#so ‘ perfect ‘ ( more like perfect FUCK UP but I am too so! )
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Patreon Commission for anon
Request: something with an orc and a female human? Something fantasy-based, maybe human owns a tavern? I'd be fine with whatever you thought worked though!
A/N: Sorry this is kind of late, life is hectic. Enjoy!
Kissing an orc
Orc x fem!reader || accidental exhibitionism, oral sex, groping
You are kneading the bread for the next day when the knock on the door startles you. “Your favorite orc is hereeeee,” your annoying naga helper sing-songs to you. You shush them in your way to the door, signaling them to stop or you’ll kill them. They chuckle and disappear to the front, a broom already on their hands. Good, at least they would stop being a little shit while they do the tavern cleaning.
You open the door and have to swallow a gasp. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him, it always amazes you how fucking beautiful he is. All giant, towering over you, with his beautiful olive skin and big tusks framing his appetizing mouth. Good goddess you’d give all your gold to be able to kiss him at least once to know how that mouth would feel against yours.
“Hi- hi,” you stutter. You chastise yourself, trying to act composed, but suddenly your skin feels too hot and your breathing is pushing your boobs a bit too forward.
“What was all that about? Am I your favorite orc? Do you know more orcs?” He looks so confused and adorable you want to pinch his cheek, but also kiss him senseless.
You look at him completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”
“Yes?” You aren’t sure if it’s a question or an affirmative.
You take a deep breath, thinking about all the possible possibilities of what you are about to do, but you are so fucking tired. You want to know, and if it goes wrong, you can always change hunters and find a new person or monster to bring you fresh meat for your tavern every day, right? Yeah. You can probably find somebody else, but you can’t wait more time to know how do his lips taste.
You stare into his beautiful dark eyes and answer truthfully: “Of course you are my favorite orc, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months.”
“What?” He looks so surprised you want to laugh, but the nervousness in your stomach prevents you to do anything. “But, but… I asked and you didn’t… you didn’t…” He takes a deep breath and starts again. “I asked you to meet me for breakfast and you said you had to work. I asked you if you wanted coffee and said you had to work.” As soon as he says that, you can remember a few other times he asked you for coffee or lunch or some snack and you always refused because you thought he did it just because he was nice, not because he was interested. Were you really that obvious?
You look at him, your face mirroring his surprise. “Oh.”
“You are just too cute for your own good, damn it.” He doesn’t wait for your answer before his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you breathless. “We could have been doing this for a long time if you just said so,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again.
Kissing an orc is even better than you imagined. His tusks frame your mouth perfectly and his lips are way softer than expected. He is perfect and you can’t even comprehend what he’s doing when he crouches and grabs your ass, pulling you up and walking inside, the deer he caught today left there, forgotten.
He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and before you know it your ass is over a table and he’s kissing your neck, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. His hands are everywhere, tracing the edge of your corset, caressing your back and groping your ass over the skirt of your dress. His hands fit under the skirt and he goes up and up until his hand is over your center and you are panting, his mouth hot against your pulse point as he touches your vulnerable place.
He caresses your legs over your underpants and asks: “Can I?” His lips move against your neck when he talks and you have to suppress a tremor.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, already pulling the skirt of your dress up to your waist as he pulls down your underpants, kissing your leg along the way.
“Have somebody ever…?” He doesn’t have to say it, you know what he means. You aren’t a blushing virgin, but you never had enough trust in anyone to let them… kiss you there.
“I never… Nobody ever… Not there,” you try to explain.
He gets it instantly, kissing your mouth until your brain is far away from your worries and his dexterous fingers find your pearl, flickering it and making you bite down on his lip. He groans and you giggle against his lips, he kneels on the floor in front of you and goes for it.
You moan very loudly as inexplicably pleasure breaks through your body, making you throw your head back and arch your back in an arch that leaves your boobs about to spill over your corset. You are sure it looks sinful from his position, but when you open your eyes the only thing you see is his face still buried between your legs, your thighs pressing against the sides of his head so strongly you are worried you are going to hurt him, but his pleased sounds are good enough to make you groan again.
You cover your mouth to avoid screaming his name as his tongue does wonders around your lucky pearl, his tusks framing your pussy in a way that leaves you breathless and ready for more at the same time. It’s wonderful and marvelous and all the adjectives you can’t even comprehend as he sucks and licks your hot center, dragging all kinds of sounds out of you.
You’ve never felt that kind of pleasure, and as it starts to peak, you don’t know what to do with all of it. You grab his hair and pull, making him grunt as his fingers dig into your hips where he’s holding you still. You are messing up his braid, but you can’t care about it as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue. It’s the most intense experience of your life and when the pleasure hits its peak, you have to bite down on your hand to avoid the cry that was about to leave your mouth.
He licks you through it, until your legs are trembling around his head and your pussy is pulsating in time with your heartbeat. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps milking all the pleasure out of you with such frantic need that you can’t do anything but match it. When your second orgasm hits you, the first one was still there, joining in the middle in the biggest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt.
He kisses your pussy and your highs, not trying to make you untie your legs from around his head. His tender caresses are a contrast with the frantic devouring he just did, but it’s the best kind of contrast. You are still breathing hard and he’s still on the floor in front of you licking you clean when the door to the tavern opens with a screech.
“Dude! That’s where I make the bread!” The annoying naga screams as he opens the door just in time to see him kissing your pussy one last time.
#patreon commission#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#monster x human#monster x reader#teratophillia#terato#monster boyfriend#monster fuqqer#monster kink#monster love#monster lover#monster romance#monster smut#monster x you#monsterfucker#monsterfucking nsft#orc#orc x human#orc x you#orc x reader
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Wait going off the idea that Athena keeps things from her favorite people:
What does diomedes give her?
#epic the musical#The odyssey#Greek myths#Athena#Diomedes#On one hand I would love to see diomedes gifts up on the same shelf of odysseus's carvings#But on the other hand diomedes and Athena have a much more traditional mentor relationship#Verse her absolutely batshit insane relationship she has with odysseus and the love she has for the rest of the family#And diomedes prays /interacts with Athena in a much more traditional way too#So I imagine he gives her proper sacrifices instead of yeeting random wood carvings at her#Maybe this is something that happens later in life for diomedes after he's retired and founded a couple cities#He finally has time to 1. Discover what he actually likes to do and 2. For his relationship with Athena to soften into actual friendship#Diomedes (now forty): carefully placing his first actual gift (instead of sacrifice) on Athens alter#Diomedes: goddess Athena i hope this indulgence is okay. I made this for you as a gift for all the time you have spent helping me#Diomedes: now that my fighting is done i hope you will grace me with you presence from time to time. Thank you goddess for everything.#Athena: who didn't realize she was upset that her and Dios relationship never developed into friendship until this second#Athena: clutching the gift to her chest and using quick thought to scream internally#Athena: voice cracking : It's FINE#(Later Athena dragging odysseus from his bed at 3 am screaming at full volume diomedes finally gave me a gift#He's never given you a gift proof that he likes me better than you get fucked#And then disappears before odysseus can retort because she has to spend hours finding the perfect place for her gift)
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OUR PATHS | 11. dubs in the chat (wc: 1k) cw: mentions of cheating
JAEMIN arrived at your room within five minutes of your request, carrying a handful of your favorite snacks and the little comfort items he’d used with you the last time a storm had kept you up. as he took off his slippers, settled in, and began prepping a quick late-night meal using the dinky hotel kettle, you couldn’t help but feel your heart melt the tiniest bit. not only had he taken you up on your offer to come by, but he’d also remembered exactly what you needed on nights like this.
you both ate the instant ramen he brought over, the two of you sitting on the edge of your bed. the silence between you felt heavy, like there were words piling up but no clear path forward. yet, the ramen was almost too good for midnight, and in its own way, it helped ease the tension. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, but this was exactly what you needed. his quiet, steady presence and his little gestures of thoughtfulness, even after all this time, still made a difference.
after a few moments, you noticed jaemin watching you as you finished your last bites, a pensive look in his eyes. suddenly, he spoke, his voice almost catching, as if the words were slipping out against his own will. “i’m sorry. and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”
your eyes widened slightly, not expecting the conversation to start like this—or even tonight at all. you tried to brush it off, hoping to avoid the inevitable heartache that you knew this talk would bring. “is this what you’ve been meaning to say the past few days? you already apologized, no?”
jaemin shook his head softly, his gaze still fixed on you. “y/n, you know that’s different... why do you keep trying to push me away?”
you took a deep breath, focusing on the ground, summoning the strength to finally open this door back up. “you really broke my heart, do you know that?”
his voice was quiet but determined. “let me be the one to put it back together, y/n, please. i really am sorry for everything. i’m sorry i didn’t get to show you how much you meant to me when i had the chance.”
