#I can’t think about it now but I know I’m going to have to during the days I had allocated for rest and recovery

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you go to your first basketball game and didn't expect something more

You were exhausted. Not in the tired of life way, just the overwhelmed by glamour kind of way. The Formula 1 movie premiere had been a blur of flashbulbs, champagne flutes, and glimmering gowns. You weren’t a driver, but you may as well have been with the way the cameras hounded you and Charles from the moment you stepped onto the red carpet.

It never really stopped, that attention. Not when you were the younger sister of Charles Leclerc and one of the very few women working as a Formula One race engineer—let alone one who’d made it onto the Ferrari team by twenty-three. People were interested. People always had questions. And your face? Apparently marketable enough for every tabloid to want it next to your brother’s whenever you were in the same city.

So, yeah. You were exhausted.

Which is why the idea of going to a basketball game sounded... almost rebellious in its normalcy.

You leaned your head on Charles’s shoulder as the car rolled through Manhattan traffic, humming under your breath. “I still can’t believe you dragged me into that afterparty last night.”

Charles snorted, relaxed in his seat with Alexandra curled up against his other side. “You say that, but you were the one doing shots with Lando.”

“I did one shot with Lando,” you corrected, “because he said I was too uptight.”

Alex laughed softly. “He also said you should be in front of the camera instead of hiding behind pit walls.”

You groaned. “He says that every time. I fix your telemetry one time during qualifying and suddenly I’m Angelina Jolie.”

Charles grinned and gave your hand a squeeze. “You just hate being famous.”

“I don’t hate it,” you murmured, lips quirking. “I just hate not being able to disappear.”

And that was really it. You hadn’t told anyone outside your inner circle about your plan for today. A quiet trip to the Barclays Center. Just you, Charles, and Alex.

You’d mentioned it in passing after breakfast this morning, still sipping your iced coffee, eyes puffy with sleep.

“I’ve never seen a basketball game in person,” you said, squinting at your phone. “New York Liberty’s playing tonight.”

Charles blinked at you across the kitchen island. “You want to go?”

You shrugged. “Kind of curious. I know nothing about it, but the atmosphere seems cool when I googled it.”

“You google everything,” Alex teased you, whited you just shrugged at.

“Alright.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll text my manager. We’ll sort it.”

And of course, being Charles, he sorted it within half an hour. Three courtside seats. No fanfare or sponsor ties. Just you three, sitting down to watch women throw a ball around and, hopefully, scream at each other with intense athleticism. It sounded oddly soothing.

Now the black SUV pulled up to the Barclays Center and the street buzzed with energy. The pre-game crowd was thicker than you expected. People in teal and sea foam green jerseys stood in clumps on the sidewalk, others in navy and silver.

You read a few of the names on the backs of shirts. Jones. Ionescu. Bueckers. That last one you pronounced in your head like “Buckers” before second-guessing yourself.

As the door opened, Charles stepped out first, always the gentleman, offering a hand to help Alex out next. You slid out after them, a little disoriented by the shift in atmosphere. Less polished than the premiere, but more alive somehow. No tuxedos or gowns—just sneakers, t-shirts, music blasting from speakers along the entryway.

You adjusted your sunglasses, even though it was nearly evening, and tugged your denim jacket tighter around you. The press hadn’t followed. No one here really cared mush about who you were. A few teenagers glanced at Charles—probably Formula 1 fans—but no cameras. No interviews. No one asking how Charles thinks of the season so far, how no one asks you about updates on the cars.

Just... peace.

“Didn’t think there’d be this many people,” you said under your breath as you approached the VIP entrance.

“Basketball’s apparently big here,” Alex replied, brushing her hair over one shoulder. “The Liberty are kind of a big deal.”

You tilted your head. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Enough to pretend,” she said with a grin.

“Perfect. I’ll follow your lead.”

Security ushered you in quickly once credentials were checked—Charles’s manager had arranged everything—and the cool of the arena swallowed you whole. Air conditioning, the sharp scent of popcorn and floor polish, and the distant thud of basketballs echoed in your ears.

You followed a staff member through the lower tunnels, emerging out into the blinding brightness of the court.

And just like that, you were courtside.

It was... closer than you expected.

You could see the lights glaring off the court. Hear the rubber of sneakers squeaking with warmup drills. Players darted up and down the court, long-limbed and agile, even just jogging. You didn’t know who was who, but one team was in blue warm-ups and the other in black.

Someone was shooting three-pointers with precision. Another sprinted from baseline to half court and back, ponytail whipping behind her like a comet trail.

“Bloody hell,” Charles muttered beside you, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “They’re fast.”

“Mmhm,” you said, barely hearing him.

One of the players jogged past, close enough to see the tiny bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face. She didn’t look over, too focused on her footwork. Her jersey read BUECKERS in crisp blue letters across the back.

You blinked.

Oh. That name again.

You leaned toward Alex. “Is that... Buckers? Like the jersey we saw outside?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. She’s really famous, I think. Played for UConn. Supposed to be a big deal for the Wings this year.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “How do you know that?”

“Google is a wonderful tool, hermana.”

You studied the woman as she slowed to a jog near the bench, catching a water bottle and tipping it up with ease. Blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail, pale skin, strong arms that flexed easily with every movement. She had a kind of presence. Not in the way F1 drivers did—loud, cocky—but... quietly intense.

You tilted your head. “She looks like she could stare through someone’s soul.”

Charles chuckled. “Don’t let her stare at you like that. You’ll explode.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

The arena began to fill. The crowd’s energy ramped up with every minute closer to tip-off. Announcers boomed over the speakers. Lights dimmed, and spotlights painted patterns across the hardwood.

You settled into your seat, tucking one ankle over your knee and balancing a bottle of water between your palms. The back of your neck buzzed with anticipation, though you couldn’t say why. Maybe it was just the unknown—this whole world of sport you knew nothing about. Maybe it was the air conditioning. Or maybe it was the fact that Bueckers, whoever she really was, had just glanced toward your row like she knew exactly who you were.

But she didn’t. Did she?

It started with a tap.

A quiet one, like the soft thud of a butterfly wing against your skin. You were distracted by the sweep of pregame lights moving across the ceiling, the slight back and forth between Charles and Alex beside you and by the rhythmic sound of basketballs echoing like thunder on the court.

You didn’t notice the two players breaking away from warmups at first, not until you caught a shift in the atmosphere. Like energy moving in a new direction.

And then, there it was. A gentle, almost tentative voice near your shoulder.

“Hi. Um. Are you—are you Charles’s sister?”

You turned and blinked.

It was her.

Bueckers. The name you’d only just learned a few minutes ago. She was taller than you’d expected up close, but not by much. Her cheeks were flushed from warmups, blonde hair tied in a tight ponytail. Her jersey was still partially tucked in, and she was holding her water bottle in both hands like it might anchor her to the moment.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your mouth. “Depends who’s asking.”

She let out a soft breath, something between a chuckle and a sigh of relief. “Just a fan.”

That surprised you. “You’re a fan of me?”

Paige shook her head, then immediately nodded, then looked like she regretted both. “No, I mean—yes. Not like in a weird way. Just... I’ve seen you on the screen sometimes during races. You always looked beaut—uh, I mean—focused and serious.”

You blinked again. “You follow Formula 1?”

“Arike’s girlfriend is obsessed,” Paige replied, glancing quickly over her shoulder. “She’s a huge Ferrari fan. So Arike’s always hearing about your brother. And I guess I kind of got sucked up in it once I moved to Dallas.”

You glanced past her. Sure enough, one of her teammates—the one with the wicked jumper during warmups, now confirmed as Arike—was enthusiastically talking to Charles. She looked slightly overwhelmed, and very excited, holding her phone in one hand as she grinned up at him like he’d just won her a car.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That’s not something I expected today.”

“Yeah,” Paige murmured, and when you turned back to her, she was already looking at you again. “Me neither.”

You didn’t know what it was, exactly. Maybe the nerves in her voice, maybe the way she rocked slightly on her feet like she was resisting the urge to bolt—but it made you soften.

You held out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

Her smile grew. “Paige.”

You nodded. “Ah, Paige. It’s nice to finally know the first name.”

She laughed. “You didn’t know?”

“Nope,” you said, tipping your head. “Just kept seeing Buckers jerseys everywhere.”

Paige’s ears went a little pink, and she tucked a loose piece of hair behind one ear, fingers fidgeting with the elastic of her jersey. “Um, it’s Bueckers actually. The ‘u’ is silent.”

“Bueckers. I apologize,” you said.

“It’s okay,” she gave a shy smile. “You, um. You’re really here for a game?”

 You glance back out to the court, where the rest of the Wings and Liberty were still running drills. “First one ever. Thought I’d see what all the hype is about.”

She grinned. “You picked a good one. Liberty versus Wings is never boring.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you said lightly. “I’ve never watched basketball before. Been surrounded by race cars all my life.”

Paige laughed again, lighter this time. “That’s okay. I know nothing about racing except that I can’t even go-kart without spinning out.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can teach each other.”

The words hung in the air, light but charged. Paige’s eyes flickered to your mouth before quickly darting away again. You didn’t miss it.

“So,” you said, shifting in your seat so you were angled slightly more toward her, “are you just saying hi, or are you here on official wingwoman duty for Arike?”

She groaned softly, but she was smiling. “She begged me to come over. She got too nervous and didn’t want to go alone.”

“Too nervous?” you asked, genuinely curious. “Charles is like... a walking golden retriever. He’s the least intimidating person I know.”

“I think that’s why she’s nervous,” Paige said, leaning slightly closer. “She wants to make a good impression. Her girlfriend’s always saying how cool he is. Especially his girlfriend. Plus, Arike’s not great with... subtlety.”

You snorted. “I can tell. She’s practically vibrating.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer before she pulled back slightly, clearing her throat. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be bothering you before the game.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you said easily. “I feel like I’m the one that’s bothering you. But this is already more fun than I expected.”

She grinned. “What did you expect?”

You shrugged. “To sit here awkwardly while everyone screamed around me. To not understand what was happening. To check my phone halfway through the second quarter.”

“And now?”

You looked at her, really looked, and smiled softly. “Now I kind of want to stay until the very end.”

Her blush returned, stronger this time.

The crowd began to rise in volume as the clock above the court ticked closer to tip-off. Music pulsed through the speakers. A Liberty player dunked during layup lines and the crowd roared. Paige glanced toward the bench.

“I should probably get back,” she said, sounding reluctant.

You tilted your head. “Are you starting?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “But I’ll—um. I’ll try not to trip in front of you.”

You smirked. “No promises from me. I might cheer for the other team just to keep you on your toes.”

Her mouth parted like she didn’t know whether to laugh or challenge you. “You wouldn’t.”

You lifted a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”

She bit her lip. “Well... if you change your mind, I’ll be number five. Wings jersey. You know. Just in case you decide you want to cheer for the right side.”

You leaned back, eyes gleaming. “We’ll see how you play.”

She took a few steps back, still facing you, then finally turned around just as Arike finished her impromptu photo with Charles and bounded after her.

You watched her go—watched the easy way she moved, the subtle glance she cast over her shoulder before disappearing behind the bench.

Alex elbowed you gently. “So. That was a very long conversation for someone who only came over because of Arike.”

You tried for casual. “She was being polite.”

Charles snorted. “Mon dieu. She was flirting and she was terrible at it.”

“She was sweet,” you corrected, still smiling faintly.

Alex leaned in. “And you liked it.”

You didn’t say anything. Just sipped your water, eyes trailing back to where Paige now stood with her teammates, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, gaze already scanning the court—but every now and then, flickering right back to you.

And each time it did, your heart fluttered a little faster than it had on any starting grid.

It wasn’t obvious at first.

You weren’t sure what to watch during a basketball game—when to focus on the ball, when to look at the off-ball movement or when to just follow the flow of the players gliding across the court like it was muscle memory. The speed surprised you. The precision. The sheer athleticism of it all.

But what surprised you most was how often your eyes were drawn back to her.

She moved like she didn’t need to think, like the court was just an extension of her breath. One second, she was at the top of the arc calling for the ball, the next, she was slashing into the paint, drawing a defender with her before dishing out a no-look pass that made the crowd gasp and a teammate drain a three.

You leaned forward unconsciously. “She’s really good,” you murmured.

Charles glanced sideways. “You mean Paige?”

“Mhm,” you said without looking away. “She plays like she’s solving a puzzle no one else can solve.”

“She has vision,” Alex added. “Like a driver who sees the apex before the turn.”

You nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as Paige picked off a lazy pass and darted up court in transition. She didn’t rush, didn’t force anything—just read the defender’s body language and timed her steps perfectly before finishing with a layup that rolled off her fingers like silk.

The scoreboard ticked up in the Wings’ favor.

And Paige—oh, Paige—jogged back on defense with a half-smirk tugging at her mouth. Her eyes scanned the front row, just briefly, but when they landed on yours, they didn’t move.

You didn’t either.

Her gaze lingered a second too long. She gave the smallest shrug of her shoulders—barely noticeable—but it said everything. That one was for you.

You blinked. A beat passed. And you smiled, just a little.

Timeout.

The coaches called for a break, and both teams huddled by their benches. Paige wiped her face with her towel, bouncing on her toes, sipping from her water bottle, listening with half an ear to what her coach was saying.

But her eyes found you again.

You didn’t pretend not to notice.

She raised a hand and waved—quick, subtle, a flick of fingers from low by her waist like she didn’t want anyone else to see.

You lifted your brows, amused.

She smiled again—shy, still—but different now. Confident in a way that felt like a quiet dare.

“She’s waving at you,” Charles said, practically choking on his soda.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, thank you, Cha.”

“I’m just saying,” he replied, grinning like an idiot. “You’re distracting a professional athlete in the middle of a game. That’s impressive.”

“I’m not trying to distract her,” you muttered.

Alex smirked. “You’re not not trying.”

You crossed one leg over the other, resting your elbow on the armrest between you and Charles. Paige was back in the game now, standing on the wing waiting for the inbound pass. She glanced toward you again.

You didn’t wave, didn’t smile. You just raised one brow and tilted your head like Alright, Bueckers. Show me something.

And she did.

She moved off the ball like she was built for it—cutting, darting, changing direction so fast the Liberty defender couldn’t keep up. She caught the pass mid-motion, turned, and let it fly from just beyond the arc.

Swish.

The net barely moved.

Half the crowd screamed.

The Wings bench stood up, cheering.

And Paige? She jogged back, biting her bottom lip like she was trying to hide a grin—but didn’t try that hard. Her eyes met yours again, and this time she winked.

Winked.

You could feel Charles and Alex practically vibrating next to you.

“Ay dios mío” Alex said under her breath. “You’re in so deep already.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly. “I just met her. I didn’t even know how to say her last name.”

“You know,” Charles said, “I always imagined you’d fall for someone complicated. Mysterious. Dangerous.”

“She plays basketball,” you said flatly.

“She’s clearly dangerous to your self-control.”

You ignored him. Sort of.

Because you were watching her again. Watching the way she locked in when she played. The way her teammates looked to her instinctively. The way she trusted her first move—no hesitation, no overthinking. Paige Bueckers played basketball the way you did data analysis mid-race… fast, decisive, and like the margin for error was nonexistent.

