#Object counting system

[keeps-ache]

every time i think the inks are gonna be Really hard the colours are harder.. always there to keep me in check hvfsh

[togglesbloggle]

My boyfriend has really vivid, elaborate dreams. He’ll often wake up and talk about some grand narrative- travel, exploration, politics, performances. I’ve always been a little jealous, he can hold really good plots together for them sometimes.

But anyway, this does have a downside; vivid, elaborate dreams make for vivid, elaborate nightmares. I can usually tell when it’s one of those nights, since he grinds his teeth pretty badly.

I was never quite sure what to do when I knew he was having a bad time of it, though the grinding alone was enough to worry me and push me towards intervening. I used to just shake him gently, hope to rouse him just enough to reset the dream or something, but it wasn’t too effective and anyway waking him up all the time isn’t good for rest.

I’m rather proud of the strategy I eventually settled on: gently, so as not to wake him up, I’d lay one arm across his hands, wrapping his fingers around me so that he was holding on. Nightmares being nightmares, I can usually count on a pretty tight grip when this happens.

It may seem a little odd, but consider that holding on to something with both hands is typically a very agentic frame of mind. We hold on to things that give us power, in one way or another, and possessing objects often makes us feel powerful in some respects. That has consequences, even for a dreaming mind.

I knew it was working when he woke up rather mystified from one such dream, and told me that he’d been running through the caverns of some dungeon or cave system, pursued by monsters, but then all of a sudden he was holding a giant anime sword and fought them off instead. So I got to be a sword for him that night, I was delighted.

I don’t usually get to know exactly what happened, since even for a very vivid dreamer like Ritter, nine tenths of these things get forgotten. But I know I’ve been things like door handles, steering wheels, stuff like that. And even when I don’t know what I am to him, he doesn’t grind his teeth nearly as much- the sleep is deeper and more peaceful, so I get plenty of feedback that it’s working.

It’s such a perfect encapsulation of love in microcosm, isn’t it? No matter how much you mean to them, and how much they mean to you, the gap between two conscious lives is fundamentally separating you. But fundamental does not mean insurmountable. There’s this whole world in him, full of dreams and perspectives that I’ll never truly experience. But I will be a part of those worlds all the same, finding little ways here and there to make sure that the dreams of me make him a better, stronger, and happier person.

Or at least, so one hopes. It’s a difficult challenge, and things often go awry. But usually you get at least a little lucky.

[genuinelyshallow]

Now, Palestinians lost their right to even be just numbers.

"Yesterday, Israel achieved one of the main objectives of its war against Gaza's health organisations. The death toll of thousands has been causing a worldwide uprising of anger against Israel, which increases every day as the numbers increase. With the health system collapsing, the health administration can not count the numbers of deaths and injuries. Starting today and to the end of the war, perhaps even years after, we won't know the real death toll. They will be buried in mass graves or be left in the open or under the rubbles for their corpses to rot. We would have liked to say that Palestinians are humans, lives, faces, and names, and not just numbers. Now, Palestinians lost their right to even be just numbers. The world was too cheap to leave them with even just that"

[saphronethaleph]

Soresu Negotiations

“Get help,” Palpatine said. “You’re no match for him. He’s a Sith Lord.”

Obi-Wan turned to look at the Chancellor. “...yes?” he said. “But he’s also something else – something I’m surprised you’ve forgotten.”

“What?” Palpatine asked.

“A politician,” Obi-Wan replied, turning back to Dooku.

Anakin groaned, then sat down.

“Here we go,” he said.

Palpatine blinked, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan.

“...what do you mean, Anakin?” he asked.

“This happens sometimes,” Anakin replied. “How do you think he got his nickname?”

“Count,” Obi-Wan said, at about the same time. “It’s occurred to me that I never actually found out what the Confederacy wants.”

“Isn’t it a little late for this?” Dooku asked. “We have been at war for several years.”

“True,” Obi-Wan conceded, readily. “The war having started on Geonosis, because of tracing back your clone army which we… appear to have appropriated, mostly because you did it in our name. But that’s how the war started – not your objectives.”

Dooku was silent for a moment.

“I assume some semblance of a point will be emerging,” he said, eventually. “If you could be so kind as to provide it?”

“Wars begin for all sorts of reasons,” Obi-Wan replied. “But how they end… they end because a mutual settlement has been reached. And it’s occurred to me that I don’t know what you’d want out of a victory.”

He spread his hand, the one not holding the – unlit – saber. “It’s not the conquest of the Republic, I can tell that much. If the CIS annexed the Republic, what you’d have would still be the Republic, just under a different name… it’s not the Republic without the corruption that’s been causing it problems, because most of the corruption in the Republic was – was – the big industrial concerns like the Techno Union, Commerce Guild, Trade Federation. But you seem to have taken all of those off our hands, and they provide essentially your entire military so I don’t think anyone else could honestly believe that either.”

“I wouldn’t expect a Jedi to understand,” Dooku replied. “The Confederacy’s member systems have concerns relating to over-centralization.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment.

“...no they don’t,” he said.

“I hardly think you can have earned your reputation as a negotiator, Kenobi, if you are so willing to be insulting,” Dooku said, archly.

“That’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan replied. “I mean… yes, now the Republic has an army, though really it’s actually the Jedi’s army and we’re simply letting them borrow it, but four years ago the Galactic Republic was proverbially incapable of doing anything. It took emergency powers for the Chancellor to get the Republic to authorize having any kind of military whatsoever – and the only one available was the one you ordered. That’s not over-centralization.”

He drummed his fingers on his ‘saber. “And I note that I overheard Nute Gunray insisting on the head of Senator Amidala – literally, in those words – as his price for signing a treaty. But I still haven’t heard an actual answer. What does the Galaxy look like if the Confederacy wins?”

Dooku frowned, and after about three seconds Obi-Wan glanced at the Chancellor.

“Didn’t you discuss this at any point, your excellency?” he asked. “Count Dooku doesn’t seem to have thought about this.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he repeated. “Shouldn’t you be fighting him?”

“It’s called diplomacy, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan replied, before returning his attention to Dooku. “Grandmaster, are you seriously telling me that you never thought about what you would do if you won?”

Anakin checked his comlink, for the time, then the ship trembled slightly.

“Artoo?” he asked. “Can you tell those ships outside to stop shooting at us and give us a wide berth? This could take hours and I don’t want to find out if my name’s literal.”

“Hours?” Palpatine repeated.

“He’s rolling,” Anakin replied, rolling his eyes. “Like I say, I’m used to this.”

He rummaged in a pocket of his robes, taking out a miniature toolkit, and began disassembling his lightsaber. “I’m pretty sure I can retune these crystals to give two stable configurations which it’ll snap between, that should give me a length toggle instead of a single adjustable length…”

“Are you taking your lightsaber apart?” Palpatine hissed. “What if you need to fight?”

“It’s okay, Chancellor, I’ll get about five minutes’ warning if the negotiations are going downhill,” Anakin replied. “That should be time to put it back together again…”

Palpatine looked up to Obi-Wan, who – sure enough – was still going.

“...of course, a separate but related issue is what it’s going to be like afterwards,” Obi-Wan said. “In principle the Republic and the Jedi Order could probably accept the existence of Sith so long as we actually knew who they were and they weren’t trying to destroy us. It’s the fact that the first Sith we met in a thousand years tried to run Anakin over and cut Qui-Gon’s head off as an opening move that’s soured us towards them a bit… but are you really going to be content as someone whose whole job is to die for Sidious?”

Dooku stared at Obi-Wan, baffled, then glanced at Palpatine and Anakin.

“What do you mean?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to Obi-Wan.

“Sidious is your Master, we know that much,” Obi-Wan replied. “Partly because you told me yourself. But has he ever put himself in danger? Or has it all been you dealing with Jedi like myself and my apprentice? Putting yourself out there, in danger, while you do exactly what he says?”

He smiled slightly. “A Jedi would accept that, but you’re a Sith – you’ve said so yourself. Sith are self-interested. What do you think your new master is getting out of the situation? Because if you don’t know, it’s got to be something and it’s probably something he doesn’t want to tell you.”

“My master is quite willing to put himself in danger,” Dooku said, then clamped his lips shut at a frantic mouthed shut up from Palpatine.

“Real or feigned?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do you think he wouldn’t manipulate you? He’s been doing it to everyone else – you’ve said it.”

Dooku’s brow furrowed.

“But we’re getting off topic,” Obi-Wan said, turning to look at Palpatine. “Chancellor, what about this as a starting point? Your emergency powers were granted to resolve the crisis, and I’m sure you want to abandon them as soon as possible… so why not take away the whole reason why the individual systems in the Confederacy had problems with the Republic to begin with? Freely allow the departure of any system which wishes to do so, under the emergency powers legislation; enact a progressive tax, one which hits the Core worlds harder owing to their greater ability to pay, to sustain a carrier based navy able to hunt pirates more effectively than conduct occupations or orbital bombardment, and have the navy established on a sector-federal two-level model?”

Palpatine stared at Obi-Wan for at least ten seconds.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he said, yet again.

“Oh, shut up,” Dooku replied. “You’re a Sith Lord and I don’t see you doing anything constructive.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Palpatine.

“...you know,” he began. “I’m quite sure you’d need to note that on your financial disclosure forms, your Excellency.”

He turned sideways, so he could see both Dooku and Palpatine at the same time. “What was the point of this whole abduction, anyway?”

“As it happens, I was supposed to kill you,” Dooku said. “It’s the only way to turn Anakin to the Dark Side, if you’re out of the way.”

“Huh?” Anakin asked. “Is something up? I’ve almost got the crystals realigned.”

“This plan looked a lot better this morning,” Palpatine muttered.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Ultimate Glow-Up – Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 704

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando is thrilled to reunite with his childhood best friend Y/n – until he realizes she has a boyfriend

________________________________________________________

Lando was, without a doubt, experiencing a full system malfunction.

Because Y/n—his childhood best friend, his former awkward-phase companion, the same girl who used to send him Minecraft memes at 3 AM—was giggling at something Oscar said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and Lando was standing there like a complete idiot, staring at her like she’d just walked out of a damn movie.

This was not fair.

“Earth to Lando.” Y/n waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance. “You okay? You look like you just got hit with a blue shell.”

Lando blinked. “I—yeah, no, totally fine. Just—” Just having a minor crisis because I think I might have a crush on you now, and that’s really inconvenient, actually.

He cleared his throat. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She grinned. “Yeah, well, I was in town, and I thought, ‘Hey, why not check out the Grand Prix and see if my old best friend is still driving in circles for a living?’”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Wow. You make it sound so impressive.”

“Oh, it is.” Y/n nodded, dead serious. “So impressive that I even convinced my friend to tag along. Speaking of which…”

She turned and gestured to someone behind her. Lando was too busy fighting a ridiculous smile to process what she’d said, so when he looked up and saw some ridiculously tall, broad-shouldered, objectively good-looking guy walking over—with his arm around Y/n’s waist—he almost had an aneurysm.

“Oh,” Lando blurted out. “Who’s this?”

Y/n, completely oblivious to the way Lando’s brain was short-circuiting, beamed. “This is Ethan! We met a few months ago. He’s the one who got me into F1, actually. Can you believe I never really watched it before?”

Lando could believe it, because back when they were kids, Y/n was much more interested in Redstone contraptions than racing cars. But at the moment, the only thing his brain could focus on was the fact that Ethan—this guy—was standing way too close to her.

Lando plastered on a smile. “Ethan. Right. Nice to meet you.”

Ethan, to his credit, seemed nice enough. He reached out for a handshake, and Lando shook his hand, possibly a little too hard.

“So, you two have known each other for a while?” Ethan asked.

Lando forced a laugh. “Oh yeah. Since we were kids. She used to kick my ass in every game we played.”

Y/n laughed. “Still would, if you ever picked up a controller again.”

Lando opened his mouth to say something smug in response, but then Ethan did the unthinkable.

He leaned down and kissed Y/n’s temple.

Lando’s brain completely flatlined.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

This was a disaster. A catastrophe. A red flag moment.

Because surely—surely—Y/n wouldn’t have just shown up looking like a walking dream, obliterated Lando’s ability to form coherent thoughts, and then casually introduced him to her boyfriend. Right?

Right???

Y/n, still blissfully unaware of Lando’s inner turmoil, looked up at Ethan with an affectionate smile. “I was just telling Lando how you got me into F1.”

Ethan grinned. “Yeah, took some convincing, but once she saw a few races, she was hooked.”

Lando wanted to argue that he had been talking about F1 for years, but apparently, it had taken Ethan to get her interested? Unbelievable.

Oscar, who had been standing off to the side watching this unfold like it was a Netflix drama, finally decided to intervene. “Well, Y/n, since you’re here, you should let Lando show you around the paddock.”

Lando shot him a look that said Are you kidding me?

Oscar just smiled.

Y/n’s face lit up. “That would be amazing!” She turned to Ethan. “What do you think?”