a beat of silence passed, and you took a shaky breath. “do you even want to tell me why you left? because you never did. you left without saying goodbye, and that fucking sucked. i wish you would’ve at least broken up with me in person.”
jaemin’s shoulders tensed as he processed your words, his face contorted with regret. “i know. and, god, i am incredibly sorry. i know this is all still confusing and frustrating for you, but you have to know i never stopped loving you. i still love you. i just... i needed to figure things out about myself.” he paused, as if bracing himself, then continued. “a couple of days before i sent that text, i ran into my ex on a work trip.” he laughed bitterly. “it seems like I’m always running into my exes…”
he continued on,”i don’t know if you remember, because i barely mentioned her when we were together, but we were together for a long time, and she cheated on me. our relationship was messy and toxic, and she left me with a lot of trust issues and self-doubt.”
jaemin’s voice faltered briefly, but he continued. “when i saw her, i found out she’d actually signed up for the work event on purpose, just to give me ‘closure.’ but instead of helping, it brought back everything. it was like i was reliving all of it—how we ended, how messed up that relationship was. it made me realize that i hadn’t really dealt with any of it, and that i’d brought all that baggage into what we had. i needed to work through it, but i thought that would hurt you more than just ending it.”
he looked up at you, his eyes pleading. “how could i love you properly if i hated myself so much?”
your voice was barely a whisper. “but why didn’t you just tell me all of that, jaemin? i didn’t want perfect. i wanted you.”
“i know,” he replied, the weight of his guilt clear in his expression. “i shouldn’t have just left without even attempting to have a conversation. but after what she put me through, i didn’t want to put you through the same thing. i didn’t want you to feel like you had to deal with my issues for me. and, knowing you… you would’ve done just that. you would’ve sacrificed your needs and happiness for me, and i’d been in that exact position before. it always ends badly.”
the room fell silent as his words hung in the air. finally, jaemin continued, his voice softer. “i regretted it as soon as i sent that message, though. i tried to reach out, to fix things, but you blocked me on everything. i even tried to see you in person, but… ryujin told me to stay away.”
you let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “oh god… ryujin… of course.”
he hesitated on his next words, but ultimately pushed through it. “i know it’s not enough to make up for what i did. i know it’s not going to change how much i hurt you. but i need you to know that i really am here, and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”
your eyes locked onto his, the vulnerability in them matching your own. “you hurt me, jaemin. and i don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to get past that.”
he nodded, his gaze dropping. “i get it. and if you want me to back off, i will. but if there’s even a small part of you that wants to give this another try, then… let me prove that i’ve changed.”
after a long moment, you finally whispered, “i’ll forgive you, jaemin.” you lowered your voice even more, “i-i still love you too.” jaemin perked up at that note. “but i need you to really show me that you mean it. prove to me that you love me the way you say you do.”
his eyes softened with a glimmer of hope. “i will. whatever it takes.”
the storm outside continued, but somehow, you felt a little more grounded.
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NOTES | omfg sorry friends i've been so busy but mayhaps this hella long and long awaited chapter is worth it!!!! TAGLIST (open!) | @polarisjisung @tommina @luvv4bby @222low @luluvhs @spideykeyring @dudekiss3r @sunghoonsgfreal @jeonghansshitester @injunnie-lemon @eternallyhyucks @njmluvr @n0hyuck @junviadinho @hyunnies-world @hahaechans @p4tyaraujo @baeseungcheolie @untilthesunrises @lotties-readings @mango-bear @angelicaleex @jungaji @luvvhaechan @lionzyon @y4wnjunz @luvandletter @applejaem @pikibell @keeryverse @botchedbrat @mystverse @t-102 @skzfairies @andyprkmyluv @gomdoleemyson
bold = couldn't tag
#jaemin x reader#jaemin texts#jaemin fluff#jaemin imagines#jaemin smau#jaemin angst#na jaemin x reader#jaemin imagine#jaemin scenarios#na jaemin#jaemin#nct dream#nct dream scenarios#nct dream texts#nct dream x reader#nct dream smau#isa writes ✍️#loml <3#fic: our paths 🐇
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[present jo note: read this last night with my notes app open so i could go annotating hope u don’t mind i wrote a lot :p]
if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms
wooo, just as im in my romcom watching era. perfect 🥳🫶
James was nothing to fawn over.
?! ?! ?! ?!?!2€/ ?!;@/€:@
"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.
"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold,"
YOU WERENT FUCKING LYING THIS IS SO ROM COM GAAAAAH
"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?"
this made me giggle teehEe
"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.
i would murder him. my face would be so red
"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"
"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.
"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.
ilovethemilovethemilovethem
thinking of u :P <3
GODDDD WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE JAMES POTTER NOT BEING REAL
"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."
giggling and crying all at the same time
"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.
"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"
😔😭🥳✨💗👹 i cant
11k WORDS? WERE BEING FED FOLKS. i feel like a squirrel with her supply of nuts for the winter HAHSH WHAT AM I SAYING SOMEONE SHUT ME UP (preferably james potter and with a kiss thanks)
summary: loved this, gia. it was very rom-com, very cutesy 💗🫶✨
our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader
wc: 11,151
cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing
info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc
me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL
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"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"
If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.
"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.
"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.
You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.
He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.
The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.
"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.
"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."
"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.
"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.
"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.
You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.
"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.
"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"
"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.
Both men laughed at your plight.
"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.
"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.
"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.
James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.
"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"
"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."
James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.
James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.
You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.
Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.
You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.
Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.
"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.
"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.
"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.
"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."
"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.
"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.
"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.
"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.
A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.
That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.
He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.
When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.
"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.
"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.
"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.
When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.
"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).
"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.
You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.
"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.
"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.
You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.
Of course, nothing good lasts.
"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.
"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.
"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.
Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.
On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.
You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.
"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.
"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.
You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.
James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.
"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.
"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."
"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.
"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.
"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.
"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."
"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."
"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."
You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.
"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.
"Then sleep with me."
"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.
"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.
"Fine."
Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.
You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?
He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.
"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.
"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.
The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.
The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.
You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.
Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.
That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.
"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.
"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.
As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.
You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.
You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.
"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.
THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT
And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.
You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.
"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.
"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"
"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.
The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.
"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."
Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.
You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.
"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.
"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.
"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."
"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"
"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.
He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.
At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.
"Thought you hated her, mate."
"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."
"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.
"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.
He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.
His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.
"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.
He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.
Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.
Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).
Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.
You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.
The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.
The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.
You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.
"Hello?"
"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.
"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.
"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."
"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."
"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."
"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.
"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.
"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.
"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.
"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.
"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."
"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.
"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.
"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."
"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."
"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.
You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.
You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.
The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.
It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.
Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.
Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.
The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.
You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.
"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.
"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.
"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.
"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"
"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.
"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.
He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.
"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.
"As if you read my pieces."
"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."
"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.
"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"
James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.
This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.
"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.
"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.
"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.
"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.
"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.
"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."
And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.
Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.
James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.
It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.
The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.
"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.
"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.
"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.
"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"
"But--"
"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."
"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.
You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.
In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.
"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.
As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.
thinking of u :P <3
You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.
Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.
First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.
The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.
The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.
"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.
FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL
Fuck. That could not be worse.
The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.
You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.
"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.
"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.
"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."
How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.
The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.
You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.
You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.
"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.
"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.
"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.
"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.
"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.
"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.
You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.
Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.
Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.
You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.
Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.
It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.
You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.
The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.
You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.
"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.
"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."
"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.
A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:
How a woman always loses.
You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.
When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.
"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.
"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.
"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."
"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."
"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.
"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.
"What about him?"
"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"
"Yet," Marlene interrupted.
"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.
"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."
"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."
You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.
The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.
Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.
On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.
It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.
On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.
Instead, it was actually Remus.
"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.
"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.
"Just do it. Two o'clock."
"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"
"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.
"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.
"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.
Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.
The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.
James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.
"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.
"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.
"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.
"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."
What the hell was happening?
"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.
"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."
Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.
"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.
"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"
The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.
You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.
The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.
"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.
"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"
"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.
"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.
"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"
"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."
You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.
"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"
You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.
When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.
The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.
You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.
Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.
#jo’s readings ◡̈#james potter x reader#gia <3#i did not know what chess boxing was wth bog snorkeling either ?? cheese rolling ??
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Deadpool / Wolverine x reader | Domestic headcanons
I am legitimately moments from collapse so I will cope. Again. Domestic headcanons!!
Can't lie to y'all I'm a big fan of the poolverine x reader poly trope so. This is all made with that in mind.
