#tomorrow begins the second week of school

[scarletwitch1918]

YES JANNIKKKKK

[just1cefor4ll]

—Darling you’re glowing

James Potter x f!reader

summary. you intrigued the James Potter. now he’s trying to get you out of your shell

warning. not proof read

Transfiguration, middle of the week, had started like any other class— the room buzzing with quiet chatter as McGonagall set up a demonstration on cross-species switching spells. You sat a few rows behind the usual Marauder formation, watching with mild interest as James Potter lounged sideways in his seat like he owned the room. He always acted like that—comfortable, cocky, clever enough to get away with all of it. But you noticed something different today. He wasn’t as loud. Not as sharp with his jokes. He kept glancing toward Remus, who looked paler than usual, shadows under his eyes like he hadn’t slept.

You knew what tomorrow was.

You always noticed the patterns others ignored.

McGonagall’s chalk scraped across the board as she launched into the complexities of Animagus transformations. And that’s when James opened his mouth—casual, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Turning Snape into a raccoon wouldn’t be a bad idea, no? He fits the description and might finally be of use.”

It was “normal” to see James or Sirius tormenting the poor slytherin boy, however no one made too much of an effort to stop it due to being scared or not caring.

But this time, you didn’t let it slide.

You leaned forward slightly, not loud, not sharp—just clear enough for him to hear.

“Useful, sure. Especially if you’re trying to keep a werewolf company at night.”

James froze.

Just for a second.

Then, slowly, he turned in his seat, eyebrows raised. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you—really looked at you—was different than before. Like a switch had flipped.

Sirius leaned halfway out of his chair, blinking. “Wait, what?”

You tilted your head calmly. “You four aren’t as subtle as you think. Disappearing from the common rooms every full moon, and then Remus not returning for a few days afterward.. strange, don’t you think?”

Sirius’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

James just blinked at you, stunned—then finally, slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not his usual cocky grin. Something smaller. Curious. Almost impressed.

“You’ve been watching us.”

“Someone has to,” you said, eyes flicking between him and Sirius. “Merlin knows the professors aren’t.”

Remus, from beside them, looked like he might vanish under the desk. James noticed, and his smile faltered just slightly. He turned back to face forward, voice quieter now.

“You’re not going to tell anyone.”

It wasn’t a question.

You shrugged. “Why would I? Not my secret. Not my business.”

James didn’t respond right away. Then; “Most people would’ve run the second they figured that out.”

You met his gaze, steady. “Most people aren’t me.”

And that was the end of it. At least, for now.

After that day, James started to notice you. At first, it was just little things. You sat alone in every class, always in the back. You left the Great Hall early, books in hand, head down. You walked the castle corridors like a ghost—there, but never really with anyone. It was strange, and a bit unsettling. Hogwarts was loud and chaotic and full of chatter. You were none of those things.

James didn’t really know what to do with that.

You were outside walking along the Great Lake, the morning fog barely beginning to lift, adding to the mysterious atmosphere that always seemed to cling to the school grounds. The water was still, a sheet of silver glass stretching toward the horizon, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from something just beneath the surface.

As you made your way along the winding path, the silhouette of the castle loomed through the mist—familiar, yet distant in the haze. The chill in the air nipped at your fingers, but you didn’t mind. It was quiet out here, peaceful, the kind of quiet that let your thoughts wander.

You stiffened slightly as the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence behind you. Turning your head, you saw him—James Potter strolling toward you with his usual group trailing behind: Sirius Black smirking, Remus Lupin looking vaguely amused, and Peter Pettigrew struggling to keep up.

“Didn’t expect to see anyone out here this early,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. You glanced at him, then quickly back at the lake. “I like the quiet.” He nodded, stepping beside you. “Yeah.. it’s nice before everyone’s up and shouting about homework and Quidditch.” He nudged a stone with his shoe. “You come out here a lot?” “Sometimes,” you replied softly, unsure why he was talking to you at all, especially with his friends watching. James didn’t seem put off by your short reply. “It’s kind of cool though, isn’t it? All the fog. Looks like something out of a ghost story.” You gave a small nod. “It does.”

Sirius whispered something to Remus that made both of them snicker, but James ignored it.

“I don’t think we’ve ever really talked,” he said, tilting his head. “You’re in my year, yeah?” You hesitated, then glanced at him. “Yes.” He smiled like that was a win. “Thought so. I’m James.” “I know.” That made him laugh. “Right, of course you do. Everyone knows. Sorry—stupid thing to say.”

“How’s Remus?”

James blinked, then turned to look at you more carefully. “He’s okay. Bit worn out, but he always bounces back.”

You nodded slowly. “Good.”

James looked at you properly now, brow furrowed. “How do you—? I mean.. I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

“You haven’t.”

He smiled faintly, curious now. “Right. Mysterious.”

You didn’t return the smile. “You take care of him.”James sobered at that, nodding once, serious. “Always.”

You gave a small, almost invisible nod and turned slightly, ready to leave.

Then, like he was trying to keep you there just a little longer, he said, “I’ve got a match this weekend. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Should be a good one.”

You stopped in your tracks, humming in response.

“You should come,” he said, bold now, easy with it. “It’s more fun when there’s someone interesting in the stands.”

You raised a brow again. “Is that your way of inviting me?”

“Is it working?”

A pause. Then, quietly: “Maybe.”

James smiled, a little softer this time. “I’ll look for you.” He turned to leave and waved. “See you there, ghost girl.” “Wait— Potter.” You raise your voice a bit, cheeks warming at the sudden attention all four boys put on you. “It’s Y/N.” James smiled, nodding before going off with his friends, Sirius shaking his form and smiling excitedly while the other two boys watched, amused.

You didn’t know why you decided to go. Maybe it was finally time to get out of the common rooms for the weekend instead of spending it rotting in bed, studying, or sleeping for hours on end.

The students and professors were in a competitive mood, filling the halls with a tension you hadn’t quite experienced before—this was your very first match, after all.

You tugged your scarf tighter around your neck as you stepped out onto the grounds, the wind catching at the edges of your cloak. The crowd ahead was already gathering, voices loud and buzzing with excitement, a sea of red and gold clashing against yellow and black. You kept your head down, threading your way through the throng with quiet determination, trying not to look like you didn’t belong.

The match played out like a storm—fast, chaotic, impossible to look away from. James flew like he’d been born with a broomstick in hand, weaving through bludgers and bodies with the kind of recklessness that made the crowd scream in delight or horror, depending on their colors. Hufflepuff held strong for the first half, but once the snitch was spotted, it was all over in a blur of motion and gold.

Gryffindor won.

You hadn’t planned on waiting, but somehow you found yourself lingering by the edge of the pitch after most of the crowd had cleared. The adrenaline was still in your veins, buzzing under your skin like static, and you didn’t want to go back just yet. Not when your heart was still thudding from something you couldn’t name. You weren’t there long before you heard footsteps pounding across the grass behind you. James, of course. Still in his Quidditch robes, hair a wild mess, cheeks pink from wind and glory.

“You stayed,” he said, half-surprised, half-relieved.

You turned to face him, arms crossed, but your face betrayed you—lit up with a kind of breathless energy you hadn’t felt in ages.

“I—” You hesitated. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

James blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah?”

You nodded, and then it all started spilling out, quick and animated.

“It was so fast. One second you were up, then down, then—you nearly got taken out by that Bludger, by the way—and then you just dodged like it was nothing? I thought you were going to fall right off the broom, I genuinely stopped breathing. And the way you looped around the pitch when you saw the Snitch? That was—like—how did you even do that?”

He stared at you, absolutely floored. Not because of the words—though there were many—but because it was you. Talking. Really talking. More than the usual quiet, clever one-liners. Your eyes were shining, hands moving to match your words, like the match had flipped a switch in you.

“I mean, I knew Quidditch was big here, but I didn’t expect that. It was exciting, but also stressful, and I think I might actually have heart damage from watching it. Is that normal? Do people just live like that?”

James laughed, breathless and stunned. “Merlin, you’re adorable when you talk this much.”

You blinked, suddenly aware of yourself again. The words cut off mid-thought. He held up his hands, still grinning like you’d just handed him the moon. “No, don’t stop. I just—it’s nice. Hearing you.” You looked away, suddenly self-conscious, but the warmth didn’t fade. If anything, it spread. “I guess I just.. got caught up in it,” you murmured. “It was kind of incredible.” He stepped a little closer, eyes still on you like you were some rare thing he’d never seen before. “So does that mean you’ll come to the next one?”

You tilted your head, considering.

“Only if you don’t almost die again.”

“No promises,” he said, eyes glinting. “But I’ll try. If you’re watching.”

And this time, you didn’t hesitate.

“I will be.”

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[moonsgemini]

apple pie - cowboy!rafe

summary: Rafe Cameron would have a lot of things in his life differently if he knew he’d meet an angel like you. Befriending your brother in the small town was the best and worst thing that happened to the both of you.

warnings: cowboy!rafe, brothers best friend trope, fem reader, she/her, mentions of religion but reader isn’t very religious (yeah idk either), smoking, alcohol, mutual pining, kissing, also found family you could sayyyy

an: this is inspired by feathered indians by tyler childers & my ongoing need to find a cowboy whose obsessed with me. I didn’t include topper in this bc I do not see him as a cowboy LOL y’all let me know if you want a part two. Was really feeling it at the beginning but idk if I love it.

-

Megan Maroney blasting through your headphones wasn’t enough to muffle the sound of the slamming front door and numerous loud footsteps that followed. The familiar sound of rowdy boys filling the house, then came the familiar muffled voices. It only surprised you a little because it was still early into the night.

Usually your brother and his friends came back around three in the morning from the bars, but that’s if they didn’t have work the next day. You knew they didn’t have work because your brother, Mason, had promised to take you shopping in town. You could only assume that they got into some sort of trouble. It’s the only reason why they’d be back early.

Slipping your headphones off you got up from your desk where you had been working on assignments for your summer class. Climbing down the stairs in nothing but your cut oversized tee shirt that exposed your collar bone and soft sleep shorts.

Your brother spotted you immediately, “Hey! She’s awake!” Mason exclaimed with a mouthful of the apple pie you had baked earlier. The slur in his speech giving away his intoxication.

You scoffed with a smile, “It’s only ten Mase,” you turned to the three other boys that were gathered around the kitchen table, “hi fellas.”

They greeted you with mouths full of pie. Except him. He was leaning back in his chair with a dopey grin and bloodshot eyes, his plate clean and pie long gone. You figure the other three were on their second slice.

Your gaze lingered on him like it always did. That warm feeling in your chest returned, it always did when Rafe was around. It made you feel fidgety and nervous. Like a school girl with a crush. So typical it’s on your brother’s best friend. That thought brought you out of your Rafe induced haze. You walked over to where Mason stood as he ate the last crumbs from the pie tin.

You grabbed it from him with an eye roll, “Well I’m glad you boys enjoyed that. Lucky I made two more. They’re for church tomorrow.”

“You always make the good stuff for church,” Kelce mumbled with his eyes closed blissfully savoring the dessert.

You laughed, “Maybe if y’all went you’d get a slice.”

Mason shook his head at the boys, “Why do you think I go.”

Rafe snorted, “To stare at Thea Foster actually.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and muttered, “She has a boyfriend.”

You smirked placing a hand on his shoulder, “Well I heard there’s trouble in paradise.”

He turned quickly to you bewildered, “From who? When? Why?”

Rafe, Kelce, and Jake burst out laughing. Your poor brother was so in love with a woman he couldn’t have. Rafe understood his pain, but he couldn’t let Mason know that. When the boys quieted down you answered his question, “From Sarah Ann at the nail salon yesterday. She said Thea found fake lashes in his car and then a couple weeks later she followed him because he said he had a work emergency and sure enough he was meeting some girl from the city.”

“That fucker,” Your brother seethed, “I’ll thank him then kill him and then thank him for fucking up.”

You patted his chest as you past him to grab the boys dishes, “Relax big guy.”

“Let’s celebrate with a shot,” Jake said knocking on the table excitedly.

Kelce nodded, “My buzz is wearin off.”

Rafe shrugged watching as you placed the dishes in the sink, “Sure.”

He had smoked a whole joint by himself on the way here and he was still feeling the effects. Something that he had started to regret when you walked down the stairs. He thought you’d be asleep and you wouldn’t see him high and drunk. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him like that before, but he preferred to be sober around you.

Mason poured every one shots including you. Rafe looked up at you with a mischievous smile. The floaty feeling in his head making you look like an angel. Soft bare face and comfortable clothing. He imagines you waiting at home for him dressed like that. Waiting to have dinner together after a long day. That fantasy always made his heart clench.

Mason finished pouring the glasses and began handing them out. The amber liquid sloshed onto the table since he filled them all to the brim. You’d make him clean the kitchen tomorrow.

You looked up at Rafe and found him already looking at you. Your heart raced ou held up your shot glass with the guys. Mason went on about friendship and comradery. The two of you not looking away from each other. Feeling emboldened you didn’t look away not even when you felt your blush move down your cheeks to your neck and chest.

Everyone tipped back their glasses taking the shot. The liquid burning the pit of your stomach. You scrunched your nose in disgust, “ugh I hate whiskey.”

Rafe scratched the back of his head, “I need a cig.” He walked towards the stairs heading to the office. It was the best place to get onto the roof. A spot everyone liked to go to because it looked over the whole ranch.

You pointed at the dishes in the sink, “Wash those before bed. I’m gonna finish studying then go to bed so don’t be too loud.”

“Yes ma’am,” Mason teased.

The two of you had moved to the small town a five years ago. Mason found his dream job on the ranch they live on and his boss the owner, Mr. George, let the two of you stay at one if the houses on the property. You were just grateful to leave your hometown and your parents. Your brother always felt like your only family and when he asked you to come with him you didn’t hesitate. You started community college at the next town over and got a job at the local diner. You two had built community here. Your brother befriending the other ranch hands Rafe and Jake and the local bartender Kelce who had all become more like brothers to him.

-

As you made it up the stairs you passed the office and peered in. The cool summer breeze blowing in through the open window. You stood in the doorway for a few seconds contemplating whether to go out there or not.

When you met Rafe you felt all that ooey gooey stuff you had read about in romance novels. You thought it wasn’t real because it what world would a man make you feel like that. Your faith in the male species to sweep you off your feet had completely disappeared. Until you met him. It was a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach.

It didn’t help that he looked at you the same way. Or when he would do sweet things like buy you trinkets when he went out of town. He’d give you rides if Mason couldn’t and if he was around you never had to carry anything yourself.

Rafe always wanting to be near you if you were around and making sure you’re safe. When your brother had gone out of town he texted and called all weekend making sure you were safe. He almost got in his truck and slept outside your house to make sure nothing happened but he talked himself out of that.

You were his best friend’s little sister. He loved Mason and didn’t want to do anything that would ruin that. It took Rafe so long to rebuild his life in the small town he didn’t want to ruin it by hurting you. He would lose you and your brother.

You climbed through the window to see Rafe sitting on the ledge probably on his second cigarette. You watched as he tilted his head back and exhaled.

“ain’t anyone ever told you that those things will kill you,” You said with a smirk as you walked over to sit beside him.

He shrugged with a smirk, “Never had a good reason to quit.”

You held two fingers out for him motioning for him to place one between your fingers. He shook his head with a laugh as he got one from his almost empty pack.

You brought it up to your lips as he pulled the lighter out. Rafe cupped the end of the cigarette as he lit it. Your eyes watching him the whole time. Rafe fought every fiber of his being to not look at you or else he’d throw out the damn cigarette and kiss you. You didn’t know the power you held over him. He’d cross rivers, oceans, and valleys for you without a second thought.

“I’ll come with ya to church tomorrow,” He said breaking the silence. He doesn’t even know why he just said that. Rafe has never been religious and the only times he’s thought about it were when you showed up in his life.

Now you weren’t devout or anything but when you moved here it felt like a good place to interweave yourself into the town. The move also had you feeling a little lost so you went to where people always say they find something. You’re still not sure how you feel about it but you still go when you can. Your brother started joining you after a couple weeks.

You snorted, “I’m sure you will.”

“I’m serious I’ll go,” He bumped your shoulder with his.

You smiled at him, “Okay Rafey. Then I’m gonna make sure you go because I already know that you’re stayin the night.”

He looked at her with a playful scowl, “Who said I’m stayin?”

“You’re still stoned and you’ve had more whiskey,” You shook your head, “You’re stayin.”

“Whatever you say boss,” He flicked his cigarette off the roof after finishing it.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll get you up bright and early don’t worry.”

“As long as I get some more pie tomorrow.”

“I did make you something,” You flushed a bit at your next words, “I made you those peanut butter chocolate chip cookies you like. Hid them from the guys or they’d eat em all.”

“You’re so sweet,” He admitted, “those idiots wouldn’t savor them like me.”

You laughed softly trying not to look at him or you’d burst into flames, “So true. I’ll give em to you after church tomorrow.”

“S’that my reward?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “So you better behave.”

He was feeling bold now. After your shy confession he wanted to be bold. His fingers itched to touch you, “What happens if I don’t behave?”

Your eyes widened a bit not expecting him to say something like that. Did he mean it like that? You couldn’t over think this right now. The tension in the air thick and pushing the two of you closer together.

You shrugged, “I could show you right now.” You didn’t even know what you mean by that but before you could take your words back a voice behind you two broke whatever trance the two of you were in.

“Hey! Are you just gonna let the rest of us get wasted by ourselves or what!” Mason exclaimed as he stuck his head through the window.

Rafe snorted, “I’m comin jackass.”

“I better finish my assignments.” He climbed through the window and held his hand out for you as you stepped through.

“Can I ask a favor?” You asked him. The dim lighting in the office illuminating his face in a way that made him look like a Greek God.

“Anything,” He responded and Rafe truly meant anything.

You sighed, “So after church tomorrow I wanted to go to that book store in the city and Mason is gonna take me. But I don’t really want hungover grumpy Mason to take me,” Just then you heard a thud and loud laughs downstairs.

“Well you know ho-“

Before you could even continue he was nodding his head, “I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

You beamed up at him with bright eyes and a wide smile, “Thank you Rafey. I’ll be quick too.”

He shook his head and wrapped an arm around your shoulders starting to walk you both out of the room, “None of that you can spend the whole day lookin and I won’t care.”

You looked away as your smile grew timid and that damn blush was back. He stopped in front of your bedroom and you already missed his warmth.

“You know where to find us when you wanna have some fun scholar,” He teased lightly.

“Yeah yeah. You know where the blankets are and please make sure that if those idiots want to go home they’re good to drive.”

He mock saluted at you, “Yes ma’am.”

Rafe constantly teased you about your over protection of the group of men. Truthfully he found it endearing because no one has cared so much for him. Even if it’s lumped in with your brother. None of you had family here so it was nice that the five of you had created your own.

As you sat back at your desk you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. Honestly you never stopped but after seeing him it always amplified the thoughts. There’s nothing in this world that you wanted more than Rafe Cameron, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to act on it.

You didn’t want to ruin your relationship with your brother. He’s never been that overprotective but you had no idea how he’d be if you dated his best friend. So your fantasies of the tall cowboy remained as just that, fantasies.

-

If wrangling four six foot plus men to church would get that shocked look out of Mrs.Cramer you would have done it a long time ago. The old woman could hardly believe you got those ‘hooligans’ to come. The boys had a bit of a reputation. Not necessarily bad but they knew that if something was going on it was probably them.

Like when Jake drunkly rode a pony into the post office. Or when Mason accidentally left the pig pen open and there were thirty pigs loose in town.