Ethan nodded. “Go for it. I’ll grab us some drinks and meet you later.”

Lando’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he pushed it down. He wasn’t jealous. He refused to be jealous.

Because Y/n was his best friend. That’s all.

Even if she looked like that now.

Even if her laugh made his heart do stupid things.

Even if he kind of, sort of, really wanted to be the one kissing her temple instead.

Yeah.

Lando was so screwed.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: I Choose You

Request: Anonymous said: "jealous tyler or jealous reader would be interesting to read 👀"

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none!

A/N: not sure how i feel about this one but I gave it a go and wanted to make sure I posted!

Tyler tells himself that he’s over thinking… maybe even reading too much into things. 

But God, he swears he isn’t imagining the way that you and the reporter he’d agreed to let tag along for the next week naturally interact with one another with such ease. 

Tyler is not a jealous person– he’s confident and secure and he trusts you. Jealousy is petty and it’s stupid. And Tyler’s been trying his whole life to prove to himself and everyone around him that he’s not stupid.

Tyler has a loose shock to repair before the storm they’ve been tracking rolls in later that day. He’s currently laying on the dirt at the rest stop they’ve pulled in, with a wrench in his hand. Dani’s shining their flashlight for him, and it’s important he stays focused. And he tries… really, he does. 

But Tyler looks up just as the reporter laughs at a joke you’ve made. And then, he reaches out to touch your arm for the added effect. Tyler nearly drops the wrench he’s holding on his face at the sight. 

“Easy, T,” Dani says, studying him closely. 

He takes a deep breath before looking back towards the truck. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dani asks, kicking his shoulder gently with their boot. 

“Nothing,” Tyler grumbles in a tone that screams there is absolutely something wrong. Thankfully Dani doesn’t push. 

…

Throughout the rest of the week, Tyler tries to talk himself down whenever jealousy rears its ugly head. He keeps telling himself that he’s being irrational– you’re not flirting with the reporter everytime you walk with him into the gas stations they stop at, or offer to ride with him in the van instead of Tyler’s truck, where you normally sit. You’re just trying to be friendly… make him feel at ease. 

But did he really have to look at you that way while you studied the GPS monitoring system? Or share his fucking cookies with you when everyone ate lunch in the field? And did you have to laugh so loudly at every single joke he made?

Tyler finds out on the second night he’s tagging along that Henry’s a fucking Columbia grad on top of a stupid self-proclaimed comedian. The two of you are sitting around the fire talking about graduate degrees when Henry turns towards him. 

“Did you two meet at school then?” Henry asks.  

Tyler smiles, but instead of warmth it’s laced with sarcasm. “Nope, I don’t have one of those fancy degrees, Henry. In fact, none of us but her do.” 

Henry turns back towards you and proceeds to ask more questions about your time studying meteorology at the U of A. Meanwhile, Tyler is left to simmer in his own self pity, wondering if it bothered you that he isn’t educated like Henry. 

Tyler has to spend the rest of the week fighting the urge to make it known you’re his– he’s had thoughts of keeping a permanent hand planted on your waist right in front of Henry. Maybe if he pulled you in for a kiss a little more often, and really claimed you as his, this guy would back the hell off. 

But Tyler quickly shakes away the thought. 

Because claiming you like an object is stupid, and Tyler is not stupid. 

…

Tyler grabs you a coffee from the nearest gas station and brings it back to the motel because he’s really trying to move past all this shit. You’re sitting with Lilly and fiddling with the drone when he tries to hand it to you. 

You offer him an appreciative smile that warms his entire chest. Tyler’s definitely been overreacting, because you’re looking at him with such love and admiration in your eyes. 

“Thanks, but I’ve already had some today,” you say, crushing every hope inside of him in an instant. “Why don’t you give it to Dani?  They take their coffee the same as I do.”

“When did you have time to get coffee?” he asks, trying to play it cool. 

You reply so simply, like the words don’t slice right through his heart. “I didn’t, Henry brought me one.”

Tyler’s jaw tightens. It’s a gesture you don’t notice, because you’re too busy focusing on the drone half in your lap. 

What you do seem to notice, is the way he scoffs. It makes yours and Lilly’s heads both turn. 

But before you can reply, Tyler’s already walking away. He clutches the coffee firmly in his hand and without a word, drops the full cup in the trash can outside the motel. 

…

Tyler has to remind himself that he’s not angry.

At least not at you.  

You and him have a great relationship. He trusts you and that’s all there is to it. Whether it’s Henry or whoever else–  you never gave Tyler a reason to be worried. 

But Tyler doesn’t like the way seeing you with the reporter makes him feel. Because at any moment, you could leave him for someone with a more respectable career– someone with fair skin and button up polos who just looked like they had their shit together. Someone with a college degree… someone a hell of a lot smarter than him. 

Seeing you with him made Tyler feel vulnerable, like he had something to lose– because he had everything to lose. 

…

The crew spends another week chasing in Oklahoma. The season’s winding down, but they still managed to catch two EF0s and an EF1. 

Tyler’s been avoiding you for most of the week. He’d offer the truck space to Boone and Lilly, he’d sit next to Dexter around the fire at night… hell, he would hardly even look at you. 

You turned down his coffee earlier in the week. Only after the fact did you realize that you should have just taken the damn thing. You understand that rejecting him after he went out of his way to do something nice for you hurt his feelings… But you can’t understand how that turned into an entire week of the silent treatment. 

On numerous instances, you try to approach him. But he always has somewhere to run off to. 

“I gotta help Dani with the van’s oil change.”

“I gotta see if Boone got the footage we need.”

“I gotta give Dexter a hand with the radar.”

You’re getting sick of it. 

You try to distract yourself for the rest of the week– you ask Lilly to explain more about how to work her drone, you keep on top of the radar– looking for forming storm cells, and you try to make the reporter Tyler had invited along for the week feel welcome. 

Henry’s nice– he’s completely new to storm chasing and has loads of questions all the time. You find it slightly annoying that he’s so interested in Tyler… but you get it. And even though you’re a little irritated with Tyler for your week-long silent-treatment sentence, you still want him to sound as good as possible in the article, so you talk him up every chance you can. 

You know that this lack of communication can’t last. And the second Henry goes back to Boston to write his piece, you plan to corner Tyler and force him into telling you what the hell you’d done wrong. But until then, you don’t want to cause a scene. So, you sit back, spend more time talking with Henry about Tyler, and try like hell not to lose your mind.

…

It’s more for his own sanity than anything. It’s like seeing you with Henry has caused this sudden realization to pop into his head… You can do better– and honestly you deserve better than him. The thought is all consuming. It makes focusing on anything else incredibly difficult. 

“You gonna tell us what the hell is up?” Lilly asks one day. 

Tyler’s currently standing in the bed of his truck, tinkering things that didn’t really need to be fixed just to stay busy. 

“What do you mean?” he replies without looking up.

“I mean are you going to tell us why you two love birds haven’t spoken in like three days?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler notices Boone glancing his way with an expression on his face that says he was wondering the same thing. 

“We’ve spoken,” Tyler says dismissively. 

“Telling her you don’t have room for her in the truck doesn’t count,” Lilly retorts. “C’mon, seriously, Ty. What’s wrong?”

Tyler sets his tool down and looks down at Lilly. “Nothing is wrong.”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “Okay, well are you sure she knows that? Cause Dani and I saw her crying in the bathroom.” 

Tyler lets out a long exhale– the thought of you upset instantly filling his insides with sorrow. But the thought that he was the one to make you upset is even worse. 

“I know it’s not my business,” Lilly adds. “But I’ve been watching you give her the silent treatment all week, and that’s not going to fix anything. I know Henry’s still here and it’s been a crazy week–”

Tyler can’t help the scoff that escapes his lips at the mention of Henry’s name.

Lilly pauses before a look of understanding washes over her. “You’re pissed that she’s been hanging with Henry.” She says it as a statement instead of a question. 

“I’m not–”

“I’ve known you for six years, don’t even try to deny it. You are– you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

With his lips pursed in a thin line, Tyler raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I am. Does that make you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”

Now it was Lilly’s turn to scoff. “Of course it doesn’t make me happy. You’re being an idiot.”

“What?” 

“I said that you’re being an idiot,” Lilly says, annunciating each word insultingly. 

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “I’m well aware that I’m an idiot, but thanks for reminding me.”

“I said you’re being an idiot, Tyler. Not that you are one. Now stop sulking and fucking listen for once in your goddamn life.”

It’s so out of the ordinary for Lilly to snap that Tyler actually does shut his mouth. 

“You invite a reporter on the road with us and then you don’t give him the time of day to answer any of the questions he has. You’re short and curt and to be honest, kind of fucking rude anytime he asks you anything. Y/N is being polite– and she’s hosting the guest you invited along. So don’t fucking blame her just because you’re insecure.” 

Tyler can feel the anger rising in his own chest, he wants to get defensive– to snap back at Lilly. But deep down, he knows she’s right, so he stifles any comebacks and instead hangs his head. 

Lilly sighs. “You’re not an idiot, Tyler. So stop acting like one.”

…

After letting Lilly’s words really sink in, Tyler decides that she’s right. For the first time all week, he’s motivated to actually talk with you and make things right. 

Or at least he is right until he sees Henry approaching you in the parking lot. He’s too far away to hear what Henry has to say. But he’s not so far away that he doesn't see the folded up piece of paper that he passes you. 

In an instant, everything Lilly had said– along with all the things he’s said to convince himself he’s been overreacting flies away with the wind. Because Henry just gave you his fucking phone number. 

Tyler turns– needing to get as much space from whatever exchange he just witnessed as he possibly can. In a few, long, angry strides, Tyler reaches his truck and climbs inside. In the distance, he hears Lilly call after him. But he pretends he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slams the door shut, starts the ignition and drives away. 

…

“Where’s he goin’?” Boone says just as you approach him and the rest of the crew. 

“Dunno. He didn’t say anything to you?” Dani asks, turning towards Lilly. 

She shakes her head, eyes squinting against the bright sun. 

“What the hell is his problem?” you say frustratedly, biting back tears. 

Stupidly, you’d let yourself get your hopes up earlier in the day when Tyler had offered you a small smile over breakfast. You had thought that maybe things were alright, and that he was finally over whatever had been bothering him so badly. 

But now you’re standing in the cloud of dust he just left behind after taking off in his truck without a word to anyone and you know that isn’t the case. 

“Here I was thinking I helped last night,” Lilly says under her breath. 

You snap your head in her direction. “You talked to him?”

She shrugs. “I tried to.” 

“Did he say why he’s been so upset?”

Lilly hesitates. And truthfully, you understand why. Everyone here was Tyler’s friend first. You were the last to join the crew– inducted into the group just by being Tyler’s girlfriend. They have no obligation to be loyal to you over Tyler. 

“Forget it,” you say defeatedly, turning away as soon as you feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. “It doesn’t even matter.” With that, you make your way towards the RV, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes trained on you the entire way. 

…

Tyler drives to the nearest gas station, desperate for space to clear his head. 

He knows he’s being dramatic and irrational at this point, but if he stayed at that rest stop another second, he didn’t know what would come out of his mouth. He really really had to get it together. But he can’t escape the fear inside of him– the one saying that meeting Henry helped you recognize that you could do so much better than him.

And now you had his phone number, to reach out whenever that realization hit. 

Why wouldn’t you be interested in Henry? He’s got a goddamn master’s degree from Columbia, he writes articles for the Globe, works out every morning before they go chasing–  apparently makes hilarious jokes… 

Tyler rests his forehead against the steering wheel and groans.

…

Tyler’s gone for an hour. But when he finally parks the truck back at the rest stop, he hasn’t shaken the sinking feeling inside of him. 

In a preemptive attempt to avoid questions he had snagged a bunch of snacks from the nearest gas station. If you ask where he’s been, he can just say he had a hankering for potato chips and call it good. 

Except, you don’t even look at him when he gets out of the truck. Boone’s got corn hole set up in the dirt. It looks like Boone and Henry versus Dani and Dexter while you watch. He only watches for a moment before bringing the bag of snacks into the RV. 

Secretly, Tyler’s been simultaneously excited for and dreading the end of the week. He’s excited for Henry to leave and excited to sleep in his own bed. But he’s dreading being back in your shared house. It’ll be the first time the two of you are forced to be alone, and he knows he’ll have to find the words to describe what he’s been feeling. 

But apparently Tyler’s stupid, because he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. 

All he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose you. And seeing you with Henry makes him feel like he’s about to lose you. Tyler doesn’t know how to say that to you without coming across as a total lunatic.  

…

You don’t want to cause a scene at the rest stop. But the minute you see Tyler head for the RV, you’re out of your seat and beelining it towards him while the rest of the team is distracted.

As soon as you hoist open the door, you find him hunched over the fridge, grabbing a water bottle. 

“What the hell?” is all you can manage to blurt out. You’re fuming and on the verge of tears. But you can’t help it– Tyler’s silent treatment has just about pushed you to the edge. 