Words: 950
♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡
Wade > Will make you food sometimes to cheer you up, but it's just straight childish. Hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream and chocolate shavings, a stack of pancakes (a full foot taller than it needs to be) with yet another mountain of whipped cream and syrup, the type of stuff you only expect in some old cartoon > Comes home with the DUMBEST socks. You have to physically pull him away from those stores that specialize in funky socks. He came home with 5 different hero themed socks once (One was him, obviously. He had a wolverine one, Spiderman, Thor, and one pair of Jesus socks whom he claimed was also a superhero) > Butterfly kiss bandit. One kiss is NEVER enough for this asshole. At the least, if you dare try to give him one (1) kiss on the lips before going somewhere, he follows you when you pull away. Does that make sense? Like, you kiss him and as you're pulling away he'll follow to press another kiss, and however many he can get in before you're actually pushing him away. > Or Logan has to punch him to get his own kiss in > So annoying. If you spend too long without giving him attention, you can't expect to work on ANYTHING alone > Laying on your lap when you sit to work, draping himself over you if you stand up to work on something, practically a blanket if you're laying down to work on something > Very thoughtful gift giver though. Maybe he can't always afford some expensive gift, but, he always comes back from cheap stores (Dollar tree, Salvation Army, that strange family owned second hand store that Logan swears smells like blood somewhere) with something strangely catered to you. Funny trinket weirdly related to a story you told about one you'd seen in a store back on a trip out of state when you didn't have enough money and was heartbroken to come home without. A shirt that would fit perfect with those pants you just bought (he adores everything you wear and can only hope to cheer you up with more) > For SURE replaced your underwear with the dumbest merchandise you've ever seen once. I'm fully convinced. At least put it in with the rest. I can't imagine he wouldn't find some corny ass Deadpool thong and beg you to try it on. No one is sure if he just finds it funny or actually thinks it's cool.
Logan > Much more sensible when it comes to making you food. Knows how to make a good home cooked meal, some recipes he gained along the way like some grandma with a box of old stained recipe sheets > Makes tea for sure. Gruff as hell but, when he's really needed, he shows up with a hot cup. Tries to make himself all tough, like if it's been a long week. "Chamomile. Helps you calm down, or some shit." > He has pride. He might act like he's constantly annoyed by the two of you, but god forbid he seems like a bad boyfriend. Ever. > "I can hold my own bags?" "Fucking give them to me." > Like aggressively gentlemanly. Has the spirit just not the vocab > Lets Wade know if he thinks he's doing a terrible job as a boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, they love each other. They're each other's boyfriends too. But sometimes Logan feels like a glorified coach. > Wade will be particularly annoying one day, you had a LONG ass shift, and he's attention starved. You're clearly not having it, when Wade's draping himself over your shoulder while you're cooking and Jesus Christ this guy is heavy. You barely have time to react when Logan is throwing him over his shoulder lumberjack style. "Get the hell off" (He's already off, thanks to Logan) > Wade convinced him to wear a cop outfit once as a joke because of how he acts on dates and the such ('policing' wade and his behavior), but, ended up being too into it. Both of them. While still a little embarrassed, Logan could fit the role and Wade couldn't fit in his pants anymore. > Definitely tries to get you to the gym with him, however hard that is > If you like going: He just kinda tries to join you, almost lost puppy esque. If you don't, he's nearly bribing you to come along with him. I feel like he's the type to just have a little home gym though. Doesn't strike me as a public workout guy. I wouldn't know. > I'm unsure how to word this- I think he's a demanding cuddler. You are NOT in charge. He's holding you like a teddy bear, not as in like hugging- like you're his stuffy or something. You're almost unsure it counts so much as cuddling, so much as him just holding you. Does that make sense? You're near rag dolling when he cuddles with you because he just refuses to let someone else have control while cuddling, not as an insecurity thing that's just how he likes to cuddle > He will let you have control on occasion if it's clearly been a hard day. You may hold him if someone was a jerk to you today (Wade doesn't count. "you chose to let him live here instead of sleeping outside." "Hey!") > Don't try and excuse it with "I have to make breakfast" he'll just get up still holding you. Like the stubborn ass he and Wade always are. He's awkwardly holding you under your armpits (hugging you like a kid in the hallway holds their stuffy) as if that's supposed to be the optimal way to cook. Still has that gruff look the whole time btw ♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡
Hope you guys enjoyed, as always! I live to fill the heart and soothe the soul. Let me know if you guys want a part two- I may be able to crank some more out. Have a good day/night, and a great life!!
#fanfic#fanfiction#fan fiction#fiction#fan fic#comfort#help#fic writing#wolverine x reader#deadpool and wolverine#logan wolverine#wolverpool#poolverine#deadpool x y/n#deadpool 3#deadpool x you#deadpool movie#deadpool x reader#wade wilson#logan howlett#mcu deadpool#mcu wolverine
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my stardew farmer ^_^ he doesnt have a green thumb for shit so he keeps animals and does mining
some tidbits i came up with while playing hehe
reclusive and doesnt really go out of his way to talk or visit people unless its an errand. but he also doesnt try to befriend others to get something out of it, so he has a very easygoing approach to making friends. on good terms with linus and sebastian since he runs into them most often.
if he respects or takes a liking to someone, he'll greet them with miss/mister (name). if you get close to him he starts using first name basis. if he doesn't like you, he'll refer to you by your title without using your name. only a few people have caught on to this.
the farm he inherited, Milky Way Farm, was the site of a meteorite crash and sometimes you can find shards of meteor debris littered around the farm (i picked the hilltop farm bc of this lol)
lost his sweater and pants a long ass time ago and doesnt have the time to look for them, so hes been working in his sleep clothes ever since
isnt actually grandpa's real heir to the farm... ;)
#sorry i havent been getting around to artfight attacks or art of anything lately bc my pen :) decided now would be the perfect#time to fucking bail on me :))) its gen 1 apple pen too so the fucker is discontinued hate and death on plsnet earth#like it TECHNICALLY works but only if i pair and re-pair it with the ipad until it senses it and that can be up to 38 tries#even then itll suddenly stop working if i take it off the ipad for more than 10 fucking seconds so i am not having a good time. this is the#second pen that this has happened to and i dont think its my ipad or software jesus christ. whatever. ill pretend not to care so it#fixes itself faster#ANYWAY COSMO!! YEAH. STARDEW IS STUPIDLY ADDICTING. i got it during the sale but im playing it on ios rn since i#dont have steam on my pc rn. i started a new save after the first one fizzled out and i think im doing way better this time yay#its a special kind of stress when u need to be in bed and its 1:50AM but the cat is in the fucking way#i wanna make more stuff with this guy i have a lot of stuff i wanna draw for him. i have a little backstory for him in mind#ill probably make a separate post to explain it but its a very long series of misunderstandings and ouran haruhi gender fuckery#my art#myart#my oc#oc#stardew farmer#sdv farmer#sdv#stardew valley#doodles#stardew
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THEY could give me the surgurey i need (inspired alot by evojellys designs for em. GREAT STUFF)
#THE SUCKENING IS S O COOOOL GUYS VIV N VEX ARE SO FUCKING COOL AND FUNNY... CHARLIES FLAVOR OF DERANGED IS JUST#SO PERFECT FOR THIS CAMPAIGN.. I LOVE HOW HE DOES HORROR AND EVIL AND SCARY AND AAUAUUUGHGHGUUHGHG#their teeht arnt spiked like normal vampires but theyre sharp n smooth like a Beak. in my beautiful heart#ALSO UGHGHGH BIG SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 BUT#THAT THING WITH THE MAP. WITH THE DEMONS N VAMPS. THEYRE KEEPING TRACK OF THEM.#'so viv. was that one of mine or one of yours?' IS THIS A PET PROJECT OF THEIRS OR SOMETHING. ARE THEY PULLING MORE STRINGS THAN WE THINK#IS ONE TUGGING AT THE DEMONS AND THE OTHER TUGGING AT THE FANGS? PITTING THEM AGAINST EACHOTHER SO THEY KILL EACHOTHER?#AND THEN ITS EASIER TO TAKE THE BODIES FOR THEIR FUNNY CREATIONS?? IT PROLLY WASNT EASY TO GET SUPPLIES B4 EDWARD CAME INTO POWER#BUT OH MY GOD.. POOR EMIZEL.. THE MEMORY OF HIS CREW WAS TAKEN AND THEN HE WATCHES A BUNCHA THEM GET HORRIBLY DISMATNLED N DISTORTED#HE KNOWS HE CARED FOR THEM AT SOMEPOINT N HE KNOWS THE MEMORIES WERE TAKEN BUT HE JUST. CANT. AUAUUGGUAHGUAHGUAHGUHG#THAT SUCKS SO BAD FOR HIMMM EMIZEEEELL EMIZEL CMERE BABY BOY ILL SMOKE U OUT BOY. GET AWAY FROM THOSE EVIL GUYS I AM BETTER N CAN BE TRUSTE#viv n vex are so cool...theyre fuckin CRAAZYY N SCARYYY BUT ALSO. SO FUNNY... I LOVE A PUNNY JACKASS... 'LOOKS LIKE YOUVE BEEN: DISARMED!'#'IVE MADE THAT JOKE 6 TIMES AND ITS STILL FUNNY EVERYTIME' i gotta draw more of their bullshit...#im already doodling up the 'YOU CAN CALL ME MOMMY!!' bit. i gotta draw more o the monstors n the horrors too... especially emizels sire UGH#I LOVE VILLIAINS THAT ARE SO GENUINELY SCARY BUT SO FUNNY... charlie just does evil ppl like no one else idk what it ISSSS#okayokayoka y im normal im. relistening to the ep n im at the edward part. oh my god. i actually love him. he actually makes my skin crawl#IM DONEthats my rambles for tha day. back into my hole i go. also i have comms open. cmere pspspss i need moneyyy heyyyy cmereeeee#check out my main artblog. GO!!!