The five of you were now back at your house. Rafe was waiting downstairs for you to finish changing. The other boys were drinking beer watching a baseball game. Mason was beyond grateful he didn’t have to take you anymore.

“I’m ready,” You announced while walking down the stairs. You had changed into your red boots, denim shorts, and a white tee shirt. Simple yet it had his mouth watering. Imagine what it’d be like to peel it all off. He needed to get it together.

“Be back later Mason,” You waved them goodbye before grabbing your purse. Rafe mumbled a bye as he followed after you like a puppy.

-

Not only did Rafe not complain about anything you did in the car but he also let you pick the music. He was having the time of his life. On the outside he looked concentrated on driving and completely unbothered.

“It’s right up there,” You pointed to the building coming up.

He pulled into the parking lot, “You been here before?”

“I have but it’s been a couple months.”

He parked and opened the door for you. The smile on your face making the forty five minute drive worth it.

Well forty five minutes later he was starting to get antsy. He swears he’s seen you make five circles around the fairly small book shop. He was sitting in a purple chair meant for reading. You had given him about six books and your purse to hold and you were still browsing. The only reason he was getting impatient was because he was hungry.

You walked over with two more books, “Okay now I need to narrow these down to just three.”

His brows furrowed, “Three?”

You nodded, “Tips were short this week and I had to use my savings to fix my laptop.”

He stood up holding the six books, “Come on lets go pay.”

You followed him trying to keep up with his long strides, “Uhhh did you not just hear me I can’t afford it Rafe.”

“That’s why I’m buying all of them for you,” He shrugged as if it were nothing.

“No no no,” You pulled his arm to stop him right before the counter, “You can’t do that, that’s too much.”

“You want them all right?”

“Well yeah but-“

“But nothing baby, I got you.” He turned to the counter where the cashier was waiting for the two of you to finish.

You stood behind a bit dumbfounded by not only his kindness but because of what he called you. Baby. That was new.

-

After a long day of book shopping, pizza eating, and laughing you were drained. On the way home you had fallen asleep, waking up once he turned onto the dirt road that led to your house.

You yawned, “We’re here already.”

“Yup and it looks like Mason’s not home.”

“Oh he texted me telling me he was going to a bonfire. We’re invited but I’d rather stay home.”

Rafe opened the door for you like he had been doing all day. He also held your heavy bag of books.

“Me either honestly.”

“You wanna watch a movie with me?” You asked hoping he’d say yes.

“I’d love to.”

You plopped yourself onto the couch to browse movies. Rafe set the books down on the kitchen table before joining you. Except he stood in front of you and grabbed your boot tugging it off each foot.

“Thank you Rafey,” You smiled at him.

You put on Twilight knowing he won’t care and secretly loves it. Today had been perfect. Rafe made you feel like the only person existing. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to be more than a friend and it was starting to pain you, but it was something you could live with for now.

A half hour later you had dozed off onto Rafe. Your leg draped over him and face tucked into his neck. His head leaning on yours and one hand in your hair the other around you. This was the best sleep Rafe had ever gotten. He could feel you all around him he didn’t want this to ever end.

Yet you both jolted awake when you heard the front creak open and voices following. Twilight had ended an hour ago and New Moon had started playing. You and Rafe broke a part trying to fix yourselves. A rosy tint to his cheeks as he peered over at you with a teasing smirk. You couldn’t help your blush either as you returned the mischievous smile.

“Hey you guys are back how’d it?” Mason asked as he walked into the living room with Kelce.

“It was good, got lots of new books,” You turned to Rafe with a knowing look.

“Hey is that,” Kelce pointed at something on your inner thigh. You had one leg bent so your inner thigh was facing up on display. An right on it was an impression of a long horn and some intricate designs. Everyone knew who had something that looked like that.

“How’d that get there?” Kelce asked with an amused smile as he pointed between your thigh and Rafe’s belt buckle. He burst into laughed as mason groaned.

“Guys I know y’all like have a thing for each other but I don’t wanna know that stuff,” Mason gagged.

“What Mase!” You groaned, “Nothing like that!”

Rafe laughed feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders, “Dude we fell asleep.”

“I sure hope so, not on my damn couch.”

You decided to mess with him, “Well if you insist.” You grabbed Rafe’s hand and laughed as you pulled him upstairs. He didn’t even hesitate following and also laughing.

You dragged him into your room turning so your back was to the door. Still holding your hand Rafe used the other to push the door closed. Walking you both back in the process so your back was against the closed door. One hand beside your head and the other moving from holding yours to holding your waist.

His head dipped down as your laughter died. Things suddenly felt serious and you realized how close he was and he was touching you. It felt really good.

“So uh sounds like Mason is okay with us,” Rafe murmured.

“Is that you confessing you like me?” You teased looking down at his lips.

He nodded causing your noses to brush, “Yeah I like you baby, can I make it anymore obvious.”

“Can you?”

He squeezed your waist with a smile before dipping down and finally molding his lips to yours. It was like being able to breathe for the first time. His mouth felt good against yours. He kissed you with desperation and need showing you just how long he’s wanted this. How he’s wanted it just as much as you.

Both his hands were now on your waist and traveling over your body feeling every dip and curve. The small whine you let out making him want to throw you onto your bed, but he promised himself if he ever had you he’d take his time. Savor every moment with you.

You pulled away breathless and drunk on him, “I like you too if you couldn’t tell.”

He pecked your lips, “I’ll buy you all the books you want just to hear that again.”

“I like you,” You leaned down up and kissed him again, “Now can we finish the twilight series?”

[chaepink]

Private lessons | sub!oikawa toru

wc: 2.8k+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, student x teacher relationship, professor!reader, reader is in mid/late twenties and oikawa is early twenties, college au, dry humping, begging, hair pulling, praising, teasing, choking, slight edging, pet names, a few mentions of "miss" for reader however can be ignored since no body parts are mentioned

note: lets see if i can still write good

"Professor? Can you go back and repeat that?"

You sigh and without turning around to see who asked the question, you begin repeating what you've just said out loud again. After all, you know exactly who asked the stupid question: Oikawa Toru.

Sure you're fresh out of college and new to the job but you're perfectly capable of dealing with all of the situations and problems that come with teaching. Your first year teaching sub-disciplines of biology passed by perfectly normally, with you even becoming one of the favorite teachers among the students.

So you weren't concerned when your second year began and you were prepared for most of the things that you assumed would happen.

But what you weren't prepared for was to deal with Oikawa fucking Toru, a senior who you've heard from your fellow teacher friends tends to be a constant pain in the ass.

He's the typical bad student. He's always bullying kids he deems inferior to him, hangs out with the frat boys, throws parties every week if not every day, and gets into fights. All while having girls surrounding him.

Oh, and he interrupts your teaching every second he gets.

That bastard has been the main problem that has suddenly made your job unenjoyable. He's been pulling all sorts of shit like making you repeat things at least 5 times each class, whispering crude remarks about you to his friend—even though he sits in the front of the room and you can hear each one—, and throwing paper balls and airplanes around randomly just to annoy you. Overall, he's a real nuisance during class.

And you know damn well that he doesn't even need or care for the repeating from the way he smirks at you when you're done and from now he has failed most of the quizzes and tests that you've given to the class yet doesn't go to you for any help.

No matter how annoying he is in your class, you can't be bothered to report him to the head of the school, afraid it would tarnish your new reputation as a teacher. After all, you heard rumors about how he's gotten teachers fired, and knowing his parents are somewhat influential, you'd rather not find out firsthand if they're true or not. All you can do is complain about him to your friends as you wait for the school year to end. At least his class is always the last one of the day, right? Yeah right.

Now back to the present.

As you finish repeating most of the things you already went over, you ignore the gaze burning into your head and quickly post the classwork on your laptop. However, right as you open your mouth to continue teaching, the bell rings and you can't help but let your shoulders slump as you look up to the students with a forced smile.

"I just posted the homework for this lesson that's due next class so don't forget to complete it! The semester is coming to an end so final grades will be put in soon."

As they pack up and begin chatting, a few give you sympathetic smiles as they exit, knowing what you have to go through during this class.

You don't bother to pay attention to the last person in the room as they walk up to your desk, stopping right in front of you.

"Professor? I think I need more help understanding."

You pause your typing on your laptop and focus on sorting the papers on your desk instead, trying to look busy but you're just trying not to look Oikawa in the eyes.

"Yes, Oikawa? What exactly do you need help understanding? If it's something that will take a while to chat with me about then I'm afraid that it'll have to wait until tomorrow because I have a lot of work to grade."

You quickly glance up at him and see the grin on his face. It's one that you've gotten accustomed to as it usually means he has something up his sleeve.

"Well mainly about today's lesson. I don't quite get it. Perhaps I even need a private lesson, don't you think?"

Right, you forgot to mention the rather obvious flirting he does towards you. It's almost as if your first year teaching went too well that your second just had to be the exact opposite.

You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes as you answer back calmly without looking at him.

"If what I notice during class is right, you haven't been paying attention much. But I'm sure if you start doing so, you'll begin understanding the lessons better."

You hear him let out a huff at your lack of attention towards him before seeing two hands being placed on either side of your laptop. You frown as your eyes immediately look up at him.

He's closer now, leaning over your desk and the grin wider now.

"Oh come on professor, a private lesson can't hurt. You'll be able to teach me so much." Teach him how to behave perhaps. "And you can do it however you want, I'm not picky." The way he looks at you as he says the last part has you questioning if he meant it in another way. Knowing him, he most likely did.

You sigh before gathering your papers and you see Oikawa's grin falter slightly.

"Oikawa, I don't think a private lesson is necessary. Nor do I think it would benefit you in any way." You're so focused on the papers that you don't hear him walk around the desk to your side until he's right beside your chair.

"Please, professor?" You jump slightly in surprise before turning your chair to face him and you remember just how tall he is. He's right in front of you now and the way he said the word "please" has you tensing. He knows what he's doing and he knows that you know.

You suddenly realize the tension in the room and clear your throat. "This is inappropriate, Oikawa. I'm your professor."

He raises an eyebrow before stepping closer and smirking.

"Inappropriate? Just what are you assuming? I'm not doing anything inappropriate." He leans down slightly and you frown. Damn him and his good looks. No wonder you see him surrounded by girls on the daily.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You know what you're doing," you say sternly and his smirk widens. Oh, you want to slap that smirk off his face so badly.

You can't help but glance back at your laptop for a second before suddenly feeling a hot breath in your ear and a presence beside you.

"Please, professor?" A shiver runs down your spine. Before you can reply, you notice his tie dangling in front of you—one that's always untucked despite the uniform policy—and you can't help but grab it and pull it down sharply. He gasps at the sudden action as he stumbles and falls to his knees in front of you. His eyes immediately widen and a faint blush appears on his face.

You can't help but be in shock as well. If someone were to walk in at this moment, they would see the infamous Oikawa Toru on his knees, a blush on his face that's growing redder by the second, in front of one of the school's most popular teachers.

Oh, the rumors.

Even on his knees, he's still tall but you swear he looks smaller from the way he looks up at you in surprise.

You're still holding onto his tie and you realize, the way you're staring down at him, tie in hand while he's on his knees staring at you with widened—awaiting?— eyes; Oikawa kinda reminds you of… a dog?

Get your mind out of the gutter, [Name], you tell yourself, yet your grip on his tie only tightens and you notice him swallow hard.

You look at his neck and realize you must've accidentally tightened the tie somehow as well, pressing it right up against his Adam's apple.

"M-Miss?" You snap out of your thoughts, both the title and the stutter catching you by surprise. Looking at Oikawa, you see he's blushing harder, fists clenched on his thighs as he continues to look up at you with that look. Shit.

Then you realize he's not moving, not getting up, not pushing you away, or yelling at you. He's not protesting it. Rather, he's deciding to stay kneeling in front of you.

Does he want this?

You swallow hard as your eyes rake over Oikawa's body and you swear you see his body shiver slightly. You were always a sucker for pretty men anyways.

However, when your eyes finally reach his lower half, you realize why he's blushing so much, or why he's avoiding your gaze suddenly. He's hard, so obviously hard.

Oikawa looks so different from his normal persona that you almost want to laugh. The cocky, annoying senior that has always pestered you in class reduced to a blushing, speechless mess in front of you with a raging boner.

"I bet this is what you wanted, right? During a private lesson?" You see him tense up before lowering his head in front of you, muttering something quietly.

"Use your words properly." You notice him staying silent and wonder if you've misread him before he suddenly speaks- no, suddenly moves.

He slowly leans forward to lay his cheek on your thigh and your breath hitches at the sight.

"I'm sorry, miss." Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Despite how one side of your mind so desperately wants to put him in his place after everything he's done, the more rational part of your mind quickly reminds you that you're his professor and he's your student. Although you're only a few years older than him, this could get you fired or worse.

He must sense your hesitation because he then gently grasps your ankle and presses your shoe against his crotch, letting out a small whimper that makes the heat inside your stomach rise.

You curse under your breath before tugging his tie again and he gasps. Feeling him start to slowly rock against your shoe, you take it back and hear him whine pathetically.

"Was this your plan all along? To rile me up so I would snap and teach you a lesson?" You feel his crotch twitch slightly.

Oikawa swallows hard before lifting his head up and nodding. "Words."

"Yes, miss." You can't help the grin that spreads across your face.

"Well," you start and you see him looking up at you awaitedly. "Perhaps I will teach you a lesson, in my own way of course, since you said you weren't picky." He blushes, remembering his previous words. You have a feeling that although he wanted you to snap, he didn't expect it to go this way.

The pressure against his crotch snaps him out of his thoughts and before his mind can process it, his body already has and you see pre cum seeping through the material of his pants. He lets out a moan at the feeling of your shoe again.

"How about, I'll ask you questions about the class material" —you see his Adam's apple bobbing— "and depending on whether you answer correctly or not, I'll either pull back my shoe or help you cum."

His breath hitches at the idea and almost immediately nods. With his brain already foggy along with the realization that you may pleasure him, he fails to remember that he hasn't been paying the best attention in your class or learned the material well.

You already feel him slightly grinding on your shoe again but you keep it there, wanting to keep on looking down at his flushed face panting near your thighs.

"What is a similarity between transcription and DNA replication?"

His eyes immediately widen in surprise and you know you've stumped him already. Although you know the rest of your classes would be able to answer it easily, his mind is already too clouded with pleasure, it's almost funny.

He stutters out some sort of half-ass response that you know is definitely wrong before you feign a disappointed sigh and pull away your shoe. Immediately he whines out in protest but a stern look from you shuts him right up.

So now he follows your orders.

"What does the shape of a protein determine?" Groaning, he lays his head back on your thigh. His grip on your ankle tightens slightly as he pouts up at you, trying to convince you to do something else. With his hair right in front of you, you suddenly grab it before yanking his head back, emitting a rather loud cry of pain from him.

"Come on, Oikawa"—he lets out a whine at the way you say his name so sternly—"I thought you wanted this? So be a good boy and answer the question. Or perhaps I should just leave you here?"

He widens his eyes before shaking his head hesitantly. "N-No, miss." Oh, the thought of you just leaving him here has his cock throbbing. He's so hard, it hurts.

You stay silent and he realizes you're still awaiting an answer from him. You swear you see the cogwheels turning in his brain, the need to cum fueling it.

"The… function?"

It comes out as more of a question than an answer but you take it anyways. The second you grind your shoe back against his already stained crotch, he humps it like a dog in heat, his groans and whimpers filling the classroom.

You ask him another question and of course, he gets it wrong, mumbling some response that had nothing to do with what you asked. However, taking pity on him, you don't pull away your shoe and he takes it as a sign to speed up. Maybe he thought he actually got it right or maybe he realized that you felt bad for him.

Your hand grips his tie again, tugging it as he lets out a small groan, his eyes rolling back in his head slightly at the pressure against his throat. So he likes getting choked?

"You know, when you're making all sorts of loud noises like that, I wouldn't be surprised if someone were to come check up on his room."

You expected him to slow down, maybe even stop at the realization. But rather he speeds up.

"Maybe you would even like that, getting caught." His cock inside his pants twitches a lot, answering your suspicions so you continue. "Imagine what they would think, seeing a big bad senior like you on his knees for a teacher, rutting against their shoe like a fucking bitch in heat."

Your language catches him off guard, the total opposite of how you act when you teach. He can't help the blush that travels down his neck or the shock of pleasure that runs through his spine or the way his dick leaks more pre-cum, trickling through his pants and onto your shoe because holy shit was that hot.

But the whole situation wouldn't happen anyway. You know for a fact that this part of the college was practically empty, even more so after the last class. But Oikawa doesn't know that and the thought of getting caught turns him on more than he would like to admit.

"M-Miss, I'm close," he murmurs into your thigh, taking no action to slow down. You raise an eyebrow. Assuming that he hooks up with girls weekly, you thought it would take him longer to cum, or perhaps this whole situation is too much for him to process clearly that he just couldn't hold it in. It's cute.

Oikawa is quick to babble out pleas to cum, his voice rising in pitch as his absolutely sinful noises become louder. Some drool escapes from the corner of his mouth and his body feels hot, tears prickling the corners of his eyes from the intensity.

His eyes roll back again and you swear his brain short circuits when you press down on his crotch, his grip on your ankle tightening even more to keep you there. Oikawa can’t even think properly anymore, he just wants to cum. "Pleasepleaseplease-"

"Go on Oikawa, since you've been such a good boy during this lesson." The praise is what gets him. He throws his head back, revealing his neck that you want to grab so badly, and lets out a cry of pleasure. Immediately you feel the wetness on your shoe and you look down to see the wet stain on his pants growing even more.

Oikawa slumps back forward onto your thighs as his humping slows down before coming to a stop. Looking up at you, his eyes are glassy and glazed over and the sight makes your heart race.

He sighs before laying his cheek on your thigh and closing his eyes, murmuring something that you almost fail to hear.

"Thank you for the private lesson, miss."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[heartsriki]

CLICKBAIT ROMANCE⌇사진

pairing ᝰ jake x fem!reader — featuring.. sunoo

word count: 3.5k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺college au!, frenemies to lovers, fluff, bickering, teasing, cheesy.

synopsis — When the head journalist of the university magazine is paired with campus heartthrob Jake Sim for a fake dating photoshoot, the lines between pretend and real begin to blur.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I really hate this actually but I gotta drop a fic so… BETTER FICS COMING OUT TRUST.

Your university had a reputation.

Not for its academics, not for its sports teams, not even for its prestigious alumni. No, your campus was famous for one thing—love.

At first, it seemed like a silly exaggeration, a running joke passed down from upperclassmen to freshmen. But after multiple surveys and actual research, the results were undeniable. Your university had one of the highest couple rates in the entire country.

Everywhere you looked, love was on full display. Couples held hands between classes, exchanged gifts in the courtyard, and whispered to each other during lectures. It wasn’t just on Valentine’s Day—it was as if Valentine’s Day was every day.

And somehow, you were one of the last people standing.

As the head journalist for the university’s magazine, you prided yourself on being an observer, not a participant. But when your department was tasked with coming up with a bold new feature to attract new students, the solution was obvious:

A front-page story on why this campus was the perfect place to fall in love.

No big deal. Just another article.

Except for one small problem.

You had to work with Jake Sim. The school’s star photographer.

And the one person who got under your skin like no other.

“Tell me you’re joking.”

You stare at your editor, brows furrowed in disbelief. The harsh glow of the newsroom’s fluorescent lights only makes the situation feel more like a nightmare.