And every time she made a big play, her eyes flicked back to you.

Like she wanted to know if you’d seen.

Like she needed you to.

By halftime, your heart was pounding harder than it had in any garage on race day.

You’d come here for something simple. A distraction. A break from being Charles Leclerc’s little sister or Ferrari’s engineering prodigy. Monaco’s Princess. 

Instead, you got Paige Bueckers.

And every time she looked at you, it felt like she saw right through the noise.

The final buzzer sounded like a sigh.

The game had been close—closer than anyone had predicted from what you gathered in the crowd chatter around you. Liberty fans were loud, but by the fourth quarter, you started to hear more Wings chants pick up momentum. You didn’t understand every foul or call or play, but you understood Paige.

You understood how her team trusted her. You understood how she handled pressure like it was gravity. You understood how, after every big moment, her eyes found you.

And now, it was over. Scoreboard locked. Jerseys drenched in sweat. Fans buzzing in that familiar post-sport high.

You stayed seated as most of the arena stood to leave. Charles was scrolling through his phone, nodding occasionally at a fan who called his name but otherwise keeping low-key. Alex sipped the last of her drink, curled comfortably against his arm, while you just… watched.

The court was still alive.

Paige was surrounded—first by teammates, then reporters, then fans pressed against the rails. She was gracious with each person, smiling wide in photos, laughing at something a little girl said, holding her sharpie with care as she signed the backs of posters, jerseys, and phones.

“She’s got that same energy you do after a podium,” Alex said gently.

You glanced at her. “Huh?”

Alex nodded toward Paige. “A little exhausted, a little adrenaline high, kind of glowing but pretending not to notice.”

You looked back. Paige was crouched to take a photo with a kid in a Wings jersey two sizes too big for him. She gave the camera a thumbs up. Her pony was messy now, strands of blonde hair falling loose around her face.

She glanced toward you. Saw you still there.

And smiled like it meant something.

You felt it like a pull.

Paige whispered something to a staffer and took a final photo, then jogged toward the bench. Her teammates were heading back to the locker room, but she lingered. You stood as she approached, not sure what you were expecting.

“Hey,” she said, a little breathless. “You’re still here.”

You smiled. “I said I’d stay until the end.”

Her eyes flicked to Charles and Alex, who were now standing just behind you, watching quietly. Paige’s cheeks flushed, but she held her ground.

“I, uh—I have to do post-game interviews,” she said, almost apologetically. “Media stuff. Probably fifteen, twenty minutes. But I was wondering…” She shifted, bouncing slightly on her toes. Her voice was softer now, meant only for you. “Would you wait?”

You blinked. “Wait for you?”

She nodded. “I just— I’d really like to talk more. If you want. I don’t know if you’re going somewhere after or flying out soon or—”

“I’m here tonight,” you said, cutting gently through her nerves. “We’re in New York for another day.”

“Oh. Good. Okay.” Her smile was so honest it made your chest feel warm. “So... would you?”

You could feel Charles and Alex still watching, but they didn’t say a word. You tucked your hands in your jacket pockets and tilted your head.

“You want me to wait around in an empty arena just so you can talk to me again?”

Paige met your gaze. Didn’t back down. “Yes.”

The answer was so simple it made you grin.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll wait.”

Relief bloomed across her face. “Cool. I won’t be long. Promise.”

She started to turn, paused, then hesitated before glancing at Charles.

“I’m a big fan of yours, by the way,” she added quickly, cheeks turning red. “Both of you. You guys looked really good in Monaco.”

Charles lit up. “Merci. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear most of that conversation earlier.”

Paige laughed nervously. “Noted.” Then she looked back at you. “Be right back.”

You watched her disappear into the tunnel, every bit of her confidence lingering behind in the way she glanced at you over her shoulder one last time.

When she was gone, Charles bumped his shoulder lightly into yours.

“Does she always look at people like that?”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing.”

You shrugged. “Maybe she just appreciates a challenge.”

Alex grinned. “You’re such a liar. You’re already gone for her.”

You didn’t answer. Just sat back down and stared at the empty court where she’d just been.

And waited.

It was quiet by the time she returned.

The kind of quiet that only settles in after the world has exhaled. Most of the crowd had gone home. Security lingered by the exits, sweeping the rows. Staffers rolled carts of used towels and half-empty water bottles down the tunnel. The court was bare now. Just the hushed hum of the arena winding down.

You were still there. Sitting courtside. Jacket draped over your shoulders, fingers absently spinning the cap of your water bottle. Charles and Alex had wandered off somewhere to give you space. You hadn’t asked, but they just knew.

And then you heard footsteps again—softer now, not game shoes. Slides against the polished concrete.

You looked up.

There she was.

She was fresh from the locker room, face clean, blonde hair damp and tied loosely now. A W hoodie, oversized, sleeves pulled down over her hands. She wore simple black shorts and Nike socks pushed halfway down her ankles.

She looked like herself in a way that tugged at you—like all the edges were finally rounded off now that the lights were dim and the cameras were gone.

“You waited,” she said, quiet.

You gave her a small smile. “I said I would.”

She sat beside you, one seat in-between, giving you space but close enough for your knees to brush if you shifted.

Neither of you moved.

For a while, you just sat there like that. Silence stretching between you like a breath held, but not tense. Not awkward. Just... present.

She finally spoke. “So… be honest. What’d you think?”

You looked at her. “Of the game?”

Paige nodded.

You took your time. “It was like hearing a language I don’t speak, but still knowing exactly what everyone meant.”

She blinked at that. “That’s... really poetic.”

You shrugged. “I’m around fast cars all day. I don’t get to be poetic very often.”

Paige smiled to herself. “You said you’d never seen a basketball game before?”

“Never.” You glanced out at the now-empty court. “I came in expecting to get bored halfway through. I thought I’d be checking my notes on my phone by the second quarter.”

“And instead?”

“I forgot I even had a phone.”

She turned her head toward you, expression soft. “Because of the game, or...”

You looked back at her. “Do I need to answer that?”

She didn’t blush this time. But her eyes dropped for a second, and when they lifted again, they held something steadier. More certain.

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

You studied her. “You mean that?”

“Yeah. I—” she hesitated, exhaling through her nose. “I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes when you play so many games, they all blur together. It becomes muscle memory. You forget what it feels like to want someone in the crowd to see you. Like, actually see you.”

You didn’t speak, not right away. Because that hit somewhere you weren’t ready for.

“Does it get lonely?” you asked softly.

Paige blinked. “What?”

You looked down at your hands. “Being known. By everyone. But not really known by anyone who isn’t part of the circle.”

She was quiet. You risked a glance at her. She was already watching you.

“It does,” she said. “It really does.”

You nodded. “I get it.”

“I figured you would.” She shifted in her seat, angling toward you more. “You know what it felt like tonight?”

“What?”

She paused. “It felt like you weren’t here for the show. You weren’t waiting to be impressed. You were just... there. Watching. Like it was already enough.”

You held her gaze. “That’s because it was.”

You saw the breath catch in her chest before she tried to play it off with a quiet laugh. “You’re really dangerous, you know that?”

“Because I said something kind?”

“No. Because you meant it.”

That silenced you both for a long moment. You let it happen. Let the silence linger and swell and settle. Eventually, Paige leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, looking out at the court.

“Do you think you’ll come to another game?” she asked.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you mirrored her posture, your shoulders touching ever so slightly. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’ll be there.”

She let out a small breath of a laugh, low and fond. “God, you’re gonna wreck me.”

You smiled. “That’s not my intention.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why it’s worse.”

The lights overhead dimmed a little more as the staff shut down sections row by row. A janitor passed with a sweeping broom. You didn’t care. You had nowhere else to be. Not in that moment.

She looked at you again. “Can I give you my number?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That was inevitable.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said, grinning now, eyes crinkling. “You could’ve been not interested. Or just—”

“Paige,” you cut in gently. “I waited for you.”

She smiled slowly.

You reached into your jacket and pulled out your phone, unlocking it and holding it out. She entered her number carefully, then hesitated before handing it back.

“What?” you asked.

She looked slightly sheepish. “Just thought my contact name should pay tribute to our first interaction to each other.”

You checked it.

Buckers

You laughed. “Wow. You’re not gonna let that go, huh?”

“Nope. It’s part of you now. You gonna change it?”

You didn’t. You saved it as is.

“I like it,” you said. “It’s us.”

You both stood when security finally made a quiet gesture that the arena was closing up. Paige stretched her arms above her head and gave you a look like she didn’t quite want to leave.

You didn’t either.

“Hey,” she said, more serious now. “Can I call you tomorrow? Or tonight? Or whenever it’s not weird? I just... I’d like to talk more. Without a clock running.”

You nodded, heart softening. “I’d like that.”

And then you leaned in—just slightly—and kissed her cheek. Slow. Intentional. Close enough that your lips brushed the corner of her mouth.

She froze. Exhaling softly.

When you pulled back, her face was pink, her eyes shining.

You whispered, “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

[morganbritton132]

Tommy has three brothers.

You may think that this would have taught him how to share, but it didn’t. It taught him that if he wanted something to grab it quick and hold it tight.

Which is to say that he does not like Carol.

He is not thrilled when Steve asks their teacher if Carol can sit with them during snack time because Steve is his best friend. He found him first and he’s not letting go of him.

Especially not to some dumb girl that plays with dolls.

“Mr. Whiskers isn’t a doll. He’s a cat.”

“Mr. Whiskers is a dumb toy,” Tommy grouses, pulling on Steve’s backpack strap so he follows him. Steve says he likes toys and Tommy concedes because he likes toys too just - “Not dumb toys. I have cool toys. I can show you.”

And Tommy does. He drags Steve onto the bus with him. None of his brothers mention it when Steve gets off at their stop.

In fact, no one mentions it at all. Especially not to their mother so it’s something of a surprise when she turns around to find a boy in her kitchen. Not one of her boys but - “Hello?”

The little boy looks away from the pot boiling on the stove and asks, “How come you don’t have a microwave?”

“Mama says that I can’t use the stove ‘cause I’m not big enough,” He continues while Maria stares dumbfounded at him. “Tommy’s not big either and you don’t got a microwave. Does he just eat cereal?”

The boy blinks at her, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Steve,” She says slowly, connecting the name to Tommy’s friend from school. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“I know I’m here.”

“Anyone else?”

“Tommy knows,” He says. “He’s in his room. We’re playing nascar.”

“That sounds fun,” She says, slipping into mom mode. She crouches down so they’re eye-level and smiles, “Why don’t I call your mom and let her know that you’re having fun?”

She can see the clogs turning in his head before Sleve slumps his shoulders. His bottom lip juts out and his eyes get shiny. She’s about to ask him what’s wrong when Tommy slides into the room on his socks and Steve tells him in a sad little voice, “Your mama wants me to go home now.”

Tommy promptly bursts into tears.

He doesn’t want Steve to leave. He’ll miss him and he hasn’t even showed him his GI Joe yet.

It takes a lot of soothing words, many reassurances that she’s not kicking Steve out, and the recruitment of her husband before the situation was calmed down. It’s only then that Steve - dry-eyed now - suggests, “I can call my mama.”

This is what Maria was trying to accomplish in the first place.

She takes Steve into the living room where their landline was. He dials his phone number carefully as her, her husband David, and Tommy watch. He gives her a reassuring smile, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Mama! It’s Steve,” He says into the receiver. “I’m at Tommy’s. He’s my best friend and his mama said I can stay the night. Love you. Bye. Love you.”

He hangs up the phone before Maria could ask for it and informs her, “Mama is a super busy lady. She’s goin’ to the - to the store. She says she loves you.”

The boys run off to continue playing while Maria processes what the hell just happened. She’s still processing when David picks up the phone and presses the same buttons Steve had.

He holds the phone to his ear and gets the answering machine for, “The fucking Harringtons?”

[slushycoookie]

Lack of Patience (18+) ~ Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: True Form! Sukuna. Modern era. Reader has a nipple piercing and Sukuna is very impatient. The man has tiger tendencies. Vaginal fingering. Oral sex (Male receiving). P in V. Minors DNI!

A/N: This was supposed to be a flash fic and then...that didn't happen so enjoy!

“Ah, fuck!”

Your face scrunches up when your nipple grazes the refrigerator handle. A rush of pleasurable pain flows through your body as you freeze to get yourself together. And to see if there's footsteps.

You were influenced by your friends to follow through on a nipple piercing you talked about for years. You wanted to get it done, but there were a lot of factors. The needle, the healing process, the jewlery. There’s a lot that came with an intimate piercing. Your friends weren’t buying it, hence why you randomly got it done one day.

You also didn't tell Sukuna.

Not because you were afraid of what he was going to say about it. It's because you know what he's going to do once he sees it. Grab all on you with his gigantic hands. Fiddle with it like it's a toy. All while having this sadistic smirk that you love so much.

You've been doing your best to hide it from him, even if that means missing out on his famous baths, but it's worth it for your husband not to find out yet.

“Wife.” He calls from the other room, “You exclaimed.”

“I'm fine!” You quickly say, maneuvering so you don't hit your nipple a second time. “I just knocked my finger against the door.”

That wasn't a good enough answer when heavy footsteps occur. You scramble to act natural by drinking the lemonade you grabbed when your gigantic man comes in the kitchen.

“Let me see your finger.”

“No.” You hold your hand close to your chest, “I'm fine. Go back to the living room.”

“You are a clumsy oaf. I will not allow you to injure yourself.”

“What did you just call me? I just said I’m-”

Sukuna doesn’t take no for an answer when he grabs your hand to examine it. He squints at the sight of your uninjured finger. “You did not damage it.”

“You don’t listen.” You snatch your hand away, “I told you I’m fine.”

He grunts, but doesn’t move away. The hard stare from him makes you break eye contact, going back to sipping on your drink.

“What?”

“You are hiding something from me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You hardly fake an injury. If it’s to capture my attention, you already have it. There’s no need to go to such extremes.” Sukuna folds his arms, muscles practically bulging against the black t-shirt. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You start chewing on your straw, “Nothing.”

“You know better than to lie to me.”

It’s that harmless threat that makes your knees buckle. You weren’t sure how you were going to keep hiding your piercing for much longer. You were running out of ideas.

“If I show you, you can’t touch.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow in confusion, “I do not understand.”

“Just promise me.”

“Fine. I will not touch.”

You ignore his exaggerating huff when you pull away from the counter. Sukuna’s eyes flicker with intrigue when you pull up your baggy shirt right above your breasts. To see the new addition on your body.

“You have decorated your nipple with jewelry.”

“It’s just a simple barbell for now, but yes.”

“And you thought to hide this from me?”

Your lips pursed, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Elaborate.” You motion to the fact that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of the piercing. Plus, his hands are flexing during each minute he remains on you. “You say this as if I cannot control myself.”

“Then why are you coming closer?”

You step back when Sukuna takes two steps forward. He huffs, having the audacity to be annoyed at your caution. “I wish to examine up close.”

“You can when I’m properly healed.”

“And how long will that take?”

“A while. Some people say six weeks. Others say a few months.”

Sukuna throws his arms up, “Let me use my technique to heal you.”

“No! I don’t want to use jujutsu for something as simple as this.” You put your shirt back down and with it your husband became more whiny. “Let this heal naturally, please.”