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Ok so suede is extremely well behaved! I don't know if that's his personality or a deeper more psychological meaning👀🥺 but most kids would just wake up there parents especially when they're so young.
I'm so proud of him for doing it! 😭
Ok this whole scenario with Andy and suede…I am so filled with warmth. It's so cute and that little bit is visioning and loved and safe. And about to fall asleep lol.
Maybe her ovaries ache for a different reason 😏
See I'm not liking this, where she has to ask if she can take them away while he doesn't communicate his plans at all and would probably just take them and maybe inform her last minute probably. Her mom knew! She was right.
Though i get that it's hard if your kids would call another partner a mom or dad, the fact is Scott doesn't deserve to be called that title and it's sad how scared Audrey is to disappoint him.
… Even the playdoh isn't safe from Scott's bullshit.
Ok I wouldn't recommend topless cooking!I can only imagine grease splatters on your chest😭 that shits no joke
Lol she's a brat. And that little back and forth with the boyfriend\fiance thing To be honest she's being unreasonable and angry at the wrong person here.🤷🏻♀️
He he that burn about his fear of sharks, fucking hypocrit. Also! Why would Taylor's parents even accept this relationship? Their skank of a daughter should be a shame, and they would expect this relationship not to work out anyway. And I don't doubt she won't think of suedes allergies!
Fuck you Scott, truly get stubborn for that fat comment
And get double fucked for saying suede shouldn't be there. Fuck you, you fucking fucktard, I will dance on your funeral.
And Taylor can fuck of too, laughing at a two year old. She works protect that little bit, but she's vile. Sorry I just have no patience or empathy for either, I wish them horrible things. i want them to be humiliated and hurt, lile truly, maybe they'll never learn l but maybe, if they're down and vertonen they can understand what empathy is. Though I doubt it.
**“Fuck you. You are so self righteous. You act like you’re the perfect fucking parent, and nobody is ever going to compare to you. I hope Andy enjoys trying to please someone who is impossible to please,” you moan again. Having to bite on Andy’s arm. “You fucking slut. How dare you fuck that asshole while you’re talking to me!”*"
He he hypocrit, because you were fucking Taylor during your marriage, and also, yes, Andy is enjoying himself. A lot.
Okay I tired myself out😭
Until we meet again.
Ps, probably a gazillion mistakes but I tried!
Two Good Reasons, Part 8
Summary: something is happening
Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, playful degradation, mentions of divorce, mentions of neglect, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, Scott, creampie, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 5.7K
Previous
Series Masterlist
*dividers created by @firefly-graphics
“NaNa?” Suede looks up from the toys he’s playing with pointing down the hallway to your bedroom. Desperately trying to get Andy to wake you up, “Mama and Dee seep?”
“Yes, buddy,” Suede huffs a bit. Crossing his arms over his chest before his mouth flattens out, and he returns to his playing. Andy watches him a moment before looking back at the game on tv. Suede looks back down the hallway before pouting up at Andy, “Suedey, what’s wrong?”
“Me pee,” he says, rocking his body back and forward.
“In your diaper?” He shakes his head no, looking towards the bathroom, and he jumps up. His feet bounce around a bit before he jumps, holding himself. “Okay. Come on,” Andy stands up, and walks quickly towards Suede, “Let’s go, buddy.”
“Mama be mad?” His brows furrow as he starts bouncing around even more. Andy knows he has moments before Suede has an accident and gets upset for doing so.
“Your mama won’t be mad. Come on,” Suede holds himself as he runs towards the bathroom, and makes it to his potty just in time. He gives Andy a thumbs up, smiling so proudly at him. “You made it! Does that feel better than a diaper?”
“Chess! Me yike it. NaNa pee der?” Suede points at the bigger toilet, and Andy nods his head, “Me, too?”
“One day. And you’ll get to stand.”
“No,” Andy nods his head yes. “No, no.”
“Has your dad never,” he stops his question when Suede scrunches his nose up. Andy approaches the boy carefully. A child with so very little vocabulary, and still so young, but clearly Scott hadn’t been teaching him anything about pottying.
“Tay.”
“Taylor?” Suede nods his head, and Andy wonders what his limited words are trying to tell him. He’s noticed that you don’t ever press your children about time at their dad’s, so he doesn’t want to either. But he wonders if Taylor is the one that deals with bathroom or diaper duty, “You done?”
“Chess! My mama at?”
“She and Audrey are taking a nap,” Suede dramatically rolls his eyes at Andy, and pulls up his pants. “Audrey has a bit of a cold, and your mama is tired.”
“Ways seep!” He rolls his eyes again, starting to stomp out of the bathroom.
“Hands, Suede,” Andy’s voice is soft, but demanding. It’s not a question, it’s what Suede has to do.
“Ugh,” groaning, he gets on the stool, grunting as he reaches for the soap.
“I know mama has been needing some extra sleep lately, but it happens to everyone,” Suede shakes his head no, starting to play more in the water than washing his hands. “Yes, they do. Your mom works hard, she loves you and sissy harder, and…”
“Ove oo.”
“Yes, she loves me, too. Are you finished?” Suede giggles as Andy picks him up to use the towel. He swings him around until he’s sitting on his hip, and he peeks into the bedroom, and you’ve still got Audrey tight against your body. Your nose buries into her watermelon scented hair, and she clings just as tightly to you.
Suede gets one look at you and growls, “Now, you’ve got to share time with your mom. You could have taken a nap, too, and you said no. You want to nap?”
“No,” shaking his head no, he points at Andy’s chest. Sputtering out words before sighing. Once Andy gets into the living room, he points at the tv.
“You want to watch the game or Bluey?”
“Oo Oo,” that settled that. He yawns, and Andy chooses to ignore it, if you bring up nap to Suede, he’ll refuse it just to spite you. Still holding him he walks into the kitchen. Grabbing himself a beer, and a cup of watered down juice for Suede. “Nack, pease,” his speaking has immensely improved. Suede has slowly been able to put words into sentences.
“A snack. Hmm. What about your fruit salad? No strawberries, and no..?”
“Pies,” pineapples. Close enough. “NaNa, my ove oo,” he lays his head on Andy’s chest, snuggling in a bit tighter. He always tells fibs about being sleepy. Sleepy Suede, is more cuddly loving Suede.
“I love you, too, buddy. You ready to watch some Bluey?”
“Chess!” But his ’yes’ is just a little bit softer, and he never lifts his head off Andy’s chest.
—
You yawn, looking down at your daughter who rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Audrey looks up at you, giving you a sleepy smile, “Did you sleep as hard as mommy?”
“Uh huh,” she sits up in the bed, stretching big. “I like this new bed. Can we see what Andy and Suedey are doing,” she jumps out of the bed immediately, but waits for you to stretch, too. Going behind her, you scoop her up in your arms to blow raspberries all over her, but stop when you walk into the living room.
This is the sight you’ve always wanted to see; a sticky-faced little boy snuggled up against his dad’s chest, while both of them are passed out. The comfort that Suede feels with Andy matches the way he feels about you. You have no fears when he’s with Andy. You know that Andy has his allergies memorized, but also checks the list that’s on the fridge constantly.
He wanted to watch some football, but opted for Bluey so Suede could fall asleep. He agreed to stay up a bit longer with Suede, spend some one on one time with him, while you and Audrey were already piled up and snuggled. Sunday naps are your favorite for a reason.
“They’re sleeping,” Audrey looks at you with a big smile. You know she enjoys seeing Suede being happy and more content here. She shouldn’t have to worry about her brother, but she does. The best big sister you could have asked for. “Suedey likes Andy a whole whole lot.”
“So does Audrey, huh?” She giggles, nodding her head. “How about mommy and Audrey get a snack, and you can play at the table while mommy makes dinner?” She nods again, while you look back at Andy and Suede. He makes your ovaries ache. Seeing how good he is with children that aren’t his, you know this man deserves someone of his blood. You don’t know how, but you’ll make it happen.