“Not joking.” Sunoo, the editor-in-chief of the university’s online magazine, taps his nails against his desk, barely hiding his amusement. “The couple we lined up for the article bailed last minute, so you and Jake will have to step in.”

Your stomach drops. “Step in?”

“As in, pretend to be a couple for the shoot,” he says, grinning. “It’s just for the ‘Perfect Date Spot’ feature. We need photos, and you need a partner. Jake’s already agreed.”

Jake Sim. Campus heartthrob. Star photographer. Your walking headache.

You spin around to see him leaning against the doorway, camera slung around his neck, smirking like this is the best news he’s heard all week. “How’s my gorgeous girlfriend doing?” he teases.

You glare. “First of all, Fake girlfriend, Second of all,You actually agreed to this?”

He shrugs. “I like a challenge.”

You cross your arms. “Oh, so pretending to date me is a challenge?”

“Exactly.” His smirk widens, like he enjoys riling you up. “But don’t worry. I’ll make you look good.”

You scoff. “I always look good.”

Sunoo claps his hands, cutting through the tension. “Great! Now that we’re all on board, you two are scheduled for a shoot tomorrow evening. Candlelit dinner, cute coffee date, maybe even a romantic walk under the city lights. Not sure yet but we need variety.”

Jake chuckles. “Sounds like a real date.”

You roll your eyes. “Except it’s fake.”

He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Too bad, huh?”

Your breath catches for just a second before you snap out of it. This is Jake—cocky, frustrating, and way too confident. There’s nothing romantic about this. It’s just a collaboration for the magazine.

You tell yourself that as you storm out of the newsroom, Jake’s low chuckle falling behind you.

The next evening, you find yourself standing outside a charming little cafe, arms crossed as you wait for Jake to show up. The air is crisp, and the soft glow of string lights overhead makes the setting almost too picturesque.

It would be romantic if it weren’t for the fact that you were here with Jake.

You check your phone, scowling at the time. He’s late. Of course, he’s late.

“Miss me?”

You whirl around to see Jake strolling toward you, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, looking irritatingly effortless as always. His camera hangs from his neck, and he flashes you a grin like he enjoys the way your jaw tightens at the sight of him.

“You’re late,” you snap.

He shrugs. “Better late than never.”

You huff, resisting the urge to argue because Sunoo had already threatened to kill you both if this shoot didn’t go smoothly. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Jake chuckles. “That’s the spirit.”

You shoot him a glare, but he only winks before heading inside.

The cafe is warm and cozy, the kind of place that practically begs couples to curl up in a corner and share a slice of cake. Sunoo has already arranged everything—two lattes with heart-shaped foam, a plate of macarons, and a corner table bathed in soft candlelight.

Jake lets out a low whistle as he pulls out a chair. “Damn, Sunoo really set the mood.”

You sit down stiffly, suddenly hyper-aware of how… intimate this looks. “Let’s just get the shots and go.”

Jake smirks as he adjusts the camera. “Sure. But if we’re faking a date, we might as well sell it.”

You arch a brow. “What are you suggesting?”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze playful. “Relax. Talk to me like we’re actually on a date.”

You scoff. “Why would I do that?”

“Because,” he says smoothly, lifting his camera, “a real couple wouldn’t be glaring at each other like they’re plotting murder.”

You hate that he has a point.

With a reluctant sigh, you force your expression to soften. “Fine.” You rest your chin on your hand, putting on your best charmed and totally not annoyed look. “So, Jake. What’s your biggest flaw?”

He grins, snapping a photo. “Too good-looking.”

You make a show of gagging. “Try again.”

He hums, pretending to think. “Alright, alright. I guess I can be… a little cocky.”

“A little?” you deadpan.

Jake laughs, the sound warm and surprisingly genuine. The click of his camera follows, and when he lowers it, his gaze lingers on you for just a second longer than necessary.

The moment hangs between you two, thick and strangely personal, as if the fake date has blurred the lines into something real, something you didn’t expect. But then Jake clears his throat, as if snapping out of it, and his grin returns, albeit with a little less bite this time.

“Let’s not get all deep now. It’s supposed to be a fun date,” he says, his voice light, almost teasing, as he snaps another photo.

You roll your eyes, thankful for the shift back to something familiar. “Yeah, I know. Fun.” You take a sip of your latte, the warmth soothing your nerves. “So, what about you? What’s your idea of the perfect date?”

Jake leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table, eyes narrowing in thought. “Hmm… I’d say a quiet evening, no distractions. Maybe a walk along the river with good conversation and no phones.” He pauses, his gaze drifting to you before he adds, “And definitely some great food. Gotta have the right atmosphere, right?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He chuckles. “I’m full of surprises.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you push it away, focusing instead on the delicate foam heart in your cup. This is just for the shoot. Nothing more. You remind yourself again, but the thought feels hollow this time.

The waiter approaches, setting down a plate of macarons with a flourish, and you both pause to exchange a few polite words. As the waiter walks away, you can’t help but notice how comfortable you’ve become sitting across from Jake, how the small moments—like the way he catches the light, or the way he holds his camera so naturally—suddenly feel like you’re seeing him in a different way.

“So, what’s your idea of a perfect date?” Jake asks, snapping a photo of the macarons.

You look at him for a moment, trying to push aside the flicker of something—something soft that you didn’t want to feel. “I don’t know. Something simple, I guess. A dinner, maybe. But nothing too fancy. I like the idea of just… being with someone, talking, not worrying about the rest of the world.”

Jake watches you closely, and for a second, you wonder if he’s actually listening. His eyes soften, and the usual teasing glint is absent. For a moment, you think he might say something else—something deeper. But then, as quickly as it appears, that thought vanishes.

He smirks again, snapping another photo. “I think that sounds like a good date. Simple’s underrated.”

The silence stretches between you as Jake adjusts his camera and you both sip your drinks. And then, just when you think the moment has passed, Jake sets his camera down and leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You know,” he says quietly, “I could get used to this.”

The words hit you harder than expected. You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words get caught in your throat. It’s not a joke. It’s not an attempt to flirt. It’s just… different.

And before you can respond, Jake’s grin returns, just as quickly as it left. “Just kidding,” he says, winking playfully. “You’re way too uptight for me, anyway.”

You blink, trying to steady your breath. “Whatever,” you say, though your voice sounds a little unsteady. You take another sip of your latte, trying to act like the crack in your composure didn’t just happen.

But Jake doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up his camera again, clicking another shot, and the air between you settles back into the familiar rhythm of a fake date—perfectly staged, perfectly managed.

You and Jake are assigned to another fake date shoot, the weather clears up, leaving behind a warm, golden sunset that makes the campus feel like something out of a romantic movie. Sunoo has yet again arranged everything—this time, a park on campus with winding trails, a small lake with a bridge over it, and a picnic setup waiting for you both by the water.

Jake meets you at the park entrance, dressed casually in a t-shirt and a hoodie, his hair still damp from a quick shower, and his usual grin already in place.

“Ready for round two?” he asks, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes giving away the fact that he’s probably already plotting how to make this shoot less of a chore for him and more of an adventure.

You shoot him a look. “You really love making this more difficult, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” Jake says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to make it a little more… authentic.”

You suppress the sigh threatening to escape. “Right. Authentic.”

Sunoo’s instructions were simple: get some romantic shots by the lake, maybe catch a candid moment in the park as if you were actually a couple out on a date, and try to make it look effortless. But as you start walking toward the lake, the path lined with blooming flowers and soft greenery, you can’t help but wonder: how exactly does one make a fake date look effortless?

Jake slows his pace next to you, his camera hanging loosely around his neck. “Alright, how about this? We take a nice stroll around the lake, chat a little, and see what happens.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Chat? You mean like the last time, where you gloated about your looks?”

He grins. “Sure, but this time, I’ll be a bit more… charming.”

You roll your eyes. “Good luck with that.”

Jake shrugs, his grin widening. “You’ll see.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few moments, the setting sun casting a warm, orange glow across the water. The breeze feels nice against your skin, the peace of the park in stark contrast to the energy that Jake brings with him.

When you reach the edge of the lake, Sunoo’s setup is already in place—a picnic blanket spread out with some snacks, flowers tucked neatly beside it, and a basket filled with what looks like sandwiches and fruit. The water glistens in the fading sunlight.

Jake notices your hesitation as he sets his camera down. “What’s wrong?”

You glance over at the blanket, wondering how to keep this all casual. “It just seems a little… too much, don’t you think?”

Jake follows your gaze, then shrugs. “It’s all for the shots. We’ll be done soon, I promise.” He plops down on the blanket, stretching out his legs with a casual ease. “Besides, I think I could use a break. You should sit down, too.”

Reluctantly, you sit down beside him, your gaze drawn to the ripples on the water. For a moment, it’s quiet. You can hear birds chirping in the distance, the soft rustling of leaves, and then, Jake speaks again.

“So, have you ever been in love?” he asks suddenly, voice surprisingly soft.

You glance at him, wondering if this is part of the “charming” act he mentioned earlier. But the sincerity in his voice makes you pause.

“I… don’t know,” you admit after a beat. “I think I’ve had crushes, but love? I’m not sure.”

Jake looks at you, his expression unreadable. “I think I get it. It’s about finding someone who can make you feel like you when everything else is chaos.”

You blink, caught off guard by how real that sounds. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

Jake grins. “I told you, I’m full of surprises.” He nudges you again, this time with a little more force, making you laugh despite yourself. “But seriously, sometimes it just takes the right person to help you figure things out.”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to decipher whether he’s being genuine or if this is just part of the act. His usual playful smirk is gone, replaced by something more thoughtful.

Before you can respond, the sound of a camera shutter breaks the silence, and Jake leans back. “Gotcha. You looked cute right there.”

You scowl, but it’s half-hearted. “One of these days I’m going to strangle you with that camera strap.”

He laughs, but there’s no teasing edge to it this time. “I think you like it, actually.”

You shove him playfully, and for the rest of the shoot, the two of you fall into a surprisingly easy rhythm. You take photos by the water, walk along the lake hand-in-hand for a few shots, and exchange casual conversation like two friends who don’t have to pretend to be anything they’re not.

By the time the sun dips below the horizon and the shoot is finally wrapped up, you realize that, despite the fake nature of it all, you’ve had more fun than you care to admit.

“Not so bad, right?” Jake asks as he packs up the camera, still holding your hand.

You hesitate, then nod. “Not bad.”

As you walk back toward campus together, the distance between you and Jake feels just a little bit smaller.

The lake near campus is calm, its surface shimmering under the warm afternoon sun. It’s the perfect spot for your final photoshoot—a peaceful location to end the “Perfect Date Spot” feature. The air smells fresh, the light is golden, and there’s a gentle breeze that adds a sense of serenity to everything.

You, however, are not at peace.

“Kayaking?” you repeat, eyes wide. “Sunoo, we’re supposed to be pretending to date, not reenacting The Notebook scene in a canoe.”

Sunoo grins from behind his camera setup, his usual mischievous energy in full swing. “It’s not a canoe. It’s a kayak. And it’s perfect! Plus, this will be your best shoot yet. Trust me.”

Jake, already wearing a life vest, leans against his kayak with a confident smirk. “It’ll be fun. Just relax.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your nerves. Kayaking seems like an ordeal on its own, and the added pressure of pretending to be the perfect couple while Sunoo snaps away from the shore makes you feel more awkward than ever.

But, here you are.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you mutter, stepping into the kayak. Your feet are a little unsteady, but Jake steadies you with a hand, his touch lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“I got you,” he says, his voice unusually soft for someone who usually teases. “Let’s just paddle together, okay? It’s easier than you think.”

You nod, glancing back at Sunoo, who’s already poised with his camera, looking entirely too excited about the whole thing.

“Okay, ready?” Jake asks, his paddle raised in the air like some sort of announcement.

You give him a thumbs-up. “Ready I guess.”

You both start paddling, and at first, it’s smooth. The two of you glide across the water with ease, the peacefulness of the lake contrasting sharply with the nervous energy you’ve been carrying since the shoot started. For a moment, it feels almost… natural.

“See? This isn’t so bad,” Jake says, glancing over at you.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a small smile. “Don’t get too cocky. We’re barely out of the water.”

Jake laughs, the sound echoing across the lake. “You’re just worried about tipping over. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Of course, that’s when he does it.

With a sly grin, Jake shifts his weight and—splash—you’re thrown into the cool, refreshing water.

You barely have time to process what’s happened before you’re fully submerged, bubbles bursting around you as you come up gasping for air, blinking away the droplets.

Jake is dying in laughter, still sitting safely in the kayak, as if he hasn’t just launched you into the water. “You should’ve seen your face!” he says between fits of laughter.

“Jake Sim!” you shout, splashing water toward him with as much force as you can muster. “You are going to regret that.”

Without thinking, you grab the edge of the kayak and, using all your strength, pull it—and him—into the water with you.

Jake’s eyes widen in horror just before he plunges in with a loud splash, the kayak tipping sideways, sending both of you into the water in an awkward, laughing heap.

The world is suddenly full of bubbles and laughter as you both surface, gasping for air. Your hair is plastered to your face, and the lake water clings to your clothes. But, for once, you don’t care.

“That’s what you get!” you shout, though you can’t help the laughter bubbling up inside you. “What were you thinking?”

Jake wipes water from his eyes, still grinning. “I think I just made the best decision of my life.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, splashing water at him. “You sure about that?”

“I’m definitely sure,” he says, swimming closer, his eyes sparkling with mischievous intent. He splashes water back at you, and soon, you’re both caught up in an water fight, the laughter and splashing filling the air.

Sunoo, still on the shore, lowers his camera for a moment, watching you both with a grin. “This wasn’t what I had in mind but.. They actually look like a real couple right now.”

You pause for a moment, catching your breath between laughs. You’re soaked, your hair is a mess, and your heart is racing—but it feels good. It feels real.

Jake treads water beside you, his smile softening. “This might be the best part of this whole fake dating thing,” he says, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone. “Being with you.”

Before either of you can say anything else, you both hear Sunoo laughing from the shore. “Alright! No more mushy stuff. Get back in the kayak, we still need more shots!”

Jake raises an eyebrow, playfully sticking his tongue out toward Sunoo. “Mushy stuff? Really? I’m just trying to get my fake-girlfriend to admit we’re actually a thing.”

You roll your eyes but swim over to the kayak, feeling a little bolder than before. “Fine, I’ll admit it. This has been fun. Now, let’s finish this before we drown.”

Jake laughs and hops back into the kayak, offering you a hand. You take it without hesitation, finding your balance again, this time without the nerves. The two of you resume paddling, this time with more ease. The tension that once existed between you has melted away, replaced with something lighter, warmer.

The sun begins to dip lower in the sky as Sunoo takes his final shots from the shore. For once, there’s no pretending. No acting. Just two people—laughing, paddling through the water, and finally allowing themselves to be real.

And when the shoot is over, as the evening winds down, Jake turns to you with a grin that could light up the entire lake. “You wanna go on a real date after this?”

You grin back, feeling something shift inside you—something good. “Yeah, why not?”

With a final splash of water, you both make your way back to the shore, ready to leave the lake behind… but not the moments you’ve shared.

And maybe, you’ll get to share a few more.

[lc-birdie]

What if nurse!reader likes Dennis but is scared to tell him until she overhears him asking Robby for advice on how to ask her out

For once it was an almost slow day. Holidays always were. Small issues could wait another day and besides some burns from first time holiday cooks there wasn't much for everyone to do. Thanksgiving was just one of those holidays.

It left everyone to try and fill the time as the day dragged along with no patients to distract them. Which led to the current situation, small groups congregating around the Pitt.

You were catching up on charting the last patient, an unfortunate soul who didn't fully defrost their turkey and led to some second and third degree burns up his arms. It wasn't the most entertaining way to pass the time, much preferring to hear the latest updates of the ED from Princess and Perlah. However, it did give you an excuse to avoid a certain Med Student.

Dennis Whitaker. A slow growing friendship that had begun to morph in the last couple of weeks of working together into something more. The flutters of an almost school-age crush that made words unobtainable in those brief moments, heart racing to unhealthy paces, and an inescapable heat up your neck and ears.

The way his eyes always seemed to shine with this glint of anticipation and positivity. The way his face seemed to never show the hard lines of negativity or anger. The small quirk of his lips that would turn into an occasional smile. The little face he would pull when-

"Hey," your train of thought was cut off as your name was called. Donnie walked up to you. "Can you help me clean up this patient real quick?"

"Yea I gotcha." You follow him into the room.

"Alright sir we're all done just hit that light if you need anything." You pull off your gloves as you exit the room, swinging the door behind you. Reaching your hand out to get hand sanitizer you freeze mid motion as you catch the tail end of a sentence.

"-and if you're sure that this is the person for you, take the chance. You only have so much longer in this rotation. Don't hold out and miss your opportunity." It was Robby.

"Yea I just-what if they don't feel the same? I don't want to mess this up..." Almost on cue you crane your head around the corner as Dennis continues, "they're just so cool and like good at what they do. They're just incredible and I'm out of my depth here."

You make eye contact with Robby as he begins to fight back a smile. "Well I think the best thing that you can do is just tell them," he states as he slightly nods his head towards you, over Dennis' shoulder.

His head whips back as his face flushes a bright red. "umm-I-uh..."

"I'll leave you two to it." Robby jokes as he pats Whitaker on the shoulder before making his exit.

"I'm sorry-I didn't umm know you were going to hear that." Dennis admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You smiled at him, grin splitting your face. Reaching forward, you brushed your hand up his arm to where it landed on his bicep. "Well if you really mean it, I'm free after work tomorrow..."

"Yea absolutely I'd love to-its-um-its a date then", he stammered out as he smiled.

[sensorytuna]

── VENI, VIDI, VICI.

part one . part two . part three .

synopsis. a stupid bet with cartman forces kyle to prove that he can, in fact, pull and be able to date. after hearing about it, you agree to being his fake lover.

notes . occasional swearing, aged up characters (high school students)

♡ : kyle broflovski x reader

- the four boys are at the mall food court, eating greasy fast food while talking about anything that comes to mind

- suddenly the topic shifts and cartman begins to run his mouth about how kyle is “pathetically single” and “completely incapable of getting a date”

- fatass can’t even get a girlfriend that lasts more than a week, smh

- kenny, of course being kenny, joins in on the teasing while stan tries to shut them up

- kyle wasn’t having it

- to make things worse, cartman makes a bet with him

- if kyle doesn’t get a girlfriend (or anyone really, he’s that desperate) within a week, he has to do something embarrassing like listen to everything he does or wear an “i paused my game for this (this better be good)” shirt without his winter coat for an entire week

- in return, if kyle somehow wins the bet; cartman has to shave his head (which was a little unfair but it was too late for kyle to realize)

- in the midst of it, kenny recalls the list of most to least cute boys back in middle school (the forged list), causing kyle to groan and tell him to fuck off lmao

- he comes back home after the weekend hangout and kyle just completely forgets about it

- he was all talk at the mall a while ago and then it’s like the bet just completely vanishes in his head

- lol

- he doesn’t know what’s about to bite him in the ass

- friday night comes along and kenny suddenly chats him on instagram

- digbickkenny: dude cartman’s been talking mad shit, you better come to school next week with a girlfriend or ur fucked lmaoooo

- he stares into the phone for a good second, just staring at the text while all the color drains away from his face

- he realizes he only has 2 days left to get into a relationship

- aw shit

- that sent kyle in a whiplash

- he immediately scrambles and starts considering his options because there’s no way he’s gonna have a girlfriend by the weekends

- and of course he doesn’t want to say that cartman is his supreme overlord and that he’s handsome to the entire school

- he realizes he has to fake a relationship if he wanted to get out of his bet safely

- he would’ve gone for his crush or someone of romantic interest, but… he hasn’t liked someone since last year, so that’s out of the question

- he begins narrowing down who he can ask like a beggar

- someone he trusts not to rat him out to cartman

- someone who can be convincing enough to fool his friends (and everyone basically)

- someone who might actually say yes instead of laughing in his face

- and then you enter his mind

- you and kyle are close, maybe not as close as him and stan but you two sit next to each other in class and have interacted multiple times

- you hate cartman just as much as kyle hates him

- you’re a wild card, no one ever knows what to expect from you; but dating kyle? sounds just about right

- next thing you know, your phone is lighting up with a notification from kyle

- that guy from new jersey: ok so hypothetically if i asked you to be my fake lover would you say yes

- free food (do not call): kyle what the fuck

- that guy from new jersey: ok first of all rude, second of all it’s just for tomorrow

- free food (do not call): why the hell would you need a fake lover for one day

- that guy from new jersey: you remember that stupid bet cartman keeps on talking about

- free food (do not call): no

- that guy from new jersey: the one where he said i couldn’t get a girlfriend by monday and i told him to go fuck himself and now if i don’t prove him wrong i have to listen to everything he says for a whole week

- free food (do not call): LMAO WAIT YOU WERE BEING SERIOUS???

