugging unconsciously at it, a nervous habit of his. “But I’ve gone three weeks without you, love, and it’s been the worst three weeks of my life. You might be absolutely fine, in which case I’ll sound like a complete twat, but I just- you should know. I really love you still.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t quite muster up any words yet, because there was nothing you could say to disagree with James.

“If you say no, I’ll drop it,” James rushed to say. “I swear.” he added, knowing that was a very unlikely outcome. “But..”

You sighed, because it really, really, really annoyed you when James was right. When he read you so accurately that you just couldn’t deny him, you wanted to smack him upside the head. Make him as dumb as he pretended to be.

“I mean, I’m not- I’m not fine,” you began. “But I’m serious about my future. I’ve never been a wife, you know that.”

“I know,” James said softly. He’d been fully aware of the fact that you never wanted to be a housewife, and he’d never expected you to. It was something he loved about you; that you always knew what you wanted and didn’t let anyone sway you. “Darling, I don’t want you to be a wife, just my wife, I just- I wanna be with you. Whatever that looks like.”

The massive bang of the butterfly-cannon went boomf in your stomach, and you closed your eyes, sighing at the feeling. After three weeks of nothingness, loneliness, and moping, you had missed the James Potter Effect like you’d never missed anything before.

It was also very difficult for you to hide the smile that was spreading across your face. You thanked the world it was dark, because it meant James couldn’t see you flushing.

“James-” you began, and the smile just kept growing, as hard as you tried not to let it.

There was a certain pride that came with watching you falter, in a way. James couldn’t help the smirk that spread onto his lips, because he knew- there it was, he’d been the reason for your smile, and the blush that was definitely more obvious than you thought. He had you now.

“I love you.” he said quickly, trying to keep the smile on your face for as long as possible.

“You’re good.” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll hand it to you, you’re good.”

“I know that.” he said, the smile on his face widening at the sound of your laugh. It felt like it had been years since he’d even heard it.

James was filled with a new confidence, now that he knew he’d got you listening. “C’mere.”

You had never been given an instruction that was easier to follow. You stepped forward, dropping your head onto James’ shoulder, still smiling like a schoolgirl, and getting a weird sense of deja vu.

You wrapped your arms around James, and you just laughed against him in disbelief. “I love you.”

“I love you.” he muttered, resting his chin on top of your head, and bringing his arms up to wrap around your waist.

James was immediately filled with a sense of relief, a feeling like he could finally breathe again, because there you were, in his arms. He had you back.

You didn’t know how he did it. You didn’t know how he did it the first time round, when he stood rooted to the same spot and asked you if he could give you a hug.

You also didn’t know how he did it just then, but there was just something about James that was so impossible to stay away from. You don’t know why you ever tried.

You just grinned as you let James squeeze you, but then he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.

“Hm?”

“Promise me we’ll be smart about this.” James said, pulling his head up so he could look you in the eye. “Promise me we’ll talk about everything, and we won’t avoid stuff, just to save the other person’s feelings, alright?”

“Course.” you smiled, gazing up at him.

“I missed your smile,” he told you, bringing a hand up to cup your face. He brushed his finger over your bottom lip, pulling it lightly towards him slightly. That had been another thing he missed about you- he hated going to sleep without you, that was bad enough, but it had been downright torture not being able to kiss those pretty lips goodnight.

How did he keep doing it?! You felt yourself twitch as James stared longingly down at you, and his words made you laugh quietly and shake your head.

“You are too smooth for your own good.”

“Mm, am I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and tilting his head to the side. He hadn’t broken eye contact once, drinking in all the pretty details of your face. He was sure he’d die if you didn’t kiss him soon.

And you were sure that your knees were going to buckle if James kept talking to you like that, so to stop yourself from hitting the deck, you leaned up onto your tiptoes, kissing him sweetly.

James made the sweetest sound as he felt your lips on his, and he decided he actually didn’t ever want to move again. He’d have been happy to stay that way forever. He pressed soft kisses on your lips, over and over, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Love you,” you grinned against James’ lips. “Missed you. Love you.”

“Fuck, fuck, I missed you.” James breathed, trying to take in the feeling of having you close to him after the time you spent apart. “Don’t- Don’t ever make me go that long again.”

“No, of course not, never.” you told him, running your fingers through his hair as you leaned in to kiss him again- a little more feverishly this time.

James hummed lovingly against your lips, and he could feel his brain stop functioning. It gradually stopped whirring with thoughts, slowing down more and more, and when he reached out to snake his arms around your waist and tug you closer by splaying his palms out across the small of your back, James felt his brain shut off completely.

You weren't far off of total shutdown, and although you could feel the unspilled tears stinging your eyes, and it still felt like there was a catch in your lungs, you relaxed. Instead of running through his hair, your fingers travelled down to fiddle absently with the collar of James' shirt, just tracing over it.

You supposed that you were making up for three weeks of lost time. That was how it felt for James, anyway, who was holding you as if you were planning on slipping away and darting out of the door at any given moment. He was just relieved that he had you back, given that forcing himself up to your dorm to talk to you was him throwing a final Hail Mary at a life with you. James told himself that if it missed, he'd walk away, and that would be you out of his life forever.