“You’re being impossible.”

“You’re being impatient.”

“I can’t revel in my wife’s new decoration?”

“Not if you’re acting like this.”

You grab your glass, going back to the living room to finish watching TV. Sukuna moves to appear in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Let me see it again.”

“You know what it looks like. And you’re gonna touch it as soon as I pull up my shirt.”

“I will not. Don’t be difficult.”

“Sukuna-”

“I wish to see it again.”

“What did I just say?”

“I heard what you said, now let me see-”

“Okay!” You settle your drink down on the counter, some of it splashing on your hand. “No sex. Not until my piercing heals enough for you to touch.”

You might as well told him to jump off a cliff. The incredulous look on his face changes into disdain. Yeah, you just forbade the King of Curses from getting any. There is some power to being his wife.

Although, you’re sure you’ve made things worse. Because Sukuna wouldn’t stop bugging you about it.

Whenever you’re around in your home, he’s not too far away. Eying you, pacing the room like a tiger waiting to strike. His imposing frame, dark, red eyes never leaving you. If you weren’t married to him, this might have scared you a little.

Your piercing is all that he wants to talk about. If it hurt, why you didn’t let him come with you when you got it done, how often you have to clean it, etc. You know he was born in the Heian era, but he’s acting like he’s never seen a piercing before.

You lost count at how many times Sukuna has demanded you to show him again. With the straightest face in the world. Sometimes you ignore him and go back to doing what you were doing. Other times, you indulge him.

Your eyes never leave his face when you pull up your shirt. All four red eyes on your jewelry like cat staring at something it wants. With his arms close to his sides.

“The taste must be metallic.” He guesses.

“Did you forget about my metal allergy?” You suck your teeth when he doesn't respond, “Why are you imagining how it would taste?”

“You have denied intercourse from me until you heal. I want to have this.”

You shook your head, “Fine. It might taste like metal. They gave me surgical steel.”

You angle your breast for him to get all sides, as if he wanted to see the inner workings of it.

“Why did you not get the other done? It's asymmetrical.”

“I wasn't sure how I'd react with this one…”

Sukuna still doesn't leave your breast, not until you were tired of holding up your shirt.

“How long until I can touch?”

“Two more weeks.”

And what a long two weeks it was. For Sukuna. His constant moaning and grunting annoyed you to no end.

You didn’t realize you hit the two week mark when you woke up one morning, slowly climbing out of your bed and to your bathroom. Where you were met with the torso of your man. Your face directly against his pectorals.

“It’s time.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“It has been six weeks.”

You yawn, “Oh yeah. I guess you can touch now.” Sukuna pulls up your shirt which makes you squeal in surprise. “Baby, wait! You want to do this right now?”

“Yes.” He reaches for you again, but you put your hands up in protest.

“Hold on, can I go pee first?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes, “No.”

“I gotta pee!”

“Make it quick!”

You run to the bathroom, quickly doing what you had to do while Sukuna just stares at you. He already informed you he washed his hands so all you needed to do is show him your piercing. Right after you brush your teeth.

“What are you doing?”

“Brushing my teeth-hey!”

He wraps his strong arms around you, “You are testing my patience. Do that later.”

“Morning breath!”

“Who cares?”

You do, but you couldn’t escape the hold your husband had on you sitting on the bed with him, your back against his chest. Sukuna took off your shirt immediately and graced himself with the sight of your breasts. The heart beat in your chest was hard to ignore, even as you rested your hand on his knee.

“Be gentle, please.”

“I will.”

To test the waters, he thumbs your nipple. You try not to immediately melt in his warm touch. He slides along your nipple to the bar bell, causing you to take a deep breath. You ignore the goosebumps on your skin as he continues, moving your jewelry a bit.

His touch combined with your increased sensitivity felt addicting. You were so close to becoming putty in his hands, all because of a few rubs to your nipple. Knowing Sukuna, he was probably looking serious. As if he was planning the next attack in the middle of a battle.

“Ah!”

You push against him at the pinch to your nipple. A hand squeezes your other breast, beckoning your thighs to spread for him. Enough to where his hand snaked down your stomach and under the waistband of your panties.

That slick motherfucker.

“Kuna…” You start to protest, ready to remove yourself from his hold. The no sex rule was also impacting you, but you thought your mind was strong enough to resist. Sukuna’s calloused finger to your clit made any reason fly out the window.

The grip on his knee got tighter and you're panting along his neck. You notice a smirk on his face at how you’re affected by his touch.

“Feels good?”

That low tone in his face makes you croon, combined with his slow circles on your clit. Sukuna is also still figuring out the best way to give you maximum pleasure with your piercing. When he slides the barbell back and forth, a tingling sensation surrounds you. Your toes curl and your eyes shut.

“Don’t…” You don’t want him to stop. Not when your breaths get heavy and your face starts feeling hot. Plus, something hard was pressed against your back. You knew what that was.

A groan escapes Sukuna when he put two fingers inside you, witnessing how soaked you were. He nudges into your head, his own breaths synching up with yours. He’s got your entire, pierced breast pooled in his palm. The action of him gently thumbing it, pinching it was just sending you to the edge.

Sukuna has you locked in, so you couldn’t escape even if you tried. But you wait for the inevitable. For you to experience ecstasy unlike these few past weeks. That doesn’t come.

Right when you’re about to reach your peak, Sukuna pulls away. He’s licking his fingers while your eyes shoot open.

“What the hell? Why did you stop?”

“You said no intercourse.”

You scoff, going to stand, your legs shaking a little. “Since when do you listen to me?”

“Since now.”

His legs are spread, enough for you to see the giant tents in his pants. You roll your eyes and decide not to argue with him even further.

“You’re an ass.”

You can hear Sukuna’s laughter on the other side of the bathroom as you finish up your morning routine.

Now, he’s pissed you off.

There’s a few more months until his tongue can make contact with your nipple, but you want to make this situation unbearable. Sukuna has helped you clean your piercing, lifted up your shirt when he wants to see it, but you got rid of that.

He glares at you already cleaning your piercing when it’s time. All of your shirts have been tucked in to prevent him from lifting them. No more shared showers or baths. Anything to drive your husband wild.

At first, you can see the vein on his forehead, the annoyed look in those eyes when he sees what you’re doing. But after a few weeks, he becomes stagnant. No attempts to raise your shirt or see your breast in the shower. No demands for him to see it randomly in the estate. The silence was unnerving. Sukuna was lowering your guard before striking, ready to ruin you the way he wants.

Yet, it doesn’t come.

You stopped worrying about him pouncing on you three weeks later. The married life you two contained went back to normal. He still annoyed you, but about other things. It was almost as if he dropped the thought of you having that piercing at all.

It’s exactly why when you’re set up to watch a movie one day, a thought occurred to check the calendar. Sukuna was preparing his nightly routine in the shower so you wanted to kill some time. Your stomach dropped when you realized it’s been three months. Sure, not enough adequate time for your piercing to fully heal, but enough to try and do things.

Was he expecting this? He was the one that suggested a movie night, while you wear the pink, silk pjs he picked out for you. And he had this look in his eye that you couldn’t decode.

You should run, but that would entice your husband even further. He likes the chase. You can be brave and prepare for his approach. Or you can turn the tables.

That flowy pink top is gone and tossed away. You recline on the couch when heavy footsteps resonate in your ears. Sukuna locks eyes with you, hair damp, only wearing pj shorts that does little to hide his aroused state.

“Took you long enough.”

You’re sitting up on your knees as he comes closer. “You’re talking about me but…someone was in a hurry.” Even his skin was damp as you trace a finger down his abs. Sukuna’s breath hitched when you tug on his waistband, not pulling down his shorts just yet.

“The thought of me messing with you to get what I want made me make haste.”

He grips the back of your head to tilt your head up. Your lips part at the kiss you two share. His tongue damn near in the back of your throat, showing how much he needed you after these excruciating months. You can’t help but moan under him as a sign that you felt the same.

When you part, you immediately pull down his shorts. Those cocks springing free, already a little red and leaking. You don’t miss a beat when you lick any cum remaining from his tips. Sukuna doesn’t remove that hand from your head when you lick up one of his shafts. Your hands stroke the other, directly along your nipple piercing. The cool jewelry graze his cock while droplets of his seed stain your chest.

“Wife…” He swallows, taking shallow breaths to keep steady. “You are toying with me.”

Sukuna lets out a choked groan when you take him in your mouth. Your lips pursed around his thick shaft as you slowly sucked. The scent of his sea salt body wash makes your thighs clench together. Your hands deliberately matching the pace of your mouth. Your moans vibrating against his cock.

You don’t miss the death grip Sukuna has on you. If you wanted to part from him, you can’t, but you have no reason to. His pleasure filled face gives you everything you need to keep going. The slight jolt he gives when your barbell touches any part of his cock, especially the tip. You couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

Sukuna doesn’t try to hide how much he’s pleased. He’s moaning to the stars with every stroke and suck you conduct. You deny him sex for a quarter of a year, of course he’s glad to have you once again.

Your hands get sticky from all of the pre cum. It helps you stroke a little faster, ignoring the slow pace from your mouth. Sukuna pushes against you, wanting your mouth to match your hands again. You don’t bother teasing and accept his demand. Soon, your husband is no stranger to showing you that he likes what you’re doing.

You take him fully in your mouth, his pubic hairs brushing along your nose. Sukuna shudders, knees buckling when you continue. The slight gag combined with the sticky, wet sound of your strokes became too much for him to bear. He’s now chasing his own high, making your mouth match the pace he wants. It’s not until your jewelry connects with the underside of his shaft that he comes.

A roar fills the living room. You swallow his seed, your chest getting stained with it. Your upper body is coated when he parts from you, eyes on his cum decorating your breasts, practically dripping off it. He gazes at it with hunger, which makes your core flutter.

“I will go with you next time when you get the other one done.”

He plants himself back down on the couch. Before you agree to his statement, Sukuna puts you on his lap and latches on to your breast. You put your head back when his tongue swirls around the barbell, removing any remnants of cum and replacing it with his saliva. You grip his hair, lifting up your hips so he can remove your shorts too.

You’re grinding your hips against him. His large hands plant on your ass cheeks, but still doesn’t leave your breast. Sukuna sighs along your mound, licking and sucking to his heart’s desire. You don’t even want to think about how thoroughly you should clean your piercing once you’re done.

“Sukie…” You coo, “Does it taste like metal?”

He grunts, releasing your breast with a small pop, “And my semen.”

You let out a short laugh before he picks you up and lowers you on one of his shafts. Where he then proceeds to do all the work. Bouncing you up and down on him while he never leaves your tits. Especially the pierced one. He even leans forward to taste it again as you cry above him with his rough thrusts.

Sukuna doesn’t let go when you climax, your walls squeezing around his shaft. Not even when he released a strangled moan at his second orgasm. He doesn’t let go while he fills you up and stains your back. It’s not until you’re covering his face with kisses that he lets go. Only to give you another kiss. A slower, yet passionate one that makes you melt in his arms.

“I want to clean it for you.” He states, gazing at you with an emotion you know too well.

“Okay.” You rub your nose along his own, “It’s the least you can do.”

Tags: @ammrry

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

can you write about Yandere mermaid or a female siren please?

Together Forever | Yandere Siren x Reader

Thinking about a siren woman on a mission, granted the ability to walk on land along with her sisters. A long-awaited revenge finally coming to fruition. As expected she dazzles all, surprised by the ease at charming all she comes across but she’s faltering because of something minor. Or rather someone.

“Hey Felis I was wondering if you’d be free to come with us to the arcade.”

“Nice try (Y/n), obviously Felis is too good for the arcade.”

“Yeah, she probably has important things to do.”

“Actually (Y/n) I would love to.”

“Great I’ll add you to the group chat.”

It’s you. The oddly talkative and goofy former outcast with the support of your atypical friends. Laughing about animated series and independent games with a sense of niche community found on most uni campuses. 

Usually, she should have never crossed paths with you. Unable to apply her shallow level of research to such a deep-seated community and deeming it irrelevant in the grand scheme of her plan. But something about you drew her in, maybe it was the contrast of your silence in class to your smiling visage at clubs. Or maybe it was the way you maintained the character you were cosplaying on campus during club-day. Or maybe it was the way she so easily slipped into her siren song when you cheered for her at karaoke. Either way, she just can’t stop, even if it means going against the original plan.

“What is your problem Felis!? You were supposed to have drowned more by now!”

“I am working on it, too many at one time and I’ll be a suspect!”

“We already are aware of that which is why we have a replacement waiting. What could possibly be worth delaying the plan for?!”

“...It’s something important!”

“Fine but do it fast. I’m demanding your apology in bodies. Twice as many, you hear?”

“...fine.”

Felis was meant to have killed more humans by now. Confirming that they were the children that the hex pointed them to. Unfortunately among these humans, she was meant to drown, was you. Beaming and clueless, inclusive and kind completely unaware that you were the only descendant of a distant ancestor entangled with the sirens long ago.

“Hey Felis, are you a swimmer?”

“Huh, what?! I…am. Why do you ask?”

“I’m just thinking about checking out this spot along the river, I heard it’s like some legendary rejuvenation spot. Would you maybe want to come?”

“Uh, sure.”

Just her luck the one human she happens to love and her sisters demand she drowns is you. It takes hours of soaking in her dorm’s shower before she comes up with a brilliant idea.

She’ll just drown you! 

Tell all the mutual friends you previously invited to go to another spot by the river giving the wrong landmark to find the unbeaten path; then purposely making the mistake for one of your close friends to correct her, allowing Felis to conveniently forget to tell the others. Now that her mistake has an adorably innocent papertrail she finds herself annoyed with the fact that your tight-knit  friend group wasn’t so easily swayed. 

“Hey (Y/n) you’re already swimming?”

“Yeah the current isn’t too bad here, I’m just watching the fish go by!”

“Thanks for inviting me again, (Y/n).”

“(Y/n) invites everyone to the river eventually, this has been the spot for ages.”

As if she didn’t already know that. “Oh is that so?”

“Yup just glad you can join us Felis, though I hope you don’t feel too left out we’ll be talking about that anime's new release.”

“Don’t apologize (Y/n), she knew who she was hanging out with.”

“Yeah most normies tend to avoid us like the plague, but my guess is Felis isn’t like that or maybe she just hasn’t got the memo.”

“Ohhh yes it’s like instead of injecting herself into social situations to drive the convo like a normal extrovert, she’s putting herself out of her comfort zone and silently observing like an introvert.” 

“Come one guys be nice.”

She endures it. A whole four hours of mindless chatter, she could care less about. Seeing the sun had begun to set she decided it was time to put her plan into action. Excusing herself from the river Felis disappeared into the forest surrounding. Letting the group speak in hushed voices all about her. Of course as a creature of the deep her hearing was strong enough to hear the not so-secret opinions of your friends. While she imagined the embarrassment they’d feel if she appeared before them, she decided to focus on the objective. 

“But it can’t be that bad? Is it? Those IGN reviews are always off.”

“Well yeah but I have to say it was pretty accurate to me!”

“I think you’re losing it.”

“Oh come on it’s not that–WHOA what is that?!”

“What’s what—glug—ahhh!”