Tyler whips around at the sound of your entrance… and maybe it was a little dramatic– but you need to get your point across. 

There’s a long pause while Tyler’s eyes study you. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

You’re met by more silence.  

“This is ridiculous, Tyler. Will you just talk to me?”

Finally, Tyler scoffs, “The reporter gave you his number, right?  Why don’t you talk to him?  I’m sure he’d love to talk.”

In an instant, a wave of understanding washes over you. But it isn’t overshadowed by the anger you feel. 

“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous of Henry?”

He shuts the fridge before cracking open his water bottle dismissively, ignoring your questions. 

“Tyler, are you forgetting that you’re the one who invited him with us this week? I mean, did you think he was just supposed to sit back and observe? He’s a reporter, of course he’s going to have questions… Questions that you were way more qualified to answer, but you were too busy being a jerk all week to answer any of them. So I did it for you–”

“I never asked for you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to– I did it for you!” you cry. “I did it so that he’d write you a good story– because you deserve that.” 

“Oh, how convenient. So you two just get along so well for my sake then?” he says. 

You exhale sharply. “Are you kidding me right now? We’ve spent the last week talking about you! I’ve been talking you up– telling him stories about what you do– how good you are at what you do– all the people you’ve helped–”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah right,” he scoffs. 

You pause, anger slowly melting away at the realization that he genuinely didn’t believe anything you were saying. 

“Tyler,” you say seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Henry. I’ve been answering his questions and telling him how fucking brave and generous and smart you are–”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps, voice cracking just slightly. “Just forget it, it doesn’t matter.” He sets his water bottle on the counter before moving to step by you. 

“Tyler stop–” you say, reaching for him. But he’s too quick. He reaches the door before you’re able to stop him. 

“Will you please stop walking away from me!” you blurt out frustratedly, tears forming in your eyes. “You’ve been running from me all week– I just… I just want to talk about this. Please–”

Tyler doesn’t turn to face you, but to your relief, he stops before opening the door. 

“There is nothing happening between me and Henry, Tyler. I mean, I promise you, absolutely nothing– I… I don’t know how else to convince you. But there’s nothing going on. I’m not into Henry–”

“I know,” he says quickly, eyes squeezing shut. 

You let your mouth fall open, confusion washing over you. “What?” 

“I know there’s nothing happening between you and Henry– I trust you and I believe you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “So why are you so mad at me?”

Tyler pauses and bites his lip before saying, “I’m not mad at you–” he tries to explain. “I just… I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I don’t understand why–”

You sigh. “Tyler, you’re not making any sense–”

Tyler’s face twists in anguish. “Why aren’t you into him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s everything I’m not. And I mean– Seeing you with him– it just made me realize that you can do so much better than me,”  Tyler says desperately, the pain almost palpable in his voice. “He’s got the fancy degree– he’s obviously smart–”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, because the idea of anyone ever being better than Tyler was even more ludicrous than him being jealous in the first place. “Tyler, you’re smart–”

“I didn’t go to Columbia. I didn’t even finish my first year of undergrad.”

“I don’t care about any of that– you know I don’t–”

“Why?” he blurts out harshly, finally turning to look at you. “Why do you even want me when you can have someone like him?”

Tyler didn’t think he was good enough for you– and that admission broke your fucking heart. In an instant, all the reasons you loved Tyler flow through your head. There’s so many, you can’t even keep up. 

So instead, you reach into your pocket and pull out the note Henry had given you just hours earlier– the one Tyler apparently saw him give you. He watches as you unfold the piece of paper, quickly revealing that it’s not a phone number. 

“It’s his mom’s cookie recipe,” you explain. “The ones you refused to try. I talked to him about how you have a sweet tooth, and I said how much you love chocolate chip cookies, so he wrote it down for me. I thought I might be able to make them for you when we got home. Because I love you– and I love doing things that will make you happy. Because that’s what you do for me– you make me happy. All the time, just by existing.”

You watch as the realization washes over him.  

You sigh. “Did you ever stop and think about how I feel the same about you?”

He pauses before looking at you questioningly. 

“I mean, you’re you,” you say, gesturing towards him. “People adore you, Tyler. And rightfully so– but I’m always worried you’ll find someone better. But I don’t get hung up on it, because I trust you. I trust that you mean it when you tell me you love me and you choose me. And I need you to do the same for me, Tyler. I need you to trust me. Because I love you– and I always will.”

Tyler exhales, his eyes watery. 

“Can you do that?” you plead. 

To your relief, after a moment, he nods. 

You don’t hesitate before closing the gap between you and wrapping your arms around his middle. You lay your head on his chest just as his arms wind around your shoulders in an attempt to make up for all the hugs you’ve missed out on this week. Because as much as you love chasing in Oklahoma or Texas, your absolute favorite place to be is at home in his arms. 

“Cookie recipe, huh?” he muses above you, chin resting on top of your heads. 

You nod. “I’m a horrible baker, but I was going to give it a shot.”

Tyler tightens his grip around you. “Well horrible baker or not, I love you and I choose you.”

You let your eyes fall shut and inhale the familiar, comforting scent of him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” you say honestly. 

[ddarker-dreams]

Aegis.

Yan Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Yan Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, co-dependency, guilt-tripping, emotional manipulation and gaslighting (thanks Geto). Word count: 2.2k.

This is a yandere AU of the series Golden Girl. You don't have to read GG to understand this story, but it gives additional context.

-Index-

Unbelievable, you think, internally fuming. They’re unbelievable!

You ignore the voice calling your name and descend the mountainside’s decrepit staircase. Overgrown trees drape along the walkway, their wispy branches still from the lack of wind. The local wildlife has fled the vicinity, leaving an eerie silence in their wake, which is soon ruined by two pairs of footsteps approaching from behind. 

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Gojo sighs. You can envision the exasperation on his countenance. “If anything, we should be the ones upset here. You lied to us both and snuck out.” 

This comment travels like electricity through your system, shocking you into place. After a split second of deliberation, you turn on your heel, directly facing the most brazen culprit. He remains still as you march back up, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. 

“I’m trying to do my job, which, for whatever reason, you both always find a way to interfere with.” 

Geto, who has remained silent up until that point, finally chimes in. “I get that you’re frustrated, but was this the best way to handle it?” 

You choke out a sardonic laugh. “You’re kidding, right? There’s— there’s just no way.” 

Gojo towers over you, his hands resting on his neck. You can feel his Six Eyes scrutinizing every inch of your being behind his round shades, the intrusive sensation akin to spiders crawling along your skin. Unable to withstand the pressure, you avert your gaze, your irritation turning into anxiety. He’s not happy. Neither of them are, but Geto is better at pretending otherwise. 

“Will you at least consider our perspective?” Geto asks, his voice eerily calm. “Going to your dorm room to find the window open, your belongings in disarray…” 

“After you promised to stay put until we were back,” Gojo impatiently adds. 

His audacity temporarily eclipses your fear, reigniting your indignation. “You’re acting like I’ve had any say in the matter.” 

Geto shakes his head. “Don’t be unreasonable. This was something we all agreed on — if you had any objections, you should’ve said so.” 

“You don’t listen!” You exclaim, the sound accompanied by the flap of birds fleeing the vicinity. How you envy them. “Nothing about this is normal! You’re both seriously freaking me out. Ever since—” 

You cut yourself off, your tongue unable to form the syllables that make Amanai Riko, much less vocalize them. Fighting the tightness in your throat, you continue, “Ever since that day, it’s like you can’t trust me to take care of myself. I hate it. I hate this!” 

Gojo opens his mouth, only to close it when Geto rests a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. The white-haired sorcerer scoffs, yet acquiesces to whatever his companion silently communicated. You remain the odd one out, unable to peer past the one-way glass they’ve placed you behind. Your hands ball into fists by your side and the lump in your throat grows more prominent. Exhaustion, humiliation, and desperation merge, forming manacles that weigh heavy on your limbs. 

You’re pulled up by your arm. You gasp, feeling weightless, mindful of the steep plummet behind you. The grip, though firm, stops shy of keeping you entirely steady so that you must cling to whoever is hoisting you up. Your eyelids squeeze shut out of instinct. When they reopen, you find that you’re facing Gojo, who has removed his sunglasses. 

Geto coils himself around you from behind like a serpent. His arms hug your midriff, holding you in place, while his chin rests atop your head. Your measly attempts to writhe away are met with his hold tightening. Never enough to hurt, just enough to prove a point. Compared to them, you’re like an injured gazelle before two lions. It’s moments like this where they don’t bother hiding the immeasurable gap in strength. 

“We’re just trying to look out for our girl,” Gojo murmurs, his omnipotent eyes devouring every ounce of your existence. “I get it. We can be a little overbearing at times, yeah? But that’s all for you. Everything we do is.” 

You can feel Geto’s chest rumble as he speaks in a low, soothing voice, “You don’t really hate us, do you?” 

… Is that what you said? Blinking rapidly, you glance around for a way out that will never appear. Your breathing turns shallow and your vision clouds around the edges. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Kinda came across that way,” Gojo replies. 

“I— no…” you bite your bottom lip, their native tongue turning into an indecipherable mess inside your head, “I could never. I only want things to be normal again. I want… to exorcize curses, and…” 

Your cheeks flood with warmth as Gojo tilts his head. Suddenly, every request you have feels wrong, laughably insignificant. You shrink into Geto, who is more than happy to have you. 

“Your drive, while admirable, might be better utilized elsewhere. You don’t have to always be on the field to make a difference,” he says.

“Suguru has a point. You’re still nowhere close to figuring out Domain Expansions, right? We’ve gotta work on all that.”

Everything they’re saying makes logical sense. You still have a long road ahead until you’re a proper Sorcerer, a road they blew past with ease. Who better is there to learn from than the best? Gradually, you relax your taut muscles. Geto eases his hold as well. You recall what he asked earlier — if you’d be willing to ‘consider their perspective.’ It doesn’t seem as ridiculous as when the question was originally posed. 

“But… you’re both so busy.” 

“Awe, baby,” Gojo practically coos. He squishes your cheeks together, ignoring your displeased noises. “Has somebody missed us?” 

“Don’t torment her too much, Satoru,” Geto’s chastising is weakened by the clear amusement in his voice. “You know she gets shy.” 

“Isn’t that the best part?” 

You writhe around, their usual teasing instilling discomfort. This time, Geto allows you your freedom, his arms relaxing enough for you to escape. You stand on the step above them, considering your earlier ascent. You had stormed up this staircase with such drive, determined to prove yourself. An abandoned shrine on the mountainside had reportedly been the site of a pesky curse. With both of them gone on separate assignments, you thought it’d be the perfect opportunity to get some firsthand experience…

… Only to find a bored Gojo and visibly disappointed Geto awaiting your arrival. 

A cool breeze whips through the air. 

“Uh oh. It’s never good when she gets that look,” Gojo dramatically cowers away from you, but not before adding, “How about we kiss and make up, hm? No harm done?” 

You ignore Gojo’s antics, settling on a question that’s been gnawing at you. 

“How did you find me?” 

They exchange quick glances. 

Gojo should’ve been in Toyama for another three days, whereas Geto was due back from Osaka tomorrow evening. You’re certain you weren’t spotted by anyone while leaving the school’s premises. 

“We wanted to surprise you by coming back early,” Geto explains. “As for how we found you—” 

Gojo taps his sunglasses and grins. “I’m known for my killer eyesight.” 

You fold your arms over your chest. Are The Six Eyes capable of tracking a person over such a long distance? Getting to this area required a long walk and an hour on the subway. It wouldn’t surprise you if this was within Gojo’s capabilities, but you haven’t heard of anything similar until now. Seeds of doubt sprout inside your mind. Your gut instinct demands a better explanation. Considering the predicament you’re in, you have little bargaining power. If Gojo was by himself, he’d offer you a better hint for amusement’s sake, but Geto doesn’t care for such risks. 

“We were worried something happened to you,” Geto’s eyes glaze over with an emotion you can’t identify. It makes you shiver. “I’m sure you feel uncomfortable, but you have to understand where we’re coming from.”

Silvery strands of moonlight highlight the dark bags beneath Geto’s eyes. Your heart lurches in your chest, leaving you at an impasse. Have you ever seen him so exhausted, so thoroughly drained? He does an excellent job at hiding it, but the physical signs are there. A little voice echoes within your skull, reminding you of your role in his drained condition. 

They wanted to surprise you, it scolds. All you did was cause more trouble.

Guilt prickles your insides like you’d swallowed a handful of needles. 

Your shoulders drop and you stare blankly at the ground. “I’m sorry. I know you’re both looking out for me, I really do. It’s just— I feel so useless, sitting around and doing nothing while everyone else is out there risking their lives. Does that make sense…?” 

While trailing off, your eyes flit between them, searching for reassurance to soothe the terrible ache in your chest. 

Gojo pats you lightly on the head. “You’re overthinking things. You do plenty — more than enough, actually. You’re like our little cheerleader.” 

You make a face at him. 