He took a moment to thank the stars that it landed. Especially when your hands slid a little further down and started unclasping his buttons.

“Love,” he began, tilting your chin up. “You sure?”

“I missed you very much.” you replied, looking James in the eye with certainty. “I’m sure if you are.”

James couldn’t argue with that, so a smile spread across his face and he reached down to kiss you again, a little bit deeper this time. He pushed his hands under your shirt and spread them out across your waist, tugging you closer.

You took two steps back, hitting the edge of your bed and collapsing onto the mattress with James on top of you.

Your legs parted so that James’ hips could fall into place between them, and you let out a soft sigh of relief at the feeling, after going without it for what felt like years.

James had a strange relationship with sex. Before you, he’d had enough sex to know what he was doing, and for fuck’s sake, he was a teenaged boy, so it felt good. Any time someone breathed in the general direction of his dick, it felt good.

But even though sex for James felt good, and he understood well enough how to do it, it wasn’t until you that he understood why. Why someone might possibly sacrifice their own pleasure for the sole purpose of giving it to somebody else. Why someone might crave the feeling of being so close, so intimate with someone else, and crave it so deeply that it drives them mad.

You do it for love.

Until you, James wasn’t in the habit of doing it for love. But the way that you gazed up at him when he slotted himself above you, the way you pleaded for him to make you feel good not because you wanted to feel good, but because you needed him to be the one doing it, and no one else? That was doing it for love.

“James,” you called softly, snapping James right out of his thoughts as you sat up slightly, reaching behind you to unhook your bra. You leaned up to kiss him, just a chaste peck to his jaw. “Are you okay?”

James just laughed to himself, nodding down at you as he watched you shrug off your bra and toss it onto the floor. He had never been more okay.

“I was just thinking about you.” he admitted, running his hands up under your skirt to hook into your underwear. “How much I missed you.”

You gasped when James slid your underwear all the way off of your legs, and you gasped even louder when he leaned down to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, disappearing under your skirt.

You tasted every bit as sweet as he remembered, but even then, James swore it was better this time. His hands roamed over your thighs, gripping and digging into your skin as his tongue swirled over your core.

You dropped your head back and shoved a hand into James’ hair, a filthy, almost pornographic moan escaping from your lips.

“Fuck!”

James almost found himself smirking against you as he heard the sound coming out of you, and he tightened his grip on you to keep you still as his tongue worked against your clit, because it had been far, far too long since he’d had you like this.

The first time James ever went down on you was the first time he had ever been down on anyone. When he told you that afterwards, you laughed, because you thought he was joking. That was enough explanation as to how good James was at giving head. He was just naturally a giver.

Your thighs threatened to crush his head as James flattened his tongue against you and began to drag it slowly over your clit, just the way he knew you liked it, almost immediately.

“James- oh, fuck,” you cried, dragging your hips away from his mouth and then bucking them up again, almost fucking yourself against his tongue.

James took this as a challenge, and pressed the palms of his hands to your waist to hold you down stop you from doing it again, and instead, he began sucking on your clit, desperate to hear you whine.

You gasped, hips snapping upwards at the feeling, but you weren’t given ample time to react to it, because you were then ambushed with two fingers sinking into and curling sharply upwards, hitting the right spot inside of you instantly.

“Fucking hell!” you gasped loudly, your back arching off of the bed.

“Yeah?” James smiled against your core, laughing teasingly and sending vibrations rocketing up through you at lightning speed, which made you moan noisily again. With the hand that wasn’t pumping two fingers in and out of you, James reached under your thigh to hook it over his shoulder so that he could press himself even closer up against you.

He elected to sacrifice being able to breathe properly. Really doing it for love.

“Yeah!” You clenched your jaw and squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling short, sharp breaths through your teeth. Your chest started to heave up and down quicker, and you could feel the need to tense up growing stronger. You sounded like an angel, and James had never heard a sweeter noise in his life.

His free hand pushed its way up your skirt, and you could feel his hand flatten against your stomach, holding you down gently. You knew what was coming, and you babbled incessantly, trying to get yourself ready for it.

As soon as James pressed down on your stomach, it was like he was flicking a switch. Your vision blurred, and you came, hard, hips juddering upwards, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you all-but screamed, clamping a hand over your mouth as you realised there was no silencing charm on the dorm.

“Fuck-” James hummed against your skin, and he slowly worked you through your orgasm with his fingers, until he pulled them out, bringing them up to his mouth.

Your jaw dropped, your eyes widened, and you forgot all about the fact that you had just came. The sight of James, topless, leaning over you, sucking the taste of you from his fingers? That was enough to soak you straight through all over again.

“Fuck me.” you begged, but it was more of a breathy command than a plea.

James smirked wider, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, still hovering above you on the bed.

“S’that what you want?”

“Don’t make me beg.”

“Course not, angel.” James told you, dipping down to run his tongue, his fucking filthy tongue, over your nipple, making you hiss when the cold air hit your wet skin as he pulled back.

James’ dick was straining furiously against his clothes, so while he was leaving a trail of wet, red marks across your chest, he was popping open the button on his trousers and shoving his boxers down off of his legs.