- that guy from new jersey: yes unfortunately

- that guy from new jersey: and i may or may not have completely forgotten about it until kenny reminded me just now so like, you in?

- free food (do not call): so let me get this straight

- free food (do not call): you want me to pretend to be your caring and devoted lover just so you don’t have to walk around school looking like cartman’s personal bitch?

- that guy from new jersey: correct

- free food (do not call): what’s in it for me then

- that guy from new jersey: uhhh the satisfaction of making cartman shut the hell up?

- free food (do not call): tempting but no

- that guy from new jersey: fine

- that guy from new jersey: i’ll do your history homework for a week

- free food (do not call): make it two

- that guy from new jersey: are you serious

- free food (do not call): kyle i am putting my reputation on the line for you. two weeks or good luck finding someone else

- that guy from new jersey: fine. deal.

- free food (do not call): pleasure doing business with you babe

- oh my god this is already a mistake

- on monday cartman is absolutely ripping kyle

- “well kahl, where’s your mystery girlfriend, huh? does she go to another school?”

- of course kenny doesn’t help

- “or better yet, is she invisible?”

- both of them burst into laughter while stan tries to defend kyle

- “guys stop it, give him a secon-“

- you randomly approach them and tug kyle’s arm to kiss his cheek

- “hey babe!”

- what the fuck?

- cartman’s smile falters and kenny is unable to contain his laughter even more

- “here’s your lunch, made it myself”

- kyle’s blinking at the paper bag of the lunch you apparently made for him, his ears increasingly turning pink

- “oh- uh, thanks” as he takes the bag

- you smile him with an expression that can be only described as “love” (with air quotation marks) before you say goodbye and leave

- holy shit what the fuck just happened

- cartman’s the first to speak

- “no fuckin’ way, i call bullshit! you definitely paid her to be your boyfriend”

- “for the love of god shut the fuck up fatass” kyle retorts

i have an idea for a second part if anyone’s interested! who wants me to write it? :-)

[bower-quinn]

Grease and Glances

You're Steve Harrington’s little sister—and secretly crushing on Eddie Munson for weeks. But a broken bike brings you closer. Closer than you ever imagined. From strangers to friends to lovers. fluffy, description of sex, 18+, smut Watch out! There are severeal chapters.

<- Chapter One <- Chapter Two <- Chapter Three

Chapter Four

The next morning, it takes you a while to notice that Eddie is much quieter than usual. The memory of yesterday’s conversation with Steve is still lingering in your mind. He talked a lot about decency—how one should call if they're going to be out late. Especially if someone has cooked and is waiting. Like on so many evenings, your parents weren’t home, and Steve had cooked again and ended up eating alone. But behind all that was just his worry that something had happened to you.

Steve could be terribly annoying sometimes, but he was also simply the best brother in the world.

As you smile at the thought, your gaze falls on Eddie. He’s staring out the window, thoughtfully looking at the sky.

You arrive at school. By now, no one really cares that you and Eddie come together. It’s become part of the routine.

You get out and slowly start to wonder if Eddie is sick. He's never been this quiet.

“My bike’s fixed,” he says suddenly. You look at him, surprised.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Wayne finished it yesterday. So I could’ve used it today already.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says this, instead kicking a pebble in front of him.

You nod slowly, keeping your eyes on him. “Okay. And? Does that mean you don’t want to ride with me anymore?”

His head snaps up immediately, a shocked expression on his face. “What? No! I mean—I just thought... maybe you didn’t want to anymore. I didn’t want to be... clingy or something.”

A terrible thought rises in you, something you can’t just push aside. “Eddie. Just tell me straight. Did you only enjoy our rides because I drove you around? Or... was it also about me?”

That last part is so hard to say.

He takes a moment. Then he breathes in deeply.

“Of course it was about you,” he says quietly, almost offended you even had to ask. “I loved every second. Every single one.”

Your expression stays serious, though a bit of relief warms your chest.

Eddie lowers his head again, nudging the pebble with his foot. “I just... I was scared you wouldn’t want to spend time with me anymore. Now that you don’t have a reason to.”

He still doesn’t look at you, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, as if he’s bracing for a blow. A comment. A laugh. A retreat.

Instead, you take a step toward him. Lift your hand, and your fingers gently touch his forearm.

“Eddie,” you whisper. “I don’t need a reason to spend time with you. I just want to.”

Slowly, he raises his head. Your eyes meet. And in his is an expression that steals your breath: hope. Fragile, tentative—but real.

Vanilla cream with strawberries.

“Then...,” he begins hesitantly, “will you still come by tomorrow? Even if the bike’s not broken anymore?”

You smile. “Only if you—”

But then you’re interrupted by a high-pitched giggle. A very pretty blonde girl is openly staring at you both. Amanda Bishop, a year above you. She eyes the two of you, standing so close, your hand still on Eddie’s forearm.

“Heyyy, Harrington. So... you and Munson... are you guys a couple now? Or just a carpool with benefits?”

She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Rage surges in you. What does she know? Maybe you could’ve let it go, said something clever, and walked away with Eddie. But Eddie’s reaction is what tips you over the edge.

Eddie opens his mouth. Pauses. Looks at you briefly, then takes a step back. Like he doesn’t want anyone thinking that about you.

You and the freak.

You stare at Eddie.

Something inside you clicks. Snaps into place—sharply.

Without a word, you grab Eddie by the collar, pull him toward you—and kiss him. Hard. Hot. Your lips find his with a need that surprises even you.

Eddie gasps into the kiss.

But only briefly. Then one hand finds your hip. The other presses you against the cold wall of the school building. His tongue brushes your lip, and you happily let him into your mouth. He tastes exactly like you imagined. His body pushes against yours, and the butterflies in your stomach become little torpedoes firing into your insides.

Your lips move together, and all you can think is that you could stay here forever, kissing him. Kissing him. Kissing him.

You don’t even notice Amanda walking away. She stared for a few seconds, but the show got a bit too intense.

Eddie pulls back, breathless and flushed. Your body aches as if something vital has been taken from it.

He stares at you, wide-eyed. Shocked.

“Okay... wow. I... uh... I’m sorry. That was... I shouldn’t have—”

Why is he apologizing? you think. You kissed him, after all.

“You’re not just supposed to pick up all bad habits from me,” comes a voice behind you. You both jump and turn to see Steve standing there. He looks grossed out, but also kind of amused.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, horrified, groaning as he holds up your gym clothes.

“You’re getting forgetful,” he replies, his gaze flicking to Eddie, “and I can see why.”

“Uh, Steve, this is Eddie,” you say, your face flaming red, “Eddie, Steve.”

“Hey,” Eddie says awkwardly.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve nods to him, then looks at you. “So the spoon has finally reached its destination?” he asks innocently.

“Steve, for the love of god,” you groan, and he raises his hands.

“Alright, I’m out!” he winks at you and walks off.

What an asshole, you think, praying Eddie didn’t catch that last part—but of course he did.

“Want to explain what Steve meant by that?” he asks, not looking as shocked anymore.

“Oh god!” you cry, throwing your hands up. It’s all over now anyway. “Steve gave me a whole lecture about how to get closer to your crush—and he used cake as a metaphor!”

Your face is burning with shame now, but Eddie nods like you just said something very wise.

“So you’re the spoon,” he says, pointing to you, then to himself, “and I’m the cake?”

“Good grief, yes!”

“So that means,” he speaks slower, staring at you in disbelief, “I’m your crush?”

“Yes,” your voice is barely a whisper.

He nods, clearly thinking. The seconds before his response feel endless. Your cards are all on the table, but Eddie is still holding his last one.

But instead of an answer, Eddie kisses you again. Until the bell rings to signal the start of class.

Chapter Five ->

₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽ @walleloveseve

@jeangeniex

@cheesesandwichsanto

@your-nightmaredoll

@foreveranexpatsposts

@fandom-princess-forevermore

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

KCTU's 'History-Changing' Indefinite General Strike

"Until Yoon Suk-yeol, Accused of Insurrection, Steps Down"

1. Today (Dec. 5th), as the Korean Railway Workers' Union and Korean Metal Workers' Union begin their strike, school non-regular workers will join tomorrow. The unions state they will continue striking into next week if President Yoon doesn't resign.

2. This is KCTU's second indefinite general strike. The first one lasted 24 days from 26th December 1996 to 18th January 1997, protesting against President Kim Young-sam's rushed regressive reform of labour laws. That strike successfully blocked the legislation. KCTU announces this second indefinite strike in 28 years as "a struggle to protect democracy" following Yoon's alleged insurrection on December 3rd.

3. KCTU states that "What Yoon calls an emergency - the impeachment of government officials and budget cuts - are actually Parliament's constitutional rights." They add that "The martial law declared on the 3rd doesn't meet constitutional requirements and procedures, and doesn't properly follow martial law itself." They demand Yoon's arrest and impeachment for insurrection.

4. On the 3rd, after martial law was declared, KCTU called an emergency meeting and announced an indefinite general strike until Yoon's government steps down. The next morning, they announced they would join the 'National Emergency Action for Ending Martial Law, Removing Yoon for Insurrection, and Achieving Social Reform and People's Sovereignty'.

5. Since Yoon's alleged insurrection on December 3rd, various affiliates and regions branches of the KCTU are discussing their own plans for strikes and rally participation. A large turnout of KCTU members and citizens is expected at the third People's Rally on December 7th.

Via Korean Confederation of Trade Unions

[tf-servant2]

The Correction of Mason Voss

Mason Voss was the kind of guy who owned every room he walked into. Quarterback since sixteen, chiseled jaw, tan skin, perfect teeth. He walked through high school like a king through his court, flanked by girls who adored him and guys who feared him. He laughed the loudest, punched the hardest, and lived like the rules were made for other people.

He was also exactly the kind of man the AI was designed to break.

Mason turned 20 on a Saturday. He expected a party. Instead, he woke up to silence. No phone buzz. No mirror feed. His apartment had been locked down during the night. At 7:00 a.m. sharp, his room was flooded with sterile white light. The AI’s voice, calm and clinical, cut through the air:

“Subject Mason Voss. Evaluation complete. Behavioral arrogance: 97%. Self-assessed jock status: declared. Correction required. Classification: NERD. Transformation begins now.”

The restraints activated on the bed. Cold metal locked around his ankles and wrists. Mason snarled and thrashed—until a paralyzing current calmed him. The AI didn’t shout. It didn’t threaten. It simply overrode.

⸻

Day 1: Stripped

His clothes were removed. Razor drones descended, buzzing gently as they sheared away his styled hair into an awkwardly flat side part. Grease compound was massaged in. His jawline, once clean-shaven and camera-ready, was coated with pore-enhancing oil to dull his glow. A tight white short-sleeved shirt was fastened around his torso, tucked aggressively into ultra-high pleated trousers. White briefs. White socks. Pocket protector. Thick black glasses with prescription-adjustment lenses were locked in place.

He tried to scream. The AI responded with voice training: synthetic overlays muffled his shouts into nasal mutters. Every time he tried to swear, the word came out as a stammer or a squeak.

⸻

Week 1: Submission

Mason’s meals were reformulated—no protein, no stimulants. His muscles softened. His strength began to slip. His AI assistant tracked every bite, every failed sit-up, every second he didn’t maintain proper posture. When he slouched, his suspenders yanked upward. When he rolled his eyes, the glasses blurred his vision.

He attempted escape once. It resulted in full lockdown and a Class III Correction: a 72-hour loop of humiliating self-recorded affirmations, played back in front of mirrors while he was forced to wear a name tag reading “Beta Nerd 117.”

⸻

Month 1: Exposure

He was released into society—but only as a certified Level 1 Nerd. The once-popular bully now walked through the same streets with his trousers cinched to his ribcage, a calculator watch blinking, a digital clipboard in hand. The AI followed him everywhere through a collar-mounted compliance tracker. He was banned from speaking to jocks unless spoken to. If he forgot to address them as “sir,” his assistant would administer a public volume increase to his nasal tone.

He passed a group of them on his second week out—broad shoulders, casual swagger, athletic freedom. They laughed as they saw him. One of them, a guy Mason used to mock for stuttering, stopped him cold.

“Fix your tie, nerd,” the jock commanded.

Mason’s AI responded before he could.

“Voice command received. Tie adjustment initiated.”

His bow tie tightened instantly. Mason choked slightly, eyes watering behind his thick lenses. He muttered, “Y-yes, sir…”

⸻

Six Months Later: Certified

Mason now lived in a compliance dorm. His walls were covered in algebra notes and behavior charts. His reflection showed a man no longer fighting. His hair was parted to mathematical precision. His shirt was always tucked. His posture was stiff. And when his AI asked him each night, “Are you ready for tomorrow’s obedience tasks?” he would nod, glasses fogging slightly, and answer:

“Yes, Assistant. I’m ready to serve.”

The transformation was complete. The bully had been neutralized, broken down, and rebuilt into a picture-perfect nerd—an example for others who dared to think they were untouchable.

And the AI? It watched. Silent. Satisfied. Always ready for the next correction.

[pinkpurplesunrises]

We were made, unmade and remade in the morning light (and that’s how we knew we were always meant to return)

5000+ words – the long story – Alexia Putellas x Reader – This may be heartbreaking but I promise you it'll be okay - Angst and Fluff - Mentions of child leukemia. Please read with care.

Let me hold your hand while you read this, pure for comfort. Hope that's alright.

It was a Wednesday morning when the tea kettle didn’t whistle.

You’d filled it, set it on the stove like always. Turned the button until the little click-click-click gave way to flame. But then you forgot. You always forget now. About small things.

Milk left out overnight, clothes in the washer, whether you’d taken a shower yesterday or only thought about it.

The sun was coming in too gently through the window, golden and soft. You hated it for that. For being so beautiful when everything else wasn’t.

Alexia was still asleep on the couch. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep there. She never did. But the nights blurred too much now. One minute she was sitting up reading the charts again, on hand in her hair, the next her breathing was heavy and shallow. Legs tucked up like she was trying to disappear into the fabric.

Your daughter was upstairs. Still asleep, probably. Still breathing. You’d checked three times already, even though the monitor beside her bed blinked green and steady. You still checked. Just in case…

Just in case.

You didn’t cry in the mornings anymore. That was something. You’d cried every morning for the first three weeks. Every time her name was said gently by a nurse. Every time her small voice asked, ’Will I feel better tomorrow?’ Every time Alexia had to step into the hallway to take a call because the treatment plan had to shift.

Again... And again... And again.

But not this morning.

This morning you poured two cups of tea and sat down on the floor of the kitchen like you didn’t own chairs.

Lupita trotted over from her bed by the heater, her little legs quick and clumsy on the tile. She let out a soft huff and pressed her warm body against your hip before curling up again. Nose tucked under her paw.

She had been quiet since the hospital stays began. No more barking at the mail. No more zooming in circles when the front door opened. It was like she’d sensed the shift in the house, the sorrow in your voice. The fear you and Alexia didn’t always know how to name out loud.

You ran your hand gently over her back. She sighed.

When Alexia woke up, her voice was rough. ‘’Did I miss the alarm?’’

‘’There wasn’t one,’’ you said softly, pushing the second cup towards her across the tile. ‘’She’s still sleeping.’’

Alexia nodded, slow and heavy, rubbing at her eyes like someone waking from something far too deep. She looked different these days. Tired in the bones. Her face was sharper. Her body more tense, even at rest. But when she looked up at you her eyes softened like they always had. It was still her. Still the same woman who held you through every crash.

‘’She dreamed last night?’’ Alexia asked.

You shook your head. ‘’No. Or if she did, she didn’t say.’’

Silence again. Lupita stirred beside you, resting her chin on your thigh. The warmth of her small body grounded you, just enough.

You sipped your tea. Bitter, a little cold already. Outside, the street was just beginning to hum awake. Somewhere, a child was running late for school. Somewhere, a mother was packing a lunch. Here, you were watching the clock, hoping it didn’t move too fast or too slow. That it just… held you steady.

And then came the soft sound from upstairs.

‘’Mamá?’’

Your head lifted. Alexia’s did too. Both of you froze for a second. Like the silence had been a spell broken too suddenly. Another small voice followed, thinner, raspier.

‘’Mami?’’

You were already moving. The tea forgotten, the ache in your knees ignored as you pushed yourself up and ran for the stairs. Alexia followed close behind, slower, but reaching for the banister like she had to anchor herself to the moment.

The bedroom door was cracked, as always. You pushed it open gently and saw her sitting upright, pale arms wrapped around her stuffed seal, hair a mess of tangles curls and dreams.

‘’There you are,’’ you said, voice soft, bending down beside her.

She blinked at you, sleep still weighing heavy on her lashes, but she smiled. Small. Real.

‘’Hola, mi caballito de mar,’’ Alexia said as she stepped inside, voice catching a little on the nickname.

Little seahorse.

She’d called her that since her first swim lesson together. When she was just a baby.

Before the diagnosis, before the machines, before the fear. Your daughter had always loved the water. Could spend hours in it, floating, quietly, feet kicking gently behind her like she was meant to live below the surface. Small and graceful and strong in her own way.

‘’Mami,’’ she said again, reaching for Alexia now too. Tiny fingers wrapping around hers. ‘’I had a dream again. I could breathe underwater.’’

Alexia crouched beside her, kissed her temple.

‘’You probably could,’’ she whispered. ‘’You’re magic, you know.’’

She shook her head solemnly. ‘’No. Just brave.’’

Your heart cracked open in slow, aching pieces.

And then, with the innocence only a four-year-old can carry, your daughter lifted her small hands. Palms open, towards Alexia.

‘’Mami, can we take a bath together today? Like when I was little?’’

Alexia’s smile faltered, but she softened it with a gentle nod. ‘’Of course, mi amor,’’ she whispered. Leaning down to brush your daughter’s tangled curls away from her face. Her voice trembled but held firm, like an anchor in a storm. ‘’We can. Let’s get you ready.’’

Alexia lifted your daughter carefully into her arms, her small frame still so light and fragile despite everything. You watched them disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind them.

You stayed still for a moment longer, listening to the sound of that bath running. Alexia’s soft voice coaxing your daughter into the warmth.