“What Satoru means to say is that you help motivate us,” Geto interjects, casting his companion a sharp look. He then adds in a softer voice, “I know there are times when I need that.” 

Geto’s gentle cadence plucks at your heartstrings. It’s strange how, despite being out in the vast wilderness, you feel like you’ve been cornered. The raging tempest that you clung to for vindication has vanished, leaving behind ruins that they sweep away. You can never stay upset with them for long. Right when you believe you’re out of pardons to give, they plead their case, tearing off chunks of your forgiveness and leaving you hollow. 

Gojo claps his hands together. “Anyway! All’s well that ends well, etcetera etcetera, so on and so forth. Back to the important stuff. Where’s my ‘I’m-soooo-sorry-for-worrying-my-handsomest-boyfriend’ kiss?” 

“Again with that?” Geto murmurs. 

You consider the pride of the Gojo clan. He doesn’t do well with quiet, intimate moments. It’s a detail you’ve observed as of late — his restlessness. Ever since he began using Infinity twenty-four-seven, he’s always on high alert, his vigilance never waning. The ability that’d fry your brain if you put out the cursed energy necessary to maintain it for five minutes is his constant state of existence. 

What are you going to do with these two? 

Gingerly, you cup Geto’s face, who stares at you inquisitively. You press your lips to his in a featherlight kiss. Gojo voices his fair share of complaints over who you chose first, whereas Geto cherishes the moment. It’s you who shies away, your cheeks burning. You bury your face in your hands to muffle the squeaks you emit. It isn't your first kiss with them, but you still find it as embarrassing as that disastrous experience. At least Geto knows how to control his greed, unlike a certain someone, who doesn't even bother.

“What about me?” Gojo pouts.

“Your Infinity is on,” is your weak rebuttal. 

“Like I can’t turn it off?” 

“Well—” 

“C’mere already,” he pries your hands away with ease, suddenly inches away from your face. “Lemme see.” 

Gojo whistles slowly. “Wow, you got her all cute and flustered, Suguru. Where’s my phone, I need a picture of this…” 

“She’s never going to kiss you at this rate, Satoru.” 

He bristles at the prospect, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Quit giving her ideas.” 

“Just one kiss,” you manage to get out before they resume bickering. “A-And no tongue!” 

Geto chuckles at Gojo's crestfallen expression. 

To stop him from whining, you stand on your tiptoes, ready to give him a quick peck. Even standing a step above him, he’s ridiculously tall. As promised, he deactivates his Infinity, allowing you unlimited access to his person. You focus on keeping the kiss chaste. He has a habit of exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue if left unchecked, a sensation you’re not used to. It feels weird and you have no idea why he likes it so much. 

When you pull away, he holds you in place, his grin borderline malicious. 

“How ‘bout round two?” 

“I’ll bite you,” you deadpan. 

His eyes gleam behind his sunglasses.

“Oh? Can we make that a promise?” 

Geto pulls you away, leading you down the stairs. His fingers interlock with yours. “If you don’t want to be here the rest of the night, just ignore him.” 

“Whatever happened to sharing is caring?” Gojo calls out from behind. 

When neither of you respond, Gojo’s quick to catch up, his arm slinking around your waist. You’re too busy trying to calm your pounding heart to shake him off. Once again, you’ve been swept up in their riptide. All resisting does is tire you out. You zone out Gojo’s prattling — something about the souvenirs he purchased — fixating on your school-issued shoes. 

What will come of this dynamic once you graduate? It won’t always be like this, right? You’ll train even harder, earn their trust, and prove yourself capable; then surely things will go back to how they used to be. How they’re supposed to be. This can’t be the new normal. They have to know that if they keep leaning on you for strength… 

… At some point, you’re bound to snap. 

[thatnewweeb]

Arranged | Todoroki Shoto

Summary | Endeavor and your father both always wanted to be higher in the hero rankings. In case you and Shoto do not achieve those goals, they decided you should enter a Quirk marriage to create an even better Quirk combination. However, you and Shoto didn't want to give into those demands. So how did you end up falling in love?

Content | Smut, fluffy, virginity loss, unprotected sex, aged up Shoto (third year, 18), discussion of marriage, alluded abuse of both Shoto and reader

Word Count | 2.4k+

A/N | I've had this idea for a while, this wasn't the original direction I had in mind, but this is how it went as I wrote. I'm trying to get better at writing smut! At the time of posting, I wrote this forever ago

Your Quirk developed when you were 4 and a half years old. Since that day, your life changed, and not for the better. Since that day, you've been training. You've been training hard.

Almost the moment that your Quirk finally developed, your father had made an agreement with the number two hero. His boy had already developed his Quirk, and your father had been waiting for yours to finally appear.

Later that year, you met Endeavor's youngest son, the boy you were told you would later marry, provided everything followed the plan created by your fathers.

The next time you saw him, roughly six months later, he had gained a large facial scar on his left side, although you did not ask about it.

Throughout the next ten years, you saw the boy multiple times, training together on occasion. You had to learn how best to use your Quirks in cooperation with each other, as well as separately. That was somewhat difficult, considering Shoto's refusal to use his fire.

Despite also having a deep hatred of your father, you never refused to use his half of the Quirk you inherited.

Your Quirk is called Cryo-Phasing, giving you the ability to pass through objects, simultaneously freezing them. Your phasing Quirk works a little differently than Mirio's, being unable to pass through the floor.

Your father and Endeavor believed that combining your Quirks in a Quirk marriage could lead to a stronger version of the Ice Quirk, as well as possibly adding Phasing to the mix of Quirks, thus creating an even more powerful child.

It seemed like some things never changed.

At age 15, you were accepted in UA through recommendations, being placed into Class 1-A, the same class as Shoto.

At the beginning of the year, it was unusual for the two of you to speak much, to each other or really to anyone else. You would spend time together, sure, but that was almost purely because you somewhat knew each other already. The only real interactions you had were sitting together during lunch breaks, and training together during class.

You both excelled in academics, combat and Quirk use. Of course, you had both been training for this your entire lives, training with some of the top heroes in Japan, so that was to be expected.

It wasn't until Midoriya helped Shoto to start coming out of his shell that you two started to actually get to know each other. He started to sit with Midoriya and his friends, but he didn't want you to become lonely, so he invited you to join them. Although you were quiet and difficult to get to know, he did hold some level of affection for you already. He figured that you were in a similar position to him, and that you would be able to relate to him and his issues.

During that time, Midoriya and his friends continued to help Shoto come out of his shell and open up to people, and also helped you to begin opening up too.

In particular, you and Shoto opened up to each other a lot.

Once UA implemented the dorm system, you and Shoto spent a lot of time together outside of school hours. It seemed to everyone that you were always together, whether that was in the common areas or one of your bedrooms.

Everyone was convinced that you both had crushes on each other, both being asked many times why you were not dating. Both of you claimed you were only friends.

Neither of you truly knew what it was you felt for each other, both being somewhat emotionally stunted from your upbringings, but you both knew it was something different from what you felt for your other friends. You both wanted to deny these feelings. After all, neither of you wanted to give in to what your fathers wanted for you.

During your second year, you kissed for the first time. Everyone had thrown a birthday party for Shoto, and as everything was winding down and coming to an end, he had snuck away with you and took you to the balcony in his room, claiming he wanted some fresh air.

Once outside, he turned to you and informed you of a conversation he had with his father a few days prior. He had spoken to your father about breaking the marriage arrangement. Your father had been against it, but Endeavor insisted that Shoto is now free to make his own choices. Part of his atonement for his previous actions.

Your father was continuing to try convince Endeavor to change his mind, which is why you hadn't been informed.

He explained that he was still hesitant to give into what his father wanted, even if he had been let free from being basically forced to do them now.

You understood his feelings, of course you did, you'd been struggling with the same thoughts about this as him.

"Well, for now, while we figure everything out, how about we just try this?" you ask him, taking both his hands and stepping closer, leaning up.

He realised what you were doing and leaned down a little, your lips pressing together for the first time. When you went to pull away, his hands let go of yours, moving quickly to wrap around you, keeping you close to him, not letting you move away, or break the kiss.

You don't try fight him on it, arms moving to wrap around his neck as your lips move against his.

Once you finally do break the kiss, he moves one hand up to rest gently on the back of your head, guiding it to rest against his shoulder, allowing him to keep you close.

Just a moment later, you were interrupted by a small squeak from inside the bedroom. Shouto apparently hadn't locked the door, and someone had realised the birthday boy was no longer present at his own party, so a few friends had come looking for him. The squeak came from Uraraka, who quickly ran out of the room, being closely trailed by a slightly red Midoriya.

The two of you looked at each other and smiled softly. "I suppose we may have to answer some questions."

He nodded in response to your statement, leaving to re-join the party.

Ashido and Hagakure of course asked if you were dating now, which you both denied. For now, it was simply a kiss.

"Are you going to Endeavor's agency once school is over?" You ask, laying with your bed hanging off the bed, looking at your best friend.

He gives a small nod. "I believe it will be the best place for me to start off." He says before talking a small, sharp breath. "Can we talk about something?"

You raise your eyebrows a little and sit up, patting the bed next to you, where he takes a seat. "Of course, what is it?"

"We're almost finished with UA, and I thought it may be time to finally discuss our relationship, before we leave school."

You take a small breath in this time, feeling a little nervous about what he is about to say. Your crush on the boy had never disappeared, but you never brought up your relationship again, not wanting him to feel pressured into making a choice he wasn't ready to make.

His hands find their way to grip yours gently, keeping eye contact with you. "I would like to go into this new part of our lives together. I am still a little hesitant for us to do what our father want from us, but it's what I want too, and I hope it is what you also want."

You bite your lip, letting go of his hands and throwing your arms around him. "Shoto, I would love that. I have wanted that for years."

He nods silently, one arm wrapping around your back, the other digging into his pocket. A moment later, he pulls a small, cute box out, pulling away from you a little so he can look you in the eyes as he hands the box to you.

"I've had this since I was 15. My father insisted I should give it to you, but I never did. I want you to have it," he says.

Inside is a small ring, with a delicate diamond, dainty and tasteful rather than being large and distracting. You bring your eyes back up to look at his, surprised.

"That ring is simply proof of my love for you. We should take things at my own pace. I'll buy you a ring myself one day. That will be when I really propose."

You smile, once again throwing your arms around him, this time putting your weight behind it to catch him off guard and knock him over.

Before he has a chance to say anything, you plant your lips firmly on his, bringing one hand to rest on his cheek, the other resting on his chest, legs holding you up as his hands immediately find your waist, giving into the kiss without any hesitation.

His fingers grip you tightly, breathing already beginning to get a little heavier. Although he has no experience, it seems as though he knows what to do, at least a little, moving his leg to press between your own.

One hand stays on your waist, the other moving to wrap around your back, holding you close to him and allowing him to press him leg up more, bouncing it softly.

His movements cause a soft moan to escape your lips, muffled by his own.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers breathlessly before connecting his lips to yours once again, seemingly wanting to have all contact he possibly can with you.

His tongue runs along your bottom lip, probing into your mouth, wanting to explore you as much as possible.

Breathlessly, you pull away from the kiss, looking down at him. His heterochromatic eyes stare back up at you, lids low with lust.

You sit up, pulling your shirt over your head, discarding it to a forgotten corner of the room. His hands quickly find their way back to your waist, biting his lip as he admires you. His staring makes you blush, but you know he's just taking it in.

His hands come up higher and carefully, yet slightly clumsily, undo your bra, slipping it off your body, throwing it in the same general direction as your shirt, quickly moving one hand to your left breast, sitting up and leaning his head to take your right nipple into his mouth.

You bite your lip, moaning softly. Your arm wraps around him, one hand coming up to play with his hair. You give it a gentle tug, making him groan softly.

Carefully, he moves so that you're underneath him, mouth not leaving your breast until your back is pressed against the bed.

Your hands find your way under his shirt, resting on his abdomen, prompting him to discard his too.

He leans down to kiss you once again, hands moving down to undo the shorts you're wearing, shuffling them down your thighs along with your panties. His long fingers drag slowly down your slit.

"You're so wet for me already, baby," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers continue to tease you, dipping slightly into you, but never quite giving you what you want, enjoying your moans as they get increasingly desperate.

You only want more and more as you feel his clothed cock pressing against your thigh.

“Shoto, please,” you whimper, needing more than what he’s giving you.

He chuckles softly. “Because you asked so nicely,” he whispers, slipping two fingers inside you, moving them slowly.

You moan softly, eyes closing and head leaning back. His movements speed up, fingers quickly finding your sweet spot. His thumb moves to your clit, your moans growing louder.

“S-Shoto, so good, so close,” you moan, looking up at him, orgasm building inside you.

Shoto kisses you, tongue finding it’s way into your mouth immediately, swallowing your moans as you get closer and closer to your release.

Then, right before you get there, his fingers suddenly withdraw. Your eyes shoot open and you look up at him, breathless and confused.