You closed your eyes, dropping your head back and wondering how you could ever have gotten yourself into a situation so dirty.

Then James rested one hand on your face and slid all the way into you, and you remembered.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” James murmured, as he started to drive his hips against yours. Slowly, at first, knowing you’d most likely be sensitive. “I’ve missed you, angel, so much-”

You moaned, nodding gently as you caught James’ lips in another kiss, humming lowly as you felt him start to fuck slightly faster into you.

“So pretty, my girl, so fucking pretty,” he huffed against your skin, one hand holding himself up and the other dragging slowly over one of your tits, palming it gently. “Missed you so much, never letting you go again.”

James pushed your legs up, bending your knees and leaning over you so that he was fucking you even deeper, all to hear the sound of you underneath him, whimpering because it felt so good.

The record scratched in the corner of the room, next to your bed, and you caught a glimpse of it flipping itself, a spell that you had spent ages trying to master. You still couldn’t get the needle to lift without scratching.

In the few seconds before the record set itself back down on the turntable, and the needle lowered, the only noises in the room were James’ laboured breaths and your rapid, whiny moans.

James barely noticed the record. He hadn’t really noticed much of anything but the feeling of you around him, under him, grabbing hold of him. You were everything.

“Fuck, James,” you gasped. “Love you-“

“Love you- fuck-!” James groaned, driving his hips down against yours once more. “Don’t stop, angel, just- nngh, fuck, keep talking like that-”

“I love you, I love you.” you let the words spill from your lips more times than you think they ever had before, mixed in with desperate mutterings of James’ name, until the words felt funny in your mouth.

“Oh, angel- So good, so pretty-” James gasped after a few more moments, dropping his face into your neck and sucking hard on the skin of your collarbone, because he was starting to feel that familiar tug deep in his stomach- the one that meant that he was getting close.

With the hand that wasn’t keeping himself from collapsing on top of you (which was growing weaker by the second), James pressed his fingers back up against your core, his mouth falling open in sync with yours as he grazed the sensitive area, making you cry out.

It didn’t hurt- well, it did, but it hurt in the way that made you want it more- the way that lets you know that just beyond the pain is a whole new wave of pleasure, one that’s worth the sacrifice. You had crossed the line from overstimulated to purely masochistic, and you moaned loud and rough at the sensation.

“You love me?” James asked, his chest heaving as he gazed down at you.

“Yes, yeah, I love you!”

“You ever gonna leave me again?”

“No, James- fuck! Never. I love you!”

James nodded, leaning back on his knees and hooking his now free hand over your thigh to pull you deeper onto him, his hips driving into you harder every time.

“My girl,” he huffed, staring lovingly down at you through his glasses. Those fucking glasses. They were enough to do it for you alone. “My girl, gonna make you mine forever, gonna come in you, angel.”

Your jaw dropped. All you could do was nod, breaths shallowing even more as James’ fingers starting moving more quickly over your clit, and you felt the same feeling as you had moments ago, but amplified- slightly more tense, slightly harder to chase, but so much better.

A string of moans escaped your pretty lips, and James’ eyes locked onto them, his gaze glued to your mouth as he rubbed at your core.

“You want it, angel?”

“Yes- yes! Fuck, James-!” you gasped, barely able to get the words out as you came for the second time, hips stuttering harder than before, feeling the aftershock hit you sooner than it had the first time round.

James couldn’t have held on any longer if he tried. Not when he felt you clenching around his dick, and crying his name as you came for the second time that day because of him.

“Oh- oh, fuck- ah!” James whined, fucking into you a final time and falling forward as he did, shoving his face back into your neck, breath hot on the skin behind your ear.

You felt the rush of warmth shoot up into you, and it only added to your own high, making it burn from the inside out, warm, and strong.

“Fuck,” James groaned, his head dropping onto your chest, still buried inside of you as he caught his breath.

“Yeah.” you sighed, trying to find your own breath. The only problem you had was the fact that everything that James had just fucked into you was now leaking out, which felt fucking good, but you were also conscious of the fact it was making a mess. “Fuck- hang on, it’s- mmph, getting on the bed.”

James nodded, pushing himself up slightly so he could pull out of you with a soft hiss, flopping down onto his back next to you. He pushed his glasses up, rubbing at his face.

You glanced over at James when he wasn’t looking, and you thank whatever celestial beings had sent him your way. Not just because he was so determined to fuck you right, but because he needed you to know how much he loved you, cared for you, and wanted you. Whilst he was fucking you right.

He was panting slightly, still slightly out of breath, but the smirk on his face showed that he was happy, satisfied. He turned his head, locking eyes with you.

James was just thrilled to bits to have you back in his arms. Just for you to be his again. He wanted to be allowed to come near you without things being awkward, to snake a hand around your waist as he came up behind you in the hallway, to run straight to you with news, or a prank idea, or just to tell you he loved you.