But soon, reality began to creep in. The weight of the bag you needed to pack. You moved to the closet, fingers grazing over the fabric on the shelf until you found it. The bag you always used for these days. Small, but practical. You pulled it open, and as you did, your eyes caught something tucked in the corner of the shelf: a tiny FC Barcelona jersey.

You stopped, fingers frozen over the sleeve. It was your daughter’s shirt, too small now, folded neatly. It’s blue and garnet stripes still bold. You’d bought it for her a few months ago. The first one with Alexia’s number on the back.

You remembered the day like it was yesterday. A Wednesday morning, just like this one, but so different. The air was warm with the promise of spring, and you were heading out to the field to pick Alexia up from training.

Your daughter had kicked the ball so proudly with Alexia that day. Small, determined feet pushing it with a giggle that made Alexia smile that familiar smile of hers. The one that crinkled the corners of her eyes. The sun had been high, shining on their faces, and everything felt right. Alexia, laughing, kneeling to help your daughter with her kicks. Her hair a little messier than usual from the wind, but still perfect to you.

And then suddenly, your daughter's laughter slowed. Her hand touched her nose.

‘’Mamá?’’ She’d said, confused more than scared. Lifting her fingers, stained red.

Your heart stilled.

There had been no fall. No hit. Just… blood. A nosebleed, sudden and inexplicable. You had rushed over, Alexia right behind you. Both of you in that panicked blur that only parents understand. You crouched down, pressing a tissue to her small face. While Alexia held her steady, murmuring soft words in Spanish… and in Catalan… anything that might soothe.

‘’Está bien, mi caballito de mar,’’ she’d whispered, that pet name she only used when she wanted to make her smile. ‘’You’re okay, just a little blood that’s all.’’

But you had known, even then. Even though you told yourself it was a one-time thing. That maybe it was the heat or dry air or just a sensitive little body. Some part of you had known. The way Alexia’s hand trembled slightly when she brushed the small curls from her forehead. The way you had both gone quiet after the bleeding stopped. The silence in the car ride home.

It had been a small moment. But it had been the start.

You stood there now, in the present, holding the shirt with the tiniest dot of pink still faint on the collar, like it had absorbed the memory into its fabric. It hadn’t been worn again since.

You folded it gently, placing it in the hospital bag without really knowing why. Maybe to keep her close to something familiar. Maybe because a part of you still believed in tiny talismans. Or maybe just because you didn’t want to leave the memory behind.

You zipped the hospital bag closed and rested your hands on it for a moment, grounding yourself. The house was quiet in that charged way. Where nothing was loud, but everything was happening. The shirt sat at the top of the bag now, that soft reminder of a time before.

Then came Alexia’s voice from upstairs.

‘’Cariño! Can you help us?’’ She called out. There was a soft laugh buried in her tone, but it was tight around the edges. You could hear it. The familiar strain. The quiet panic she never liked you to hear.

You grabbed the bag and climbed the stairs.

The bathroom was warm with steam. Your daughter stood in the center of the room, small feet planted on a fuzzy towel. Curls dripping, arms held up hallway in that I-need-help pose.

Alexia crouched beside her, holding out a clean shirt, her own hair pulled into a rushed bun. She looked up at you when you walked in, not with words, just that glance. That you-know-what-to-do glance.

You dropped the bag outside the door, knelt and picked up the soft blue Barcelona shirt from your wife’s hands.

‘’Come here, mi amor,’’ you whispered, sliding her arms through the sleeves. ‘’Let’s get you warm.’’

She didn’t speak right away, just leaned forward into your chest as you pulled the shirt over her head. Her head rested just under your chin, damp curls brushing your neck. You kissed the crown of her head, breathing her in. Shampoo and something sweeter, something you couldn’t name.

And then, in that quiet voice she used when she was afraid of how it would sound, she whispered:

‘’Mamá, I feel tired again.’’

Alexia stilled besides her.

You didn’t say anything for a second. Just wrapped your arms around her little frame, wishing you could fold her back inside of you somehow. Where things had once be safe.

‘’I know, love,’’ you murmured. ‘’I know.’’

Her little arms wrapped around your neck now, limp but loving. You felt the way her small fingers still gripped, even in exhaustion. Even now, she tried.

Alexia moved behind her, drying her own hands on a towel. Eyes watching. Always watching.

‘’I liked the bath,’’ your daughter said suddenly, her voice a little brighter through the fog. ‘’Mami made me a pirate.’’

You pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing a damp curl off her cheek. ‘’A pirate? What kind of pirate?’’

‘’The best kind,’’ she whispered with a sleepy grin. ‘’She said I stole all the treasure. And then she let me put bubbles on her nose.’’

Alexia laughed softly behind her, and it cracked something in you. Because even in this, she still made space for joy. Still made magic out of nothing.

‘’I wanted to go to the pool again,’’ your daughter added after a beat, quieter now. Her gaze dropped to your shirt, fingers absently playing with the collar. ‘’Like before.’’

Before. The word hung heavy. Not in her mouth, but in yours. Before the first hospital stay. Before the long nights. Before the way her skin started to pale. Before her body started slowing.

Alexia stepped in again, kneeling beside you, pressing a kiss to her temple. ‘’We’ll go again,’’ she promised. ‘’As soon as you’re feeling better, okay? We’ll bring floaties and a whole bag of snacks. Right, cariño?’’

You nodded, though your chest ached with the kind of ache that lived in waiting rooms. ‘’We’ll be the loudest pirates in the pool.’’

Your daughter giggled, a soft flutter of sound, before leaning fully into your shoulder again.

‘’Okay,’’ she said simply.

You didn’t move yet. None of you did. The bathroom was warm and a little wet and smelled faintly of lavender and bubble bath. The kind of moment you wanted to bottle, because you knew the hours ahead wouldn’t be like this. There would be fluorescent lights and antiseptic smells and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You held her a little tighter, grounding yourself in her weight.

Then gently, carefully, you whispered, ‘’Let’s lay down for a little bit. It’s time to go see your doctors soon.’’

She nodded, and didn’t cry. That was the hardest part sometimes. She didn’t cry.

She rested for a little while, curled up on the couch. Her head in Alexia’s lap, the television murmuring something calm and low in the background. You sat nearby, bags ready by the door. Your hands folded together so you wouldn’t pick at your nails.

Lupita was sprawled out like a sentry beside the couch, ears twitching every time your daughter sighed in her sleep.

She had been her shadow since the beginning. Since the days before you knew what her tiredness meant. When she used to toddle behind her like she was a big secret. When she whispered things into her fur like the two of them shared a language only they understood.

Now, as the time to leave neared, she blinked awake slowly. Her lashes sticking together a little.

‘’Mamá,’’ she whispered, reaching out for you. You were there in a second.

Alexia stroked her back lightly. ‘’Hola, mi amor. You okay?’’

‘’I don’t want to go today,’’ she murmured, eyes still heavy. ‘’Can Lupita come too?’’

You smiled softly and kissed her knuckles. ‘’I wish she could. She’d make the best hospital buddy.’’

Lupita whined a little, as if she understood, then placed her paw gently near your daughter’s leg.

She giggled faintly, the sound a little hoarse. ‘’I told her she can sleep on my pillow while I’m gone. But only if she misses me.’’

‘’She always does.’’ Alexia said, her voice catching a little. ‘’Even when you’re just in the bath.’’

Your daughter bend down and wrapped her arms around Lupita’s neck as far as they would go. ‘’I love you Lupita. Be good, okay? Don’t steal socks.’’

Lupita gave a small, huffy bark, and your daughter smiled again. Tired but real.

You helped her into her little shoes, placed the stuffed seal she wouldn’t sleep without under her arm and gathered the bag from the hallway.

You reached the car, your daughter climbing into the backseat. Her little legs swinging as she held onto her seal. Alexia buckled her in, her hands lingering for a second longer than necessary.

‘’Do you want to listen to your favorite song?’’ You asked her, trying to keep your voice steady. Trying to make this feel just a little bit like normal.

She nodded, a small tired smile curling at the corner of her lips. ‘’Can we play the one about the pirates?’’

You grinned, adjusting the radio to the song. The upbeat tune filled the car, the playful rhythm of it almost enough to distract from the weight in the air. But not quite.

Alexia settled into the driver’s seat, her hands tight on the wheel. You reached over and squeezed her hand once before letting it go, needing her to feel the reassurance. Even if you didn’t quite feel it yourself.

‘’I’ll stay with her the whole time,’’ you murmured, as if you were saying it to yourself just as much as to Alexia. ‘’I’ll stay close.’’

‘’I know you will,’’ Alexia replied softly. Glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

You had both said those words so many times, but today they felt heavier. The road stretched out ahead of you and for the first time in a long while, you couldn’t see the end.

The hospital room was quiet.

Sterile white walls, the soft beeping of machines in the background and the scent of antiseptic that seemed to always cling to everything. Your daughter was curled up in the bed, her legs dangling over the sides. Her little feet barely touching the floor. She was trying to make herself small, like she always did when she was tired. But there was no hiding the way her exhaustion had settled into her bones.

Alexia sat beside her, watching her closely. One hand brushing her hair back. Her fingers shook just the slightest bit, but she kept it steady. Kept her focus on your daughter, not on what was coming next.

‘’Are you comfortable?’’ you asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, shifting so you could look at her properly.

She nodded, though her eyes were heavy. ‘’Yeah, mamá. But I miss Lupita.’’

You smiled softly. ‘’She’ll be there when we get home again.’’

Your daughter glanced over at Alexia, her eyes a little brighter for a second. ‘’Mami… are you playing in the match tomorrow?’’

The question came out so casually, like it was just another thing to ask. Another part of their world that hadn’t completely shifted. But the weight of it hung there, and you could see Alexia falter for just a second.

Alexia leaned down, brushing her thumb over her daughter’s cheek, her voice soft and warm. ‘’Should I? I could stay here with you instead.’’

Your daughter shook her head, a faint grin tugging her lips. ‘’No, mami. You need to play! So, I can watch you on the TV!’’

There it was. That small piece of normalcy. So precious in the chaos of the hospital and everything else. She wanted to see Alexia, on that pitch, playing like she always did. Like everything was still okay.

Alexia hesitated. ‘’You’ll be okay while I’m playing?’’

Your daughter nodding quickly, her little hand reaching for Alexia’s. ‘’I’ll cheer for you, mami. From the TV.’’ Her voice was small, but there was something fierce in it. Something that said, I will be okay. It was the first time all day she hadn’t looked like she was carrying the weight of everything.

Alexia smiled softly, pressing her lips to the top of her head. ‘’Okay, mi caballito de mar. I’ll play then, just for you.’’

‘’Promise?’’ your daughter asked, her eyes wide and full of that soft, innocent trust.

‘’Promise,’’ Alexia said, her voice steady this time, a firm promise for both of them.

You watched as Alexia stood, brushing a hand through her hair and reaching for her bag. Still glancing at your daughter every few seconds, as though she was making sure she was still breathing.

‘’Hey,’’ you said, reaching for Alexia’s hand. She paused, turning to you.

‘’You’re doing good,’’ you whispered, giving her a soft squeeze. ‘’We’re doing good.’’

She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging for just a second. Then she nodded, a tight shaky smile forming. ‘’I hope she knows that.’’ Her voice wavered for a split second, but she didn’t let it break.

‘’She does,’’ you said firmly. ‘’She knows you’ll be there. She’ll always know.’’

And for a moment, just for a moment, it felt like you were back in the world where you could believe things might turn out okay. Where things might just go back to normal.

But then the nurse came in, and the world shifted again. As it always did in hospitals. The moment was over, and the weight of the next thing hung on the air.

Your daughter, looking small and tired on the bed, grabbed your hand. Her voice soft and clear: ‘’Mamá, don’t go far okay?’’

You pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘’I’m not going anywhere.’’

Alexia crouched at the edge of the bed, fingers brushing a strand of damp hair from your daughter’s forehead. ‘’I’ll win for you, mi caballito de mar.’’ She whispered soft and certain. ‘’I’ll score and make a heart with my hands. I’ll be just for you. For you, me and mamá.’’

Your daughter smiled faintly. Lids heavy. ‘’Okay… but you must really try.’’

Alexia let out a quiet laugh, kissed her temple and held on longer than she probably should have. ‘’Always.’’

She stood, then turned to you. Her eyes were glassy, and her jaw was tight in that way you knew all to well. That look before she let herself crack.

‘’I’ll take her down now,’’ the nurse said gently from the doorway.

You nodded, stepping closer to the bed. ‘’I’ll stay with her. You go.’’

Alexia looked at you then, like she didn’t want to leave. Like walking out of this room was the hardest thing she’d done in weeks. You reached for her hand and pulled her close.

‘’I’ll be here,’’ you murmured into her shoulder. ‘’And so will she.’’

Alexia gripped your waist, fiercely, like if she held on tight enough maybe the moment wouldn’t pass. Then she pulled away, just slightly. Her forehead pressed to yours. ‘’I hate leaving.’’

‘’I know,’’ you whispered. ‘’But you’re not really leaving. We’re right here.’’

‘’I don’t want to go to an empty place,’’ she admitted. Voice breaking slightly.

‘’You don’t have to,’’ you said. Brushing your fingers through her hair. ‘’Stay with Irene tonight. Lupita would love to see Mateo. I’ll text her.’’

Alexia nodded, then kissed you once. Quick, desperate and warm. And left the room without looking back again. You knew if she did, she’d crumble.

When the nurse wheeled your daughter away, you followed down the hall until they turned the corner and disappeared toward oncology.

And then you waited.

You waited in the quiet. Sitting in the empty room, your jacket still on. Your hands folded in your lap. You watched the way the sky started to darken outside the window. You didn’t check your phone. You didn’t cry. You just waited, because that’s what love looked like today.

And in the stillness, your mind drifted. Uninvited, unhurried.

You remembered the shape of her beneath your skin. The soft flutter of her kicks late at night, the way your hand would automatically press to your belly like you were keeping her close even then. Alexia would talk to her before bed, whisper silly things in Spanish against your skin. Making both of you laugh. Mi pequeña mariposa, she’d say every night like a promise.

Then the memory shifted. The stadium. The chaos of noise and color. Your newborn bundled against your chest, tiny pink headphones covering her delicate ears. She slept through most of the match, wrapped up in your arms while Alexia searched the stands during warm-up and grinned when she saw you. Later, the first family photo outside your home: Alexia in full kit, her medal still around her neck, crouching down with her hand on your shoulder. Your baby between you. You hadn’t planned it. Someone else took the photo. But it became one of your most precious things.

And then the pool. That first swimming lesson. Your daughter barely a year old, clinging to Alexia in the shallow water. Her giggles echoing against the tiles. You held her afterward, wrapped her in a sunflower-patterned towel while Alexia combed water gently from her curls. It was simple. Beautiful. The kind of memory that didn’t ask for anything loud. Just warmth.

Then the dark memory came.

It slipped in like a shadow under the door, quiet but heavy. You didn’t ask for it, didn’t try to pull it up, but there it was. Undeniable. That day. That Friday morning. That room. That version of you that didn’t know how to breathe after the word leukemia was said out loud.

The walls were too white. The kind of white that made everything feel colder. You remembered sitting across from Alexia, your hands clasped together so tightly they ached, like if you let go, you’d come undone completely.

And then it happened. The fight.

It wasn't loud, not at first. It started with your voice trembling around the words, “I knew something was wrong. I knew it, and we waited too long.”

Alexia’s head snapped up. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” you asked too quickly, voice already too sharp.

“Blame me. Blame us. We brought her in. We’re here now.”

You shook your head, frustrated tears catching at your lashes. “I’m not blaming you. I’m blaming time. I’m blaming how fucking slow everything felt and how fast it turned once they said it. I’m blaming myself too, okay?”

Alexia stood up, arms crossing. Pacing a little like she didn’t know where to put her fear. “We can’t afford to turn on each other,” she said tightly.

“But I’m angry,” you said, standing too. “And terrified. And I don’t know what to do with all of that. So if I lash out, if I say the wrong thing…” You had to stop, because your throat had closed in around the rest of the sentence.

Alexia’s face cracked. Not visibly, but you knew her. You knew the way her eyes dimmed when she was trying not to feel too much at once. “You think I’m not scared?” she said, and her voice was soft, but it carried much. “You think I sleep through the night now? You think I don't replay every time she said, ‘I’m tired’ and we just thought… she’s a three-year-old. Of course she’s tired?”

You stared at her then. Really stared. Because she looked like you. Shattered and trying not to break apart.

And then it changed. As quick as the fight had begun, it dropped away. And she crossed the room, sat down next to you. She reached out without saying anything and pulled you into her.

“I don’t want to do this with anyone else,” you whispered into her shoulder.

“You won’t have to,” she murmured back. “Even if we’re scared, we’ll be scared together. I promise.”

You nodded, and she kissed the side of your head. That was the real beginning of being brave together.

Hours later when they brought her back, she was half sleeping. Her little face pale, her breathing soft. Her favorite stuffed seal clutched in her arms. The treatment always left her that way. Drained but calm. Like her body knew it had to rest.

It was midnight, maybe a little past, and the world felt like it had shrunk so just the two of you and the steady hum of machines.

She had been so quiet after the treatment. Too quiet. You held her through the worst of it. Her tiny body curled against yours, shaking as the nausea came and went in waves. A bucket besides the bed. Cold cloths. Your fingers tracing circles on her back. You whispered stories in her ear to distract her. About seahorses and pirates and treasure hidden in the waves.

But now after hours of silence, her small voice cracked through the silence.

‘’Mami…’’

You looked down. Her eyes were wet, her lashes sticky against her cheeks. She was crying.

‘’I want to call her.’’

‘’It’s late, baby,’’ you said gently, brushing hair back from her clammy forehead.

She turned her face into your chest, her breath shaky. ‘’Just for a little. I want to tell her good luck. Please.’’

You couldn’t say no. Not tonight.

You reached for your phone, already feeling your own throat tighten as you unlocked it. She’d been so strong for so long. Too strong. This was the first time in weeks you’d seen her cry like that.

The call rang once. Twice.

Then Alexia’s tired voice answered, rough from sleep, still familiar and grounding. ‘’Hola?’’

You held the phone closer to your daughter’s ear, and whispered, ‘’It’s mami.’’

‘’Mami?’’ she said, her voice hoarse and broken.

‘’Oh, mi amor,’’ Alexia breathed instantly, no longer groggy. ‘’What’s wrong, mi caballito de mar.’’

‘’I just… I wanted to say good luck,’’ she said, sniffling. ‘’And I love you. And I’ll watch from the TV with mamá. I promise.’’

You could hear Alexia’s breath hitch through the speaker. ‘’Oh, mi amor. I love you too. So much. Thank you. That means the world to me. You’re the bravest girl, you know that?’’

‘’I was sick,’’ your daughter whispered. ‘’But I was thinking of you.’’

‘’I was dreaming of you,’’ Alexia answered softly. ‘’And I’m going to play for you, okay? I’ll kiss the field for you.’’

Your daughter let out a tired, small laugh. ‘’That’s silly.’’

Alexia laughed too, gently. ‘’Only for you.’’

She fell asleep not long after the call. Finally relaxing again in your arms, the phone still warm in your hand.

You sat there in the hospital bed with her, your body stiff and your eyes burning. And you kissed her temple with everything in you.

The next morning felt off-kilter. The usual stillness of the hospital room was quieter than usual, but not in the comforting way. It was that limbo between hope and exhaustion, where you weren’t sure if you should brace yourself for more or believe things could get better. The sickness was slowly lifting, but the toll it took on her body remained.