You honestly can’t even wait to spend all these holidays with Andy and the kids. Biting on your lip, you glance at the family calendar, knowing it’s past time to ask Scott if you can go back to Michigan with the kids to spend time with your family for Thanksgiving. It was your weekend to have them. Scott hadn’t told you about plans with Taylor’s family, or if he was even interested in seeing them on the holiday.
You didn’t want to travel for Christmas, but Andy had the time off for Thanksgivng. You had the time off. You missed your family, and wanted them to see Andy with your babies. Let them see how much the kids have grown, and also a grownup Andy. Your mom obsessively talked about him. Even told you on your wedding day you should try and find Andy again because you were making a mistake. Mom’s always know best. And your mom definitely knew.
“Mommy?” You look up from slicing the vegetables for a roast, letting Audrey know she has your attention, “I think I messed up.”
“Why’s that?” She bites on her lip, looking more like you every day, even with her mannerisms. Audrey looks down at the PlayDoh she’d been kneading, and looks down the hallway towards the living room. “Audi? Is everything okay?”
“I called Andy daddy,” she sighs, and finally looks up at you. You meet her with a smile on your face. You and Andy hadn’t found the time or the way to bring up that comment. “It was at donuts for dad, and I just think I got confused. My head was all mushy, and I didn’t mean it. But I liked having him there, and showing my room. You’re the only one that’s seen it.”
Her face falls to sadness, and you lay down the knife. Walking around the counter island to hug her, “Sweet girl, Andy and I aren’t mad.”
“But what about my daddy? Are you going to tell him?” You weren’t. But eventually if Audrey kept feeling comfortable with Andy, and letting that title slip, he would know.
“Do you want me to?” She shakes her swiftly, and buries herself into your chest. “No. But I also think you should call Andy whatever feels natural. You naturally called him that because at that moment that’s what he felt like to you. Baby, Andy adores and loves you, and doesn't not care what you call him. Unless it’s something like poppy head,” Audrey giggles, finally lifting up from your body.
“What about daddy?” She pouts. No matter what, this little girl adores her dad, and she’s already over concerned about Scott’s opinion. “Won’t he be mad?”
“We don’t have to tell daddy if you don’t want to. Daddy never has to know. I don’t want you to stress about this. You’re four, almost five,” Scott is going to keep on and turn your precious child into a neurotic clam.
Her little fingers pet over your shirt, looking like she’s up to something. Her sly smile is so cute that you just want to give her a hard kiss on her cheek. “Can we go to Paris for my birthday?”
“No,” you answer quickly. Traveling out of the country with ‘Scott’s children’ would be out of the question. Going to Paris before her birthday would be even more so with planning alone. “Pick somewhere else to go.”
“Nini and Poppy’s?”
“That’s what I’m hoping to do for Thanksgiving. What about something around here?”
A finger taps on her chin, humming so sweetly while she thinks. “Can we go to the aquarium, and soft play, and then pizza, and then go to a movie?”
“I think that sounds like a magical day. Who do you want to go?”
“Our family,” you want to squeeze her so tight. Her sweetness comes out of her, and you need to preserve these little moments. “You, and me, and Suedey, and Andy,” you nod your head. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before placing her back in her seat. She’s making you oddly over emotional, and it feels so confusing and overwhelming, and you love it.
“Audrey, you are the cutest, most sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, you know that?”
“Yes, I do,” she gives you a little giggle, returning to her PlayDoh. You happen to glance at it a moment. “Is this what the judge’s bench looks like,” you finally understand Andy’s frustration with this.
“Audi, why don’t you make a cupcake instead.”
“No, I gotta learn.”
Waking up without the kids feels so awful. Yes, you have your wonderful boyfriend-fiance, and you refuse to call him fiance until he gives you a ring. And while waking up without them at home with you is better with Andy, due to the distraction, but it still sucked. The only good thing is having Andy prance around nearly naked.
He loves to keep the doors locked, the blinds closed, and walk around with his cock out all day. It’s like he’s teasing you. And you have no problem partaking. He really likes it when you’re naked or at least topless. Especially topless cooking, like now.
You’re being cheeky teenagers again, except without so many restrictions. Standing over the pot of soup, you giggle as Andy comes up behind you with his hands on your tits. He looks over your shoulders softly petting around your nipple. His smile is infectious as he pebbles the sensitive skin. “You’re so,” a lewd moan ripples through your throat, and you back your ass into his cock.
“Fuck me.”
“Sensitive,” Andy gives your nipples a hard pinch, and twirls you around to look at him, and you immediately cup his cock, and he meets your energy, except he shoves two fingers into your warmth, and you whimper, “You’re fucking soaked,” he’s shocked at how ready you are for him.
“I’m fucking horny,” you whine, grinding over his fingers like a bitch in heat. You’re so needy for him right now.
“Yeah, no shit, Doe. You are leaking out, and making a mess on your thighs. What has got you worked up?” His voice is laced with so much hunger for you. My god, this man and that cock you can have whenever you want. And you want immediately. “You’re so fucking messy.”
You can’t stop it. There’s something about his voice that sounds accusatory. And you’re fucking horny. You want to have sex, you don’t want to have a lecture. The soup is simmering and not ready. The kids aren’t here. And you want to be fucked so hard you fall asleep again.
“Maybe if my boyfriend didn’t walk around the damn house with his dick swinging around,” he grimaces at the word boyfriend and the way you emphasized it. “Get hard!”
“Make me,” you’re a bit irritated at him, but not enough to refuse making him hard. You sink to your knees, and take his hardening cock into your hand. You kiss over his member. Looking up at him with the sweetest face that you can muster. You’re not sweet. You’re a goddamn whore for Andy Barber.
“You are a horny little slut, hmm?” Shimmying your shoulders, you nod your head with a smile. Sucking his cock into your mouth so you can suck and use your tongue to massage him. Moaning as he turns to steel in your mouth. “Fuck. You seriously are a master with your mouth. My fiance looks amazing just like this. Taking my cock just like she was made to do.”
What? You pull off his cock slowly, and stare up at him scowling, “What?” He asks, mouth hanging open looking at you.
“Seriously?”
He furrows his brows, and you lose patience. Leaning back on your heels, he asks that stupid question again, “What, Doe?” You don’t say anything, just move to stand. “No. You stay and talk to me. What is your deal?”
Your deal? He grabs your arm, but you shrug him off, and march away from him. “Doe!” You keep walking away from him, but he doesn’t let up. Using your real name, and it hurts for some reason. The vitriol reaction you have to hearing him say a name that everyone calls you. Doe is special to him. His little deer.
“Do not call me that, Andy Barber!”
“I seriously have no idea what is going on right now,” of course he wouldn’t. Because he didn’t understand anything. And currently neither do you.
“Ugh!” Spinning back on your heels, you walk away. Again. Heading towards the bedroom. The two of you look utterly ridiculous; you wearing nothing but cheeky panties, and him completely nude with a hard on. Serves him right. Maybe he can have blue balls because the free show is over now. He needs to gravel, and plead.
“I sound stupid!” You scream at yourself, and you fall onto the bed like a petulant child. You sound like a toddler, and still you can’t stop the weird feeling. It’s not anger as much as it’s complete frustration. You can’t make it stop. You want to be fucked. You want Andy to propose like he said he would. You want to move and live in a house that doesn’t have Scott’s name on it. You want your children to quit leaving you every other weekend.
You want Scott to quit throwing lame excuses over your head trying to scare and threaten you. You want him to stop fighting for full custody. You don’t want him to even have joint custody. You want your babies. And you want them with you and Andy.
“Baby,” Andy coos on your back. He peppers kisses all over your back, and you cry more. You’re trying to be mad at him! “Honey, tell me what’s wrong?”
“I hate him,” he doesn’t have to see your face to know your crying. Your trembling body tells him.
“That’s not what set this off. Tell me what made you angry at first,” was it not Scott? Or is everything just rushing at you at once?
“You’re a liar,” you sound like a child. Audrey doesn’t whine as much as you are.
“I am not.”
“You said you were going to propose for real, and you haven’t,” make it stop. Go back to blaming Scott. You sound like an entitled asshole. Andy said he had a ring, and he said he was going to propose, and he will.
“I called you my fiance,” his voice is so soft, and understanding, but it kind of ticks you off again, and you try to resist. You don’t want to make things worse.
“And I hate it here. I hate that he takes our babies away every other weekend, and I only get to see their faces a little bit. Or when Suede tries to text from his ‘mini’ iPad, and it’s just emojis. And I love that you help him potty. And I’m so horny,” Andy chuckles on your back. He uses his feet to push legs apart.
His thick fingers start teasing through your weeping cunt, and another alarm goes off, “You’re trying to change the subject.”
“You just said you were horny, so I’m going to fuck you, and then we can talk about everything else like adults.”
“You fuck me from behind to much,” he growls. Actually growls on your body. “Andy!” His hands grip you tight before flipping you over on your back, and stepping in between your legs. He moves aside your panties, and you know how stupid it sounds inside your head, but you can’t stop it. “Are you seriously trying to fuck me like some bitch you met at the club without taking her panties off?”