“Still got it.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

James laughed at his own stupid joke, nodding. He pushed some of the hair from your face, and you felt the familiar feeling in your stomach that would arise every time James smiled at you. It was like a strange sort of fluttering, an embarrassingly juvenile feeling, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[sirxaibs]

Batfamily X Batmom! Reader

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ Someone Thought Of Meཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

I feel like Tim has very little love. So how does he feel in a family thats so weird?

masterlist

Timmy timothy tim likes to journal his problems

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ Journal entry- Shes always there. Written from the point of view of Tim Drake. In Tim Drakes Journal. Which Is my journal… Tim Drake… because it’s my journal?

When people think of Bruce Wayne, they think of Gotham’s crowned prince brooding, rich, charming in a suit. Maybe they even think of Batman if you’re one of the few people that actually know him, the knight in Kevlar, Gotham’s relentless protector. They forget, more often than not, that behind the cowl is just a guy made of jagged edges. The kind that can cut even the people he cares about most.

But her?

She was warmth. A reporter with fire in her blood and sharp questions at her lips. That’s how Bruce met her chasing down a story she didn’t know he was part of yet. She wasn’t intimidated by his name or the shadows that followed him. And when she found out he was Batman, she didn’t run. She pivoted. She didn’t want to be used by the Gotham Gazette to milk a headline about their relationship. So she left. Started something new. Told the stories of villains not to glorify them, but to show their truth. The people they used to be. The cracks that made them break. That was her power.

I didn’t meet her until later, of course. But I always knew of her. I still stayed with my parents at the time and since she stayed at the mansion i never really saw her. she was the one everyone talked about. Not just in passing, but with reverence. Even Bruce, in his own quiet way, would drop her name like it meant safety. And to Dick and Jason? She wasn’t just a stepmom, or “Bruce’s wife.” She was Mom.

Dick talks about her like she’s the sun. When he visits he always visits, at least once a week no matter where he is you can see it. How his whole face lights up just stepping into the manor and hearing her voice from the kitchen. You’d think he was back in the circus and just found his net again.

“She used to stay up for me, no matter what time patrol ended,” he told me once. “I’d come in through the balcony, boots muddy, bruised up, sometimes bleeding and she’d be in the kitchen heating soup. Always that look on her face like I’d just come back from war. Never lectured me like Bruce. Never told me to be more careful. Just… held me. Like that fixed everything.”

Dick never stopped calling her “Mom.” Not even during the rough years when Bruce pushed him too hard. Not when he moved out. Not when the Batcave felt colder than the Gotham River in winter. If anything, she was the reason he kept coming back.

When she got that small publishing deal to write about Harvey Dent’s past, Dick flew back from Blüdhaven just to take her out to dinner. No press, no big celebration. Just a booth by the window at her favorite Thai place and a bouquet that barely fit through the door. He said he owed her everything. “I don’t care if I’m not hers by blood,” he told me once. “That woman taught me how to hold on to who I am, even when everything else was falling apart.”

Then theres my other older brother. Jason’s love is different. It’s quieter.

Harder to see unless you’re looking close. He’s not good at the soft stuff. Not anymore. But with her, he tries. He never says “I love you.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard the words leave his mouth. But he’s always fixing stuff around her house. Not the manor her place, the little brownstone Bruce bought her because she hated the echo of the mansion. The place with the bookshelf she filled herself, the mismatched mugs, the heavy desk where she does her interviews. Jason comes by when she’s out running errands. Patches the leaky sink. Replaces the light in the hallway. Leaves a bag of her favorite tea on the counter. No note. No credit. But she always knows it’s him.

“She used to sit on the fire escape with me,” he told me once, when we were staking out some arms deal in the Narrows. “I’d be pissed off at Bruce, just raging. And she’d just sit there. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t talk me out of it. Just sat and sometimes smoked a cigarette. One time I cried. Don’t remember why. But she didn’t flinch. Just put her hand on my back. Stayed until I fell asleep.”

He’d die before saying it out loud, but I think in a way… he’s more hers than he ever was Bruce’s. And when he came back when he was the Red Hood and he was full of grief and rage and bullets she was the only one who hugged him. Everyone else flinched. Even Bruce. But she opened the door, saw what he’d become, and said, “You look like hell, baby. Come inside.” And he did.

I remember the first time I met her. Bruce had just taken me in. I was still flinching every time he walked into the room, still unsure if I belonged in this broken, stitched up family. And then she walked in breezy and fierce, like she’d just come off a battlefield with coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. “You must be Tim,” she said, giving me a once over like she could see right through to my spine. “You eat?”

I hadn’t. She fixed a plate, sat with me, asked me about everything except my parents. I had just lost them at the time and that’s when I got it. Why Dick lights up around her. Why Jason will move heaven and earth to fix her sink. She’s home. Not the kind with walls and Wi-Fi. The kind with presence. With knowing how to say just the right thing without ever saying too much. With safety, and warmth, and late night soup and hair ruffles and sitting on fire escapes even when the kid next to you’s got blood on his boots. I think that’s why even Bruce… softens around her. She’s the one person who makes him feel safe.

When she got her first daughter, you can tell something changed in her. Cass didn’t talk much. Not in the early days. She was quiet in the way shadows were quiet always there, always watching, always slipping through cracks without a sound. Most people assumed she just didn’t want to talk. Or couldn’t. But I saw it different.