Faster than any of your friends can realize you are underneath the surface of the rushing waters and headed downstream at an impossible speeds. A glimpse of something scaly along your side, chalked up to a hallucination as they climb out and run alongside the river with hopes to catch you. 

Within a minute you are out of sight and the group is left on their knees at the side of the river. Calling out your name and getting no response as the fear settles in. 

They’ve lost you.

For all they know you could be dead and in part it’s their fault. It has to be.

“Hey why’d you guys run away like that, what’s going on? Where’s (Y/n)?!”

They plead their various experiences. Their testimonies overlapping one another in a frantic haze until they take a beat to compose themselves. All crowding around Felis as they share the terrible news; watching nervously as her face beautifully twists with curiosity.

“Oh they probably ended up in a nearby cove. The map I looked at earlier had a couple marked on there. We can check and see if the current spat them out there.”

“....I’m still not sure that was the current. Maybe we should call–”

“Don’t stress. We check the coves and if we don’t find them we call. Okay? (Y/n) will probably be so mad if they knew you got all riled up on their behalf

“I don’t think they’d be mad more like happy we—“

“Come on. We’re losing daylight.”

The group follows Felis to this cove walking long after the sun has gone and the moon slowly begins to illuminate their walk. Their paranoid thoughts about where you might be, what they saw, and what would be the plan overtaking the group. Felis resumed her typical observation speaking up only to properly guide the group away from the main river. So consumed in their grief and fear not once had anyone questioned just how Felis knew where this cove was.

“Whoa is that someone’s swim trucks?!”

“These look new? Could this have been a bear attack?”

“No way maybe they were goofing and tore at it someother way look at all the beer cans around this place.”

“Yuck, they even have them going into the cove.”

“Come on, (Y/n) is waiting for us.”

What the group took as an optimistic statement, stepped over the cans and entered the mouth of the cove. Starting on the soggy sand along it’s sides until it dwindled landing the group in waist-length murky water. The only reflections being the occasional glint in the group’s eyes.

“H-how would we know if (Y/n) is in here?!”

“We’d h-have to call out and hopefully they’ll hear us, right?”

The groups hollering echoes off the walls of the cave. The only responses being their own shaky voices and the occasional splashing in the water.

“Guys I really don’t think they’re here!”

“Oh no we have to get outta here and call the police!”

This is stupid! We should’ve called them from the beginning. Let’s go.”

“Wait wheres Felis—uhp!”

Splash!!

In the inky darkness of the water beneath them something shifts and when they huddle near one another to look down at the space their friend was just at, something faintly blue glows beneath them. 

“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT!?”

“wE GoTTA GET OUT OF HERE!”

“THEY’RE GONE! BOTH GONE!”

“Hurry go for the exit!”

Scrambling in the water, they try to out-runnning the speedy glowing light under the rippling water. Another goes under and your remaining friend group is practically at the end of the cove happy to see the reflection of the moon against the water. 

“WE’RE ALMOST THERE!”

“Go go go!”

“Wait what’s in there!”

One of them points to the water where a similar blue light glows brighter under the water. Standing between them and the mouth of the cove, they frantically spare a glance at the fainter light closing in on them. With a frantic confusion their heads dart to each side wondering which of these mysterious lights they’ll finally get to see first. In the end the light that glows at the mouth of the cave is the brightest and the water opening up to reveal none other than–

“Felis!? You’re still alive?!”

It is she, who's silhouetted by the risen moon, and wearing a blue necklace that glows. With a sigh of relief they come closer to her smiling form and relax. Instantly put at ease by a friend in such a frightening situation. 

“I’ve missed you so much.”

She sounds different. Her voice, normally preppy and bright is now sultry and alluring in a way your friends haven’t quite realized. Of course they knew long before now that Felis was likened to a nymph among the masses. Impossibly slender, handsomely tall, and hair that flows down her back like an obsidian waterfall. Now it just seems so much more profound. So much more enrapturing to see her bare self at the exit of the cove. 

“Thank you for waiting. I didn’t mean to keep you long.”

Swooning, they didn’t bother speak. Just releasing the tension in their bodies and planning to float instead of trying to balance on the soggy sand. All was forgiven and all was forgotten especially the blue light behind glowing brighter. 

“Now eat my love! There’s plenty more where that came from!”

In the haze of their drunken trance, it was barely registered that the response in their limbs was impossible thanks to the jagged rows of teeth gnawing at their bloodied stumps. Their nerves ineffectively firing a warning and making their heart pump violently; all to be ignored as the brain designates a higher function for their failing bodies.

Be Food for Felis. 

It didn’t matter that their eyes flickered with familiarity as the glowing azure devourer resembled their missing friend or that globs of tears were falling onto their freezing face. Only that Felis too had revealed a jaw full of fangs and was penetrating their cranium with furious abandon. Like fulfilling a craving after a dutiful wait. 

“Don’t cry! Now they’ll be with you forever! Not in the same way I will but whatever!”

Carefully she framed her hands around your head she let’s your newly frigid and freshly scaly form lean against her. A mixture of grief and exhaustion allowing her to hold your placid form as she rubs her fingers against your closing eyelids. 

Drowning you was the best thing she could have ever done!

[potatomountain]

C:IU CH 3

Chapter Three

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Pairing: Poly 0t8 Ateez x fem reader AU: Mafia/detective Genre: 18+ poly romance, action Word Count: Summary: "Threats" Warnings: 18+, gun violence, fist fighting, death threats, mentions of trauma, sex/suggestive talk AN: Dividers and banner made by me @potatographics. Usual beta readers tagged in masterlist! No editing done! Also- it has been a LONG time since i updated this series so if you are part of the taglist and do not wish to be notified anymore (i get it), comment and ill remove you from it <3

It wasn’t easy getting into the mindset of crime lords when their hearts were filled with turmoil over you, but the five men managed during the car ride.

At least until Mingi, in the driver seat, brought you up again. “So… I’m assuming everyone is aware of what the shitty fucker she went to see tried to do?” He winced at the feeling of Yunho digging his fingers into his thigh, glancing over and taking note of his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, an angry tell of his.

“And how aware are you of it, Malik?” Hongjoong spoke from the back, a hard edge to his tone as he sat between Seonghwa and Jongho. Their eyes met in the mirror and Mingi had the feeling he didn’t have the full story.

With a deep breath, he focused on the road. “I’m aware he tried to kiss her, but I didn’t press for more details, she was shaken up.”

“Oh he did more than that.” Jongho scoffed.

Now Mingi was even more confused, glancing at Yunho, then at Seonghwa, hoping one of them would clarify. It was the latter that spoke up. “He admitted to her face about- fuck I don’t even want to think about it- but I think it’s safe to say the only reason we don’t have one of Minjae’s men putting a hit out on this shitstain is because she wouldn’t want that… and we need his stupid fucking unit.”

“So you heard their conversation? Ah- I see.” Mingi didn’t know what was said but if it was enough for Seonghwa to be calling him a shitstain, then Mingi was all aboard the hate train. “Any idea why she was even there?”

Out of the four others, it was Jongho that spoke up. “Only an idea."

This had Hongjoong and Seonghwa turning to look at him in confusion, even the two in front were pretty shocked. “Well?”

The youngest didn’t meet any of their eyes. “She had been ranting to Yeosang about  wanting to arrest some of the guys that came into the bar and Yeosang explained that we can’t make any arrests ourselves unless they’re thought out otherwise it could backfire. She did ask if another unit made the arrest and handled the police work, if that was more viable.”

“Oh.” Hongjoong said it first, understanding where this was going. The rants they heard about through Yeosang were one of the few things that kept them hopeful you would come out on top of this whole situation; anger was a great motivator after all.

“That’s… not a bad plan actually. And she thought about that before knowing our plans.” Seonghwa smiled to himself, the pride and awe in his tone matched by Hongjoong’s grin.

“Well we’ll just have to carry it out won’t we? She tried it her way, we’ll try it our way.”

Mingi shivered at the undertone their leader spoke with, but no one protested. Instead, he pulled up to the quiet restaurant, taking note of a few cars on the street but that the building itself was dimly lit and only had two guards standing outside giving notice to what was about to go down. “Anyways, Viper time?”

The restaurant itself was a small mom and pop type that wasn’t even open in the evenings, they already had access to the camera’s inside and some audio thanks to their outfits and around the building with some bugs. The anonymity of the Black Pirates usually made it easy to scope out a place before a meeting, even if given just a few hours worth of notice. Having a tech genius on their crew also helped immensely, the buttons on their jackets and Yunho’s glasses serving as cameras and extra audio. They were nothing if not thorough.

After giving the okay to Yeosang to connect to the car and their personal devices, Yunho was the first out of the car followed by Jongho, Seonghwa, then Hongjoong. As driver, Mingi stayed behind, also to keep an eye out in case an ambush or backup was called. Or worse: police.

Their demeanor shifted, Yunho behind the duo leaders while Jongho was in the front, stepping up to the guards and introducing them as the Pirates. He showed off his fingers as if to confirm, then the four were led inside.

Only a handful of men were in the restaurant, quite a few tables pushed aside but four men sat at one in the center, with a handful of guards around the room.

“Total of ten guards. Six here, two up front and two in the back.” Yeosang's voice rang in their ears.

“We already have four men not far from the back entrance, the two in the kitchen will be easiest to take out if things get dicey. The Leaders have a car out back with a driver so that would be their escape route. Sang is tapping into their communications now.” San added on followed by some chatter in the background.

It was maybe a relief when the four heard your voice, calm and focused. “The guard on the left behind the men- he comes into the club a lot. Likes flirting with one of the girls, Cherry. Woo says he's a huge gambler and owes the Boa’s money. He'd probably turn his back on them to pay those fees.”

Of course they couldn't reply, but a glance at one of the cameras from Hongjoong told the four watching they understood. 

Jongho and Yunho pulled the chairs out and had Seonghwa and Hongjoong sitting the next second.

The buffer of the four men sitting scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You expect us to believe you're the leader of the Pirates?”

“Do you want proof?” Hongjoong hummed out with a tilt of his head, eyeing the man down. “Because if you won’t be serious about these negotiations, we can leave and you can pay us the original amount you owe us within a month.” He moved as if to get up, just for the brute to get elbowed by the more slender man next to him, shooting him a venomous glare.

From left to right, it was the head of their prostitution, the actual head of the Vipers -who appeared decently older than the rest-, the brute who was in charge of the fight ring and last, the lanky man responsible for their drugs. Hongjoong cared more about the leader, since this was his first appearance- though that was their main goal. 

A face means they can find who he is outside of the Vipers. Even if that was all they got from this meeting, it was enough.

“Already have his face being run through our data, Captain.” The techie announced even if he didn't need to. Hongjoong knew he would, he trusted him.

If Yeosang managed to cough up any useful information, they could have even more leverage to make sure this meeting went just as they wanted.

He eyed the four of them, gaze harsh on the brute that had dared to question them. “Let us get right into it then. Mars.” He motioned towards Seonghwa who a moment later pulled a folder out from his bag under the leather cape.

Once it was in Hongjoong's hands, he was quick to place it on the table facing the other four. A contract with listed payments and pictures of the properties that they wanted as well. “We don't expect all of these, but these are the options you have. Our listed conditions in the contract however are non-negotiable.”

“A contract? You can't be serious?” The head of the fight ring scoffed again, not at all intimidated by the glares he received.

“We very much are. We take our work seriously, as well as what we are owed. You were warned our help was not going to be free. Or cheap.” Seonghwa added, pointing with a leather clad finger to the contract. “Three of the 6 properties. Different percentages of our cut on products. You get use of one of our docks, as well as contacts of smugglers willing to extend their contract with us to include you. We'll supply some men to make up for the losses you took, but we have free reign to scout any of your existing men as well.”

Staring at the monitors before you, the rest of the talk fell on deaf ears after Seonghwa had said that. The three around you were still laser focused on the screens, listening to the negotiations though only Seonghwa and Hongjoong did most of the talking. You stood right behind Yeosang, San to your left and Wooyoung to your right, the mic in front of you picking up any conversation the four of you had.

Wooyoung had praised them for their location choices, though you couldn't see what they were without leaning in closer and pressing your chest to the back of Yeosang's head; not that it mattered to you right now.

You were still reeling from the weight of Seonghwa's words. “Does that mean…” you whispered, drawing the attention of the two flanking you, “they can get you out of there safely?”

The fear that had risen up when the small war between the Red Wolves and Green Vipers had jeopardized San’s life had never gone away. You hadn’t dared to ask Hongjoong what he planned to get him out, afraid you would not like the answer at all. 

Now you had it. The alliance between the Pirates and Vipers was a perfect opportunity to pull San out without blowing his cover or causing any harm. The most efficient way as well, as he could still technically fight if he needed. Not that you wanted him to. “You tell me, sweetcheeks? What does that pretty brain of yours think it means?” San replied, his tone playful and you could hear the smirk in his words as well.

That was enough of a confirmation for you however, reaching for his hand on instinct as your expression softened. “You’re going to be safe now?”

San took your hand, fingers lacing with yours and his calloused thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“I wouldn’t say safe- nothing about this job is safe Goddess.” Wooyoung felt the need to tease, bursting your bubble a bit.

San shot him a glare over your shoulder, moving a bit closer to you as his gaze settled back on yours. “While he has a point, I know what you mean. Yes it means they can get me out of immediate danger. So you don’t have to worry any more.”

Relief flooded you, muscles relaxing and letting out a breath that seemed to take some of the tension in your body with it. “I’m glad.” Still holding his hand, you tugged him a bit closer until you were side by side enough you could lean your head on his shoulder. You didn’t think about it, just did it, embracing the warmth radiating off him.

Wooyoung whined behind you, the screens forgotten for the moment. “Be touchy with meee~"

“No.” But you had a smile on your lips as he poked at your arm. “Focus baby boy.”

He sighed, but didn’t relent on the poking even as he turned his attention to the screen. “You guys should hurry up, I’m being deprived of attention now.”

“I don’t think now is the time for such banter, Woo.” Yeosang hissed up at him, motioning to the screens. It seemed you had missed an escalation of sorts as one of the Viper leaders was now standing and leaning over the table, glaring down at Hongjoong.

Hongjoong who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, and a smug look on his face as he peered up under the hat at the man twice his size it seemed.

Even through the screen you could feel the tension, the charged atmosphere that would snap at the sound of a pin drop.

“I wouldn’t be acting so smug, little hobbit.” The brute snarled at the Captain, the next second 6 guns aimed at the four of your men.

Fear washed through you, detaching yourself from San’s arm and leaning against the back of Yeosang’s head to see the screen clearer. The man seemed unphased, fingers moving across his board as he was doing something on another screen- your eyes didn’t stray from this one.

“Easy baby, they’re going to be fine.” San attempted to reassure you, his hand sliding over your back, hesitating only when you flinched at the initial contact. “The vipers aren’t that dumb.”

As if to back up what he said, the leader of the four lifted two fingers and the guns were lowered. “No need for that, K, they aren’t a threat.” The man was pulled back to his seat by the viper next to him.

“Would you take us more seriously if we were?” It was Yunho who finally spoke up, a tick in his jaw you could see even in the dim light of the restaurant and camera quality. He was pissed, and now you wondered what you had missed.