He gives you the most angry grin you’ve ever seen. Tight lipped and irritated when he rips the damn things off, “Those were my favorite panties.”
“No, they weren’t,” you gawk at him. “No. No, they weren’t. Your favorite ones are those pink ones. They cover your full ass, and there’s something about the way they just don’t move on your body, so you’re not tugging them around all day,” you really gawk at him. He’s right. “And when we sleep, your ass cheeks hang out just the tiniest bit and I want to bite each one. So not only are they comfortable on you, they look amazing on, or on the floor.”
Andy crashes into your whiny ass warmth, and your back lifts off the bed. “Now, I don’t know what set you off, or why you’re being so unreasonable but I want to talk about it.”
“I want you to fuck me!” He pulls himself all the way out before slamming into so hard. “Fuck me!”
“I am!” He does it again. And again until your eyes start to crash. “I am your partner, and I want to listen to what’s bothering you.”
“Everything!” He stalls his movements, before leaning over you. His hands in a fist to hold his weight off you just enough. But you want to feel him on you. You want to feel that slight pressure and weight, and know that he’s there, “Everything. I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t know how to talk about it. I spent so many years sucking up my problems because I didn’t have a real job, and he did. You don’t want to hear about my problems because you’re busier than me.”
“I do,” you shake your head no, but Andy grips onto your chin tightly. His hips slowly push and pull him out of your warmth. You really are a damn teenager. Can’t have an adult conversation without needing your boyfriend-fiancé’s cock inside of you, and all you can do is cry and shake your head. “Doe, I want to hear everything. We are partners. When you don’t feel well, I don't feel well. I want you to be happy because that makes my days better.”
“I don’t want him to have our babies,” you said it again without any hesitation. You want Andy to have your children. You would ask him to adopt them today if you knew it was possible.
He nods his head. His rhythm is still so steady, “The custody hearing is getting closer,” it isn’t a question, but you nod your head. He knows that’s part of what’s bothering you, “Honey, I’m not going to let anyone take the kids from us.”
“You can’t promise that,” Andy leans forward, and kisses each cheek, pulling back you notice the shine on his lips. “Did you just kiss my tears away?”
“I did. That’s what I want. I want to kiss away all your tears, and I want us to be okay. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” tears steadily flow down your face, and he keeps kissing over your cheeks, and it doesn’t help. Except those tears stop hurting so much. You’re now crying because you’re so happy with the right partner. “Honey, I love you.”
“I love you,” your words bubble over. He’s so perfect, and you’re just not. You’re not a superhuman, you’re not the thinnest, the most beautiful, the smartest, but you know you’re a damn good mom, and you were a good wife to an asshole. But you could be the best wife to Andy. “I want to marry you.”
“You’ve got to get divorced first,” you snort. Finally sounding happier than sadder. He smiles, kissing you gently. “I’ll marry you the day after if that’s what you want.”
“It was always you,” you may sound silly. You two may argue over the stupidest things. But it was always him. “I’m sorry that I’m a child sometimes.”
“You’re normally not,” he bites his lip as he pounds into you quickly. “Now, hold — fucking hell!” He yells, slamming his hand on your phone. “You’re answering it.”
“You are fucking me,” giggling, you read his name, and know why Andy wants you to answer.
“And I’ll keep fucking you. So you better listen to little Scottie the first time,” whimpering, you shake your head no.
“Just finish quickly.”
“I don’t want to, I want to take my time. Answer it.”
Groaning, you click on the phone, “Hey,” Andy is an asshole. He keeps a slow rhythm into your body. “What are you needing?”
“Why do you sound sniffly?”
“My allergies have been irritating me lately,” you can feel his eyes roll, “What’s up?”
“Taylor is wanting to throw Audrey a party,” he blurts out. You don’t hate Taylor. But you don’t think Taylor is capable of throwing Audrey a birthday party either. Plus, she’s got the celebration one in her classroom, and doesn’t love large crowds. “She wants to give her a party at an event center with clowns.”
“She’s terrified of clowns, and characters in costumes,” she likes her characters 2D.
“She’s not over that yet?”
“Are you over your fear of sharks?” Scott huffs. “I’m listening. What else?” Andy pistons into your body so hard that you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep a sound of deep satisfaction from escaping. “Jerk!”
“Just have Taylor’s family,” why? “And a few kids from her classroom,” a few can range to a large number. “She wants a caterer.”
“For a five year old?” You already see what Taylor is doing. She wants her family there, so she can show off how much her boyfriend can spend on silly little things like a birthday party.
“Not everybody wants to make everything by hand like you, Ms. Perfect,” you know Andy is aware of everything that Scott is saying. It’s why he grits his teeth as he pounds into your body balls deep, and lets the tip of his cock settle against your cervix sweetly. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” just having the best sex with the deepest penetration.
“You’re panting.”
“I just got off the treadmill,” just getting fucked.
“Honey, it’s not baby weight anymore, Suede is two,” another harsh move into you, and Andy’s face starts to turn red. Angry with Scott’s unnecessary harsh words.
“She wants to go to Paris.”
“Absolutely not. I’m not paying for that shit.”
You roll your eyes. Scott seriously didn’t understand, nor were you asking him to pay for anything. “She’s obsessed with Madeline. Why not do a Parisian theme. But for fuck’s sake, can the two of you make sure that Suede can have everything there? You know how kids are.”
“You could keep him that day.”
Andy bites your neck slightly too hard, “Ow.”
“What?” Andy growls on your skin. “Oh god, did I upset Andrew?” No, he’s pissing you off.
“You upset me. Either Suede goes, or you don’t need to throw a party for Audrey,” he starts to say something, but you speak louder, “That’s his sister, and you know the special bond that they have. Either you include Suede in the festivities, or you don’t do it. Audrey will want to talk about it, and it won’t be fair to our son.”
“He’s fucking two years old, he won’t remember it.”
You lift up on your elbows, throwing all caution to the wind when you grab Andy’s ass, and pull him deeper into you. You wink at your fiance. “Do you think he doesn’t know the disdain that you have for him? How you won’t even spend the goddamn time to help him pee in the potty while he’s there? Do you think Audrey doesn’t tell me about the giggling you and Taylor did when he cried because he had an accident that smelled. Shit stinks, you asshole. Even your precious Taylor’s. So either you have a party that Suede can fully be a part of, or don’t bother throwing a party that she doesn’t even want anyways.”
Andy moans, and Scott whispers an expletive. You hope that Scott knows that you’re getting ground into with the biggest cock right now. Andy pushes into you faster. Harder. “Is there a problem, Scott?”
“You can be a bitch sometimes. Just didn’t realize it until after we split.”
“And you can be an asshole sometimes. I always knew it, but I overlooked it for some reason. And if I ever hear about you and Taylor making a comment about Suede’s shitty diaper again…” Andy pushes into you so hard, your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t make threats. “He’s a baby, and we are teaching him to potty train. If you don’t want to change diapers, do the same at your house.”
“He’s with you more.”
“Consistency is the key. Is that all?” His side is silent, minus the heavy breathing. You can hear his finger tapping on something. His annoying fucking habit when he gets angry. Fucking asshole. He’s a little bitch. Having to make a two year old feel bad for an accident in his diaper to make him feel superior.
“Audrey shouldn’t — are you,” he pauses. You’ve stunned him into silence, and he doesn’t even know what to say, “What do you want?”
“I want you to treat both our children the same. I want you to treat Suede like he’s your son, and that you love him. I want you to be just as proud of him as you are of Audrey. I want you to stop pushing the responsibilities of our children onto Taylor. I want my son to come home happy. I don’t want him to see me, and not want to let go of me for a few hours. Mmm,” Andy really is an asshole for pushing into you so deep that you can’t stop the sound of bliss.
Scott knows. He knows that Andy is giving it to you so good, and when you get off the phone that Andy is going to fuck you like a slut. “Andy told you to write,” he sighs. Yes, Andy and you have been writing down every indiscretion to your children that he does, “I just can’t connect with him.”
“What are you saying?” Your fingers dig into Andy’s ass. You're angry. You’re pissed. You’re ready to kill your ex.
“I don’t,” he’s choosing his words carefully. You wish he would just rip the bandaid off. “He’s not an easy child. Audrey is. I had bonding time with her. And then…”
“And then my postpartum depression cramped your sex life. And then our son became the number one man in my life. And then our son was sick all the time. You never even tried to connect with him. You never even noticed that I was drowning. All you cared about was getting your dick wet. So my advice to you is to make sure you don’t knock Taylor up, because you can’t handle anything with a penis being put above you. Is that all?”