Cass spoke just not with her mouth. She spoke with her hands, her eyes, the way she’d tense or soften when you entered a room. But with her? With Mom?

Cass bloomed.

She’d lean on her shoulder when they sat on the couch. She’d grab her hand subtle, small, but full of meaning and lead her to the garden out back just to sit in the sun. I watched Cass laugh once, like actually laugh, cheeks lifted and eyes crinkled. I didn’t even know she could laugh like that. But it was because Mom had made some dumb joke about a rogue penguin at the zoo stealing someone’s purse. Cas used to flinch at affection. Now, she hugged her. Without hesitation. Leaned into her side. Signed things with soft smiles and the rare, quiet “Love you,” if no one else was around. She didn’t even say that to Bruce. Not really. But Mom? Mom got everything.

She knew how to talk to her. Never pressed. Never coddled. Just existed beside her with a kind of understanding that didn’t require words. I think Cass clung to that someone who didn’t need her to be anything but herself. Someone who didn’t treat her like a porcelain weapon. I’d never seen Cass so… safe. So full.

Then there was Damian. God. When Bruce brought him to the manor, I thought maybe we’d finally seen the worst of it. Turns out a ten year old assassin with an ego the size of Arkham was the cherry on top.

From the minute Damian showed up, he was a walking migraine. Arrogant. Condescending. Entitled in the way only someone born and bred to believe they were superior could be. But the worst part? He was cruel to her.

Not in the loud, tantrum way kids can be cruel. No. Damian was sharp. Precise. Calculated. His insults were surgical targeted and clean like a blade to the gut. “I don’t see the point in you,” he said once, arms crossed in the foyer, looking her dead in the eye. “You’re not my mother. You’ll never be her. Father had real women in his life before you.”

It wasn’t the first time he said it. Wouldn’t be the last. she….God, she just took it. Not because she agreed. Not because she was weak. But because that’s who she is. She let him be angry. Let him lash out. Let him burn himself on her because she knew what was underneath it all. But I saw it. I saw the way her shoulders slumped when she turned away. The way she stirred her tea a little too long in the kitchen. The way she lingered in front of Bruce’s old pictures of Talia that he put up for Damien. didn’t touch them, didn’t say anything, but looked like someone standing in a war zone, wondering if the ruins were prettier than she’d ever be. She never said it aloud. Never asked if she measured up. But we all knew the weight she carried. Bruce’s past wasn’t just shadows it was legacies. Legacies she was never meant to compete with. And Damian made sure she felt that.

I don’t know when that started to change. Maybe when she helped patch him up after his first solo patrol and didn’t say a word about the busted ribs. Maybe when she sat in the library and helped him with his handwriting because even deadly assassins have messy cursive. Or maybe it was when she found his sketchbook. hid it from everyone else, never mentioned it, just left him new pencils on his desk with a quiet, “You’re very talented.”

He stopped being so sharp after that. Still rude. Still Damian. But less… venomous. Like the poison had burned itself out and he was left kind of confused by the fact that she was still there. Because she always was. For all of us.

And then there’s me. The extra. The late one. I was never brought in because Bruce wanted to be a father. I was brought in because I figured out his secrets and then wormed my way into the cave, into the suit, into the family. I don’t know if I was ever really meant to be here. Not the way the others were. Me? I had parents. Not great ones. But they were there… until they weren’t. I didn’t grow up in an alley, or a pit, or the League. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I feel so… replaceable. But she never made me feel that way. She saw me. She knew I overworked myself. Knew I never slept. Knew I spiraled when I wasn’t useful. And instead of pushing me to be better or telling me to slow down, she just… met me where I was. Once, I found a note in my backpack. Folded between mission plans.

“Youre the most amazing boy that i know, You my boy are going to do amazing things. I love you so much!!”

I never told her I found it. But I kept it. Still have it, tucked into my journal like armor.

I don’t know if any of us would’ve survived this family without her. Bruce taught us how to fight. How to fall and get back up. But she taught us how to rest. How to breathe. How to love without blood and history binding us. She fixed all of us. Bit by bit. Even when we didn’t know we were breaking. I don’t feel broken enough to deserve that kind of care. But she gave it anyway. Because that’s who she is. Because she was always there.

I heard her once, talking on the phone to someone. Maybe a friend. Maybe a source. “They’re not mine by blood,” she said. “But God help the world if they ever needed me. I’d burn down Gotham to protect any one of them.” That’s when I knew she meant me, too. if I had to tell this story about the Batfamily, about the ones who wear masks and hide pain and throw themselves into the fire night after night I’d start with her. Because Batman might have saved Gotham but she saved us.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

Tim closes the journal with a soft thump, fingers lingering on the worn leather cover. His hand hovers just a second longer before pulling away. The room feels too quiet now like his thoughts are echoing louder without the scratch of his pen to distract him.

He pushes the chair back, the legs creaking on the old hardwood floors, and stands. His back cracks. How long had he been writing? Hours maybe. It’s dark out, the kind of heavy Gotham dark that presses against the windows like it wants in. The manor groans quietly in the silence, pipes murmuring and the wind brushing tree branches against the windows like fingers tapping to be let inside.