He laughs softly. “You look so pretty like that, baby,” He kisses your forehead, unable to resist at the sight of your bemused pout. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you unsatisfied.”

He quickly takes off his pants, his cock straining against his boxers to get out. When he finally lets it free, your mouth falls open slightly at how big he is. You’d expected him to be big, but not that big.

His hand runs up and down his cock a few times, spreading the juices on his fingers onto his cock before pressing up against your hole, which is already missing the fullness of his fingers.

“You ready, beautiful?” he asks you. You nod, taking your lower lip between your teeth.

He slowly pushes his cock into you, taking in a deep breath. “Been waiting so long for this, baby,” he whispers in your ear before moving to kiss your neck.

Your moans sound so sweet in his ear, moving slowly to give you time to adjust to the new stretch. He stills for a moment when he bottoms out inside you, stopping to kiss you.

“Are you ready, beautiful?” he asks you softly. He waits for your confirmation before moving, pulling out a little before thrusting back inside.

He pulls out a little further each time, cock seemingly perfect for finding that sweet spot inside you, as if your bodies are made perfectly for each other.

"You look so pretty for me, baby," he whispers, eyes staying on you, wanting to see your reactions to his movements, enjoying the look of bliss on your face.

You moan each time he thrusts inside you. "Your cock feels so good, baby," you whisper breathlessly.

His fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing gently to begin with, rubbing a little harder as he continues.

"I'm getting close, baby," he whispers, breath heavy and small beads of sweat on his forehead. You nod to tell him you are too, moans interrupting your speech when you try to vocalise it.

He rubs harder, moaning as he feels your pussy tighten around him, getting him closer to his own orgasm as you reach your own climax.

Right before he reaches his own high, he pulls out, finishing on your abdomen and thighs.

For a minute, he stays where he is, both breathing heavily and just enjoying the moment.

When he does finally get up, he goes and grabs a warm cloth, cleaning you up, neither of you saying anything.

He climbs onto the bed and lays next to you, wrapping his arm around you. "This was worth the wait," he whispers to you, making you laugh softly.

"I agree."

[aninipanin1]

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[hussyknee]

Wonder how far I can prod libs into finishing their full thought bubble behind all this "harm reduction" "genocide is a single issue" "you don't care about marginalized people in the US" "dyou want fascism WITH genocide???" screeching.

Okay, class, say it with me: "I don't want to live in a third world country like the ones we keep destroying."

Because you know. The countries your war criminal leaders keep bombing and starving and destabilising and leeching dry? We don't have trans or gay rights or women's rights or disability benefits or environmental or labour protections. No one would want to live in our countries obviously. You'd kill yourselves before you had to live like we do. Sure, we're only like this because you keep us trapped in poverty and violence and we still have full, happy lives worth living despite it but that's because we're used to it! We don't know any better! Not like you! You know what you deserve and you shouldn't have to lose anything as a consequence of your own political choices! Your government is supposed to happen to other people! Not you! So like, yeah, it's bad that the poors are being massacred wholesale or whatever, but like. That doesn't mean you gotta die with them, y'know? And by "death" you don't mean actual genocide like what's happening over here but "death" as in "having to live like we do".

The trolley problem metaphor is so goddamn attractive to you because you see yourself outside the tracks, objectively assessing the situation and making the "tough" "moral" choice for the collective good. It's imperialist horseshit. You don't have a democracy and it's not a trolley. What you have is an imperial death machine running on an apartheid system that decides who gets fed to it and who gets fed by it. That's your "two tracks"— the colonized and the colonizer, the core and the periphery, the white and the coloured. "Harm reduction"? Have you counted how many fucking millions in and around the world your death machine eats to keep how many of you "safe"? But our losses are a foregone conclusion, a matter of course, a regrettable necessity. The only variable is yours.

Every political choice in 200 years of your settler colony has been "genocide AND". "Genocide AND women's rights". "Genocide AND workers rights". "Genocide AND fascism". "Genocide AND democracy". The difference is that for the first time in your history you're now watching it livestreamed to the entire world in real time 24/7, exactly as your colony is about to capsize under the weight of its own bloodlust. A sea change from when your parents threw parties watching bombs dropping on Baghdad and then spent twenty years watching movies about sad it made the soldiers.

How do you count the victims when we are numbers and you are people? You scream about trans rights in the US while Palestinian trans children don't have the right to reach puberty. OSHA for you but Congolese children have to die in mines. Reproductive rights for the US while Sudanese women are raped in millions. Yes, but it's always been "genocide AND" no matter what, right? Do we want to sabotage the party that has never fucking cared about us and don't now even with half their own country screaming at them on the off-chance they might possibly maybe one day do?? Why are we acting so mad like it's YOUR fault that you're fighting for your quality of life over our corpses?? Do we want YOU to lose your rights over it??

Yes, actually. We do. We want you to have a taste of the reality that generations on generations of your illegal illegitimate white supremacist occupation has inflicted on us just so your worthless hide can sit there and call our genocides a single fucking issue. And let's be real: that's what you're so fucking afraid of.

[phoebejaysims]

Boutique Mod - DOWNLOAD

Inspired by the sims 2 shopping for clothes system, I present a sims 3 take on buying clothes, accessories and running a thriving boutique! Set up shifts, keep the racks stocked, and you might find yourself in profit!

Required:

Ambitions

NRAAS Master Controller + Integration Module

Optional:

ITF if you want to use the clothes mannequin and some visual effects.

Late Night if you want the animations for the security guard.

Seasons for extra interactions on the mannequin.

Savvy Seller Set for some visual and audio effects.

Full Documentation is included in the download. I spent a while writing it out, so please read thoroughly!

How Stores Work:

Set up a shift

Hire Employees (bosses count as employees so stores are fully functional with only one sim!)

Link at least one rack to the register

Open for business!

Employees:

Store employees can be given three types of roles: register attendant, sales attendant and security guard.

Employees will do their jobs automatically but you can always manually tell them to do things too like: restocking, dressing up mannequins, helping customers, among other things.

Customers:

Inactive and active sims can browse through the racks and have the ability to purchase items. They'll interact differently depending on if they are shopping at a clothes rack, accessory rack, or at a mannequin.

Inactives won't purchase outfits from mannequins unless you direct them to (or you enable auto-purchasing in the XML). However, they may "fake" buy clothes.

Once finished shopping, customers hold their bags and wait to be rung up! Take too long and they may abandon their purchase.

Shopping:

Adjust prices and restrict customers by age and gender to customise your store!

Clothes Racks:

Buy Clothes for your own sim, sims in your household, or (if you're an employee) suggest clothes for customers.

Employees that suggest clothes for customers can fulfil Ambition Stylist jobs this way.

Accessories Racks:

Choose accessories to be sold by adding them to the XML in the package file. The XML comes loaded with a few base game items already plus a couple modded items (Arsil's Sunglasses and lipstick - that won't be loaded unless you have them installed).

Sell buy-mode items as well as CAS items!

Make your CAS items wearable from your sim's inventory using your own meshes or my dummy accessory (see Documentation and XML for details).

Blacklist certain categories from being shown. If you want a dedicated shoe shop or an opticians, you can have it!

Try on products before buying them to see if they suit your sim. If there's a mirror in the room, they'll check themselves out in it.

Clothing Mannequin:

Try on the mannequin outfits to see if they suit your sim.

Plan different outfits to display and even set them to be rotated through seasonally.

Let your employees be creative and choose a random outfit for the mannequin to wear.

Buy clothes for your own sim, household members, or customers.

Allow or disallow inactives from automatically purchasing display outfits.

Security Gates:

Give your security guards something to stand and look threatening by.

You can try your luck at stealing from the shop. If you're caught, you'll have to pay up. If you get past the gates (or if there are no gates), enjoy your bounty!

Boutique Door:

Cloned from the Savvy Seller doors without the annoying 'kick-every-last-person-out-the-building-come-closing-time' feature.

Link this to a register and let the open and close sign automatically flip itself. Also, close the store or rename it, straight from the door.

Phone Interactions:

Ask for time off work (paid or unpaid).

Call in sick.

Cancel vacation days.

Credits and Thanks:

@dhalsims for adding geostates to the ITF rack for me. Modders, I really recommend her if you need any 3D models made also!

DouglasVeiga for the BG rack with the geostates.

@aroundthesims for allowing me to use her objects in my mod as always!

Sims 4 for all the animations that I converted.

Simstate & merchant mods for the idea to go into a mode to link racks to the register.

The OG shop for clothes mod and pedestal by @anitmb.

Arsil and @zoeoe-sims for wearable CAS items idea that I adapted.

Ani's Candle mod & Amb. Makeover XML which I looked at for inspo on how to do accessory rack xml.

Compatibility:

All new objects so shouldn't conflict with anything really.

Removes the 'plan outfit' interaction from dressers.

Made on version 1.67.

If you would like to donate as thanks, please feel free to do so at: my kofi! I don't take your generosity for granted!

Download: - Simblr.cc - 2t3 Boutique Mod Suggested Extra CC: - Lyralei's TS2 Conversions (incl. clothes changing booth) - More ATS3 Security Gates - ATS3 Friperie Set

Known issues, prop information and the full feature breakdown are all in the documentation.

Please be patient with me if there are bugs to fix. Also, anyone who DMs me "I don't know how to create a new shift" will be immediately fined £150.

With that said, please enjoy the mod and tag me in your beautiful boutiques,

Phoebe :)

[luna-azzurra]

How to Actually Write a Fairytale

Writing a fairytale isn’t about copying what came before. It’s about echoing it and breathing new life into the bones of old stories, while still leaving fingerprints that are entirely your own.

➥ Know the Genre Like It’s Your Grandmother’s Favorite Story

You don’t have to memorize every tale from the Brothers Grimm or Andersen, but you do need to understand the rhythm of a fairytale. The structure. The tone. The strange, brutal, beautiful logic where wolves talk and curses are casually handed out like snacks.

Read the classics—but don’t just admire them. Ask why they’ve lasted. Why we keep retelling “Cinderella” or “Beauty and the Beast.” Why we crave stories where the wicked are punished and the good get their happily ever after (or… don’t).

Then, ask yourself: what do you believe about happy endings?

➥  Make the World Feel Like a Dream You Just Woke Up From

Your setting shouldn’t feel like a postcard, it should feel like a mood. That forest? It’s not just a bunch of trees. It’s ancient and alive and maybe watching you. That castle on the hill? What lives inside it isn’t just royal—it’s wrong.

Don’t overdescribe. Don’t over-explain. Fairytale settings thrive on feeling, mystery, awe, fear, delight. Focus on texture and sound. On atmosphere. Give the reader goosebumps with a sentence, not a paragraph.

➥  Use Archetypes Like Skeletons, Not Cages

Yes, fairytales run on familiar characters: the hero, the princess, the wicked stepmother. But don’t just copy and paste those roles. Twist them. Make your hero afraid of bravery. Let your princess save herself and then ask why she even needed saving in the first place.

Give your characters choices. Inner lives. Secrets. Let them lean into their archetypes and then stumble out of them. That’s what keeps your story from feeling like a copy of a copy.

➥  Say Something That Matters (Even If It's Wrapped in Magic)

Fairytales aren’t just bedtime stories, they’re moral delivery systems in disguise. Every ogre, quest, and talking raven is hiding a deeper truth.

So what’s yours?

Don’t force it. But do let your story mean something. Maybe it’s about growing up. About forgiveness. About not trusting charming strangers with cursed apples. Let the theme grow like ivy between your lines, quiet but impossible to ignore.

➥ Add a Sprinkle of Strange With Magical Beings

It doesn’t have to be a fairy or a dragon... though those are always welcome. Think beyond the usual. A dog who speaks only in riddles. A grandmother made of smoke. A house that walks on bird legs (looking at you, Baba Yaga).

Make your magic feel old. Like it was here before your character showed up, and it’ll be here long after they’re gone.

➥ Don’t Be Afraid to Make It Hard

Fairytales are not soft. They have teeth. Let your characters struggle. Let the curse hurt. Let the villain win for a minute too long.

Readers don’t fall in love with perfect heroes—they fall in love with tested ones. Give your characters impossible tasks. Curses that twist them into shadows. Quests that demand sacrifice.

Then let them choose who they want to be on the other side.

➥ Use the Old Bones, but Give Them Your Voice

Start with “Once upon a time” if it feels right. Or don’t. Just make sure the story has rhythm. Fairytales move fast, but not rushed. They feel inevitable. Like fate wrapped in a metaphor.

Keep it simple, but not shallow. Let your prose feel like poetry snuck in wearing a cloak. Make your reader feel like they’re hearing a story that’s older than memory, even if you wrote it yesterday.

➥ Magical Objects? Yes Please. But Make Them Count

Magic beans, mirrors, rings, cloaks... yes. But don’t just throw in trinkets like party favors. Give them purpose. The thing that glows should glow for a reason. The potion should do more than heal, it should reveal. Or trick. Or demand a price.

Magic in fairytales always comes with rules. Use that. Break your character with the thing that’s supposed to save them.