“Fuck you. You are so self righteous. You act like you’re the perfect fucking parent, and nobody is ever going to compare to you. I hope Andy enjoys trying to please someone who is impossible to please,” you moan again. Having to bite on Andy’s arm. “You fucking slut. How dare you fuck that asshole while you’re talking to me!”
“My fucking slut,” Andy grunts before reaching to your phone, and ending the call. “After this court hearing, and when it’s determined about the kids,” he stops himself. His thrusts are angry. “Do you realize I want to,” you cover his mouth with your hand, shaking your head.
“Do not say that. I just want our,” you smile at him, letting him know that it’s not an accident when you say our, “babies. Oh god,” he ruts into you, and your body becomes soft for him. Pliable to his every move, and you stare at the man that didn’t even have to try, and he reached your ‘impossible’ standards. Scott is wrong. And you’re never going to allow him to hurt your self esteem ever again.
The only thing you want is to know that your babies are safe, and in a loving environment. And if he can’t provide that for them, he might as well just give up trying to fight for them. He only fights for them because it hurts you. But his fight is becoming stale. The only thing he’s holding onto is his pride. Knowing that Audrey could be his legacy, and never thinking that his son could. He wants you to hurt. He wants to shove something in Andy’s face. And all at the expense of his children.
One of these days, he’ll give up on the fight. And when he does, you know that Andy won’t hesitate to pick up those pieces, and be willing to adopt both children, and legally become their father. It’s in knowing a man. It’s knowing that even when you’re acting ridiculous in an argument, that Andy isn’t going to stop. That he’s not going to make some snarky comment that kills your self worth.
He crashes his lips into yours, and the two of you pant. Breathing in each other’s air. Entangling your bodies together in the most beautiful sin. One of these days you won’t have to worry about these conversations. You won’t have to worry about the bane of your existence. You’ll be able to sleep every other weekend because you know that your children are in a safe home.
He presses his forehead against yours while he drives his cock into you so hard. Fusing his body with yours. You can’t look away from his beautiful eyes. Can’t think of anything more besides the fact that Andy is the most beautiful human. Andy is the epitome of a perfect man. Not just in looks, even though he really is the best. But the fact that he isn’t toxic, and he’s all man.
His eyes darken, and his body tightens, “I’m there, Andy.”
“I know, honey,” his salacious moan has your body setting on fire. He’s so vocal during sex that you never have to worry if it truly feels good for him, or if you’re just ‘doing your wifely duties’. “I feel your walls pulsing around me. Squeezing me so tight. Let. Go,” breathing him in, you let every wall fall down as euphoria races through you. Your cunt clenches down around him, and you mewl out his name. Thick. Hot ropes of cum shoot into your pussy, and Andy’s body melts on top of your own.
You just breathe. You soak him all up. Every last drop of him. This will be the one that takes. You know it will be. You furrow your brows as you look up at the ceiling. Counting in your head. Are you even ovulating? Are you…?
“Hey,” he pops up from your chest, smiling, and you forget all the counting. He’s so pretty after sex. “Tomorrow when we go to pick up the kids. There’s somewhere special I want to show you.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Andy!”
“Doe!”
“Daddy!” He covers your mouth with his hand.
“Woman, being called daddy by you is not my thing. I know you’re doing it to make me cringe. But I just had the best sex of my life, and pissed off a little wanna be man in the process. Let me revel in that fact, and also the fact that your cunt is so full of me that your eyes are swimming,” you shake your head no. His hand is still covering you, but he knows you're smiling.
“Yeah, you’re swimming in Andy cum and Andy dick.”
“I love swimming in Andy.”
“Andy just loves you,” and with that, he kisses you softly. Savoring the different taste of you after sex. He could tell you about all the things that are different about you, but he’ll save it. He won’t be able to save it for too much longer. You’re just being too silly and stressed to realize.
Next
Masterlist
Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai
@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989
@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @hisredheadedgoddess28
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what if i combined both of my main interests right now. what then
warning for a mile long rant of cookie flavor speculations in the tags
#i debated whether or not i should give enid her wolf ears since. you know.#ended up going with it because she is so fucking cute with them#confetti cake is so perfect for her too. obviously shes a cake werehound!#i was gonna do black spaghetti for wednesday but i think black dahlia was just too perfect. and i love the red accents.#i feel like a genius for both of their flavors. i am literally the best artist that ever lived#i'll probably draw more of the wednesday cast as cookies later.#bianca as a gem mermaid who can transform into a land cookie mayhaps? im thinking sapphire or zircon#eugene as honeycomb toffee.#tyler as a cake werehound as well? or maybe a cake wraith with a cookie form?#xavier as charcoal cookie maybe. since his drawings seem to be charcoal.#morticia as vanilla bean cookie? gomez as black tea cookie?#weems as petit four cookie duh#thornhill as sundew cookie#thanks for the 5 wednesday/cookie run fans listening out there.#ok im done.#pchii art#enid sinclair#wednesday#wednesday addams#wenclair#crk fanart#cookie run
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Vitalasubzam Week 2024 1st day: Flowers / Symbolism
since this day is about flowers and symbolism ofc i went with hanahaki
notes:
dandelions indicating zam is p obvious -- after all thats what the guy uses himself -- but the fact that they, or more specifically their seeds, are tied to wish-granting adds a neat layer to it i think considering zam's symbol of being a star (in my interpretation) also ties in to wish-granting
this whole thing is based on zam going "subz can fix me," and while i didnt know how to portray it without making an entire comic which i didnt really wanna do, he actually doesnt want the flowers gone he just wants subz to stitch not just his chest close but also his mouth
i was originally gonna make the thread purple but decided to go with green
the x's, while supposed to be tied to the whole stitching theme going on, are red instead of green because of zam
i had trouble picking the bg color cause on one hand i wanted to make it dark but on the other hand i wanted the focus on subz despite the composition which would need a lighter color, in the end i chose the same white as zam's shirt cause i like that it made him look cut off
zam has no nipples cause his species (skyformes) are homunculi in my Minecraft LoreTM (he should also have way more scars than just his neck but i havent decided where to put them yet)
this was actually drawn right when i changed zam's design to have red teeth but it made making the dandelion seeds visible a nightmare so i decided to just keep them white in this drawing
#gore cw#hanahaki cw#vsz week 2024#lsshipping#subzam#sunshield#itzsubz#princezam#added note unimportant to the image but putting here in case i forget:#subz' violet arm pattern thing is supposed to evoke something between veins and gem cleavage#(taking the pattern of veins but more angular like gem cleavage)#changed subz' hairstyle to a messy choppy fucked up braid cause aparently zam said having a braid reminded him of subz#(havent gotten to that part yet so idk if theres any specifics or whatever)#also got some other ideas for this day but idk if i can get to them in time#if i did then yall will be seeing them too ig lol#but if i dont then just know that princess irene tulips are perfect for vitalasy while blue diadem cornflowers are perfect for subz#also also am gonna be trying to see if i can combine each days prompts rather than just one or the other#lets see if im successful lol#mine.art#shipping tag
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I fucking hate the tetris effect so much. Like oooh lemme play this funnie little card game rogue-like, ooh it's so fun it's gonna be the only game I play for weeks now, oooh what do you mean I'm fucking duplicating multi-card holographic sevens in my dreams
#simon says#yeah this is about balatro#i think it sorta taught me that I do in fact really enjoy roguelikes and i am pretty decent at them#at least I think I am#i only have 3 more card decks to unlock and the black deck is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE#i am not going to 100% this game because I hate the black deck so fucking much#that -1 hand is gonna be the death of me and has been the death of me#it's like I either fumble my first round and have to start over because I keep forgetting I have 1 less hand#or I get a nice groove but lose around round 5 because the boss bind was too tough#anyways I only really watch 1 youtuber play it so I have no clue if im actually pretty decent at the game or if im like#okay or something#idk all I know is that I am going to do my damnedest to beat that black deck#also I wanna try to unlock all of the collection because it's very annoying that challenge mode doesn't count#and I wanna do challenge mode but it is just annoying that it doesn't count anything towards the collection#but yeah im REALLY vibing with this game and every time I play it while high it makes me wanna stream again#anyways I have it on switch (because I could use the nintendo coins to get it at a discount) but I looked at the achievements on steam#i wish cross platform saves existed because if I had it on steam I would have all but like 4 achievements lmaooo#anyways im just autistic and really like card games and roguelikes so this is like the perfect game#plus big number go up
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for the love of god someone convince me from texting my ex, i daydreamed too closr to the sun and now i want attention😭
#its not a door i should open#but idk if im crazy and i need to drop my suspicions and try again or if im really going to be right some day#and we get involved again then that person comes along and its a messy awful breakup and i just cant do that to them#but fuck i wish i could be with them#i would love them but the problem is (aside from their drinking) it would be so easy to fall in love with them#but they want long term and aside from me knowing im leaving the province soon i dont think wish how i am now id be okay with pretending#its not fair#i want to see them again#im jealous of attention they probably get and that theyve probably given#and i really hate how i was made and that i cant just go with the flow#but again drinking and dark eyes aside theyre practically perfect#i miss them so much sometimes that im actually posting more on instagram in the hopes theyll notice me again#i wonder if they think about me or if theyre too busy getting laid#cause theyre in a band so duh obviously theyre getting laid#I FUCKING HATE MY INABILITY TO BE ATTRACTED TO PEOPLE#ITS NOT FAIR#I HATE MY SUPERSTITIONS SO DAMN MUCH I WANT TO LET THEM GO AND BE HAPPY BUT I CANT#I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THE PERSON I WANT TO BE WITH WITH PRETTY BLUE EYES AND BIG HANDS#fuck nate was so close to perfect and i love that theyre so interesting and fuck i think id just give in if they had blue eyes#i could ignore the other problems and feel better about trying to be with them#mostly i just want them to kiss me and hug me again#they were so gentle about it and it felt so safe and i wanna cry cause i know its not fair to contact them#but fuck i wish i could#i dont want to be alone anymore and they made me laugh#i dont know what to do but i wish it was easier to at least meet people if not date them#i just want to feel something for someone new so i can feel like im over them#but sadly they work at ikea and its not even the closest one to me but i have to go there for a new mattress topper and jars#and i keep imagining running into them AND ITS FUCKING ME UP i want to talk to them but i cant do that
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currently doubting my abilities thanks to that worm in my brain..