He walks out of his room, bare feet soft on the carpet as he pads through the hallway. The air feels heavier at night in the manor. Like all the ghosts that live in the walls are finally breathing.

I turned the corner after walking mindlessly and stared. There you were.

Back facing towards me, wearing one of those oversized, faded shirts Bruce always swore he didn’t miss. Standing in front of the stove, hair pulled up, humming something under your breath as you stirred with a wooden spoon like you were crafting alchemy and not just soup. And beside you, leaning against the counter, arms folded but eyes softer than I’d seen in weeks. Jason. He wasn’t wearing his jacket. Which was rare. His boots were off. Rarer. And he was smiling. Not the cocky half grin he used when he was about to pick a fight, but something quieter. Warmer. Something like a son sitting in the only place in the world where he felt safe.

You said something to him I couldn’t hear what but you reached up on your toes and smoothed his hair out of his eyes like he was five. He rolled his eyes, said something sarcastic, but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it. that was when Alfred walked by, hands behind his back, chin tilted slightly in amusement as he passed me. “You know the rule, Master Timothy,” he said, low enough not to disturb the moment in the kitchen. “She is the only one allowed in there. The rest of you have forfeited that right after the last… incident.”

I groaned.

“That was Damian’s fault,” I hissed back.

He raised a brow. “Was it Damian’s idea to flambé a Pop Tart?”

“Okay. Fine. That part might’ve been me.”

It was one of our dumbest ideas maybe not the dumbest, but it’s a crowded race. It started with a challenge. Damian, fresh off a smug streak and newly obsessed with culinary documentaries, claimed that my “American palate” had “eroded my taste and motor skills.” I told him I could cook circles around him. Neither of us could cook.

It escalated quickly. An Iron Chef style duel. Secret ingredient: eggs. Only, I dropped mine. Three times. Damian misread the baking powder as flour. Then I panicked and tried to “smoke” the scrambled eggs for flavor using a packet of incense from the guest room and a lighter.

Within ten minutes, the fire alarm was going off, Alfred had activated the emergency sprinklers, and the kitchen looked like something between a crime scene and a culinary apocalypse. Mom was the one to find us.

Standing soaked, flour covered, blinking through smoke. Damian holding a spatula like a sword. Me covered in what I hoped was yolk. You didn’t yell. That’s the worst part. You just… looked at us. Long and hard. Then let out a breath, pinched the bridge of your nose, and said, “Alfred, I assume this is why you told me to ban them from the kitchen.”

“Indeed, madam,” he replied grimly.

And that was that. Kitchen rights revoked. Except for you. Always you.

Now I stood there in the hallway, watching you and Jason from the doorway, unseen. He was telling you about something he saw on patrol a gang trying to smuggle rare books, of all things. You were laughing, that full body laugh that makes your shoulders shake and your eyes close, like the world could still be beautiful if you just tried hard enough. And Jason?

He was drinking it in. Like he’d been starved of this kind of love for years. Ever since he came back, you were different around him. Not overly careful like Bruce. Not tense like some of us had been. You just loved him. Loudly. Freely. kisses to the temple, touching his shoulders like you had to convince yourself he was still solid. Like you had to remind him that he was still wanted. Jason never said it but he melted under it. His edges dulled. His anger slipped. When you held him, when you gave him that smile that said “you’re home,” he softened. He belonged.

I swallowed hard. Stepped back, just a bit. Let the shadows take me. Because I’d never had that. Not in the same way. You loved me I knew that. But it wasn’t the same kind of fierce, smothering love. And maybe that was fair. I wasn’t broken in the way Jason was. Not born in blood like Damian. Not carved out of grief like Dick. Not silenced like Cass.

I was just… me. Smart. Quiet. Stable, mostly. I’d always felt like a thread sewn into someone else’s tapestry. Useful. Strong, even. But not the reason anyone stayed warm. in moments like this seeing Jason melt under your hands, seeing you pour every ounce of your soul into making him feel alive I couldn’t help but wonder if I was ever going to fit here. So I stepped away from the kitchen door.

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

The house was quiet again. The kind of quiet that only happens after everyone’s gone to bed or pretended to. I was curled up in the corner of the library, one leg slung over the arm of the chair, a thick old book cracked open across my lap. It wasn’t for patrol or mission planning. Just something to read. Something to fill the quiet so I didn’t have to think too much.

It was peaceful, until muffled voices filled the room. I blinked, tilting my head just enough to catch the low murmur threading in from the hallway. At first, I thought maybe Bruce had wandered into the Batcave again, but then I heard my moms voice. Whispering like someone trying not to wake a sleeping baby. Bruce responded, and you both laughed, low and secretive. I rolled my eyes and went back to my page.

I stopped caring about that kind of thing a long time ago. You and Bruce were always, in a word, gross about each other. Not the clingy, PDA gross… well yes the clingy PDA way but the kind where he’d brush your cheek mid conversation like it was instinct. Or the way you’d make him coffee without asking, and he’d pass you reports to look at because he trusted your opinion more than the board’s. It was… sincere. Intimate. Kind of annoying, honestly, when you were trying to eat cereal and Bruce kissed your temple like it was some kind of reflex.