➥ Let People Change (and Not Just With a Magic Wand)

True transformation in a fairytale isn’t just “frog turns prince.” It’s “child becomes brave.” “Witch becomes mother.” “Monster learns to forgive themselves.”

Let your characters grow, like painfully, beautifully. Give them chances to change, and the agency to take them. Or not. Either way, that’s where the real magic is.

➥ You Get to Choose the Ending

Happy? Bittersweet? Vaguely cursed but weirdly satisfying?

You’re not chained to “...and they lived happily ever after.” You can write “…and she never returned to the forest, but it never stopped watching her.” Or “…and his heart stayed quiet for the rest of his life, but at least it was his.”

Just make it feel like an ending. One that lingers. One that knows the story is done, but the lesson might echo long after the last line.

[sweetbans29]

Mic'd - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You forget that your are mic'd up during practice (based on THIS request)

Warnings: ADHD reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Please don't scold me if I didn't get everything right. I tried my best, I promise.

Your mind never stops going a mile a minute. You were diagnosed with ADHD when you were a kid, it was something that your parents had to adapt to when it came to raising you. It was when you were in 4th grade when they decided to put you into sports. You started as a swimmer but your parents soon realized you were much better on land. That is when they put you in basketball and it just clicked for you. When you picked up a ball and began shooting, everything else began to make sense. It did a really good job of keeping your mind and hands busy on a singular objective.

You were put on a club and travel team when you went into middle school and continued playing through high school. It opened many doors for you including playing basketball in college. You toured a handful of schools and finally settled on Iowa.

Your freshman year was a huge adjustment as it was the first time living away from home. It took some major adjustments but you ultimately got there. The change to college classes was one of the hardest changes you faced. You were always struggling to keep your mind focused on one assignment when you had like 20 others to do at all times. It often resulted in you starting one, picking up another, and then trying to start a third before either of the first two were completed.

One of the girls on your team became your saving grace and one of your best friends. Kate had become someone who helped keep you grounded when the world was spinning and you could not be more grateful. Your friendship with her has helped you navigate the transition into college classes and playing college ball. She was always one to help keep you on task. The two of you have come up with a system to keep your mind focused when it feels like you aren't moving fast enough or don't feel like you have the control your mind needs.

Kate is also the one who was secretly working on getting you and Caitlin together. She noticed how both you and Caitlin would act around each other and took it upon herself to see two of her best friends and teammates come together in what she believed to be a perfect match. One thing led to another and you and Caitlin had begun dating towards the end of freshman year.

When the two of you got together - you decided it to keep it between the team. It wasn't that either of you was necessarily hiding your relationship, you were just both content with the world not knowing. You told the people that mattered in your lives and that was enough for the two of you. Also, nobody questioned it considering how much time the team spent together and how much time the two of you spent with Kate. To anyone looking in, the three of you were like three peas in a pod.

That leads us to today. The media team was doing a series where they were joining different sports practices and putting mics on some of the players. You had watched the series and thought seeing some of the school's all-star players behind the scenes was so fun. You were honored when they came up to you and asked if you would be the mic'd up player of the week.

They get you all set up and you are ready to go.

"Testing, testing," you say holding the mic that was pinned in your shirt up to your mouth. You then look at the camera. "We are here live from Carver-Hawkeye arena with yours truly."

You point to your number on your practice jersey and head into a huddle with the team to kick off practice.

While you are in the huddle you nudge Kate.

"Yo Kate, guess who is mic'd up for today's practice," you ask her and give the camera a knowing look. She laughs.

"Bro, I helped you put the mic on." She says and you let out an 'oh ya'.

"Do you have anything to say to the Hawkeye fans who are watching this?" You ask, pulling your shirt to catch what she is saying.

"You are too much," she begins and you hit her arm. "I would say sorry you have to listen to this one for the whole practice." She says and runs away to begin a drill.

You feign hurt and hold your hand over your heart as if what Kate just said broke you. Not two seconds later you are bouncing over to Caitlin and putting your arm around her waist.

"You ready to crush this practice babe?" You ask as she is finishing up stretching. Before she can answer you continue, "Your legs are looking extra nice today. I likey." She just laughs.

"If I just lift this a little," you say lifting the bottom part of her shorts to reveal her thigh a little more. "The team would see those little love bites you like so much." Caitlin slaps your hand and yells your name. You laugh and let her go, going to start a drill.

During the drill, you keep making comments about how fast you are and how no one can catch you.

"Speed." You say with laser focus as you are the next one to jump in the rotation. "I am speed."

Every time Caitlin does a good job you are caught yelling something along the lines of 'that a way babe' or 'that's my girl'.

During practice, Kate kept giving you weird looks but you think nothing of it.

During one of the water breaks, you walk up to Caitlin who is sipping her water. You lean against the wall.

"So, you come here often?" You ask in a flirtatious tone.

She pushes your chest and rolls her eyes. You come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her, and spin her around.

"You love me," you say as you put her down.

"You know I do," she says, kissing your forehead.

The rest of the practice is filled with little comments to your girl on how good she looks and how great of a job she is doing.

"Have you seen those edits that people are making of pigeons?” You ask one of your other teammates.

"What are you talking about?" they say back with a laugh.

"You know the ones where they draw like stick figure arms on them while they are walking around," you say. "Imagine being a bird and not having arms or hands."

You then stick your hands in your practice jersey and walk around. Someone throws a ball at you and you just let it hit you. It bounces away from you.

"Caitlin! Caity! CC!" You say running up to her with your arms still in your jersey. "Would you still love me if I was a pigeon?" You ask her.

"Of course, babe. You would be my pigeon," she says laughing her ass off.

"Good," you say. "Because you would be mine regardless of the animal you were.”

Not ten minutes later you are back in a drill.

"Oh ya, I got this," you say to yourself as you are going up for a layup. You flip it with your left hand and it banks in. "Money!" You yell and run to the back of the line.

As practice comes to a close, the team is scrimmaging. You go up to Kate and she reminds you of a very key detail you forgot about during practice.

"So, how was being mic'd up?" She asks and your eyes go wide, finding the camera that has been following you around the entirety of practice.

"Shit-fuck!" You whisper as you remember all the things you said during practice. "SHOOT - FUDGE" you yell remembering this was going to be on the media team's Youtube page.

You facepalm yourself pretty hard causing a nice slap sound to echo in the gym.

Caitlin runs up to you removing your hand from your face and kissing the place you just slapped.

"Don't slap yourself that hard babe," she says examining the slightly pink mark developing on your right eye and forehead.

"I fuc-messed up," you say and you point at the cameras.

Caitlin turns and Kate just stands there laughing.

Caitlin joins in on the laughing and brings you into her side, squeezing you and kissing your temple.

"Ehh, it was bound to happen sooner or later," she says.

After practice, you thank the media team for choosing you and you head back to your apartment with Kate and Caitlin.

"I can't believe I forgot about being mic'd up. I am so dumb,” you say as you crash on the couch. Your girlfriend comes and sits next to you, pulling your legs onto her lap.

"Don't worry about it babe - no one is going to care." She says rubbing your legs.

"Well, I don't know about that..." Kate says as she passes her phone to you.

You and Caitlin look at it and both of your jaws drop. The media team posted it and it already had 7,000 views. You scroll down to the comments and see people have attached links to their edits. You click on one and it takes you down a rabbit hole of edits that were already created shipping you and Caitlin.

"This is crazy," you say and hide your face.

Caitlin just laughs and continues to rub your legs.

"I think it's cute," she says with a smile.

"I royally messed up." You say.

"Hey," your girlfriend pulls you out of your thoughts, which she knows are going faster than you can comprehend. "If I would love you as a pigeon, I will love you through this, okay?" She says and lifts your face to meet hers.

"Okay," you say and lean in to give her a kiss.

AN: I would lowkey be the best mic'd up person out there. The thoughts that go through my brain sometimes are epic. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! And as always, thank you for your live and support 🤍

[fanaticsnail]

Caught: Shachi & Penguin

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 4,200+

Themes: Shachi x afab!reader x Penguin, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, caught masturbating, sex pollen, first time together, throuple dynamic, preexisting flirtationship, fingering, oral, unprotected sex

Notes: Day 3 of my celebration event! I would like to dedicate this fic to @avogigi who's birthday is today! Happy birthday love! I hope you enjoy your silly boys infused with need and lust.

It all started with a flower. A small, innocent, little flower.

A flower gifted with well-met intentions by your redheaded crewmate, tucked behind your ear for safekeeping.

Venturing into an unknown destination with your crew, you all banded together and took in your surroundings. One by one, the Heart Pirates trudged beyond the threshold of the new village and respected your view of unexplored horizons. Shachi, yourself and Penguin marched toe to toe, every so often pointing out one thing or another to each other.

You had this unspoken thing with both Shachi and Penguin: the two misguided misfits of the Heart Pirates. They would never fight, nor ever engage physically in violence for your affections: but their little competition vying for your attention has begun to get out of hand in your captain's opinion

Trafalgar Law, your captain and doctor, had taken you aside to your office earlier in the month and barked at you to: “Just pick one already! They're both being unhinged idiots, and I can't stand any more of their peacocking.” It was true, both Shachi and Penguin had this peculiar way of taking their affections up a notch when the other was present. In private, they were both so shy and sweet to you, you felt called to usher them into your arms and indulge in their attention.

In lieu of following that former suggestion made by your captain, not an order to obey, you simply remained steadfast and strong in your politeness towards them. You could never choose between which of your friends to engage with romantically, and they both knew you were not going to make any decisions without a large event occuring between the three of you.

Stooping below a large trunk of an unknown tree, he easily pried a small flower from the base of the trunk by snapping it as close to the roots as he could get it. Gently and coyly floating his glasses-clad eyes over towards you, he lifted the pale petals up to his nose and took a lengthy inhale.

The pollen in the center smelled as sweet as you were to him, and he was immediately taken by the heady aroma. Slowly approaching your position by Penguin, he tapped you on the shoulder to gain your attention. Just as to turned your head, Shachi skillfully tucked the pale flower behind your ear with a mischievous smirk.

“A pretty flower for my pretty flower,” Shachi cooed down at you, moreso in a lower and more playful tone he knew Penguin would despise him for. You couldn't help but laugh at him, gently reaching for the object and untucking it from your ear to gaze down lovingly at.

“Thank you, Shachi. It's beautiful,” you nodded towards him. Gently raising it up to your nose, you inhaled from the center just as he did moments prior, “Do you know what type it is? I haven't seen anything like it before.” The fragrance felt thick, but not overall itchy or overwhelming in your respiratory system. There was something particularly intoxicating about it, but it could've just been the softness in Shachi’s expression when he gifted it to you.

Just as Shachi made to offer you an answer for your question, Penguin snatched the flower from your fingers and began to examine it. His brows knit with confusion, leering down at the center, and taking in the soft balayage fading from the base of the petals up to their unique, pointed tips.

“I've seen this in one of the captain’s medical books before,” Penguin stated softly, leaning forward and inhaling a little of the fragrance before withdrawing it from his face, “I just can't remember where it was.”

“Poisons?” you asked softly, taken aback a little by how intensely he was gawking at the stem and petals. Penguin shook his head and placed it back within the nook of your ear.

“Nah, nothing like that,” Penguin commented with a polite smile, “I have seen the description, pretty sure it was in the edible section of weeds or something,” he shrugged softly before backtracking and rephrasing his statement, “I wouldn't eat it, just in case.”

“Because that's my first thought when I'm gifted a pretty flower by an attractive guy,” you uttered sarcastically, reclaiming the flower and tucking it once more behind your ear, “‘Eat the damn thing’. Seriously, Penguin?”

Overlapping sentences of “Hey, I didn't mean it like that,” and “Wait, you think I'm attractive?” were both broken by the call of the three of your names by your captain. Surrounded by the remainder of your crew, Clione was holding a map of the area given to him by a local, and Law was assigning roles.

“Shachi, Penguin,” Law barked in an authoritarian tone, “You're on dinner. Organize it for the lot of us, and try to keep to the budget.” Next came your name, to which you smiled and stood a little taller.

“You're on ‘home duty’. The inn is there, organize with the front desk who's bunking where and unpack the essentials. We're in our own rooms for a bit while we resupply the Tang.” Law continued to delegate chores and orders, each of you listening intently to the directions before you were dismissed.

Just as he reached the last few members of the crew, your mind began to get a little more foggy, and your tongue felt heavier in your mouth. The air felt thicker, and your eyes began to sting a little at the corners as they glazed over with a foreign contemplation and sleepy haze. You attempted to shake it off by pinching the bridge of your nose and stimulating the corner of your waterline, which aided a little in drawing back your attention.

What you couldn't ignore was the neediness beginning to rise at your core. A tingling sensation started to gather at your slit as your clit quivered beneath the shroud of your boiler suit. You shook off the feeling, truly considering the fact that you had been at sea for too long, and the flirtations from both of the animal-hat wearing men may have worked a little better than anticipated.