What had been said or at least insinuated that would have Yunho staring at the men as if he was ready to kill them?

Nothing was said between the four leaders, but the first man, the head of their prostitution, nodded.

Your eyes widened in shock at what proceeded to play out on the screen. Yunho was quick, dashing around the table and disarming and knocking two of the six guards down, shot another in the knee with the newly acquired gun, and then tossed them to Seonghwa. Seonghwa had caught them with ease and pointed them directly at the two of the leaders that had stood up in the duration of Yunho’s actions: one at K, the other at the head of prostitution.

Jongho was much less graceful, the first guard he disarmed, he simply broke his wrist, resulting in a garbled cry as he took a hit to the stomach. He barely hit the floor before Jongho was swinging a punch at the next guard, grabbing his gun. This one was smarter, letting the gun go and bringing his fist up, connecting with Jongho’s cheek. He got one more hit in before Jongho started his own assault, handling him while he tossed the guns towards Yunho.

Who immediately pointed them both at the remaining guard. The one you had pointed out earlier. Yunho mouthed something to the man that had him dropping his gun in surrender and getting on his knees. Yunho kicked it away from everyone before pointing the guns to the back of the other two leader’s heads, while Jongho knocked out the guard then put the one who surrendered into a hold.

It had happened within half a minute, leaving you stunned.

“Still think we aren’t a threat?” Hongjoong mused, still in the same position he had been in before the brute had sat down. You didn’t relax until the guns were lowered and Yunho and Jongho were standing next to Seonghwa and Hongjoong again. Though relaxed wasn’t the right word; less on edge. There was blood on the side of Jongho’s face, probably from a cut that he wasn’t attending to. It raised the intimidation factor for sure, keeping the others in check.

“It’s always hot how those two handle things.” Wooyoung muttered under his breath, snapping your attention to him. Once your initial concern wore off, laughter bubbled out of your throat and fell from your lips. Small, choked giggles really. “What?! You can’t tell me it’s not hot?”

“I think you’re the only one who finds it hot when we pulverize someone.” San teased from the other side of you, laughing under his breath. “Looks like it’s settled now so no more fighting on their end.”

Wooyoung whined at that, a cute pout on his lips. “Damn. I was hoping Yunho could get a little bloody too. Maybe if they’re worked up enough I can finally get that eiffel tower I’ve been praying-”

“Wooyoung!” Both you and San gasp out while Yeosang looks up at him horrified. The culprit didn’t look the slightest bit ashamed however. “We can talk about this later.” San added on.

The man didn’t seem done with his fun though, leaning in towards you and whispering. “Don’t let him fool you, Sannie gets all worked up after a fight himself. The van we used for his cover- Sangie refuses to listen in because we fucked in it so much at first.”

The hiss behind you and Wooyoung’s pride at his words just had more laughter bubbling up from your chest. “Oh my god, I can believe that. You’re such a slut, it’s cute.” You bipinched his cheeks, not at all realizing you felt a bit lighter.

Not until you turned back to the screen and found Yeosang with his head back, looking up at you with a soft smile. A smile that was mirrored on the other two’s faces. Heat rushed up your neck and burned your cheeks as your focus narrowed in on the screen. It did seem to be going smoother, and Jongho did look fine despite the blood on one side of his face…

You didn’t let yourself hope until the four men were signing the contracts provided, the leader shaking hands with Hongjoong. The older man paled when Hongjoong said a name, but he recovered quickly. So Yeosang had found out about him. When had he told Hongjoong? Perhaps when you were distracted.

“Good job Sangie.” You patted his head gently none-the-less, feeling as if he deserved the praise in the moment.

“Just doing my job… they’ll be coming back soon.” Yeosang didn’t look up, but you assumed he was a bit bashful. He never took your praise well.

Before you could lay more praise on, you were being pulled back by Wooyoung. “So- Sangie can handle it from here. Let’s get a medkit ready for bear and I should have enough time to tell you a story! How about a story of a wickedly handsome rogue spy and the very beautiful and badass cop who wins his heart?”

“Heard that one before.” You teased, knowing damn well he was talking about him and you. “How about… the one of the two undercover morally grey hotties that infiltrate an illegal fight ring?”

Wooyoung perked up at that. “Oh? Are you curious about the van stories? Could always recreate the scene for you.” He was leading you over to the kitchen that also had some medical supplies in one of the cabinets.

With a glance back at San who was still with Yeosang, a soft smile tugged at your lips. “Something like that. I never wanted to ask about the undercover part, just in case it worsened my fear of San’s inability to get out of the mess. But now… I’d like to know more. How it started. Why San. And yes, maybe about this van.”

Setting the kit down on the counter, Wooyoung continued to pull out more needed items. “You know, San told you it was purely sexual the day I kissed him in front of you… you know that’s a lie right?” He was nonchalant with it, but it reminded you of the day regardless. Your surprise when this new person kissed the man you were getting attached to. “When we started this mission, it was a turning point for us. I know he told you I saved him or whatever, but I don’t think the shackles really fell for him until the Vipers.”

Realizing there was more to the story than an undercover identity and a lot of sex in a van, you sat down on one of the stools, all your attention on the man across from you. There were a lot of reasons this piqued your interest, but none greater than the need to know how San broke free of his trauma.

Maybe it could give you the answers to break free of your own. “Tell me.”

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[scrapyardboyfriends]

Episode Thoughts…

Continuing to like this Vic. I want to keep her forever. She finally makes sense. Haha. I just really like her being there for Robert and wanting to help him so much. That and telling off John. He’s a walking red flag, Vic, open your eyes!

Loved her blatantly telling John he was insecure. Understatement but very painfully true.

I’m glad they’re still talking about therapy for Robert. The plot needs to give him money for that and to buy Eric’s house.

The Aaron scene was definitely rough in the second half. But I actually really liked the way they did the switch. You could see Aaron being concerned and caring in the first part of the conversation, using his soft voice to ask if Robert was okay. It was only when Robert, perhaps inappropriately implied it was Aaron he wanted to talk to about not being okay that he started pushing back.

I mean yes, it probably wasn’t fair of Robert to ask all things considered.

But I like the implication that Aaron only started to push back when the idea of spending any real time with him came up because he knows that he would cave so fast. A vulnerable Robert standing there asking him for help and wanting to open up? That’s the Robert of Aaron’s dreams right there. Haha. But no, he can’t be that person for him because he can’t trust himself so he has to exhaustedly break up with him for the four hundredth time.

And so poor Robert gets himself a date. His awkward flirting was mildly painful to watch. Also date rapist Owen and Mike the Chef seem to have the same awkward flirting style back.

It was a good kiss though. Let’s have a repeat of that with Aaron down the line please. Good practice for a reunion kiss?

I do kind of wish we saw more of a private reaction from Aaron instead of him telling John it was tragic and walking away. But hey he did get out of there fast. So maybe that’s something.

And I love that Robert is still just like “yeah no I can’t actually sleep with you” to these guys. They don’t stand a chance. Not even when Aaron rejects him.

But anyway, fuck Owen and his drugging him. And why does everyone have a creepy murder van?!? First I thought he was putting him in the back of John’s van until I realized the doors were different.

Speaking of John. I really wish the drugging had been his doing. Unless they’re going to reveal a twist later. I know part of his thing is just manipulating situations as they come to his hero benefit but sometimes I just wish his actions were a little more villainous and intentional.

I mean we don’t know what he’s going to do exactly now other than monologue and stand over him with a syringe. I imagine he’ll play the hero and fake find him or something. I just hope Robert doesn’t really fall for it.

Speaking of Robert not falling for John’s BS, his face during that scene where John was telling Vic to come to him if she ever feels unsafe was great. He was like “who the fuck does this guy think he is?!” Also he said it directly in front of Robert. Not that he cares but still. Haha.

Overall good stuff. Looking forward to the rest of the week.

[justapynchofblusey]

im all in on eddie being the one to have to make an explicit and direct choice when it comes to buck. mostly because i do genuinely think buck done it already??? even if he’s been in denial he has been more direct about their “thing”

during the pre-move fight in the truck buck pretty much says “this is going to be awful for me so why are you acting so casual”. he’s asking for reassurance that this isn’t easy for eddie. and eddie does say “it’s not nothing” which we all know translates to “of course it’s not easy and it’s killing me that i can’t change it”.

BUT what’s important here is this is the first time buck’s not satisfied with the vague eddie-speak answer. he’s frustrated and because of the maddie kidnapping it gets dropped and lost in the shuffle of the move. it’s a pivotal moment where buck starts pushing back and i think it continues again with the kitchen fight. he’s taking a stand which means there’s really no going back now.

i see season 9 going the “i can’t do this anymore because it’s too painful so i’m going to distance myself” route. and i’m so ready for eddie to have to be direct because buck won’t! there isn’t any way for him to vague max his way out of this anymore

[calypsocolada]

LOSER HAS TO FALL | hero x

(this is part two! click here for part one!) synopsis: maybe the top hero isn't as bad at flirting as you previously thought... authors note: helllooooo! second and final part to this lil series. i think i'm gonna write some more sometime soon about other characters. mainly lin ling <3, old e-soul, queen???? we'll see. hope you guys enjoy this! it turned out a bit longer than I previously thought and i'm sure there could be another part but... idk. we'll see how this one does! enjoy!!! wc: 4.6k cw: spoilers!, fem reader, use of y/n, angst, slightly suggestive, super duper brief mention of sewerslide, not proofread forgive me

click here for my masterlist!

It’d been just over a week since you heard from your father. He’d meant what he said. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t a liar. And you didn’t bother trying to reason with him. He was done with you. 

He had said many times before he only had a place beside him if you were a winner. And you weren’t one anymore. You lost. Pretty damn hard and pretty damn publicly. So you were dropped from your father’s hero association and quickly, a little too quickly to not be calculated, replaced by the next up and comer. 

You on the other hand had actually managed to get signed rather quickly. All thanks to Queen, who had taken pity on you after seeing you sat in the parking lot of the stadium way past when the tournament ended. You’d never really been left on your own. Every single step of your life was puppeteered by your father. You didn’t exactly know how to stand on your own just yet. 

But nevertheless Queen brought you to DOS and after less than a three minute talk you were asked to join the agency. It startled you a bit. Seeing as you were conditioned to think people who lost gained nothing in return. But you were still the top third hero and apparently MIckey, the head of DOS, saw that as a great achievement. 

“Oh, and before you go, Winner?” Mickey called, your hand paused as you turned. Mickey was sitting back at his desk, his hand reaching for his coffee cup. “Our surveillance system wasn’t able to pick up you and Hero X’s conversation.” He starts, you furrow your brow, turning fully to face him. 

“Our conversation?”

“During the tournament.” He supplies. You slowly nod your head. “That man he’s… a mysterious one. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him even for a moment.” Mickey tries to laugh off his words but it’s too hollow, too stressed sounding. “I even visited his floor but… it’s vacant. I’m just curious… since he didn’t speak a single word to anyone else the entire tournament, before and after. But he spoke to you… seemed like he said a lot.” 

“Well he…” You cleared your throat, trying to recall the short conversation. “He mocked me mostly. Then he…” You stopped yourself. He had asked you to dinner and for some reason that embarrassed you. “Yeah… he just mocked me. My hero name.” You averted your eyes. You felt Mickey’s eyes burn into you, you forced yourself to meet his eyes. It was clear he only half believed you, which was fine because you were telling a half truth.

“That’s all?” He asked. You nodded your head. Mickey swallows, nodding head head. 

“Well alright then, welcome to DOS, Winner.”

And welcomed you were. And marketed to. Though this time around you had a lot more say in the kinds of sponsorships and brand deals you took. You had asked a few times to change your hero name but it was always met with a resounding ‘no’. 

“If you change it now, it’s like starting all over!” Mickey had said to you over the phone as you were chauffeured back to the hero tower. 

“What’s so wrong with starting over?” You asked and felt disheartened when you heard Mickey’s laugh over the line. 

“Winner is a beloved hero and a household name. Everyone knows Winner. Millions of people have put their trust in Winner. Winners in the top three leaderboard of heroes. You can’t start over now.” Mickey listened as your car pulled up and your door was opened. 

“It doesn’t feel like me.”

“What does? Winner is a persona… she isn’t supposed to be you.” Mickey says and you can hear the exasperation in his voice and that part of you that never really got out of the habits your father instilled in you rolled over. 

“Alright,” You conceded. “I won’t ask again.” You said, stepping out of the car into the blinding sun, you shielded your eyes as Mickey over the phone all but cheered.

“Good girl.” He hangs up the phone, that familiar click turning your blood hot. You shoved your phone in your pocket and strutted towards the elevator. It dinged, the white doors pulling apart as you stepped inside and let it carry you up to your floor. It slowed to a stop and pulled apart again as you stepped out, something shining and catching your attention. The familiar sound of a coin slicing through the air as it flips onto a hand. The doors to the elevator pulled shut behind you as your eyes met X’s. He leaned against your kitchen island looking exactly as he had the day he beat you. The same tailored suit, slicked back hair and shit eating grin, although he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Busy day?” He asked nonchalantly, pocketing the coin he was fiddling with. You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He raised his brows slightly, tilting his head. “Well?” He encouraged. You cleared your throat, there was something about him. Something like a demand for your attention. 

“Yes. It was busy.” You said. X snapped, two glasses materializing in his hands. 

“Share a drink?” He asks. 

“I… don’t have any wine-” He snaps again and a bottle clatters on the top of your counter. He turns, reaching for the bottle, popping the cork and pouring you both a glass. You hesitantly make your way towards him. He slid your glass to your side of the kitchen island and raised his glass towards you. Your fingers slid around the cold glass, slowly raising it to meet his. His eyes caress your face as your glasses clink. 

“To signing to a new association.” He says, tilting the glass towards you before pulling it towards his lips. 

“How did you-”

“I know alot about you.” he interrupts. “Also it’s all over the news.” He adds as you pull your own glass to your lips. You two meet eyes, taking sips. The third floor of the hero tower had never felt smaller than in this moment.

“What’s… your deal?” You asked as X leaned back, gulping down his glass, snapping as it refills itself. 

“My deal?” He echoes your words, smirking at you. 

“Yes,” You affirmed, setting your glass down. “Your deal.”

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” He asks and you're glad you set your glass down because you probably would’ve sent it careening towards his head. 

“That implies that I even think about you.” You countered. X perked up at your words, he almost looked… thrilled at your sharp tone. 

“You don’t?” He asks, his voice… soft, almost lilting. You shook your head. 

“My boss does. He’s curious about the top hero.” You said, reaching for your glass again, taking a sip. X purses his lips slightly. 

“And you?” He asks, your eyes cut to his.

“And me?”

“Mhm.” He hums. “You're not the least bit curious about me?” If you could choose a hero name for this man, you would’ve gladly and quickly chosen shameless. 

“Who’re you? What’s your name?”

“X.” He answers simply. 

“You’ll call me by my real name but you won’t tell me your real name?” You asked. X took another long sip. 

“It’s better this way.” He shrugs. “Any other questions for me?”

“Why’re you here? In my home?”

“Well you know… you never answered me.” He runs his finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Hm?” You hummed before taking another sip of the wine. It was good wine, a familiar taste. 

“Dinner?” He grins over his glass. Your eyes cut to his again. Right… guess you never answered him. 