But it was comforting too. Something solid. I was just starting to lose myself in the book again when

“Boo.”

“GAH!”

I launched the book about a foot into the air and nearly twisted my entire spine trying to figure out what demon had possessed the room. My heart rocketed into my throat as I whipped around, hand halfway to a batarang that wasn’t even on me. You stood there, grinning ear to ear.

“Tim,” you cooed, covering your mouth to stifle a laugh, “you should’ve seen your face oh my god, I think you levitated.”

“I almost hit you with Tolstoy!” I hissed, breath still catching up to my body. “Don’t sneak up on a guy in this house! I was ready to throw hands with a ghost.”

“Well,” you teased, “if it was a ghost, you’d be the only one I’d trust to outsmart it.”

I gave you a flat look, still massaging my neck. You sobered a little, stepping forward and tapping the top of my head gently. “Come on, kiddo. There’s something we want to show you. In the dining room.”

I blinked. “We?”

“I’m here too,” came Bruce’s voice from the hallway, in that terrible deep gravel whisper he clearly thought was somehow sneaky. You and I both turned to look at him as he peeked around the corner, trying very hard and failing to look inconspicuous.

I squinted at him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly.

You sighed and gently smacked his chest. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m building intrigue,” Bruce said with what I assumed was supposed to be a straight face. “It’s part of the plan”

“You’re ruining the surprise,” you whispered, dragging a hand down your face.

“There’s a surprise?” I asked slowly, eyes darting between the two of you.

Bruce’s expression didn’t change, but I could see the micro tension in his brow. He was lying. For the world’s greatest detective, the man couldn’t lie to his children to save his life. Every time he tried, he got this weird stiffness, like someone who’d never used human emotions before. You groaned again and took my wrist gently. “Come on. Just come to the dining room. Please?”

I stood up slowly, abandoning my book on the chair. “What’s going on?” I asked again, warier now. “Is this, like… an intervention? Did Damian break into the Tower again?”

“Nope.”

“Did Jason get arrested for vigilante loitering?”

“Not this week.”

“Are you going to make me touch grass?”

You snorted. “God, no.”

I sighed. “Alright. But if this is a trap, I want it on record that i died saying my parents were weird.”

Bruce just grunted. So I followed them. These two weird, overly affectionate, semi cryptic parents of mine one with crows’ feet from smiling too much and the other still pretending he didn’t smile at all. Down the hallway. Toward the dining room. Still completely, utterly confused.

The hallway to the dining room wasn’t long. It just felt long. Partially because Bruce was still trying to act like this wasn’t suspicious at all, and you kept elbowing him in the ribs every few steps. Partially because my nerves were starting to twitch under my skin. mostly because I could hear whisper yelling coming from the dining room.

“I said put the banner up, not strangle the chandelier with it!”

“That wasn’t me! It was Damian! He climbed up there!”

“I was fixing your poor attempt at symmetry, Grayson!”

“Why is the pie we made lopsided Jason what did you do to the pie?”

“It’s good. Shut up.”

“You burned it.”

“I call it caramelized flavor.”

“…It smells like regret.”

“Can someone…. Cass, what are you doing with the glitter glue?!”

“Decoration.”

I paused just outside the door and looked up at Bruce and you with raised eyebrows. You just smiled softly and gave a little shrug, while Bruce tried to maintain whatever shred of dignity he had left. It wasn’t working.

You both looked so stupidly in love standing like that his arm around your waist, yours looped casually around his. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like this was normal. Like this whatever chaos was waiting behind the doors was ours.

Bruce leaned in toward the doorframe like he was assessing a mission room, and I swear I saw his eye twitch.

“I gave them very simple instructions,” he muttered.

You patted his chest. “Your children are as smart and emotionally constipated as their dad”

The door swung open before anyone could knock. Dick stood there with his usual too big grin and remnants of glitter on his cheek like war paint. “Timmy! You’re late to your own surprise party!”

“It’s not my birthday?”

“Not that kind of surprise party!” he said, reaching out to drag me in with too much enthusiasm. “It’s Appreciation Day!”

“That’s… not a real holiday.”

“Sure it is,” said Jason, appearing from behind a mess of mismatched plates and aluminum foil wrapped disasters. “We just made it real. Sit down, Nerd Boy.”

Cass waved from the head of the table with a little toothy smile. Damian was on a chair next to her, arms crossed, already pouting like he hadn’t been helping just ten minutes ago.

The table was atrocious like someone had thrown a home economics final exam and a kindergarten arts and crafts project into a blender. The centerpiece was a crooked sign that said “WE APPRECIATE YOU” in bold, messy handwriting (clearly Dick’s). There was glitter on everything. The cups didn’t match. The pie looked like it’d been in a fight. it was perfect. All of it.

Dishes were stacked, uneven and mismatched. Cookies were slightly burnt on one side. Jason’s so called “caramelized” pie was visibly cracked. Cass had made what looked like finger sandwiches shaped into little bats. Even Damian had contributed begrudgingly with a plate of sliced fruit that had been carved into vaguely threatening shapes.