Regardless of how the meeting went, you were thankful that Law placed you on ‘home duty’. Once the meeting was dismissed: you could set to your task: assign the rooms, gather the belongings, carefully dump them in their appropriate lodgings, and take care of your physical needs dripping currently in your underwear and sticking the garment to your skin, before the remainder of the crew got back.

What you didn't anticipate was the fact that after you did organize all of those chores, you physically couldn't cross that bridge into bliss with your hands alone. Laying on your back atop your allocated bed, traveling bag hastily thrown from the duvet, boiler suit and undergarments discarded, legs parted and slick falling freely from your quivering core, you found yourself unable to cum.

You tried everything: focussing solely on your clit with your fingertips, burying three fingers into your cunt and roughly fucking yourself with them, playing with your nipples while you attempted to move your hands more slowly, or bracing your abdomen with your forearm and hastily impaling yourself with your digits. Nothing worked.

“Hnnngh-! Fuck!” you cried out, sobbing as another high slipped through your fingers and smeared your arousal on the duvet below you. “Why-? What-?”

Closing your eyes, you began to softly sob while you plunged your fingers in and out of your needy core, bringing up your other hand to clap over your lips. All you could do was sob while waiting for your orgasm to finally grip you and crash from your core to spread through your body. Yet, every time, that swell would always sizzle and fade before it ever took root in your body.

Both Shachi and Penguin found themselves in a not so dissimilar predicament. Neither man had ever felt desire like this at any moment in their lives prior. Panting, sweating, heaving, groaning: Shachi and Penguin were consumed with the aggressive urge to claim and use their bodies to rutt and ravage.

“You started this shit,” Penguin barked at him, aggressively snatching his allocated key off the counter in the inn, “You think we're the only ones suffering for your stupidity?” The innkeeper backed away, assuming the similar uniform they were donning to yours meant they were a part of the same crew.

“I know, I know,” Shachi whined, the groceries in his arms weighing heavy and encumbering his ability to walk more hastily. “If you would've said something earlier, I wouldn't have fucking plucked the damn thing and gave it as a gift. For fucks sake.”

“Oh? So now it's my fault?” Penguin snapped back at him, stomping up the stairs towards the rooms where they were allocated, “Be thankful I was the one to tell Law about it. If not, we wouldn't have gotten the fucking antidote.” Penguin began to turn the key into the latch, letting out a groan as his painfully hard erection brushed against the front seam of his boiler suit.

Just as Penguin managed to twist the knob and push open the door, his ears pricked at the mention of his name. It only spilt in a voice below a choked whisper, but his heightened senses from the illumination of the pollen managed to decipher it amongst the white noise.

“Fuck,” Penguin whispered, stumbling in his room, “Throw the groceries on the counter, I don't think we've got much longer until the antidote won't be as effective.”

“Right,” Shachi said in response, immediately moving his body with each agonizing step towards the counter. As soon as he managed to place the contents on the marble surface, he used his palms to brace his weight against the surface.

Each part of his body felt alight with the flames of lust, each part screaming for a cure within the thralls of passion. Both Shachi and Penguin agreed, as soon as they learned what the flower was, you needed to be given the antidote before either of them could take it. They refused medical attention, much to Law's chagrin, and forced themselves to complete their chores first.

As Shachi took a moment to steady himself, his ears burned at a soft sound whimpering from the adjoining room.

“Did you hear-?”

“-We’ve gotta move.”

Both men sprung into action: Penguin with the vial from Law clutched firmly in his grasp, and Shachi who had been exposed far longer to the pollen as either of them.

Penguin tried to remain level headed. Get in, give the vial, sit and wait for it to come into effect, and apologize for his friend profusely for accidentally dousing you with a potent aphrodisiac. That was his plan.

Shachi’s was much the same. Go in, beg for your forgiveness, grovel at your feet and watch as Penguin administers the cure for what was plaguing the three of you.

As soon as they barged into your lodgings and their eyes found your body, their jaws grew slack and their chins tilted down to take you in. Fingers buried and curling deep within your pussy, brows furrowed and eyes scrunched shut, their names were spilling from your lips as you attempted to reach the cusps of your bliss - only to immediately sob when it flew away once more.

If your name was called, you could barely hear which one of the two called it. Too lost within your own ministrations to care, you reached your unoccupied hand out for the closest person near you. The only thing to break you out from your hypnotic stimulations was the door slamming tightly shut behind them.

“I-I can't s-stop,” you whimpered out, the crude squelching from your cunt continuing to ring throughout the room, “H-Help. Please?” You moved faster, spreading your legs and uncaringly began to put on a show for the intruders. You hoped they were the men you needed them to be, and not some poor maintenance crew coming in to change over the supplies within the fridge or refold the towels. “Penguin, Shachi-... I need you. Please, I need you.”

“Fuck-.”

“-Shit.”

The vial slipped from Penguins grip as he immediately pounced towards you. He knelt at the foot of the bed, slowly prying your hand away from your core and replacing it with his own. His stiff cock was propping up the waist of his boiler suit like a pole to erect a tent, but his mind still grasped the fact that you needed to understand what you were asking for while you could still speak.

“Sweetheart,” Penguin uttered softly, rubbing gentle and soothing circles on your aching clit, “You've been-... fuck you look so good-... You've been hit by a violent aphrodisiac. Can you understand what I'm saying?”

“I-I know-!” you whimpered, hips bucking up and trying to get more feeling of any part of him within you, “Y-You guys-?”

“-It was the flower,” Shachi shuddered, holding the wooden door frame to hold himself back from springing forward and prying Penguin away from your body to replace his with his own, “Are you still wearing-... look at how good you are, letting him play with you like that-... Are you still wearing it?”

Reaching up, you grabbed the flora from behind your ear and tossed it over the side of the bed. Shachi nodded, feeling choked by the amount of heat within his boiler suit. “To answer your earlier question, us too. Not as bad as you, but yes.”

“Wh-What do we do?” you sobbed, eyes opening and looking past Penguin at your pussy towards the redhead, “Shachi, what do I do? I-I’ve been at this for two hours now, and each time I try-... fuck-!” You arched your back, feeling on the edge of an orgasm by Penguin’s hands and expecting to fall away from it.

Only you don't.

Screaming out in relief, your world shatters like a stone through glass against Penguin’s fingers. Your body convulses around his motions, riding through the first waves of ecstasy in what felt like a painful lifetime. Penguin did nothing to hold you back from your bucking, only chasing you with his hands while he aided you through your high.

“Cumming?” Penguin asked coyly, his eyes dark with lust as he watched your pussy pulse and clench around absence, “Good, sweetheart. How do you feel?”

Taking a moment to steady your breaths, you nod while panting through your recovery. After gulping back some essential breaths, you felt the need once again rising in your abdomen, but manageable as opposed to the way you had been feeling for hours.

“Need more,” you nodded, reaching down and grabbing Penguin's wrist, “I need a cock in me, now.” Penguin groaned needily at your confession, his precum tinting his briefs beneath his boiler suit with pearls of viscous desire.

“Who's?” Penguin asked softly, again reaching for your sensitive bud and drawing soft and senseless patterns against it. You chose to angle yourself on the bed, prying yourself from Penguins hands and leaning with the edge of the mattress tucked firmly within your neck.

“I am going to close my eyes,” you utter firmly, doing as you suggested and clenching your eyes shut, “And in three seconds, I better have someone’s cock in my pussy and the other’s in my mouth or I feel like I'm going to die. One.”

A shuffle of motion occurred immediately, shifting materials pooling at ankles and casted aside with haste small choked words of “But,”, “Who?” and “Where?” we're quietened by the haste of your next word.

“Two.”

“Sweetheart, if you could just hold on a minute while we get situated-.”

“-Please see reason, sunshine. I can't thrive under these conditions.”

Shachi quickly found his drooling cock head against your entrance, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he carded it through your folds. Penguin tapped your cheek with his tip, indicating he was ready for you whenever you chose to part your lips to drink him in.

“Three,” you gasped, gently flicking out your tongue to tease Penguin’s cock gently, “Use me. I need to feel you cum in me, wherever you choose to fill me up.”

Where Penguin chose to halt his actions, Shachi was simply too far gone under the influence of the pollen. He was never this consumed with arousal, and he truly felt if he wasn't buried up to the hilt within you, he would keel over where he knelt.

His cock slipped in with an ease that held him speechless, your clit brushing with the small patch of red public hair he manicured at the base. Shachi shuddered as he rocked his hips from side to side, nestling completely within your pussy and holding onto your thighs for support.

“Shachi-... fuck, that's so good-!” you whined, opening your eyes and gazing lovingly at the cock presented in front of your lips. “Pen, what's stopping you from fucking my face? Need you!”

Penguin knelt down in front of you, piercing you with his icy eyes before pressing his forehead to yours.

“I do want to ravish you, don't get me wrong,” he confessed with a humorless laugh, “But neither of us have even kissed you yet.” Penguin leaned forward, his chin brushing with your nose while his lips hovered over your own, “Seeing as though Shachi gets to claim that beautiful pussy for himself before me, I should at least get to kiss you first.”

“Kiss me,” you whisper softly, your need once again swelling in your stomach as Shachi began to gently retract a small portion of his cock and steady himself before slamming it back in. As Shachi thrust forward, he shifted your body which made your lips collide with Penguin’s in a firm and lustful kiss.

Penguin adjusted his lips immediately, moving his hands to grasp the back of your neck and hold you steady. Shachi picked up his pace, rutting into you with an easy rhythm that forced your eyes to roll back into your skull. The kiss of the dark-haired man became intense and heavy, his tongue brushing and colliding messily with your own while the redhead’s pants began to pick up in intensity.

Pulling away from your face, your voice spilled out a whine that shot lightning directly to Penguin’s cock now presented to you.

“Be a good little thing and open your mouth for me, would you?” Penguin purred down at you, using his hands to find your forearms and wrap them around his ass, “C'mon. Easy does it now- Oh, fuck-!”

Penguin flung his head back the moment your lips parted to take him in. Shachi tried to ignore the whine that the other man made, but the twitch of interest in his cock raking against your walls was undeniable in feeling at home with his friend and himself taking you together.

Shachi rose your leg up to hook your knee over his shoulder, turning his head to huff and pant into it in a bid to silence his needy cries. Penguin’s own breath hitched when he peered up at Shachi lost while buried deep within you.

They had never really considered both enjoying you together, should their private courtship of you amount to anything. Their assumption was likely a one week on, one week off situation, never together. But as Penguin let out soft little whimpers at the feeling of his cock being taken by your lips, Shachi let out groans that were a little deeper to complete the pornographic symphony.

Your mouth and pussy was too stuffed full of both mens cock, all you could do was whimper out small cries in bliss at finally being met with exactly what your body was craving.

“Good job, j-just like that,” Penguin stumbled, gently rocking his hips against your face while you pawed at his ass to draw him closer, “Fuck, you feel so good like this.”

Shachi could barely articulate any thoughts of praise. His lips clashed against your thigh as he felt the coil in his abdomen wind tight as he teetered on the cusps of crashing into ecstasy. Sucking and biting at the flesh of your leg, he let out several intense whines as he drew closer to his edge.

Reaching down between your thighs, he thumbed at your clit while drawing his cock in languid and heavy thrusts deep within your pussy. With each in-thrust, his sighs and whines began getting louder and higher in frequency.

“N-Need you to cum, sunshine,” he whimpered against your leg, increasing the pressure against your sensitive bud with his thrusts becoming more urgent, “Can you do that for me? Cum for me? Wanna feel you when you do. Please?”

You could barely whisper out a yes, only humming through your confirmation and bobbing your head more desperately against Penguin's thick cock. Upon hearing Shachi beg to feel you cum for him, salty bursts of Penguin's release began to dart over your tongue in soft spurts.

“Sh-Shit-!” Penguin cried out, truly expecting he would have more time before he flooded your cheeks and throat with his release, “Oh fuck, I'm cumming-!!”

“Fuck-!” Shachi whined in a long drag, feeling you clench around him at Penguin’s confession. Penguin using your face so needily and messily caused your own orgasm to ricochet off his own like a chain of lightning. Your pussy clenched and pulsed around Shachi’s cock, which in turn sucked him in in hard contractions. Shachi immediately began to spill over in hot ropes of white, flooding your walls with his own accumulation of bliss.

The three of you rode out your highs, Penguin pulling out and dribbling the last of his spend on your chin and chest from his position above, while Shachi burried himself deep within you. You felt tears of relief begin to sting the corners of your eyes, finally feeling the joy that finally found its home with the three of you together.

Shachi dragged your body down the bed, messily peppering your shoulders and neck in a cluster of grateful and overwhelmed kisses. Penguin stepped away to the bathroom, your ears pricking up at the sound of running water from your personal ensuite. You felt your neck thank Shachi for drawing it to a more comfortable position, your throat now raw with the rate you chose to suck Penguin’s cock with.