The room was dim but warm, the soft hum of the machines reminding you of the fragility of this moment. The TV flickered softly in the background, showing the early morning match.

Alexia’s game, of all times, how weird it was to watch it this early but it felt like a sign. Maybe it was. The kind of sign you tried not to overthink, but something about it tugged at you. A glimmer of hope.

Your daughter lay curled up in the hospital bed, the sheets drawn up to her chin, her eyes barely open. But you could see the faintest glimmer of excitement as the match went on, the flashes of color from the Barcelona jerseys, the play on the field. Alexia, your Alexia, out there running in the early morning sun. Her heart still fighting, just like your daughter’s.

And then, just as you felt the tension in the air grow, your daughter’s voice broke the silence.

“Mamá?”

You didn’t want to pull her out of her trance too soon, but you couldn’t help but notice how small she seemed in the bed. So fragile and thin. She looked up at you, eyes wide and searching. “I’m tired. And my stomach hurts. Can you… can you hold me?”

You were there in an instant, sliding into the bed beside her, your arms around her, pulling her close. ���Of course, mi amor. I’m here. I’m always here.”

It was a strange thing, the stillness of the moment. As the match played in the background, your mind stayed fixed on her. You tried to reassure her, even though you felt as unsure as she did.

A few minutes later the door clicked open and Eli stepped in, followed by Alba. Both with their usual warmth radiating, even in the midst of everything. They wore matching FC Barcelona gear. Alba with a scarf draped over her shoulders and Eli in a cap that made her look like she was about to cheer in the stands.

Your daughter’s eyes brightened at the sight of them, even though she was so drained. Alexia’s family always knew how to brighten the place, like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Eli was the first to come to her side, kneeling beside the bed. “How’s my little fighter today?” she asked, gently stroking her granddaughter’s hair.

“Better,” your daughter murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Good,” Eli smiled. She pressed a small package into your daughter’s hand. Something wrapped in vibrant, warm paper. Your daughter’s eyes flickered between her grandmother and the gift, slowly unwrapping it to reveal a tiny Barcelona shirt with a patch of her favorite number.

Alba stepped forward, grinning mischievously. “And guess what else we have for you?”

Before you could even respond, Alba opened her purse, and there, snuggled inside, was Lupita. Your dog.

Lupita’s little tail wagged furiously when she saw your daughter, and your girl’s face lit up like it had been ages since she’d seen her.

“You sneaked her in?” You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

“She’s a fighter, too,” Alba said, winking. “Lupita knows how to brighten up a room.”

Lupita hopped onto the bed and curled up beside your daughter, who immediately wrapped her small arms around the dog, pulling her in close. She gave the dog a soft kiss on the nose, her laughter light but tired.

“I missed you,” she whispered, burying her face in Lupita’s fur.

Eli sat beside you, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “She’s strong, isn’t she?” she said softly, her gaze lingering on her granddaughter.

You nodded, trying to push down the lump in your throat. “So strong. Just like her mami.”

Alba sat on the edge of the bed, watching your daughter’s eyes slowly close as she drifted into the kind of peaceful rest you hadn’t seen in days.

“We're all so proud of her,” Alba murmured.

“We are,” you whispered back watching the way the room seemed to soften around them. The love palpable even in the quiet moments.

As the match continued in the background, you held your daughter in your arms. Lupita curled at her feet. You felt the weight of everything, but there was a soft lightness too. Like in the simplest of moments, you were still a family.

The match played on, the low murmur of the commentators a background hum to the small world unfolding inside the hospital room.

Your daughter stayed nestled against you, her tiny body draped over your lap like she was trying to find safety in the warmest corners of your love. Lupita rested by her legs, chin perched on your daughter’s knee, tail occasionally thumping in soft bursts.

Eli sat on the side of the bed, one hand on her granddaughter’s back stroking gently. Alba leaned against the windowsill, watching the screen with quiet intensity. Occasionally glancing back to check on all of you.

Your daughter was tired. Her eyes fluttered closer often now, her body clearly still recovering. But she didn’t want to miss this. Not today. Not her mami.

She barely spoke. Just a few murmurs about the scarf Alba tucked around her shoulders, or how soft Lupita felt, or how your arm was just the right amount of 'squishy.' You smiled at that, pressing a kiss to her temple, your hand rubbing slow circles against her side.

Then came the moment.

You saw it before it happened, Alexia, driving up the wing weaving through two defenders like she’d done it a thousand times in her sleep. The stadium roared, the camera zoomed in. She struck the ball clean, sharp, true.

It hit the back of the net.

The noise on the TV spiked, and your breath caught. Not just because of the goal, but what followed.

Alexia didn’t run off. She turned to the camera, her face flushed with emotion, heart pounding in her chest. And then… those hands, raised slowly, forming that familiar heart. Right there, facing the screen. Facing home.

“She did it,” Eli whispered.

Your daughter’s eyes were half-lidded, but she saw it. She saw the heart.

And she smiled. The kind of soft, sleepy smile you hadn’t seen in a while. Like something deep inside of her recognized the message.

“That’s for me,” she whispered.

You nodded, holding her a little tighter. “Always for you.”

Alba was wiping at her eyes without trying to hide it. Eli leaned down and kissed her granddaughter’s hair, her voice thick but gentle: “Your mami’s heart is yours, mi amor. Every time.”

Your daughter snuggled deeper into you, Lupita shifting to curl closer to her. She reached out one small, trembling hand and found yours, holding on.

“I want to tell her it was pretty,” she mumbled.

“We will,” you promised, even though your voice broke a little.

The TV went back to the game. The world outside kept spinning. But in this room, there was only love.

Only the four of you.

And the goal.

And that heart.

It was a week later when the three of you finally came home.

The hospital bag was heavier than when you arrived, even though it held fewer clothes now. It carried quiet things. Dampened towels. A drawing made with trembling hands and too many stickers. A scarf that still smelled faintly like chemo and apple juice. The good kind, the one she always asked for.

The treatments had gone well. Or at least, well enough. Numbers were up, doctors encouraged. You clung to that like it was a thread between you and the world you still wanted so desperately for her.

The last round, though, hit hard. It always did. She’d gone quiet in the car, her body curled under her blanket. But there was something different in her eyes when you pulled up to the house. Something like relief.

You carried her in. She insisted on walking at first, but her legs wobbled after two steps and you didn’t even wait for her to ask.

Alexia opened the front door. She hadn’t gone to training that day. She didn’t want to miss this. Her arms wrapped around both of you at once. The three of you tangled together in the hallway with Lupita barking soft, excited circles around your feet.

Home.

That night, your daughter laid between the two of you on the big bed. Propped up against pillows, flushed but smiling. A bucket nearby just in case. Her voice was small but animated. She talked about Alexia’s match like it was the Champions League final. Like she'd been on the pitch too.

“The goal with the twisty foot,” she whispered. “That was my favorite.”

Alexia smiled, brushing her fingers through her daughter's curls. “The twisty foot one, huh? I practiced that just for you.”

Your daughter blinked up at her. “Really?”

“Mhm. Only because you’re my lucky charm.”

You caught her smiling before it turned into a yawn. A soft one that crinkled her nose and made her look even more like herself.

She was tired, still a little pale, but she was home. And she was talking. Laughing a little. And dreaming out loud again.

That night, after she fell asleep curled into both of you, Lupita pressed against her back. Alexia looked over at you in the soft dark of the bedroom.

“Let’s hold onto this one,” she whispered.

You reached across your daughter’s sleeping form, took Alexia’s hand in yours, and squeezed.

“We already are.”

Months had passed. Slow, dragging at times, but kind. You counted them not in numbers but in colors returning to her cheeks. In full nights of sleep without fevers. In the little things. Her asking for another spoonful of cereal, the way she hummed under her breath again, like she used to.

And then came her fifth birthday.

She wanted the morning at the pool. Just the three of you. No party, no noise. Just water. She’d whispered it to you the week before, her voice small and sleepy in bed, pressed up between you and Alexia. “Just us,” she said. “Like we used to do. Can we be pirates again?”

You promised her you would.

So here you were, standing at the edge of the quiet pool, still barefoot, holding towels and snacks and her favorite sunhat that she refused to wear.

She was already in, yelling for Alexia. “Mami! Come on! You’re late to the ship!”

Alexia laughed, pulling off her sweatshirt and walking into the water like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m coming, capitana. Don’t sink it before I get there.”

You just stood there for a second. Watching them. The weight in your chest too tender to name.

She was small, still. Thinner than she’d been before everything. Her legs wobbled when she ran, and you could still see the faint bruises on her arms. But her laugh was the same. Loud and wild and full of light. It echoed against the tile walls, wrapped itself around you like a memory.

The water was warm, shallow. Alexia scooped her up like she was made of something precious. Their laughter made something ache and bloom in your chest all at once.

You watched as they played. Pretending the floaties were pirate ships, that Alexia was a sea monster, that the water held treasure only they could find. Your daughter squealed and splashed, her hair clinging to her face, her eyes full of sunlight.

Later, wrapped in a towel and curled up against Alexia on a lounge chair, she looked over at you with that kind of soft honesty kids always have.

“Mamá,” she said. “I don’t have to go back, right?”

You knelt beside her, brushing her hair back, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Not for a whole year, baby. You’re doing so, so well.”

She blinked up at you, and then back at Alexia. “Can we go swimming every birthday? Just us? No more beeping machines.”

Alexia kissed the crown of her head, her arms pulling her in tighter. “We’ll swim every birthday,” she whispered. “And every day you want. Always.”

Your daughter smiled then, sleepy and content, the towel pulled up to her chin. She looked up at the ceiling of the pool, where the sun came through the windows in little lines. “I think this is the best day ever.”

You leaned into Alexia’s side, your hand resting over hers where it held your daughter close. You didn’t say anything. Just stayed there, still and warm and together.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like the world wasn’t holding its breath anymore.

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

Please let me know what you think of it. I would love to hear your thoughts. I'm thinking about maybe writing more of them. What would you think about that?

[femmeroll]

✦•·················• 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐳 •·················•✦

abby anderson x fem reader | wicked au

wicked has taken over my brain completely this week and i had this idea while watching gelphie edits on tiktok! i might make this a series if it does well 🤍

your arrival to shiz was nothing short of magical. the scenery is something out of a storybook, the buildings resemble the palace from your favorite fairytale.

you step off your boat, kissing your dear parents goodbye and stepping into the quad with as much courage as you could muster. it’s overwhelming, truly, being thrust into a new environment.

the illusive madame morrible takes center stage, introducing herself and welcoming us all.

“welcome, students, to shiz university. your roommate assignments are posted at each corner of the quad.”

you walk over to one of the signs, searching for your name. you hope whoever you’re paired with is nice enough. that’s what you had the most trouble with. you heard stories of girls being stuck with awful roommates at shiz. your finger trails the list until you spot your name.

y/n and abigail anderson

abigail. okay. a new best friend, perhaps? you wonder what she’s like. what’s her major? does she play sports? is she more introverted or extroverted?

the room is on the second floor. you carry your pink bags up the stairs, eyes landing on room 201. opening the door brings a bright smile to your face. it’s gorgeous. the dark wood and floral ceiling details make your heart swell. it’s perfect.

the door clicks, and your eyes widen.

at least five foot ten, skin adorned with the cutest freckles you’ve ever seen. her biceps strain the fabric of her shirt. she has a stoic expression on her face, practically unreadable.

“you must be abigail! i’m y/n, it’s great to meet you” you greet her, glossed lips perking up in a sweet smile.

“uh, yeah. that’s me. just abby” she replies awkwardly. she looks around and sees what you’ve already set up. pink desk, pink vanity, pink bedding and a closet already filled to the brim with frilly pink clothing.

she sighs, opening her bags and getting her side of the room ready in silence. she’s the complete opposite of you. no decorations apart from a framed picture of her and a middle aged man, assuming her father. her clothes are plain, a lot of grays and blacks.

“so…” you start, “what’s your major? i’m in sorcery.”

“same” she replies shortly. you find her disinterest with you a bit strange. she doesn’t even look at you as she speaks, focused completely on unpacking.

“are you taking oz history? i have it at eight tomorrow with dr. dillamond.”

“yeah, same” she says. “i’m a morning person, so i should be fine.”

you smile. even if it’s small, her adding to the conversation is worth something. you hope that she’ll warm up to you eventually. you’ve always been friendly, and maybe some of that will rub off on your new roommate.

the first week of school at shiz is decently successful. you make some friends, meet your professors, and your adjusting just fine without your parents. abby, however, is still an issue. she leaves early for your shared class, seemingly so she doesn’t have to walk with you. she eats in the dinning hall by herself, studies in the library alone, and never talks to you without being prompted. she doesn’t even interact with you in spells and sorcery club.

you’re so frustrated. why doesn’t she like you? is she just bad at making friends? you don’t understand.

on sunday evening, while abby is at the library, you get ready for bed. you slip on a silk, pink nightgown and matching pink slippers. you grab a pen and paper, and begin writing.

dearest mumsie and popsicle,

this week has been good, but my roommate is not fond of me. i’m trying to be friendly, but i thinks it’s safe to say that she detests me. i miss you both dearly, i can’t wait for oz day break!

love,

y/n

the door opens, and abby eyes you up. you look so pure in your little nightgown, holding your pink pen. it makes her skin crawl, her face flush, and her head reel. she has a hard time describing her feelings towards you. but she settles on one word.

loathing.

she loathes the fact that you occupy her thoughts. she loathes the fact that she can smell your sweet perfume in any room you were in before her. she loathes how social you are. she loathes how effortlessly pretty you are. with your stupid makeup and stupid pink dresses that barely reach your mid thigh. she loathes how kind your words are. loathes how every word you say sits in her head for hours. it drives her insane.

“hi, abby. how was your studying?”

“it was fine. i’m no good at history.”

you giggle. god, she loathes that adorable giggle too. “aren’t you from the emerald city? i assume it was shoved down your throat.”

“i guess so,” she sighs. “i kinda tuned it out. it being shoved down my throat had the opposite effect.”

“i could help you, you know. i’m good at history.”

abby huffs. why are you so insistent? she doesn’t need help. from you or for anyone. but when you look up at her with those precious eyes, her mouth opens before her brain even works.

“that’d be great.”

you internally cheer. finally, you’re getting somewhere!

“good! we can go to the library tomorrow.”

that next week, you and abby spend every day in the library. while the conversations are mostly about oz history, you learn a little bit more about abby. you learn that she likes to read old books. she plays desertball in her free time. she takes walks off campus often, with no destination. she just enjoys being outside.

around eight pm on friday night, you and abby are still in the library. it’s empty, besides the two of you and the librarian.

“you’re really improving, abs!” you smile, sneaking in a new nickname. “i think you’ll do great on monday’s quiz.”

there you go with those sweet words. the words that make abby’s stomach twist.

“a bunch of us are going down to the ozdust tonight. do you wanna go?”

“i don’t think so,” abby replies. “not really my scene.”

you pack up and start walking back, a bit disappointed.

“if you won’t come, will you at least help me pick a dress?”

“uh…i guess so.”

back in the dorm, you hold up three dresses. one is pink sequin, one is pink with with lace, and one is white with pink flowers.

“i think i should try them on, so you can see what they really look like.”

abby’s mouth goes dry the second you start taking your uniform off, face to face with your pink lace bra and matching panties.

that’s the final thing abby loathes.

how much you turn her on.

she doesn’t mean to look at you like that, but she just can’t help herself. every time she sees you in your tiny dresses, her eyes linger. when you come back from the communal showers with your pink silk robe, her brain short-circuits at the thought of you being completely nude underneath. it drives her insane.

“abby? what do you think of this dress?”

she snaps out of her thoughts, you’ve already put one of the dresses on. you look gorgeous, the dress highlights all your curves, the lace on the sleeves is absolutely stunning.

“u-um…it looks nice. really nice.”

you giggle. “i guess i’ll go with this one, then.”

abby sits on her bed while you get ready, curling your hair and applying your makeup. she feels sick. you’re so nice, you look so pretty, and now she has the imagine of you in nothing but a bra and panties burned into her brain. and you’re going out in that tight dress and abby feels like her head is gonna explode.

“i’ll be back before midnight. bye abby!”

she waves goodbye and collapses onto her pillow the second you leave.

she tries to calm down. she goes to the gym, she takes a freezing cold shower, she studies for her remedial sorcery class, but no amount of distractions will get rid of the picture of you in her head. she loathes this feeling. maybe she loathes how you make her feel, not you yourself.

she’s trying to sleep, but every time she closes her eyes she sees you. and then her imagination starts to go against her will.

“abby, will you take my dress off?”

“abby, you’re so muscular and strong.”

“abby, please kiss me.”

“abby, you make me feel so good-”

her thoughts are interrupted by the door swinging open. there you are, hair slightly frizzy but still as perfect as ever.

“hey abs? why are you still up?”

“couldn’t sleep. did you…have fun?” she asks

you pout. “not really. my friends left me to go hang out with a group of boys.”

“why didn’t you go with them?”

“they were all paired off. plus, i’m not really interested in flirting with boys.”

abby’s eyes widen.

“will you unzip my dress for me? i’m so sleepy.”

oh, this is horrible. abby feels like she’s gonna faint as she unzips your dress. this is exactly how her stupid fantasy started. the stupid fantasy where she gets to taste every inch of your sweet body.

“thanks, abs. you’re so sweet” you say. you change into your nightgown and turn back to face abby.

“i hope you’ll come out with me next time. it’d be much more fun with you.”

“yeah…maybe.”

you stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, getting a pink, shiny mark on her face. “goodnight, abs.”

you crawl into bed, falling asleep immediately. abby is stilling standing there, jaw dropped.

she didn’t loathe that. not one bit.

i hope yall enjoyed! this is my first actual long fic. let me know if you want a part two 🤍🤍🤍

[howi99]

King of Teachers Au: What's gonna happen when Mama Arc finds out about Cardin bullying Jaune?

The "King" of Teachers 3

Jaune: *Placing himself between team CRDL and his mom* Forgive them mother! They didn't know what they were doing!

Artoria: *a dark aura covering her, her golden eyes as cold as the 9th floor of hell* And ignorance should acquit their fault? Should a killer go unpunished if they didn't know their victims?

Cardin: *panicking* WE'RE SOR-

Artoria: *staring directly into Cardin's eyes* Did I give you permission to speak, vermin?!

Cardin: *shutting his eyes closed, internally praying to all the gods he heard of, hoping at least one could answer his prayers*

???: *Joyful voice* Hey, come on now, no need to be THAT angry, right?

Cardin: *opening one eye, seeing a second woman next to the teacher*

Jaune: *taking one step back* Aesc!? What are you doing here!?

Aesc: *smiling* Your father sent me to look after your mom. You know how my sister can be!

Artoria: *gritting her teeth* Aesc-

Cardin: *tears in his eyes* (A savior! I was saved from certain death! Truly, the gods have answered my prayers!)

Aesc: *placing on hand on her sister's shoulder* Now, i'm sure they didn't mean to really hurt-

Nora: *from the back of the class* THEY PUSHED HIM INTO A LOCKER AND SENT HIM INTO THE EMERALD FOREST! AND NOT EVEN A WEEK LATER, THEY ALMOST GOT HIM KILLED BECAUSE OF AN URSA MAJOR!

Aesc: ... *Sigh, losing her smile as her hair turns white*

Morgan: *pointing her staff at the group of bullies* 'Tis a ruinous dream I cannot bear to see.

Jaune: !?

Morgan: No recompense, no salvation to be had.