“No.” You said and X’s grin faltered for a moment before he smoothly recovered. 

“No? Just like that?” He dips his head, a strand of his hair falling in his face.

“Just like that.” You affirmed. X rose to his feet, he reached up, smoothing his hair back, he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“I know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.” He smiles, the first genuine thing you’d seen from him. It was… actually a good look on him. He looked sly when he smirked. He looked down right handsome when he smiled. You walked him to the door, his hand reached out, clicking the elevator button as the cables came to life, pulling it up to your floor. The doors slide open and X steps in. 

“You know, I pegged you as someone who would barter just a bit for dinner.” You said, smirking yourself. X’s eyes snapped to yours. “I must not know you very well.” You waved, he parted his lips to speak just as the doors slid to a close. You stepped back, alone and overwhelmed. You… you had never flirted before. It wasn’t something you thought would come easy but… it came easy just now. It felt good to smile, to tease and argue with someone who didn’t anger easily. It was like he drew out a different side to you. A side of you that wasn’t marred down by lessons learned the hard way.

X sent over a thousand roses a week later. You came home from a mission, exhausted and staggering in pain and tripped up on them, almost sent sprawling on your tile flooring. You straightened, powers extending to hit the light switch. Every color rose imaginable littered the entirety of your apartment, every single surface had a vase with tens of roses inside. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as you winded your way through the apartment. Your landline rings, echoing through your apartment. You trip your way to the phone, yanking it up. 

“Am I pushing my luck?” X asks, you could hear the smirk in his voice. You swallowed hard, thinking about the clean up, about what the hell you were going to do with all these roses. 

“Twenty would have been too many.” You remarked. X laughed, his laugh was warm and amused. You heard his fingers snap and suddenly all but one rose was gone, right on the table next to the phone.

“Better?” He asked, as you reached for it, thinking the moment you got close enough it would disappear but you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. 

“I don’t understand your powers.” You said, tucking the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you walk the rose towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, no one does.” He says, his voice almost warm against your ear. You reach into the cupboard, grabbing a glass, half filling it with water.

“Tell me about them.” You say, placing the rose in the water. 

“You wanna know more about me? Let me take you out to dinner.”

“We’re back on that, huh?” You ask, feeling something warm spread through your body.

“Well, here I am… bartering for dinner.” He says and that warmth goes a bit hot. You swallow. 

“I don't get it. You’re an enigma. Everyones talking about you, about X. No one knows a damn thing, you don’t talk to anyone else in the association. What’s your fascination with me?” You ask, sliding onto the counter. It’s quiet for a moment. 

“You’re fascinating.” He answers simply, voice serious. 

“You never answer any of my questions.” You sigh, leaning back on your hand, looking back towards the skyline outside your apartment window. 

“I think… it’s pretty clear.”

“What?”

“My intentions, Y/n.” X says and your heart actually flips in your chest. You clear your throat. 

“Make them clear for me.” You say, voice soft. It’s quiet for another moment. What’re you getting yourself into?

“I want to take you on a date. I find you… alluring. Always have. I told you at the end of our fight I was a big fan.”

“Of Winner.” He was a fan of Winner, that wasn’t you. 

“No. Not the hero you pretend to be on commercials and tv shows. The one I see on the news smiling as she saves the day. The one that still introduces herself as if she’s not a top hero.” You swallow dryly at his words. Did he understand you? Was he seeing past the manufactured ‘you’?

“It’s… only polite to introduce yourself.” You covered, trying not to sound as affected as you felt. Even you didn’t entirely know who you were yet. There definitely still was a part of you, probably a part you could never entirely rid yourself of, that was still competitive. You wanted to be the top hero and you wanted that title to be something only you accomplished. To show your father you weren’t useless and still had worth.

“I have a feeling you're going to turn me down again.” X’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, you think it’s pretty obvious. 

“I want to be the top hero. I could’ve been the top hero.” You start, glancing over at the rose on your countertop. “I’m going to spend a lot of my time this year training up so I can wipe the floor with you at the next competition.”

“Ah. So it’s like that, huh?” He asks, that smirk coming back, you could practically see it. 

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“Y/n, are you thinking this declaration of war will deter me in any way? Because… Quite frankly, now I want that date with you more than anything. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Your brows shoot up in surprise. You were sure your words would put an end to the chase X was running.

“You’re insatiable.” You half laugh, half scoff in surprise. 

“Satiate me then. It’s one date.” He bartered quite well. When did just dinner turn into a date? And it was just one date. Something you’d never been on. Plus this could be your one and only chance to get actual answers about him. Everyone has a weakness, and you needed to find out what that was if you wanted a fair fight.

“Alright. One date.”

“Be ready in an hour.” X answered smoothly, you shot up. 

“Now?”

“Mhm. I’ll be there in an hour.” He hummed and the line went dead. You hopped off the counter and for an hour you rushed around. You took a shower and blow dried and styled your hair. You pulled on a dress that Queen let you borrow for a gala a few weeks ago and stopped in the kitchen, taking two shots to calm your nerves. Just as you set the shot glass down the elevator doors dinged and X stepped inside your apartment. 

“You didn’t give me much time, asshole.” You called out to him as he rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks and so did you. He wasn’t wearing a white suit, nor did he have white hair. You didn’t know who this man was. “Who the hell-“

“It’s me.” He says, reaching up to push his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. He had clean black hair, pushed sideways out of his face, black rimmed glasses and a fitted black salaryman suit. He looked like an office job worker, someone that would bump into on the street in a hurry to get back to the office. You furrowed your brows. He snaps his fingers and in a blink of an eye the white suit materializes, his black hair smoothing into white. He snaps again and he’s back to normal. “Most hero’s need a disguise to hide behind.” He reaches up, running a hand through his black hair. You realized you hadn’t said a word and cleared your throat. “Oh no… did I lose my appeal?”

“So this is who you are?” You ask and his face softens slightly, he nods his head. “You’ll show me this but won’t tell me your real name.”

“I’ll save that for the second date.” He smirks and that smirk was enough to make you realize it really was him, the two could coexist in your mind purely by the way he smiled. You relax slightly, your creased brow calming. 

“I really don’t get you.” You said but your voice wasn’t sharp or annoyed.

“Figured maybe you had a thing for brunettes.” His words draw a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes. 

“I don’t know what my thing is.” 

“Well I hope you like sushi.” He raises his arm. You hadn’t even noticed he was holding a take out bag. 

“I thought you knew a place?”

“Mhm. Your place.” He smirks, crossing the floor to the kitchen island, ripping open the bag to start pulling out the food. “I wouldn't get a moment of peace with you out in the public.”

“Why's that?” You asked, crossing the floor to lean on the kitchen island, his hands, once smoothly removing the food, shakes a bit at your closeness. He clears his throat. 

“You’re a top hero… everyone will know you. Not to mention you’d be on a date… looking like that.” His eyes drag down your body then back up to your face. You glare at him. “Pushing my luck again?” You nod your head and he laughs, snapping as two glasses and a bottle of wine appear on the table. 

“If I had known we’d be staying in I wouldn’t have bothered with this dress.”

“I’m glad you bothered. And I’m glad I’m the only one to see you in it.”

“I wore it to a gala. A lot of people saw me in it.” You remarked, reaching for the wine but he’s quicker than you. He grabs it, pouring you a glass. 

“You hate being flirted with, don’t you?” He asks, pouring his own drink. You thought about that for a moment. It’s not that you didn’t like to be flirted with, it was more so there was still a part of you that hated that he beat you. And sometimes being antagonistic to his flirting seemed to be a small payback. You shrugged, taking a drink. 

“I wouldn’t say I hate it. Maybe you’re not as slick as you think.” You say and find yourself smirking into your glass. X cocks his head slightly, eyes devouring your expression. You flush under the scrutiny of his gaze and wonder if your words pushed him to try harder.

“See this is why I bartered for dinner. What other woman would tear me down at every given opportunity?” He asks, his face all amusement and light. You bite your lip, hiding a smile.

“I guess… maybe I am a bit mad at you.” You say as he starts dividing out the food.

“Why’s that?”

“You beat me.” You say and feel a bit out in the open at your response. You couldn’t hide the vulnerability and you’d never been good at keeping secrets and for some reason you felt disarmed by him. He showed a side of himself to you that no one else knew about. 

“I did.” He smirks and you glare at him. He laughs it off and reaches for his glass. “But that’s because you didn’t want to win for yourself, right? You wanted to win for your father.” Your mouth goes dry. “Look, it's not hard to see how hard he pushed you. When you first became a hero you were everywhere. In every tournament and talk show. You were in movies and on cereal boxes. Everyone knew who you were purely because of how much you worked. There’s not a single other hero, aside from Nice, that worked as hard as you. And we all know what happened to him.” That’s right. You remember seeing that on the news. The hero Nice killed himself because of the pressures placed on his shoulders. You remember your father laughing at the tv. Claiming not every hero can take the pressure. It made you angry. You pop some sushi into your mouth. 

“It… it wasn’t all bad.” You say, avoid eye contact. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if my father hadn’t pushed me.”

“Your father shoved you. Not pushed. And no one thinks about your father when they think about Winner. They just see you.”

“They see the persona he created.”

“Sure. He may have created Winner but what’s an empty persona without someone to fill it?” He asks. You swallow, slowly meeting his eyes. “Your success is yours alone. Your father never fought against villains or in tournaments. You did.” 

“You really do sound like a fan.” You try to lighten the moment, the tension between you two has gotten a bit thicker. 

“I’m a big fan. I already told you that.” He smiles. You blow out a laugh. “And if your heart is really in it, I think maybe you could beat me.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You laugh, gulping down the rest of your glass. “You snap your fingers and stuff appears like magic. You beat most everyone in the tournament in mere seconds. I could put up a fight but I don’t think I’ll win.” You say as X snaps his fingers and his other persona walks around the kitchen island to stand in your space. You turn, looking up at him.

“You wanna know my weakness?” He asks, somehow he was even closer. You swallowed dryly, tried to push down the heat rising within you, failing miserably as your cheeks warm up. You nod your head and watch a ghost of a smirk on his face form. He reaches for your hand, warmer than your own as he guides your hand to his chest, holding it right over his heart. “I’m still human. You pierce right here and that crown is yours.” Your heart skipped a beat, his hand enveloped yours, he towered over you. You couldn’t find words, your eyes were locked with his. There was so much confusion. Your head and heart were at war. Nothing winning over lust. Because you’d never met someone so invested in you. Not Winner. You. “Did I push my luck again?” He asked for final time. 

Your hand shot to his tie and yanked him down forcibly against your lips. He made a surprised grunt of a noise, probably due to your strength. Sometimes you forget the extent of your powers. X didn’t waste much time in reveling in surprise though, he recovered swiftly. His hands are on you in seconds, sliding down to your hips, pulling you closer.

This was a horrible idea. You’d be facing this man in a tournament for top hero. 

Your hand ran through, messing up his hair, the other sliding against his cheek as his hand reached out, knocking things off the counter out of the way as his arm wrapped around your hip. He easily pulled you up onto the counter, parting your knees with his hand as he stood between them, body pressed against yours. Your dress rode up dangerously high on your thighs, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to be top hero. You wanted to-

He trailed his lips away from your own, kissing down your jaw to your neck. You sucked in a breath. You felt as though someone set you on fire. You supposed it was X.

He wouldn’t even tell you his real name. He was trying to get into your head. This is how he’d win again. 

“God… you wreck me..” He murmured against your neck. Who knew four words could make any shred of doubt about this moment completely evaporate. That little voice in your head had shut right up. You melted against him, hands yanking his lips back onto your own. You kissed him hard enough to bruise because your frustrations had passed into lust and you had to one up him in some way. Your hand slid beneath the shoulders of his suit jacket and pushed it off. He didn’t protest and even smiled against your lips. You fumbled with his tie, huffing as you pulled away from his lips to get a better look at the damn thing as it gave you trouble. He raised a brow watching you struggle. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled, he didn’t take his hands off you to help. “What kind of knot is this?”

“The regular one.” He answered with an amused expression. You shot him a glare, letting go. 

“Take off your tie.” You demanded and at your tone his hands flew to his tie, unknotting it with sly ease. You took over, whipping it off him. You blew out a sharp breath. 

“This is a new side of you.” X said, voice breathy and you met his eyes. 

Sometimes you got frustrated and angry. When you worked for your father your frustrations were seen as a weakness and what anger you had, your father had a whole reserve of. So usually you were able to take it out on the training dummies or run around the gym until you collapsed. You weren’t entirely sure what was making you angry here. Maybe the lack of control, your feelings of inferiority against X. 

You close your eyes, shaking your head. He’d done nothing wrong that you could see and you were misplacing your frustration. This just wasn’t something you were ready for. 

“This isn’t going to work.” You said after a moment. X’s thumb gently moved against your thigh. You couldn’t get out of your own head about all of this. About whether he was using you. “What… do you have to gain from this?” You ask and X’s hands pause on your skin. 

“I have nothing to gain but your time.”

“Bullshit.” You scoff. 

“Not everyone’s out for blood.” He says, reaching up and tucking your hair gently behind your ear. You met his eyes. “I think we both want similar things, judging by the way you kissed me.” You flushed at the memory. “I’m at your mercy, Y/n. What you say goes.” 

“If you're using me to— to get something I’ll kill you.” X smiles at your words, he drags his thumb gently across your cheek and leans in. “I mean it-,” He cuts you off, pressing a kiss to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, trying to make you forget those pesky worries. 

“I’ve been warned.” He whispers against your mouth. You breathed out shakily, flexing your hands tightly to keep from yanking him on top of you. He slowly pulled back, eyes looking over your flushed face. His hands slid onto your hips, easing you off the counter. “Walk me to the door?” He asks.

“You… you can stay. We can eat.”

“I don’t think we’ll do much eating if I stay.” He answers, his eyes eating up your face. You slowly nod your head, quickly fixing your dress, leading him to the door. You ruined the night, you felt it deep in your bones. You weren’t ready so you ruined things. He reaches for the elevator button. 

“Sorry.” You intone, a few steps behind him. His hand pauses, he doesn’t press the button. You look guiltily at the ground. “I ruined the date.”

“You didn’t.” He laughs and your eyes shoot up to him. “On the contrary, I had fun. Can we do this again?”

“You’re joking.” You respond tonelessly, bordering on surprise. 

“Nope. I’ve fallen quite hard. I think I need another night like this with you.” You can’t help but blush. “I’ll call you.” He presses the button and it dings, the doors sliding open. He turns and meets your eyes. You walk a few steps to the door, hand shooting out to grab his tie once more. You pull him to your lips again, a silent confirmation that you wanted to do this again too. You pulled away and let go of his tie just as the doors slid closed. You wouldn’t say you fell because only losers fall, but… it was sure something close to it. 

[sparkarrestor]

Plinthed

Written By: SparkArrester

     Edward sat in the works, alone. Well, not alone, for it was the middle of the day and the workmen were busy with the usual goings on. Too busy to really pay him much notice. He didn’t really mind, as it left him able to rest comfortably without men poking and prodding at him. As comfortable as he could, at least, after his incident. He had brought a heavy train home during a thunderstorm, all while his left siderod was lodged in his running board. He had to run as a single, slipping and sliding all the way from the branchline to the big station. Now, he was waiting on repairs to go back in service. The new diesel, BoCo couldn’t do it on his own, and besides, he needed help to keep the twins in line, didn’t he?