Penguin returned with, hot, damp towels, and begun to rub your face affectionately to rid you of any of his remaining mess. Slowly moving his cock out of your core, Shachi swiped the towel from Shachi to romance you with soft drags against your pussy to clean you of his spend.

“How do you feel?” Penguin asked quietly, crawling on the bed beside you on all fours, and tilting his head to check you over. “Need more, or has it dissipated for now?”

“I-I think it's dissipated,” you nod slowly. Slowly examining his face while Shachi cleaned you up, you felt yourself become a little shy to his eyes beaming down at you with the softest expression of love. Shachi completed his small duty of cleaning you up before rising to his feet towards the doorway.

Stooping low, he picked up the oral antidote and returned to your side. Popping the cork top of the liquid, he slowly drew it to your mouth and tapped your bottom lip twice.

“Say ‘ah’, sunshine,” he smiled down at you, slowly offering you a few drops before offering the same to Penguin, and then to himself. Turning to the bedside table, he took note of the time beginning to draw close to the end of daylight.

“Penguin,” Shachi spoke slowly with a soft groan, “Cap said we're on dinner duty.” Penguin had yet to tear his eyes away from you, only doing so to lean towards you and press his forehead against your neck. “We gonna cook or-?”

“-I’ll call the front desk,” Penguin whispered against your neck, kissing your collarbone softly and covering over the small marks Shachi had peppered you with moments prior. “I'll take it out of my cut of loot.”

“There's a few of us, Pen,” you whispered, feeling need once again rise at the pit of your stomach that was entirely your own, “It's one hell of a expense.”

“If I get to stay right here,” Penguin whispered, drawing his hands to tickle at your stomach in soft, swirling patterns, “I'd say it's worth it. I'll be skint for a bit, but I'll make it.”

Feeling a little awkward, somber, and out of place, Shachi gulped back his defeat at earning your affections and began to shift the materials at the floor to redress himself. Locating his socks, he placed them in each of his boots while untucking his briefs from the legs of the boiler suit.

“Where you going, Shachi?” Penguin asked softly, “We can make the call from up here. No need to go down there if you don't want to.”

“No, no, it's fine.” Shachi confirmed with a smile, feining joy at your soft moment together, “You guys just sit and bask. I'll go organise the dinner, then I'll just go and read in my room before bed time. Yeah?”

“No,” both you and Penguin utter in unison, one of your arms and one of his extended out to invite him back. “Here, now,” you clicked your fingers and gestures to the mattress he was just laying on.

“You sure?” Shachi asked, his eyes rounded and pouting innocently, “I know I messed up with the flower, and I shouldn't interrupt what you guys have going on-.”

“-All of us,” Penguin uttered sharply, “Together, you hear? Always together.”

“Always together?” Shachi asked, his feet gently stepping closer to the bed. Shuffling his knees up on the mattress, he gently crawled beneath your other arm and nuzzled against your neck. His lips found your skin and pressed a soft kiss against it while making himself comfortable. You let out a content sigh, drawing your hands up to lace in locks of raven and auburn.

“Always together,” you whispered in confirmation.

Food will have to wait for your crewmates, the call to the front desk being at the back of your minds while the three of you began to navigate this new covenant forged between you. Three as one, and your hearts swelling enough to love each and every in their own way. You were their partner, and they were yours.

Always together.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶Happy Birthday to Me 🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[lessersole]

Bridging Boroughs

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Bartender!Reader with a past. Platonic!Matt Murdock

Summary: You and Matt come up with a plan to take on Kingpin politically.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Spoilers for DD:BA episode 8, (but works if you're not watching). Probably misunderstandings of the US political system.

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

Matt groans as he wakes up. He feels like he got punched in the chest by a truck.

He tries to take in his surroundings - it’s hard over the beeping of the machines, but under the stillness of night he realises someone is sitting beside his hospital bed.

“Heather?” He croaks.

“Nope,” comes the unapologetic answer. He recognises that voice, but hasn’t heard it in a while. Matt frowns - is he wrong?

The pressure of booted feet landing on his bed, one ankle crossing over the other as his guest casually stretches out her legs gives him a better idea who his visitor is. He tries another name.

“You got it," you confirm. Matt can hear the mirthless smile in your voice. “Glad to hear we’re not complete strangers, even if I never would have guessed you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet aimed at the Kingpin.”

“I wasn’t-” Matt’s protestations are cut off by a tightness in his chest and he coughs, wincing at the pain, “I wasn’t trying to protect him.”

Your feet leave the bed as you press a plastic cup of water against the back of his hand. Matt takes it as silently as it's offered, a few sips doing little to soothe the roughness of his throat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks, reluctantly letting you take the glass from him when the wires tangled around him stop him reaching the sidetable himself.

“Well, that’s rude.” Your tone is more amused than offended.

“I mean it. I haven’t seen you since-” his voice dies in his throat.

“Since the funeral.” You finish for him, voice softer, “But I keep up to date. You’re all over the news. Thought it would be polite to visit an old friend in hospital.”

“We’re barely friends,” there’s a bitterness to Matt’s tone, more from regret than animosity. It’s been a long time since you were close, “And I’m pretty sure visiting hours were over a long time ago.”

“I make my own hours, you know that. And I said old friend.” You pause, continuing when his only objection is an irritated sigh. “Plus I saw a mutual acquaintance of ours recently - he was worried about you.”

Matt’s mouth sets in a hard line. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” your eyes scan over his damaged body, the tubes and machines keeping him alive, “And honestly, when Frank Castle is concerned about your mental health, something’s gotta be pretty wrong.”

“So you’re still in touch with Frank. And you think I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“I drop in on him now and then, make sure he’s not dead. I don’t charge in on him like a madman with a deathwish.”

Matt grimaces.

“So come on, Matt. I’ve seen the other news about you too. The other you. What’s going on?”

In the absence of anyone else to talk to who won’t judge him, Matt reluctantly opens up.

Time passes, and as the sun threatens to break over the horizon, you both sink into thoughtful silence.

"Did you ever think that maybe you need to meet Fisk on his level?” You ask.

“I’d never do what he does,” Matt spits emphatically, “That’s the difference between us-”

“That was the difference between you. The difference now is that he’s the one who’s gone ‘legit’. Officially, at least.”

Matt opens his mouth to object, but you talk over him. “You not changing the city as a lawyer is nothing new. I thought you'd resigned yourself to that after - after Foggy. But Fisk isn’t fighting in the dark any more; you’ve lost your advantage.”

“So what, are you saying I should run for Mayor?”

“God, no. But we need to look in that direction. Maybe someone else, someone who’s pro-enhanced p-”

“Wait,” Matt bolts upright, ignoring the pain that slices through him, “There is someone. We could at least ask for help, while I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now?”

Matt grins, “How familiar are you with Brooklyn?”

—

Getting inside the Congressman’s office is easy for you, even in broad daylight. Plenty of people filing in and about, milling around - and you know how to go unnoticed. The bustling space is a much more casual, open place than you'd expected.

Getting access to him directly is more of a challenge.

After holding a store room door open for a smiling volunteer, you duck inside. Spotting a pile of discarded t-shirts from the recent campaign, you grab one and quickly swap it for your own plain top, before adding the casual blazer you'd worn to look appropriately professional on top of it. No need to be too obvious.

You'd spied his private office on your first loop around the floor, and now you make your way indirectly towards it. One well-placed slippery flyer in the path of a rushing intern later, and the woman stationed at the desk outside his door is running to the bathroom to try and soak the hot coffee out of her shirt.

Smiling benignly, you slip unseen into the Congressman’s office. The man you're looking for has his back to the door, standing behind a desk leafing through a file.

You have a moment to admire his broad back, the white shirt straining over strong shoulders, tapering down where it tucks into dark pants over narrow hips.

Forcing your eyes away from where they’ve drifted down, you've barely taken two steps into the room before he speaks.

“Are you one of those people who breaks in to try and sell me extra security?”

You stop abruptly - he hasn’t even turned around.

“No,” you answer casually, continuing to approach, “But maybe I should be, that sounds like a fun job. Do you think it pays well?”

“No idea,” finally Congressman Barnes turns to face you, dropping his papers onto the desk between you.

You let your gaze linger over his torso. He must get those shirts custom made, you think, so they're snug over his flat stomach without bursting the buttons over his chest.

Barnes crosses his arms, and the motion reminds you to look at his face, where he’s quirking an eyebrow at you, unflustered and unamused.

“So what are you doing breaking into my office?”

“Breaking in?” You try to sound offended, “I just wanted to meet the person I’ve been door knocking for-”

“You’re not one of the volunteers,” he interrupts cooly, “And you’re definitely not on the payroll. So now you need to explain why you’re lying as well as breaking in.”

“What, you know every single person who works for you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat while you recalculate your approach, then take the last few steps towards him, smiling broadly and holding out your hand, “I just wanted to say hi, have a quick chat.”

Instead of answering or shaking your hand, Barnes narrows his eyes suspiciously at you.

“And there was no breaking anything, so it wasn’t breaking in,” you grumble, lowering your hand.

“I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

“Okay,” you sigh, presumptuously dropping into one of the chairs in front of his desk, “I’ve come to ask what you’re planning to do about Mayor Fisk.”

Bucky’s neutral facade cracks in surprise. “What I'm planning to do about Mayor Fisk?” he repeats.

“His crusade against ‘vigilantes’,” you put air quotes around the loaded term, “His so-called taskforce are breaking every law they come up against to wipe out anyone they decide is suspicious, including everyone with enhanced abilities they can get their hands on. You were elected on a platform of protecting those same people, right? You can’t just do nothing.”

“I ran on more than one issue,” Bucky says, sitting down opposite you, “And Mayor Fisk was also elected by the people - and even if it wasn’t a key part of his campaign, as I understand it his opposition to vigilantes wasn’t exactly a secret.”

“That’s no excuse to just roll over and let him do what he wants!”

Bucky frowns. “No, it’s not,” he muses, “But so far his taskforce have restricted themselves to Manhattan. Unless they cross into Brooklyn, there’s not much I can do about it.”

You're visibly unimpressed at his answer, crossing your arms and glaring at him in place of a response.

After a moment of thought, Bucky’s gaze intensifies, and he leans towards you across the desk, “Do you have a - vested interest - in this?”

Fighting to keep your heart rate steady, you answer him honestly, “I’m here on behalf of a friend. And everyone else who feels hopeless about what the Kingpin is doing to our city. Everyone else who wants to fix it.”

Bucky studies you silently. Your answer was true - and you have no intention of sharing more than you need to about your history, or those nights when it bleeds into your present. Even Fisk never knew about you, and with Karen in California, Matt and Frank are the only people left in the city who have any idea what you've done, and neither of them know you've not given it up as thoroughly as you suggest.

"This friend," Bucky starts, clearly not believing you, "they didn't want to speak to me themselves?"

"They're in hospital." Your answer is more vehement than you intended, and you hope you've not given too much away.

Barnes sits back with a sigh, “Okay. I’ll talk to my team about it. We’ve been considering putting out a statement; a citizen complaint is a good enough reason to push that through. And I’ll look into what else we can do. Encourage an investigation into the taskforce, or some kind of oversight requirements. Legal protections for enhanced people with no record of vigilantism.”

It’s less than you wanted, but more than you'd hoped for from a politician. “Sounds like an okay start,” you allow.

An amused smile flickers across Bucky’s face as he stands up, dismissing you. You mirror him.

“Are you a Brooklyn resident?” He asks.

“Not exactly.”

“That’s a no.”

“Compassion doesn’t stop at the East River,” you retort, and Bucky’s smile widens.

“I agree. And I give you my word that I’ll do everything I can to rein Fisk in and keep innocent people safe, inside my jurisdiction and out.” He holds his hand out to you.

“Good,” you answer begrudgingly, grasping his hand firmly, “I’m holding you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he squeezes back, “And your friend - if it’s dangerous for them in Manhattan, there’s a safe place for them this side of the river. Always. If Fisk’s taskforce follows - well, there might be more I can do.”

“Good to know. And if you ever want to update me on your progress - save me trekking all the way out here again - I work at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” You give him the name as you turn to leave. “If you make good on your promise, I might even buy you a drink.”

Bucky smiles. It’s an appealing offer. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wait,” he nods to your shirt, where Vote Barnes for the 9th District is emblazoned across your chest, “Did you pay for that?”

Rolling your eyes, you slip your jacket from your shoulders, Bucky’s eyes following the smooth motion, “I was going to give it back,” you lie.

“Don’t.” he stops you, a quick twitch at the corner of his lips, “You can keep it. Looks good on you.”

You smile languidly as you pull the jacket back on.

“Thanks, Congressman,” you reach for the door handle, adding over your shoulder, “I’ve been looking for something to wear in bed.”

Once his door has swung shut behind you Bucky lets out a long breath, rubbing his right hand over his face as he sinks into his chair.

He could have handled that more professionally, but something in your fearless attitude and sly smile had intrigued him - and the reason for your questionable visit was smart, principled - and ballsy.

He’ll definitely be stopping by that bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

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Part two