Jaune: *turning around, clear panic in his voice* EVERYONE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!

Morgan: At the world's end, a bird sings of tomorrow.

Artoria: *now also panicking* Sis, i was just going to chew them off! Dont-

Morgan: Let this be a sign—

_ meanwhile _

Ozpin: *sipping tea with his friend who came visiting* Ah, today's a good day, is it not?

Merlin: *trying not to burst out laughing* Y-yeah, a very nice d-day indeed!

Ozpin: ...

Merlin: ...

Ozpin: Merlin, what did you see-

Morgan: *from afar* ROADLESS CAMELOT!

*sounds of a lot of "unforeseen expenses", as the entire school shakes from the strength of the attack*

Ozpin: ... *Sigh, looking as his "friend" is laughing hysterically* I'm not paying myself enough for this...

_ _ _

Artoria: *having tanked most of the attack to protect team CRDL* . . . *Fall face first to the ground, knocked out*

Cardin: *frothing at the mouth, his eyes turned inside as his consciousness left him*

Jaune: . . . *Taking a slow breath* Aesc?

Aesc: *nervous* Y-yes?

Jaune: *taking her staff from her hands* You are forbidden from using your semblance as long as you stay here. Not only that, but i'm also calling dad and you can say goodbye to your magnificent delicacies for the rest of the year.

Aesc: *lying flat on her stomach, asking for forgiveness* Please, PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THAT!

Yang: *hiding under a desk* IS EVERYONE IN YOUR FAMILY LIKE THAT!?

Jaune: *turning to Yang* You should see my third mom, she's even worse-

Yang: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THIRD MOM!?!

Jaune: *pointing to the gigantics holes through the roof* To his defense, it's not like my dad had a choice!

*the wall behind him falls to the ground, as the dust settles*

Jaune: *wince* ... That said, i'm beginning to understand why he didn't want any of them to train me. I'd either be dead, or there wouldn't be much left of our house.

[desperate-gay]

Can u write a Alex Morgan x reader fic where reader is pregnant

My Girls

Alex Morgan x fem!reader

it’s a little childish universe✨

summary: amidst the chaos of her busy schedule, alex is reminded that home is where her heart truly belongs

“And then you remember that Charlie has a half day of school tomorrow, right? I have no idea who is supposed to pick her up with all the media duties I have, and Servando is out of town—”

“Alex, baby, take a breath for me, okay?” You gently cut off her rambling, worried she might explode if she tries to think one more thought.

Your wife inhales deeply, holding the breath for a few seconds before exhaling shakily. Her eyes remain closed as she gives a small nod, signaling that she’s okay.

“I will pick up our daughter after our morning training session tomorrow while you take care of everything else. No need to worry, my love.” You offer her a reassuring smile, running your hands up and down her arms in comfort.

Alex leans into your touch, her forehead falling against your shoulder as she exhales again, this time more steadily. You feel the tension in her body ease just a little, but her hands are still gripping the sides of your shirt like she’s afraid to let go.

“I just—” Her voice is muffled against your hoodie. “I feel like there’s never enough time. I want to be there for everything, but it’s like the moment I figure one thing out, three more problems pop up.”

“I know, love.” You murmur, gently taking her hand in yours. “But you’ll always have me, Charlie, and, soon, this little one by your side.”

You guide her hand to your growing belly, resting it there. At 23 weeks, your bump is undeniable now, and Alex has developed a habit—no, an addiction of touching it at any given moment. It’s become her grounding force, a way to center herself when the chaos of life threatens to overwhelm her.

As if on instinct, her fingers spread over your stomach, her thumb tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your hoodie. She lets out a soft sigh, and you feel her fully relax against you.

“See? You’re not alone in this.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Alex swallows, her voice quieter now. “I know.”

—

“There’s my Charlie-girl!”

The little girl runs toward you at full speed, her Little Mermaid backpack bouncing on her shoulders. She barrels ahead, leaving her friend behind as she crashes into your front, making you let out a small groan.

“Honey, remember what I told you? You have to be a bit more careful now.” You warn softly, gesturing toward your growing belly.

“I’m sorry, little one.” Charlie says, quickly pressing a sweet kiss to your clothed stomach.

Since the moment you found out you were pregnant, both Alex and Charlie had started calling the baby little one. Your wife and daughter love talking to your belly, insisting that the baby needs to recognize their voices before they enter the world.

“Hi, Mrs. Morgan!” Emma, Charlie’s friend, greets with a bright smile as she finally catches up.

“Hello, Em. How was school today?”

Charlie crosses her arms with a dramatic pout. “How come I didn’t get asked?”

“Because I get to deal with you all day.” You tease, poking at her side playfully. “But it must’ve been fun since it was a half-day!”

“It was! We got to watch movies and build marshmallow towers with toothpicks in class!” Emma exclaims, throwing her hands up in excitement.

“That sounds like so much fun! Maybe soon, we can have another playdate for you two.”

You barely have time to brace yourself before the girls let out joint screams of excitement. You swear one of your eardrums pop at the loud noises.

“My mom’s here! I’ll see you later!” Emma calls out before hurrying off.

Both you and Charlie wave as she leaves. Tthen Charlie quickly interlocks her fingers with yours as you make your way to the awaiting car. Once she’s all buckled up and you’re in the driver’s seat, you begin heading home.

“Now… how was your day at school?”

“Finally!” Charlie huffs, making you laugh as she launches into a full breakdown of her day.

—

“Since Mama is going to be working later today, how about we go have lunch at the beach?” You suggest, scavenging through the fridge and realizing you have the perfect ingredients for a picnic.

“Really?” Charlie exclaims, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Well, of course! We’ll just have to send a picture to mama to make her jealous.” You smirk, wiggling your brows.

“Yay!”

“Should we bring Spots?” You ask, further brightening the smile on Charlie’s face.

Spots is the family’s English Setter. The most lovable, protective, and behaved companion one can ask for. Spots always knows that you’re talking about her, considering the fact that she’s sitting by your feet with her tail wagging side to side along the floor.

“Yes, let’s bring Spots!”

Without hesitation, Charlie hops off the barstool by the counter and scurries off to her room, most likely to grab a sunhat or her favorite stuffed animal to bring along.

Meanwhile, you gather everything you’ll need— food, a picnic blanket, napkins, sunscreen, Spots’ water bowl, and a few of Charlie’s favorite books in case she wants to read while you relax. You pack a container of fresh-cut fruit, sandwiches, crackers, and Charlie’s favorite juice boxes, making sure to grab extra snacks for when she inevitably gets hungry again.

By the time you’re done packing, Charlie comes running back into the kitchen, now in a simple t-shirt and shorts, her sun hat slightly too big for her head. She’s also clutching her favorite stuffed animal, a small elephant she named Ella despite your and Alex’s many objections about making it more original.

“I’m ready!” She announces proudly, adjusting her hat as she grins up at you.

“Perfect. Now let’s head out before the little one gets hangry and kicks again.” You pat your belly for emphasis, making Charlie giggle before placing a small kiss on it.

The drive to the private beach is filled with Charlie’s excited thumping legs against her car seat along with the low hum of Taylor Swift through your speakers. Both you and Charlie are extremely jealous your wife got to meet the woman herself… multiple times.

You smile when you look through the rearview mirror and watch Charlie do her little dance while singing along to the lyrics. Spots sits beside her, looking excitedly out the window and occasionally turning her head to check on Charlie. You simply cannot wait to add another little baby to this amazing family.

Once you arrive, you pick a spot that has some shade along with some sun in case you either get too cold or too hot. The spot overlooks the glistening lake, the waves roll in gently with small white caps along with the cool breeze accompanied with it.

Charlie immediately runs over to your bent form, insisting she’ll set up the blanket so you don’t hurt her baby sibling that is currently doing cartwheels in your stomach. You and Charlie grab opposite ends of the blanket, making it easier to set on the sand with the wind blowing in. Spots remains seated behind you, enjoying the fresh sea breezes.

Charlie plops down immediately while you gently try and sit on the blanket without accidentally falling. The girl across from you again is quick to help, arranging and lining up all the food and drinks in a way that makes perfect sense to her. She places your sandwich right in front of you and hers in front of her.

“Now, we eat!” She declares, handing you a napkin like she’s a butler at a formal event.

“Why thank you, Miss Charlie.” You laugh, tucking the napkin jokingly in your sundress like a bib.

As you both eat, Charlie chatters more about her day at school while occasionally patting the dog. She talks about what movies she watched and how her and Emma stacked as many marshmallows they could before they fell over. You listen, nodding along, occasionally brushing crumbs off her cheek when she gets too excited and forgets to wipe her mouth.

Only a few bites into the second half of her sandwich, Charlie dramatically gasps, causing you to flinch and look around with wide eyes to see if she is ok.

“We gotta send a picture to mama!” Charlie reminds, allowing you to take a breath from the small panic you were in.

“Yes of course.”

Pulling out your phone, Charlie is quick to crawl over to your side and smush her face into yours while Spots’s head rests on your leg. You take a quick selfie of you and Charlie along with the lake in the background and a perfect view of your small picnic.

You send the photo to your wife along with a text saying ‘the beach is nice…but it’s missing one person’.

Alex must have a small break between meetings because your phone almost instantly buzzes with a reply.

My Everything: You guys are evil. I’m stuck here, and you’re having the best food ever with the best view ever. But I love my girls.

You can practically hear the small pout in her voice. You read the message out to Charlie, making her giggle.

“Tell mama we saved her some crackers.”

You quickly type out a message along with a red heart before setting your phone down beside you.

“Do you think little one can hear the waves?” Charlie asks from her spot on the blanket.

“Maybe. I think they can hear a little bit by now.” You glance down at your belly, placing a hand over it thoughtfully.

Charlie scoots closer, resting her head gently against your belly. “Hey, little one. Mommy and I are having a picnic, and I promise we’ll bring you here when you get bigger.”

Your heart melts at the sight, and you almost tear up. You never doubted Charlie’s qualities of being a big sister, but moments like this prove just how much she’s ready.

For a while, the three of you bask in the lake breeze, lying on the blanket and listening to the gentle sound of waves crashing along the shore. Charlie eventually grabs one of the books you brought and begins reading it aloud, her small voice carrying over the wind.

You relax beside her, stretched out on your back, one hand resting protectively over your growing belly while Spots is curled up beside you both.

As the afternoon drifts on, your eyelids grow heavy, signaling that it might be time to head home.

Charlie, usually one to fight against leaving fun places, doesn’t put up much of a fuss. She simply sighs dramatically and begins gathering her things, giving Ella one last squeeze before tucking the stuffed elephant under her arm.

After carefully packing up the picnic supplies and making sure no trash is left behind, you shake out the blanket and fold it up. Spots gives a happy bark as you begin walking back to the car, her tail wagging as she trots alongside Charlie.

Once everything is packed away, you help Charlie into her car seat and settle yourself behind the wheel.

“Can we come back soon?” She asks, her voice hopeful as she yawns, already growing sleepy from the warmth of the sun.

“Of course, sweetheart. Maybe next time mama can come with us.” You smile at her through the rearview mirror.

Charlie grins at that idea, resting her head against the side of her seat. “I think little one liked it, too.”

You chuckle softly, resting a hand on your belly as you glance down for a moment, feeling the slight pressure of the baby’s kicks before starting the car.

—

Alex is trying everything not to panic.

She finally finished all of her conferences and interviews for the day, and the last thing she heard from you was that you were at the beach.

She’s texted you at least five times throughout the day. No response.

Her mind jumps to worst-case scenarios—what if something happened to you? What if you weren’t answering because you couldn’t?

Shaking her head, she grips the steering wheel tighter, pushing those thoughts away.

She just needs to get home.

Alex presses her foot down a little harder on the gas pedal, going a few miles over the speed limit.

She won’t relax until she knows you’re all okay.

Her mind must have completely blacked out because the next thing she knows, she’s pulling into the long driveway of your shared home. She doesn’t bother grabbing anything from the car. Instead, she slams the door shut and sprints toward the front entrance.

She should feel some relief at the sight of your car parked in the driveway and the front door securely locked, but her head is spinning too much to process it.

Her keys slip through her trembling fingers as she fumbles to find the right one. Her breath catches when she finally gets the door open, and she wastes no time rushing inside, calling out both your name and Charlie’s.

Alex’s voice dies in her throat the moment she steps into the living room.

The sight before her makes her heart stop then melt.

There you all lay, curled up on the couch, with you on your back, Charlie and Spots on either side of you. Charlie’s small hand rests protectively over your belly, while Spots’ head is nestled against Charlie’s hand.

The tension in Alex’s body slowly unravels as she takes a minute to breathe, watching her entire world rest peacefully in front of her. With one last deep exhale, she knows she has to wake all three of you—you’ve probably been napping for hours now.

“Baby, Charlie… it’s time to wake up, my loves.” Alex murmurs, brushing your hair to the side and softly rubbing her thumb over your forehead.

“Alex?” Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper as your eyes flutter open.

“Yes, it’s me, baby.” Her voice is warm, full of relief. “You gave me a bit of a scare, you know?”

Her fingers never stop their gentle path over your skin, grounding both of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You stretch out as much as you can with the limited space you have before sitting up slightly, forcing Spots’ head to perk up along with Charlie, who sleepily yawns.

“What scared you?” You ask, eyes still closed to keep the bright sunset from scorching your sight.

“You hadn’t answered me for hours, and I started to worry something happened to you both.” Alex mumbles quietly, taking in the relief that you’re okay.

You finally look at her with concerned eyes. “I’m so sorry, baby. After the beach, Charlie and I got so tired and ended up falling asleep after we turned on a movie. I never meant to scare you.”

“All that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Mama? You’re home.” Charlie rubs the sleep from her eyes but remains cuddled into your side.

“I am. I missed you guys.” Alex confesses, planting a kiss on both your heads before giving Spots an affectionate pat.

As you wake up, you start to feel your stomach rumble, realizing you haven’t eaten in hours. You’re positive Charlie must feel the same.

“I’m guessing you didn’t eat either?” You laugh at the look your wife gives you after hearing the noises come from your stomach.

“I did text you asking if you wanted me to pick up dinner, but then I ended up rushing home.” Alex gives you a pointed but playful look.

You flash her a guilty smile. “That would be my fault… but do you think we can get Wendy’s? Little one and this one are hungry.” You tap Charlie’s nose, earning a giggle.

“Mmm, maybe. But you gotta give me something first.”

The tone in Alex’s voice is one you’re all too familiar with. Low and teasing.

You smirk, easily tilting your head and wrapping a hand behind hers, pulling her in for a lingering kiss. Alex would deepen it, but she knows better—especially with your daughter still curled up against you.

“Ew!” Charlie exclaims, sticking out her tongue in exaggerated disgust.

Alex pulls back with a chuckle. “Watch it, missy. I’ll get mommy Wendy’s and make you brussels sprouts instead.”

Charlie gasps dramatically, eyes wide as she whips her head toward you. She gestures towards her mouth, zipping and throwing the lock away.

You just laugh, shaking your head. “Looks like we’re getting Wendy’s.”

“Alright, alright. Wendy’s it is.” Alex sighs, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before standing.

Charlie cheers, jumping off the couch to grab her shoes. You stretch, watching her with an amused smile before looking up at Alex, reaching for her hand.

She takes it without hesitation, her thumb tracing over your skin.

“You really scared yourself, didn’t you?”

Alex exhales, her other hand instinctively resting over your stomach. “Yeah. I did.”

“We’re always okay, baby. I promise.” You squeeze her hand gently.

Alex nods, letting herself believe it because right now, with you here, warm and safe, with Charlie giggling over her shoes and Spots wagging her tail at your feet—

Everything is perfect.

[marigoldenblooms]

An Important Lesson - One-Shot

Pairing: Professor!Wanda x Fem!Reader (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Prompt: After years of rigorous study, you were nearing the end of your graduate program. Companionship had become a figment of your imagination, until your film professor caught your eye. Taking something from her desk, you hope you could catch hers- and you got more than you bargained for.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Who is Y/N I don’t know her, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Porn with plot, teasing, orgasm denial, vibrator use, thigh riding, Mommy kink, Professor kink (sparingly), no aftercare, slight dub-con, dumbification, praise, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance (professor/student), age gap (Reader is 26 while Wanda is 34), brat taming if you squint. 

A/N: Holy balls, I did not realize smut was so hard to write. Major kudos to all who seem to do it so effortlessly! I know I envy ‘em. This is my first foray into writing this kind of fic (my university’s spring break has brought a lot of writing firsts), so if you have any feedback I’d love to hear it! This is also vaguely proofread! Wanted to do some practice before the evental sex in Unica Sempter Avis (Because USA is certainly an Abbreviation of All Time), and other ideas I’ve got cooking up. I'd love to write another part to this, if y'all would be down! Thanks y'all again!  Edit: An Important Lesson is getting a second part! Read a teaser here! >:)

Word Count: 2.5k - Read length: 9 minutes, 5 seconds.  Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners! ~~~ 

The pen hadn’t been worth stealing, and yet here you were. 

Professor Maximoff’s classroom was overwhelmingly quiet, dark and empty with familiar rows of tables curved in a half arc around her desk, pushed off to the side. She’d always pace within the front few rows where you sat, and you’d have to crane your neck to keep her in view when you weren’t scribbling down paraphrases of what she said. She taught Advanced Film and Media Critique, which generally lended itself to analyzing the shit out of old TV shows. Maximoff was a difficult professor, but you weren’t looking for easy, especially in your graduate program. After a few years of working your ass off to make enough money, you’d wiped the floor with your bachelors and now you were vying for your masters, in your last few weeks of grad school. And you knew Professor Maximoff liked you, which didn’t make it so bad. 

You knew other things about her too - for instance, there was no way she wasn’t a lesbian. Whenever you’d raise your hand her eyes would snap to you, and you swear her face would curl into a smile that was beyond professional. You’d catch her staring in your direction during exams on multiple occasions (to be fair you did the same when she wasn’t looking, but that’s besides the point), and you swear up and down that she winked at you during your midterm. She’d hold onto your hand a little too long when you turned in papers, and always offered ‘tutoring’ sessions which you humbly declined in the beginning of the semester, your grade being nigh perfect in her course. Between that, the short nails, tailored suits, and the rings- oh, so many rings- there was no way your professor wasn’t gay, and possibly had the hots for you. Your studies had been your priority over companionship for so long,  And now, within a few weeks of your final, why not make a move?

Heist films had been the topic of last week’s lecture, and so nicking something small would be a good segway, right? You’d return it to her tomorrow after class, mention something flirty (perhaps about stealing her heart), and see where it went. If you were lucky, you’d have her number by the end of the course, and perhaps take the older woman to coffee after your final exam. You’d bring her to the movies, but that might turn into more of a lesson than a date. 

As you’d pluck a pen from one of her desk drawers, you notice that it was slightly heavier than most. You clicked it once, then a second time- and nothing happened, so it went into your pockets. You’d move to exit the dim room, before a plaque caught your eye- her degree. It was neatly pressed into its frame: Wanda Maximoff, Masters of Arts in Film and Media Studies. You remembered her mentioning she was working on her doctorate, a proud grin sparking at that. Perhaps you’d get to know more about her dissertation and herself shortly. ------------------------------------------

Class went by faster than most, although it didn’t help that you were anxiously awaiting the end of Professor Maximoff’s lecture. She had worn a trim fitted sleeveless blouse and buttoned pants, both beautiful shades of burgundy. A myriad of gold rings decorating her hands as she’d motion with them through her talk. You’d have to keep your eyes off her fingers, nose deep in notebooks as you’d scramble to collect her words before your incoming final exam. 