As Edward was dozing, he heard the crunch of shoes on ballast coming towards him, and opened his eyes. It was the Fat Controller, and Edward watched as he shooed away the CME and walked up in front of him.

“Good Morning, Sir”, Smiled Edward, “Here for a visit?”

“Indeed.” Replied The Fat Controller, in a rather neutral tone, “Just check up on what is happening, and for you, of course.”

“Me?” Said Edward, “Well, I’m doing fine so far, but I’ll be even better once I’m back in steam! I’m sure the twins miss me, and I shan’t leave BoCo on his own.”

Edward noticed the slight change of expression on the Fat Controller’s face, but kept up his smile.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

“Well…” Replied The Fat Controller, before taking a breath and going back to his neutral tone, “I have something I’d like to tell you. Something important.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well, Edward, you… you’re one of the most experienced engines on this island, and what happened yesterday, well, it was very admirable, getting those people home in your condition. Your boiler ticket is about to run out as well, so I’ve been thinking…”

While the Fat Controller was taking, Edward smile slowly morphed into a frown, but he held off speaking until-

“How would you like to… retire?”

“...what?”

The Fat Controller braced himself, especially at Edward’s expression, but he steeled himself, and pressed onwards.

“We can fix you up cosmetically, and we can place you somewhere that you’ll always have others to talk to! Like the big station! The passengers and engines, especially the young engines, will all benefit with you around, like that old engine from Barrow!”

That just seemed to make the expression on Edward’s face worse.

“Erm, well, look Edward, I think that-”

“N-No.”

“... I’m sorry?”

Both engine and controller were startled, Edward the most. He couldn’t even remember the last time he denied his controller something, but he went through with it regardless.

“Sir, I… I don’t want to be taken out of service, I don’t want to be plinthed and be one big useless ornament taking up place in a station or on a siding. I want to be working, with my friends, pulling trains and being worth something, not just the useless thing someone has to clean whenever they need disciplining.”

The Fat Controller stared wide-eyed at Edward, but let him continue.

“And I know that trains are getting heavier, and I know that my age is very much catching up with me, but I can’t stop now. I won’t stop now. I’m not ready for retirement, and I don’t know if I ever will be. I’m… I'm sorry. If that, well, If that upsets any plans you have.”

They both sat in silence for only a few minutes, but it felt like forever. It took every ounce of nerve Edward had to keep going, and not simply apologize and go along with whatever The Fat Controller had planned for him. He was struck by the thought of what his friends would do if they had heard. The big engines had always said he was meant for retirement sooner rather than later (well Gordon mostly, and he wasn’t too sure on where they stood these days), but he was certain that the tank engines would cause a ruckus at least. Though, while they weren’t as old as him, they weren’t exactly the picture of modernity themselves, were they? However any more thoughts on that were cut off as The Fat Controller spoke.

“Alright.” He said, quite easily. Edward blinked.

“Really?” He said, mouth agape, “Just like that?”

“Well…” Said The Fat Controller, giving a proper smile, “If you’d like to keep serving your railway, who am I to stop you? Your knowledge would be more useful on the rails than on a plinth. I’ll see about moving you from cosmetic repairs to a full overhaul, at once.”

“I-I… Thank you, sir!”

“It’s no bother.”

And with that, The Fat Controller turned on his heel, and walked away.

[kiokos]

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔* Harvey, nobody knows what I see!

⋆𐙚₊˚ | featuring: charles chevalier

⋆𐙚₊˚ | setting: you just joined the french soccer club, PXG - where you met the person who would change your life forever.

⋆𐙚₊˚ | genre: moon x sun, sunshine x moonlight, stoic x confident

⋆𐙚₊˚ | A/N: guys I swear I didn’t mean to not post……………. Maybe…. btw reader is around the same age as Charles for obvious reasons.. also tell me if yall want this to become a series lol, but ts is js a short fic for now

⋆𐙚₊˚ | tags: @ihe4rtme

You took a deep breath as you entered the group bus. It had been a long day, and at this point, you just wanted to go home and sleep. You had done nothing but train all day - and it was especially embarrassing because you didn’t talk to anyone and nobody really talked to you, despite you being the new recruit. It made you a little sad, but you refused to let a couple of questionable humans from the male species ruin your day.

You made sure to ignore your teammates and chose to sit in the back of the bus, away from everyone else. It’s not like you were TRYING to be mean - you just didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Maybe it’s just because you’re naturally introverted? You didn’t know.

With a small sigh, you plopped yourself down on one of the seats and waited for your stop. You grabbed your phone and then headphones, turned on your headphones and connected them to your phone. You took a small pause to think about what song to listen to and daydream with, and you ended up picking ‘Harvey’ by hers.

One or two minutes passed, maybe more - you couldn’t really tell, when suddenly, you felt a presence right next to you. You paused, clicking your tongue in clear annoyance before turning to whatever teammate decided to ruin your day today.

“Hey! Hi! You can’t speak french, right? Don’t mind my accent! What’s your name??” You paused. That voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. Well no shit it sounds familiar, you spent the whole day with your teammates - but there was ONE specific teammate you dreaded to speak with. Charles fucking chevalier.

He was the number one example for ‘annoying’. A little brat who couldn’t mind his own business. Sure you were younger than him by a few months, but point still stands. He’s insufferable.

“…my name is [name]. Didn’t you listen during introductions?” You snarled back. He simply smirked and giggled out a, “nuh-uh! That’s boring!” You groaned at his reply - of course he’d find it boring. “You’re boring.” You let out, mumbling it under your breath like you’re saying a ritual. “Hah?” He propped up, feigning confusion despite hearing your every word.

“I said nothing.” You lied, rolling your eyes again before looking out the window after a while, hoping he’d get the hint and leave. Which apparently wasn’t the case because he was a fucking idiot.

“Hey, hey! What are you listening to!?” He shot you a smile, or a grin? What’s the difference again…? Never mind. You turned your head to glare at him before answering his question, “… well I WAS listening to harvey by hers but now I’m listening to daylight by taylor swift.” You didn’t know why you answered him, really. It was none of his business, much less your responsibility to respond to his questions - or rather - his demands.

“Really? My favorite song is En nuit by videoclub!” He beamed back at you. You paused, not knowing why he told you that despite you having no use for this information. “..why would I need to know that?” You commented about what he had said, before he replied to your comment with a cheeky, “well, isn’t it obvious? It’s to get to know each other, silly!” He smirked, his sharp tooth poking out. You stopped, perplexed. “..if you want to know more about me, just read my info or something. I don’t get why you have to ask me directly.”

He paused, looking at you as if you were crazy. Why would he do that if he can just ask you directly? It was stupid! “Hm.. well i’m a contrarian, so no!” He beamed, and you groaned in response. Your eyes flickered from his face to the next stop, which, THANKFULLY, was yours. You stood up, eyeing him before saying, “this is my stop.” You said simply. Like a fact. And you paused when you saw Charles’s face.

He was surprised.

You looked at him for a second, before he said, “hah, really!? It’s mine too! Let’s go, let’s go!”

.

.

.

You wanted to die. Was he being sarcastic? Surely he was, right? I mean, it couldn’t be possible.. RIGHT? SURELY?? YOU NEVER SAW HIM AROUND YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD! HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?

You paused, eyes wide, before going, “..are you serious? Please tell me you aren’t serious.” You said, feeling your life draining away at the sentence charles had just uttered. “Nope! Come on, come on!”

You don’t think you’ll survive this.

[chilepepper365]

I was reading Scarif’s Wookieepedia page, and I just want to express how GLAD I am that out of everything that happened during Rogue One, the Scarif Slush recipe was saved. Because I have no idea what I would do without it. The more I think about it, the more I realize that Cassian, Jyn, K-2SO, Bodhi, Krennic, yeah, all of them never really mattered compared to the survival of the Scarif Slush.

Like, I honestly want a backstory as to who was like: “Holy shit, Tarkin is about to blow us up!!! I’m about to die-OMG THE SCARIF SLUSH!!!! NO THIS CAN’T HAPPEN. I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!!!” (Yes, I know that it was smuggled off before Rogue One, but I still find this scenario funny)

This also means that since Scarif was only an Imperial planet (correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I know, Scarif only had Imperials, no civilians or regular cities. I know there was a resort there, hence the origin of the drink, but it was built by the Empire and on an Imperial planet, so I’m not sure anymore), the Imperials brought space-piña coladas to have while at work. And honestly, that’s a fucking vibe as far as I’m concerned.

I just find it really funny how out of all the things that happened on Scarif/Rogue One, this is something that just…happened and was important? And also, it was smuggled off of Scarif, which means that the Empire was not only protecting the Death Star plans, but they were also gatekeeping this gem. Like, is it that good that they had it protect it like it was the actual Death Star? And why?

And this also means that there was a possibility that Krennic could have been yelling at all his subordinates at an IMDAWR meeting on Scarif while holding this?

Krennic, while holding his stupid Scarif Slush: So…we’re running waaaaaay behind schedule with Project: Stardust. Losers, we need to lock the fuck in.

Every other IMDAWR Personnel in the meeting: *Remain silent*

Krennic: WELL?! Is no one going to say anything??? I don’t have all day! I have another meeting about Ghorman or some shit to attend, but this is something that needs to be address!

Ronan: …Well, sir, I think that the final result will be very effective and important for the Empire. It will be one of your many greatest achievements.

Krennic: Oh yeah? Did I ask for an assessment or your fucking opinion??

The rest of the meeting room: *Silence*

Krennic: *aggressively sips his Scarif Slush*

Okay, I’m done now. Forgive me for the rant. This is lore that I had just discovered and felt the need to share. I’ll post more art soon!

[ghostofmarvel]

voidwalker / sentryagent with trans!Bob Reynolds HC

i swear im going to finish my trans!Bob Reynolds headcannons but i just HAD to write this one headcanon a bit better.

so in this case bob and john are definitely mutually interested in one another. like they’re mutually pining and yearning but too afraid to actually do something about it besides make a lot of small contacts with one another, like having their knees touch when sitting down at meetings. or their whole sides pressed together as they squeeze onto the couch to make room for others. or how their shoulders touch when they stand next to each other, making their morning cups of coffee and tea.

until one day bob’s T medication is switched from injection to gel, which is awesome for him. it makes it a lot easier for him to self-administer his medication without feelings of ~bad~ coming back up. but it does mean he cannot make contact with others after applying his T gel on his shoulder until it fully dries to prevent giving the dosage to someone else.

which means no shoulders touching John’s in the morning during morning cup of coffee and tea.

and this just absolutely breaks John’s heart because he goes to bed thinking about how sleepy bob is in his own bed (even though john would love to have him in his bed). and he gets out of bed thinking about how sleepy bob will be leaning against his shoulder as they wait for the water to boil.

so when john walks into the kitchen, eyes bright and shoulder already tingling to feel bob’s body heat against it, john frowns noticing bob leaning against the corner of the kitchen counter instead of his usual spot standing in the middle of the counter waiting for john to take his spot next to him. bob looked extra tired this morning though as he looked like he was sleeping as he waited for the water.

the next morning john is happy to see bob standing in his usual spot. john grabs his mug and aims to brush his shoulder, but once bob heard the sound of his footsteps he steps away to give john more space, avoiding contact.

john starts to think bob is intentionally trying to avoid him now, so john starts panicking a bit in his brain.

he lasts about 4 days in this overthinking panic state of trying to fix what he thinks could be wrong before just straight up asking bob one morning “did i do something?”

bob looks at him confused, as if non-verbally communicating a bunch of question marks. “what do you mean?”

john sighs “i… i feel like you’re trying to stay away from me.”

bob looks at him confused and john frowns taking a step closer to him, his hand raised to grab bob’s shoulder and trail down his arm to his hand, but bob steps out the way before john can make contact and john’s heart breaks just a little bit

“see? it’s like you don’t want me to…. touch you… anymore.”

bob ignores the other thoughts of john touching him and focuses on his obvious face of hurt.

“oh… oh! oh god john no i don’t hate you i just- i switched medications. i’m on gel now… for my testosterone. i basically absorb the medicine in through my skin now instead of having to inject it, but others can absorb it too if they touch it when it’s still wet so i can’t touch anyone for like 30 minutes in the morning when i put it on. sometimes it takes longer though i don’t know, i’m still getting used to it.”

“oh…” john can feel his face heating up, now feeling embarrassed that he practically admitted to bob how he missed their little touches.

“wait… john did you switch seats with yelena because you thought i didn’t want to… touch you anymore?”

john’s face turns redder as he looks away to the water beginning to simmer in the electric kettle “well i just, no, i just thought you didn’t want to be near me… anymore.”

bob’s heart aches at john’s faltering voice. his hand reaches to john’s shoulder and gives him a little squeeze before rubbing it down his arm to his hand where their fingers touch but don’t interlace. “i don’t know if that’s possible for me john… i like… being next to you. a lot. you smell nice…” bob murmurs the last part as he stares down at their fidgeting fingers circling around each other to rest on top of the others.

john’s heart flutters as he takes a step forward to stand in front of bob “okay… i’ll ask yelena to switch with me again.”

bob nods his head as he looks up from their hands “and i can start applying it to my other shoulder… i could use my shoulder rest”

john gives a light scoff at that “don’t you mean head rest? you’re practically asleep in here every morning.”

bob smiles big as he lets their hands fall as he steps in to rest his chin in his shoulder before turning his chin down, placing a brief kiss on his shoulder before resting his forehead in john “hm. yeah, you’re a pretty good head rest.”

john tries to ignores the way his heart stopped and then restarted with hundreds of beats per minute when bob kissed his shoulder. though his shirt sleeve covered the sensation of his lips, he still felt the pressure and heard the noise of lips kissing that filled him with joy and excitement. john resists the urge he had to place a kiss on bob’s head and instead chooses to rest his head against bob’s curly hair.

‘okay… not as bad as i thought’ he thinks to himself as bob snakes an arm around his waist.

bonus: bob starts wearing sleeveless shirts in the morning so it’s easier to apply his T gel without worrying about sleeves sticking to it.

john REALLY likes this change in the morning. better morning view he thinks.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello bc u said requests were open can I suggest female/samsung refrigerator reader preventing the gangs deaths one by one and has a water based stand which manipulates H2O and she's childhood friends with Bruno and has joined the passione right after him? Like for example she stays with Abacchio during that one episode and stops his bleeding with her stand and waits for Giorno to come. And another one for example: She sends the small version of her stand like in part 3 with Bruno and also prevents that

I'm just suggesting you might have other things to write

hii, sure, thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy! ♡♡♡

Giorno

During the final showdown with Diavolo, instead of Mista and Trish being the only ones to accompany him, you send a small fragment of your Stand through the sewer pipes to follow him- ready to intercept.

When Diavolo tries to land a fatal blow, your Stand floods the space around Giorno with a barrier of high-pressure water, pushing him just out of reach and throwing off Diavolo's rhythm long enough for Gold Experience Requiem to activate.

"Did you anticipate even this?"

—-------------

He respects your strength but adores your heart.