And in the middle of it all was a small card in your handwriting.

Tim,

We know things have been hard.

We know it sometimes feels like you’re overlooked.

But you’re not. Not here.

You’re brilliant. You’re loved. You’re ours.

Love,

Your Family (a bunch of idiots, but yours)

I couldn’t speak. Not really. Because what was there to say? This… this wasn’t some big show. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. it was for me. I glanced down the table.

Dick was beaming and already scooting over to make room for me. Jason was pretending not to look at me too hard, but his expression was softer than usual. Cass gave me a small nod, the kind that said more than words. Damian looked away when our eyes met but I could see the tiniest hint of awkward approval in the way he pushed a napkin toward the empty seat beside him. I took it. Quietly. Still blinking a little too fast. I didn’t cry. I didn’t. But I felt it thick in my chest. That weight. That feeling. Because my biological parents had never done anything like this. They didn’t see me, not really. I was a project. A prodigy. An obligation. But you and Bruce, in his awkward gruff way you saw me. You made this happen. I looked up once more and saw you and Bruce still standing near the door. Arms still around each other. Watching. Bruce’s eyes met mine. He gave the smallest nod. You just smiled. I mattered here. not always loudly. not in the same way the others did. But I mattered. And this this was home.

[readwritealldayallnight]

I am obsessed with your page and EQUALLY excited for part two to the coffee-place-stalker-fic !!!

I saw your requests were open and was wondering if I could request Simon with a teacher!reader? Maybe he’s helping her with crafts for Valentine’s Day or hes back from deployment and surprises her at school?

Just something wholesome and fluffy?

Thank you🩷

Part two of the coffee place stalker fic

~~~~~

“Well, what should we do-”

“It doesn’t look like he’s got anything with him-”

“Definitely not any parent I recognize-”

“Do we go into lockdown? Or safe school-”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong, I mean he’s just standing there-”

“Yes, but why is he standing there-”

“Hi ladies.” You murmur, walking into the staff room you notice a group of your coworkers huddled up around the window, peering intently outside at something

It’s not often that anything going on outside of the staff room during recess could be important enough to pull their attention away from the food they have 20 minutes to scarf down before they’re back to caring for other people offspring, those issues are precisely why the board hires lunch monitors

But apparently whatever is happening outside in the school parking lot is interesting enough to have nearly half a dozen of your colleagues poking their heads between the blinds to catch a glimpse, pre packed lunches and yesterdays leftovers forgotten

“There’s some weird man standing in the parking lot.” One of the younger teachers says, pulling the dusty blinds back for another not so subtle peek

“What’s he doing?” One of the schools educational assistants asks, having come in just behind you

“Nothing. Just standing there, this whole time.” The math teacher shrugs, never moving her eyes off the window

“Well how long’s he been out there?”

“Mrs Ashton says she first saw him almost a quarter of an hour ago, just before the bell rang.”

“We’re sure he’s not a parent?” One of the newer student teachers poses the question

“Well, no. But he certainly doesn’t like any of our parents.”

“He’s not done anything wrong, technically. Just odd that he’s lingering like that.”

“You don’t think the mask is odd as well?”

At that last remark from your colleagues, your head perks up, glancing towards the gaggle still gathered by the glass

“Has anyone told the vice principal yet? Maybe we should-”

“That’s aright, actually.” You say with a sigh, peering out the window for the first time and confirming your suspicions. “That one’s mine.”

You’re pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as the wind whips your hair all about, shaking your head in playful disbelief, but the smile stretching across your face cannot hide your delight in seeing him as you walk closer

“Okay, no more mask when you drop off my lunches from now on.” You tease, finally stepping near enough to see the slightly crinkled paper bag sat in the passenger seat of his truck

“Well maybe if someone didn’t forget her lunch, wouldn’t ’ave to be in this situation, would we?” He teases right back, both of you knowing very well that Simon lives for these small, mundane moments when he’s off from deployment, able to drop you off and pick you up from work, bring you lunches, have dinner ready when you get home, the small things that might seem tedious and boring to others, he lives for, knowing he gets to do them with you

“Well maybe if someone didn’t keep me in bed for an extra half hour this morning and had me rushing for work-”

“Don’t remember hearin’ many complaints this mornin’ about that extra half hour you spent bouncing on my c-”

The sound of the school bell ringing cuts him off, the both of you letting out small chuckles before you’re standing up on tip toes, reaching to give him a quick peck on the cheek over his mask, his large gloved hand giving your waist a slight squeeze before he tells you he’ll be around to pick you up soon as the dismissal bell goes off

You tell him that if he makes your favourite for dinner tonight, you might have dessert ready for him back in bed afterwards, an idea which the glimmer in his eyes tells you he’s more than okay with

You’re still grinning to yourself, walking back towards the front doors with your sack lunch held tightly in hand, when you send a quick wink to the now even larger crowd of colleagues watching you from the window

———

Thank you so much for the sweet words and the suggestion! I hope you’re okay with the way I took this lil prompt

I’m hoping to have stalker/fluff Simon posted by the end of the week, I’ve changed and edited that story more times than I can remember now, I just really want it right before it’s out there!

- M 🫶🏻