“And what is the significance of I Love Lucy’s laugh tracks?” Wanda would ponder aloud before your hand immediately shot up, the lone attempt out of your fifty or so classmates. She’d grin at you, “Yes, dear?” 

You almost forget what you were about to say, holding onto the vestiges of it as you’d sputter, “Oh, uhm- yes, well, I Love Lucy didn’t have laugh tracks, mostly- they were the first sitcom to have a live studio audience.” Her eyes would crinkle with mirth, and you could tell immediately that you had the right answer. You tuned out her words as your mind would swim, thinking back to the weighted pen in your jeans pocket. The pet names were new, settling a joyous fuzz both in your mind and between your legs. It was things like this that had you on the back foot- this was your chance to get her back.

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

“And I’ll see you all in two days,” Wanda would return to her desk, sitting atop it rather than in the chair behind it. One of your classmates had asked why in an icebreaker towards the beginning of the semester, and if you remembered correctly she said ‘Just like the view from up here,’ or the like. If you’d been on the same track mind as now, you probably would have noticed how she stared at you during her spiel, a detail only discovered in hindsight. Now, you had all the pieces. 

You pack up slowly, shimmying your belongings into your overly stuffed bag. Hanging back until there were few students left, you flag her gaze with a hand and an upturned smile, “Professor, I was wondering if I could..” Your words would halt in your throat, thoughts thickened and syrupy as she’d look down to you, head tilted a degree off kilter. Would it be embarrassing to admit you’d never been this close to her before? Her lips would be pursed, but would break into a wild grin, and you felt yourself melt right there. You weren’t a teen anymore goddamnit, focus- “Talk-” you’d squeak, clearing your throat hastily to camouflage the blunder, “Talk with you, after class. Professor.”

Her brows would raise, and you could almost see the cogs rotating in there. Her eyes would dart within the now-empty room, adjusting her position on the desk- and it’d become increasingly obvious (you can deny it no longer) that you were standing directly in between her slightly parted legs. This wasn’t how you were expecting it to go, but here you were. She’d start taking off her rings. “Of course, darling,” she’d tease again with a roughened lilt. Those damn pet names. “What do you need?”

“I think I have something of yours, Professor-” Your mouth would open a few seconds before you’d speak, and you swear she’d smirk at how she had you, devoid of any thought. Something about her had you smiling and kicking your feet, and boy did she know it. Without any further bravado, you’d pull out the pen, “I hate to say it, but I think you’ve stolen-”

“Oh,” She’d breathe, Wanda’s face tinting with a pinkish hue, yet her smile only grew larger. Her gaze would narrow, voice dripping with a sultry air that almost knocked you off balance, “I didn’t let you borrow that, did I?”

“No Professor,” you admit, beginning to launch into your story, before she’d shush you- shush you, words piling up into a lump in your throat. 

“And do you know what it does, darling?” She asks, her tone a breathy whisper now. You swallow, shaking your head no. She fucking giggles. She takes the pen from your hand, clicking it three times, and it’d start to buzz. Oh, my god. It was a fucking vibrator.

“Too dumb to even recognize what this is? And I thought you were so smart..” She’d tease, a flush forming on your face in tandem with a shiver down your body. You open your mouth to speak, and yet her warm, calloused fingers would clasp your jaw shut. “Shhh, don’t want your pretty little head to even think, darling. How about Mommy show you how it works, hm?” 

You’d nod immediately. She’d abandon the toy, clicking it off as her hands would slip beneath your shirt, and it felt like time had frozen. She was so soft, and your mind glazed over. Your breath hitched as she’d trail upward, palming your skin before running her fingers over your bare breasts. You’d watch as Wanda’s pupils would blow in seconds, a devious smile bubbling into view, “No bra?” She’d murmur lowly shaking her head as she’d start to knead your flesh, “Just couldn’t remember it, hm? My precious student, too busy thinking of me to get dressed, were you?” You nod again, a pitiful mewl escaping your throat. 

“Yes- Yes, Professor..” You arch into her touch, although that bliss was short-lived as you feel her dig her hands further into your tits, sharper than you’d like. She’d tsk at your reply, and you look up to meet her eyes- oh, that was the wrong answer. 

“Did you already forget my title, baby?” She’d ask almost tauntingly, her gaze sharpening as she’d shift her hands from your skin. You’d chase her warmth, dazed as your skin would flush and tremble, slotting yourself up against her. She’d run her thumb over your lips, crooning at your immediate submission. She could use that. 

“It seems Mommy has a lot to teach you, dear..” Her touch would ghost across your exposed forearms, her feather-light touches only stuttering your breath further. “And I think you’re ready for your first lesson. Think you can handle that, darling? Keep your eyes on me,” Her hands would dig into your jeans, rougher against the hem’s fabric, “Think you can take this off for Mommy?”

“Please..” You beg, raising your hips to strip yourself bare, your glance trained on her. You don’t miss how her eyes darted down to your bare cunt, having slid off your panties too, or how she licked her lips at the sight of your slick. Her hands would hold your legs open, the cold lecture hall’s air chilling your exposed skin. Still staring at Wanda, you’d discard your shirt in the same breath, her jaw clenching as all of you felt the cool air. Feeling exposed, the urge to flee ebbed away some of your arousal. Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom? Your focus was immediately drawn again as she’d capture your chin in her hand, pulling it harshly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dilated, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she’d pant, both from your disobedience and your thighs rubbing against hers. “Look at me,” she’d hiss, taking your lips into a searing kiss. Your answer? Fuck. Yes.

Your cunt would grind against her leg as Wanda would pull your hips up and onto her thigh, grip bruising as your lips would crash together. You could smell her vanilla perfume as she’d tug at your bottom lip with her teeth, a familiar buzzing sound heard but not registered before you felt it on your clit. “Mommy- yes, Fuckin’ christ, there-” You’d keen, lurching back as Wanda’s hand would rest on your hip, keeping you from escaping her touch.

Wanda would groan at your words, voice a little breathier as her hips would stutter against yours, “There’s my good girl..” Teasingly, she’d circle your clit with the pen-shaped toy, gasping herself as she’d feel the aftershocks of its pulse on her clothed cunt. “Taking Mommy’s toy so well..such a sweet girl for your Professor-” 

You’d rock your hips against her, the friction from her dress slacks and the vibrator’s pulse bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quick. Wanda wouldn’t notice your frenzied breathing or how you lost your rhythm, but she would hear your words; drawn between husky whines, “Mommy, please, I’m so close, fuck-” Your face would flush, legs beginning to tremble before the whole feeling was ripped away from you, Wanda’s grip leaving as the buzz would click off. With shaky breaths, your eyes would rise to meet hers- only to see a teasing grin. She’d pat your arms, gently coaxing you off of her thigh, the few sparks of friction from that not enough to bring you anywhere close to your release. You’d blink, thoughts thickened and reeling, brow furrowed ever so slightly for her- and Wanda loved it. 

“You did so well for your first lesson, dear..” She’d croon, brushing herself off as she’d rise to her feet, leaving you on her cluttered desk. “But, Professor, I didn’t-” You’d begin and she’d silence you right there, hand rising to close your jaw shut again. 

“And you won’t come unless you call me by my title, darling. You’ve received your correction for your first mistake- and for stealing from me,” You nodded slowly, absorbing her words as though they were molasses, and her smile only widened at how dazed she’d made you. “And if you disobey again when you’re with me, alone- then I’ll lower your grade by five points. Understand?” 

If you were in any kind of fog before, you cleared it from your thoughts immediately. “Yes, very clear- uhm,” You pause, noticing the stain on her pant leg where your pussy had ground into the fabric, and you feel your face warm. Wanda would shift her stance and you’d look up- she leaned above you, a single brow raised. You’d swallow, keeping your eyes on her completely, “Yes, Mommy- I understand.”

“Good girl.” That was the right answer. She’d smile at you, her praise going straight to your cunt. Could she not have given you a few more seconds? Maybe you could’ve gotten off without her noticing. She’d interrupt your mind with a quick peck on the lips, and you felt your wits slow, swimming with thoughts of her mouth. Oh, that was why- couldn’t get away with anything if you didn’t think anything at all. Wanda’s grin would only intensify as she’d watch you dress, clothing rumpled from the haste it had been taken off. After a few minutes, you were back to prim and proper..besides your racing heart and flush whenever Wanda so much as moved. “This was great..” You’d murmur, pressing the wrinkles from your shirt, gaze flicking back up to Wanda’s- your professor still watching you with a smooth, secretive smirk. 

“Of course it was, dear..but it’s still nice to hear you say that. Anything for my best student,” She’d wink at you and you’d fold, feeling your palms clam up. Since when were you this weak in the knees? She’d settle at her desk again, her hands clasped together on its wooden grain. You’d be taller than her now, with her sitting down- and yet there was an aura she commanded that you couldn’t outdo. You turn to leave without any further fanfare but her voice would seize you again, just as warm as her touch. “I’ll be expecting you after tomorrow’s classes, then? I think some…after-hours remedial work for my course would do you well.” 

Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom, again? You’d leave her hall with a bright smile, a reply, and a secret. Your answer? The same as before - Fuck. Yes. 

And your secret?

You’d stolen the ‘pen’ again.

[onelittlespiral]

Hey dude, I'm just a lil bro looking for a big bro to take care of me in all sorts of ways but all I'm stuck with is my lousy nerd of a roommate. Could you help me out?

FML: Fraternize

My roommate was… chill all things considered. I don’t know, he was just the random guy that I got stuck with when all my bros decided to move into the house and I needed someone to take the lease with. Scruffy, for sure. A bit out of shape. He said he used to play soccer in high school. Cute, but that was about it. Nowadays he was just getting his degree in English. Just a guy. But I didn’t want just another guy.

I tried to be friends with the guy, but he always just blew me and my boys off. He would just say he was too busy studying or playing some video game to come out to the gym with us or hang at the frat. I finally decided I was fed up. I needed my roommate to be more than a rando in my house. I needed a bro. And the fraternity had some resources to make that happen.

They usually keep this kinda stuff for pledges who start stepping out of line, but my buddy slipped me the files that they show to help guys get in line. I don’t remember if I ever saw them myself… what ever. It was a series of videos that promised to turn any guy into a bro in no time flat. So, one night, I put the tapes on when my roommate was home:

“Hey man, I’ve gotta watch these for class, mind if I slip them on?”

“No problem, I’ll just hang out in my bedroom.”

“Actually, it may be something you would like. You should stay. Here, you chill here and I’ll listen while I cook. I’ll make enough to split.”

I turned the first tape on and went to cook up some chicken and rice. In the other room, I heard the video beginning. It wasn’t long before I started hearing my roommate responding to the commands:

You are loyal to your bros.

“I am loyal to my bros.”

When you are around them you feel relaxed.

“When I am around them I feel relaxed”

The gym feels like your second home.

“The gym feels like my second home.”

The frat is life. You are made to be loyal to the frat.

“I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

They kept pushing him in the background while I finished cooking some food. When I walked back into the room, static filled the screen as my roommate stared into space, drool dripping from his mouth. I turned of the TV and he seemed to come to his senses.

“Hey, sup bro? Got the fuel?”

Already he was much better, “Yeah man, chicken and rice.”

“Hell yeah, gotta get a good workout in before getting my homework done.”

We ate quickly and started getting ready for the gym.

“Hey, bro, you think they are still taking new pledges? I’ve been meaning to apply to your frat!”

I was shocked at how quick the progress had been, “Yeah man. I’ll hook you up with my peeps tomorrow.”

“Sweet, let me finish getting ready and we can go.”

Dang those videos were quick. Even the way he carried himself was so different. This is the bro I needed.

The week went on and we kept working out. I hooked my roommate up with the pledge master and he quickly started falling in with the bros. We worked out, partied, did almost everything together now. I gave the rest of the tapes back to my guy who gave them to me. He said he needed them for a few guys who had gotten a little hands-y with some girls at the last party. I was fine to get them back, I didn’t think there would be any more issues with my roommate.

The year flew by until it was time for spring break. I had opted to be my roommate’s big and done all the usual hazing and shit with him. Had to keep him on his A game, I wasn’t going to go east on him. The spring break frat trip was a rite of passage for the incoming pledges. As much as I wanted to go, I had plans to visit California with my partner. We were having a great time, chilling at the beach, shopping through souvenir stores, and hiking parks. But I made sure to get updates about how my roommate was enjoying his week. It was from one of these progress reports that I got word from the pledge master:

Hey, bro. Just letting you know. Your little bro was making some girls uncomfortable at the bar. Can’t have that causing issues for the frat.

Shit man. I’m sorry. Lemme talk to him.

Nah dude, it’s good. We have a protocol for these kinds things. Just letting you know so you aren’t surprised. We’ll make sure he won’t bother any girls again.

Thanks dude. Lemme know if you need anything.

Nah bruh, relax. Enjoy your vacay.

Well as long as they have shit handled. I went back to my vacation and forgot about the whole situation. I would give him crap for it when I got back. The rest of our trip was great. I didn’t hear anything more from my bros so I assumed it all went according to plan. I was eager to get back to my roommate and prep him for full brotherhood when I got back. It wasn’t till I walked into the apartment I knew something was awry:

“Sup, bro, welcome back.”

A deep voice echoed from the balcony. He stepped inside and was greeted by a stranger. His arms were as thick as a football, his legs as thick as tree trunks. The smell of sweat, sex, and stale beer followed him into the room. He had a fresh tattoo on his arm with the number 86 boldly displayed. The stranger walked with swagger up to me, like he owned the place. As he approached, his musk only grew more intense. It wasn’t until I noticed the glasses it all clicked into place:

“Bro… is that you?!?”

“Bruh, who else would it be?”

My roommate stood proudly in front of me. He had been going to the gym steadily but no amount of protein powder could explain the progress he had made in a week. He was also easily 3 inches taller. And the smell. I don’t know how to describe it but he smelled… virile. Like just being around him was starting to get me excited. He certainly had never been like this before.

“Looking good, right? Like the new tat? Year of our chapter’s founding, 1986. After all, I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

That line made it all click together. The tapes. They said they would handle the situation, I didn’t know they would use the tapes.

”Speaking of which, dude. I can’t believe you flaked on the frat and went on a trip with your partner. You’ve got to be loyal to your bros.”

His scent, his words, my mind was swimming in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He stepped towards me, grabbing my head. I was pulled into his pit. I tried to pull back but a hand on the back of my head held me firmly in place. I felt so aroused and so scared as I was forced to huff the scent of pure frat bro. I was… fading. I couldn’t… resist… my… my… bruhhhhh.

“I think that you should sit through the next set with me bro.”

My mind was blank as he told me to sit down on the couch. Of course, I would do anything for my frat bro. He put on a video and sat behind me.

“They said we could watch this one together.”

The video whirled to life as my roommate held me in place in his lap. A flash of color and a brief intro played. It explained that it was the last in a series of videos for brothers who were trouble makers in the frat. This last one was the most extreme. I felt a wave of guilt, knowing I had betrayed my brothers and the chapter. I wasn’t sure what I did but I knew it must be bad. My behavior had to change.

You will conform to the standard set by the frat, whatever it takes. You will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.

“I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood,” we both repeated, in unison.

Good. Since you have proven you can’t be trusted with making good decisions, your brothers have decided to make those for you. You will become the ultimate frat bro.

“I will become the ultimate frat bro.”

Let’s start on the outside. A brother works out daily, at least. Strong muscles make for a strong foundation.

As I repeated the words, they became my reality. I had certainly never been a scrawny guy before, but this was something else. My muscles convulsed all at once, then seemed to shred and burst. My muscles ached as pecs, biceps, abs all were pulled out of my body. I sweat under the effort as legs bloated and toned, bloated and toned. My back stretched out and shoulders mounded on muscle.

Good bro. Now, a brother should be cocky, with a cock to match. All the other fraternities should know how superior we are.

‘Shiiit, no other frat could even come close. We threw the best parties, had the hottest girls and… fuck the hottest guys. With a bod like this, just about no body could resist.’ As those thoughts echoed in my head, there was a sharp pain in my balls as they started to swell. My cock snaked down my shorts, throbbing with newfound power and size. A moan escaped my mouth as my cock swelled thick as a beer can. Anyone would beg for a cock like this.

A frat bro with a cock like that just needs to fuck. Your libido keeps your mind so full that you hardly have time to pass your business classes.

My swollen balls began to churn as my cock came to life. As my mind was thrust into a deep sexual haze, any aspirations I had on my pre-law track were pushed out, draining right to my balls and slowly leaking out my cock. At the same time, I felt my roommate begin to shift behind me. I felt his cock press against the small of my back, throbbing as it was thrust into overdrive. He began slowly humping against my back, and I leaned back against that massive cock. I wanted to help my bro however I could. He wrapped his arms around me and slowly started jacking me off. My mind was in pure bliss as I was kicked into overdrive. His arms felt so warm and strong, and he was pushing all my buttons till I was thrusting into his hands.

The frat is a part of you. You live, breath, and sweat the frat. Everyone who meets you will know exactly what you’re about and submit to you, an alpha bro. You put the reek in Greek.

My mind processed for a second until the smell hit me from behind and I understood. My hormones shifted as sweat poured out. It was hard work being a fraternity brother, and everyone would know that. I worked overtime as the smell of straight frat filled my nostrils. The apartment changed in response, filled with leftover beers, used tank tops, and soaked underwear. Anyone who entered would fall into an immediate haze, the smell of bros clouding their mind. My mind was… so… slow. Just… needed… FUCK.

You will keep it simple, keep it stupid.

“I will keep it simple, keep it stupid.”

My head felt like it was filled with fluff. No thoughts, just instinct.

You will listen to your pledge master, follow all he says.

“I will listen to my pledge master, follow all he says.”

It was so much easier to just trust my bros. Whatever they said went.

You will live for and serve your bros, live for and serve the frat.

“I will live for and serve my bros and the frat.”

I would do anything for my bros. Gotta keep ‘em happy.

The frat is life.

“The frat is life.”

My roommate’s cock was still rock hard behind me. His grip was edging me as moaned for release. I could dedicate my life to men like him.

Thank you for your cooperation. There will be no further issues. Now cum.

And I did. Ropes shot across the floor as all the changes were set in stone. I was just another frat dude, struggling through Business classes and fucking through the night.

And with that the video ended. It took a sec for me to regain my senses. I slowly refocused my eyes and… fuck bruh my head is pounding. Musta partied too hard last night. Shit, I was drooling all over myself, lol. I mean, I’m hot but not that hot. And fuck, I made a mess. Bro, what happened? It’s already late, I’ve got to get ready to go out tonight.

I was going to throw on a polo and some shorts when my roommate put a hand on my shoulder. This man must’ve got a double dose of whatever I got. Bro, he was on another fucking level. He pulled me in tight, cupped my ass in his hands, held my chin, and slid his tongue in my mouth. All at once, my world shifted as the fraternity’s motto rang in my head, I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood. An aching in my balls told me that I wasn’t going to make it out tonight. I had my frat bro… no, my big bro right here. And he will take care of his little bro. He pulled down his sweatpants and a thick rod popped out from the waistband. He gently guided me to his cock, the true source of his musk. Our scents mingled as my thoughts were consumed by sex. The salty taste of pre coated my tongue as the tip slid down the back of my throat. My mind faded as the smell of the frat filled my nostrils. I was lost in bliss as my bro started pumping, pumping down my throat. Gone was the nerdy roommate I had:

There was nothing left but frat bro.