Very gentle with you, like you're a rare, sacred element- though he knows full well you could snap necks.

Loves how calm and collected you are. If you’re the “quiet but dangerous” type, he’s obsessed.

Bucciarati

You intervene the moment King Crimson delivers the fatal blow, using the water inside his blood vessels to coagulate the wound instantly, keeping his spirit anchored long enough for Giorno to restore him properly.

You cradle him in your arms while he coughs and blinks up at you, breath ragged.

“You’re not dying on me, Bruno. Not today.”

He's dazed, stunned by your presence- like he knew you’d come.

"You’ve always had my back…" he whispers. "Even now."

—--------------

He’s so protective of you even though YOU’RE the one saving him 99% of the time.

Long nights talking about your childhood together, brushing fingers and soft glances across the campfire.

Will cook for you with utmost pride. You saved his life? Here’s a homemade risotto.

Fugo

When he starts walking away at the marina, leaving the group, you follow.

"I know why you're doing this, but I’m not letting you go."

You encase the water vapor in the air around him and gently pull him back toward you with threads of mist, whispering, “You’re stronger than you think.”

You don’t save him from a death- you save him from a life of regret.

"Why… would you come after me?"

He’s crying. Angry. Scared. But he holds your hand like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

—--------------

He gets flustered by how cool and composed you are. You’re the fridge; he’s the microwave.

He goes stiff when you lean on him but secretly loves it.

Constantly worries about you overexerting your Stand, so he’s always checking on your hydration levels like a dork.

Abbacchio

You insist on staying behind with him during the Moody Blues reconstruction scene, even though he tells you to go.

“No. You always act like no one cares. I do.”

When Doppio tries to strike, you use your Stand to create a full-body fluid cocoon, halting the attack and pushing him back until Giorno arrives.

He almost bleeds out, but you control the water in his bloodstream to stabilize him until Giorno heals him.

"You… idiot." But his voice is trembling. He’s staring at you like he can’t believe you risked yourself for him.

Later, alone, he mutters, "Thank you…"

—------

He acts like he hates cuddling but you catch him falling asleep against your shoulder constantly.

Soft morning coffee with Abbacchio in silence, his hand resting over yours on the table.

You’re the only one allowed to tease him. If anyone else does it? Immediate death glare.

Trish

When she gets separated during the plane incident, you trace her location using the moisture in the air.

Just as Notorious B.I.G is about to strike, your Stand pulls all moisture from the space in front of her, creating a dry vacuum so the enemy loses its tracking.

You grab her by the waist mid-air, spin, and land safely using a wave of water.

Trish stares at you like you’re magic. She clutches your arm tight even after you land.

“You came for me…” she whispers.

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

Fashion QUEENS together. You use water to help her get perfect curls.

Bubble baths together where you shape the water into flowers for her to admire.

Trish says “I love you” out loud. Constantly. And loudly. She’s proud of you.

Mista

When Ghiaccio is about to ice-blast him into oblivion, you use your Stand to warm the water in the area, creating a mist explosion that blinds Ghiaccio and gives Mista an opening.

You run through the chaos, grab his bleeding ass, and say “Do I have to drag you out of every situation??”

"Holy SHIT I love you." Says it unironically and then yells it louder so everyone hears.

—-----------

He calls you "Babe the Glacier Slayer" now. You hate it. He loves it.

Lets you water the plant on his windowsill with your Stand because it looks cool.

You and the Sex Pistols are besties now. They float in your water sometimes. They call you “auntie” 

Narancia

When he’s impaled, you sense the water in his blood suddenly spike in temperature and rush toward him, launching your Stand ahead.

You extract the blood from the wound, clean it, and pump it back in, holding him in your arms with desperate energy.

"Don’t go. Don’t leave me. I’m here, Narancia."

He blinks awake slowly and starts crying immediately.

“You came… you really came…”

—---------------

Narancia loves swimming with you because you can literally make a pool anywhere.

He asks you to make water animals to entertain him when he’s bored and you always do, even if you roll your eyes.

Holds your hand constantly. Even when you're both walking. Even when you're both fighting. He just doesn’t let go.

[spitefulsatanfics]

🕯️ 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖, 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕀𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 — 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 🕯️

"You’re the one thing I can’t lose." — Dean Winchester, trying not to panic when you’re ten feet out of sight

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (She/Her)

Rating: T / PG-13 — Canon language, extreme amounts of soft-grumpy-boy devotion, implied cohabitation, protective instincts turned up to 11

Tone: Canon-adjacent, overprotective boyfriend energy, domestic fluff, ride-or-die romance, emotionally repressed but loyal to the death

Written by: 🖤 Little Devil — ⌘ Written and published: June 26, 2025 ™

Based on: Supernatural — Seasons 2 through 6 (canon-compliant, 17+)

✧ 𝟏. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ✧

Dean doesn’t talk about his feelings. But he does clean your gun, tune your car, and fix the wobbly leg on your nightstand without saying a word.

Drabble: You wake up and your silver knife’s been sharpened, polished, laid out neatly beside a note that just says: “Don’t forget this. Love—D.” You smile. You didn’t even ask. Dean will never say “I’m worried about you.” He just prepares you like you’re going to war. And in his head? You’re the most important soldier he’s ever sworn to protect.

✧ 𝟐. 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ✧

Dean’s never believed in forever. But now he’s folding your laundry and thinking about what kind of curtains you might like.

Drabble: It’s a Tuesday. No monsters. No mayhem. Just the smell of cheap coffee and your sock stuck in his sleeve. He doesn’t say it, but the idea hits him out of nowhere: I could do this forever. He looks at you — hair messy, wearing his flannel. And he’s never wanted anything more terrifying in his life.

✧ 𝟑. 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲? 𝐇𝐢𝐦? 𝐍𝐨. (𝐘𝐞𝐬.) ✧

He acts like he doesn’t need to be near you 24/7. But if you leave the room for too long? He’s pacing. Quietly. Dramatically.

Drabble: “Where were you?” His voice is casual — too casual. You glance at the clock. “Bathroom, Dean. It’s been ten minutes.” He shrugs. “Could’ve died in there. I don’t know.” You arch an eyebrow. He looks away, mumbles, “Didn’t hear you breathing.” And suddenly you realize — he wasn’t being dramatic. He was worried.

✧ 𝟒. 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐫 ✧

He feels when something’s wrong. Even if you say you’re fine.

Drabble: You plaster on a smile after a rough hunt. Dean sees right through it. Later, he’s wordless — sliding into bed behind you, arms wrapping tight like a second heartbeat. “I’m not gonna make you talk,” he says into your hair. “But you don’t have to carry it alone.” You don’t answer. Just squeeze his hand. He doesn’t sleep until your breathing evens out.

✧ 𝟓. 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 ✧

Dean knows how you take your coffee. He makes it before you wake up. Every single time.

Drabble: You shuffle into the kitchen. He’s already got your mug in hand. “Two sugars. Dash of cinnamon.” You blink. “How do you remember that?” “I’d remember your blood type if it meant you smiled at me.” He says it too fast. Like he’s covering a wound. And then… you smile. He won’t look at you, but his ears go red. Totally worth it.

✧ 𝟔. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 ✧

If you’re in danger, Dean goes unhinged. Rational thought? Gone. He’s a force of nature with a singular focus: you.

Drabble: You’re missing for four minutes during a hunt. Dean loses his mind. He’s calling your name, gun drawn, voice low and deadly. The second he sees you — muddy but fine — his knees almost give out. He pulls you in hard, breath ragged. “You don’t get to die, sweetheart,” he rasps. “That’s my rule. You. Don’t. Die.” And for once, his fear shows.

✧ 𝟕. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ✧

Dean forgets to flirt with waitresses. He forgets to flirt at all. His world just doesn’t revolve like it used to.

Drabble: “You didn’t even notice the bartender,” Sam teases. Dean grunts. “Why would I?” Sam laughs. “Because she was staring at you.” Dean shrugs. “I only look at one girl like that.” He doesn’t say your name. He doesn’t have to. You’re across the bar, laughing at something on your phone. Dean’s already looking at you like the sun just blinked back into existence.

✧ 𝟖. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐑𝐚𝐭 ✧

Your stuff ends up in the Impala without you noticing. Lip balm. Your playlist on a burned CD. A photo of you in the visor.

Drabble: You find your old flannel tucked under the passenger seat. “Dean?” He shrugs. “Figured you’d want it. Sometimes you get cold.” You find your hair tie on his rearview. “I like it there,” he mumbles. Then the photo in his glovebox. Folded. Worn. “Been in there a while,” he says, eyes distant. “Just... makes me feel like you’re always with me.”

✧ 𝟗. 𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐠 ✧

He always ends up on your side of the bed. Half-awake, unconsciously clinging like you’re the only thing anchoring him.

Drabble: You wake up to find his entire body halfway across the bed — head on your pillow, arm around your waist like a vice. “Dean,” you whisper. He groans, nuzzles in. “M’bed too cold without you,” he mumbles. “You have your own side.” “Don’t want it.”

✧ 𝟏𝟎. 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐢𝐟 𝐇𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 ✧

Dean doesn’t want to need anyone. Not after everything he’s lost. But with you? He can’t help it.

Drabble: You get hurt. Not badly. Just a scratch. Dean’s hands are shaking when he bandages you. You ask him what’s wrong. He just looks at you, voice low: “I don’t do good without you.” You pause. “I’m still here.” “Don’t ever not be.” It’s not a demand. It’s a prayer.

✧ 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩:

Dean Winchester doesn’t fall in love. He crashes. Bleeds for it. Claws his way through the dark with his fists clenched around your name. He’ll never say “forever” — but he’ll live like it’s already true. Because to him, you are the safehouse. And he’ll guard you with everything he’s got.

✧ The End ✧

[burned-scones]

I don’t know where when or how this comes about but I’m thinking about a scenario where Roy finally just loses it.

Maybe Jason’s done something fucked up again and Dick is joking it off because what else can you do. Maybe it’s Jason himself, during a team-up, saying something that strikes Roy’s nerves just right. Maybe it’s a conversation with some of the arrow fam where he has Realizations™ and then he’s demanding Wally speed him off to Gotham to scream in Jason’s face.

It’s vicious. It’s cruel. It tears apart all of the history he’s watched since he first heard the name Jason Todd uttered by Dick and mid rant he realizes just how much of who Dick is, is because of Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne. He’s pissed about Mia. He’ll ALWAYS be pissed about what that motherfucker did to Mia. Locking her in her school to blow it up???? HELLO?????

And yeah he was always pissed about the batfam with Dick…but damn? Mid-rant his third eye opens wide as fuck as he sees it all play out.

Jason given Robin without Dick’s initial permission. The fact that Bruce adopted him. The double whammy of Jason dying after calling Dick and Bruce blaming Dick and hurting him. The hallucinations. The self-blame and desperation to protect any Robin that comes up next. The insane devotion to Bruce and to the family that has time and time again negatively affected Dick and his life. And he lets it ALL out on Jason. (His rant to Bruce will come once he learns about Spyral :) )

He’s screaming in his face. He’s throwing every shitty thing Jason has ever done at him and how no matter what, Dick always has another bone to throw, another straw to take on, more patience than a fucking saint. Well Roy refuses. He has no more fucks and a camel with a broken back and zero patience. He’s seen the fallout of what Jason did to Mia and Dick and god knows who else (so many people. He’s hurt so many people.) and he refuses to pretend any longer. He needs Jason to shut the fuck up and get over it already because Jesus fucking Christ Lian fucking died! Donna died! Garth died! Wally died! (Actually Wally’s gone through so much shit Roy can’t even begin to try to comprehend the extent of speedster bullshit no thank you.) Conner died! Joey and Hal Jordan and Barry Allen and so many other people they know and love have died.

JASON’S NOT EVEN THE ONLY ROBIN TO FUCKING DIE.

GET OVER IT MOTHERFUCKER! AND GET OVER YOURSELF! AND STOP MAKING DICK’S LIFE A LIVING HELL! AND WHILE HE’S AT IT: HOW ABOUT A FUCKING APOLOGY WHILE YOU GROVEL AT THE OG ROBIN’S FEET! OH AND GO BLOW YOURSELF UP FUCKING RED PILL HEADASS BITCH AND KEEP YOUR WEIRD DADDY ISSUES TO YOURSELF AND KEEP OLLIE’S NAME OUT OF YOUR DAMN MOUTH!

When he’s done everyone is staring in shock. No one can say anything. Dick can’t decide if he should be mad, proud, horrified, sick, ecstatic, or if he wants to crawl into a hole and disappear forever. Everyone else is shocked and horrified bc wtf? Jason did all of that? What??? THAT’S what Dick and Bruce were up against during their own respective Batman vs Red Hood bs? And Jason attacked Tim at Titans Tower and tried to kill Damian multiple times??? Jason himself is silent and stony faced and verging on attacking Roy right then and there or shooting him. Bruce can’t look anybody in the eye because he had no idea Dick hallucinated (still does?) Jason and still blames himself because those were throwaway lines he said in grief and anger and self-hatred. He had no idea Dick took everything he said to heart.

Anyways does anything come from this? Maybe? All Roy knows is that he can finally sleep easier having said his piece. He has a much needed night out with Wally and Dick afterwards where he and Wally try to convince Dick this was for the best. Maybe now Jason will reflect and realize that hey his actions were actually diabolical and he Should Stop. And maybe stop being such a freak (doubtful).

Roy doesn’t care. Roy is happy. Roy is at peace. Roy can now move on with his life. Hopefully Dick, Mia, and anyone else Jason fucked over can move on too.

[sphinx-n-friends]

△◬▲ I’m Excited to Shift For... ▲◬△ 

Here’s part 2 of what I’m excited to shift for, specifically, in my MCU DR! This was all I could think of for now, unfortunately.

△◬▲◬△ 

△ Going on runs with some of the others and being athletic enough to enjoy it lol 

△ Having a perfect memory (of events that happen after I become the Sphinx; I still won’t remember my life in my DR before that nor my CR life) 

△ Helping Bucky with his mission reports (I’ll gladly do all the typing for him if he asks; I can’t imagine it’s as easy with metal fingers) 

△ Exploring the wilderness around the Compound 

△ Being able to easily learn any skill I want to and being naturally good at it 

△ Being able to eat whatever I want without worrying about the effects 

△ Getting high with Wanda and Pietro 🤭 

△ Seeing Bucky get drunk during one of Thor’s visits 

△ Learning more about the wonderful Maria 💚 

△ Seeing Tony’s hologram technology in person (I’m not a big science person, but holograms are a whole different story) 

△ Enjoying every food I eat, no matter the flavor or texture because I hate being a picky eater here 

△ Getting an allowance from SHIELD so that I have money to do whatever I want 

△ Never getting sick ever again, not even a headache 

△ Celebrating everyone’s birthday and picking out presents that I know they’ll love for them 

△ Watching my favorite shows with Bucky and hearing his judgmental remarks about “unrealistic modern entertainment” 

△ Learning more about literally everything from all the geniuses around me (in all fields, not just educationally, but things like strategy from Nat) 

△ Being able to communicate with anyone in any language 

△ Hearing all the cat jokes made about me, even though it’ll probably drive me insane sometimes 

△ Meeting @julianasversee in person and getting to know her better! 💚