so i have decided to retaliate by testing my coloring skills !! here is a rendered sketch of pal
#my art#mels art#practice#art#illustration#artists of tumblr#oc#fnaf oc#fnaf pal#fnaf sb#tell me friends#how would you feel if you got an art attack in this style?#id like to practice this a bit more but i dont want it to take up too much of my time#if i could practice on someone#that would be handy!!#fuck you little worm i am so talented!!#it is not perfect by any means.. but i am not focused on anatomy rn
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"I grew up- I've always been- Fuck."
Sol huffs and starts over. "Life has always been strange for me. Not just because of my," she gestures vaguely at her ears," condition, but in general." He takes a breath. "Socializing is hard. I don't get people. Growing up I spent a lot of time in nature. Classrooms were a little too loud and way too fucking bright. The kids couldn't keep their hands to themselves, and I didn't care to be polite about it. Who cares if I hurt their feelings, you know? Whenever lunch or recess would roll around, I'd wander off. Find myself ways away from campus, far from flickering lights and prying hands. Was like that 'til...middle school-ish?" She scrunches her nose, staring up at the ceiling, but continues. "The teachers put a stop to it, obviously. I don't blame them. They said I needed to 'connect with my peers'. I'd been doing alright academically, so I guess that's the only real issue they had with me. Luckily for them, I had the perfect plan. I thought-!" He inhales deeply, no use in getting worked up so early. "I thought, 'What better way to make friends than to show off this cool power?' The hearing wasn't so bad then. I could hear maybe...400 feet in each direction? Just a bit longer than a football field."
[Not that I knew that at the time.]
"It's practically nothing, compared to now. Still, more than enough to impress a couple people. Y funcionó. Casi demasiado bien." "There was this girl," [Jayla? Jaelin? Jaslyn?] "She was pretty, popular, outgoing, and a perfect target for my little 'social experiment'. Paired up with her for a project and told her I could hear anything she said from across the room, even if she whispered." Sol waves a hand around lazily. "She didn't believe me, of course. Not until we tested it. Then. Then it became public knowledge. Suddenly, everyone at school wanted to talk to the girl with 'super hearing'. It was tame, at first. People would whisper things from down the hall for me to hear. They'd go further and further, testing the limits of what I could do. We tried spying on the teachers a couple of times. We even got one fired! It was fun." He shrugs. "Of course, a few kids tried to mess with me. They intentionally made loud noises; I think they liked to see me jump. They learned their lesson pretty quick, though. Violence never scared me, and I defended myself just fine. That didn't bother me," she scowls, "No. The problems came once people realized they could use me for gossip." [In hindsight, it's obvious. They're middle schoolers. I don't know what I was expecting. Kindness? Ha.] "I didn't mind it at first. It felt great to be a part of something, and I can't say knowing everything wasn't exhilarating. My friends would ask me to eavesdrop on conversations and tell them what I heard. A lot of it was petty drama, failing 2-week relationships, and the like. It didn't matter to me, I'd successfully socialized like they'd asked me to, and that's all I needed. One day I listened in on the wrong conversation and told the wrong people. And, well. I went from the 'kid with the cool powers' to 'invasive' and a 'freak'." Sol laughs something bitter. "I still had 'friends', technically. They just...needed to use my powers- curse- whatever- whenever they wanted. It's the only way they'd keep me around. I was a tool first, and a friend second. Who cares if I'm sad or tired, or if every noise was too much and I couldn't breathe? Every little way I was different would be scrutinized if I didn't comply. I would be alone again. I'd disappoint them. I hated it. I hated it so much, Morgan. It wasn't even that bad but I-" Her voice started to rise ages ago. She doesn't care. "I just- I hate being treated like an object. I have feelings, opinions, and needs. I am a person. I may not be the smartest, or the nicest, or the prettiest, or the most functional. I may not even be a good one, Dios sabe que nunca lo seré, but- I am a fucking person just like everyone else. Hell! I don't even like people! But you can't just take that away from me. You can't."
The following silence is almost a relief.
Sol knocks harshly on the door.
"Morgan? Morgan, open up!"
He takes a deep breath. A futile attempt to calm her already fraying nerves.
" I can hear you. I know you're in there."
"Alright, alright. I'm coming, jeez."
Morgan grabs their shirt off the back of their chair and shoves it on. They stumble a little as they make it to the door.
They unlock the door, swinging it open. They raise a brow as they take in Sol's disheveled appearance.
His clothes are wrinkled, and the bottom of her jeans damp from coming through the grass. He's breathing heavily, as if he'd been walking for a while.
"The hell happened to you?"
Xe usher her in.
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Me: no really if you missed even one birth control pill you better double check you aren't pregnant.
#can you feel that thick rod begging for entrance#back and forth back and forth across your lips finding the perfect angle of entry#his adidas interfere but his cock is pre'ing let me in#🤔 honey we were never “just friends” it was always way more than that#her & her i like to turn you on baby#when heaven is out on the street with the heat of the the night#It's fine we fuck and I feel better#don't you feel like an owned object when anyone says the magical ownership of All Hallow's Eve though#like you just want to be owned and have attention paid to you#and I can give that to you....we can give that to you#emotional attachment to a chick version of myself? oh I could see that#like she will think my drug use was nothing in comparison I reckon#me: *nods* so she likes ice though huh....yeah I can see that being a thing#you have a few nieces I guess.... 🤔 well a few full ones anyway#a few who have way too much of the other half of us#she's like i smoke because I like it when i smoke#and I'm like oh ok yaaaaaas hypnotize me#when I click those videos I know what I am signing up for#just stare at you for a few minutes no words#yes please do say words to me though let's see how 27 years of hearing have done you.#well we both have the same life path number it's ridiculous to discuss between us#and she's like.....can i play with your 2 2#your destiny is facing and conquering that sexy fear of 7#mine is 7 children I guess*gulp.... fuck*#and two twins for her#his and mine#mine is a freak tho......#here I was in 2014 finally spilling my guts over what you had accused me of to her years ago#except it was like all lowkey and shit as far as the external world knew#...we knew tho.....we knew
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found a picrew that made everybody so fucking pretty i had to make all of them and post them immediately
#whenever i play with these its so funny doing everybody else and then fluff. its always a flashbang#anyway. this would be so so so close to what i imagine their human versions to look like in my brain EXCEPT stretch's hair#i imagine it with like. orange streak in it. and also usually in a bun but the bun options on this one werent messy enough lmao#also russ's hair would still be slightly longer but not quiiite that long. and i'm still jumping back n forth on facial hair for him tbh#cuz like i am a firm believer that CANON ut pap would definitely be clean-shaven as a human#he does too much questionable skincare to have a beard. all those products would burn any hair follicles out of his face instantly#RUSS though...... russ is a mess with his life actively falling apart. so maybe he can be allowed a very tiny beard. just a bit#probably best he can do is at least keep it trimmed to look slightly more intentional#ayhem anyway last thing i would change is fluff's hair feels just a biiiit off but i cant figure out why. but something is Strange#wait oops its supposed to be longer and it IS longer but the fur is covering it up LMAO thats what it is#but anyway. edge is literally perfect absolutely no notes on him 10/10 best picrew edge i have ever made i think#this is too much thought for me to be putting into designs that literally aren't even canon and in a fucking picrew but whatever#i can be cringe on my cringe blog i do what i want on tumblr dot com and right now i want to ramble about a dress up game
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