#finished my journal and started a new one

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, some fluff, some angst, mommy kink, edging, handjob, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: here are parts one, two, and three to me & u. 💖 thanks for being patient with me while i took so long to get this out, and there will be a part five to this story in the near future.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: while spending time with matt, you start to find out more about his past, which leads to your first disagreement with one another.

me & u part four

"What if I came and cleaned it up for you with my mouth?" You said in a sultry tone through the phone. You smirked at Matt through the window after you watched him finish using his new sex toy, but he'd already grabbed an old t-shirt and was wiping up the mess he made.

"I'll tell you what. You can clean up the next one," he said in a breathy voice on the other end of the line. "I'd be honored," you replied, squeezing your thighs together to relieve some of the tension you were feeling.

"I'd love it if you came over, though. My dad's gone," Matt bit his lip. "What are we gonna do?" You asked him. "Anything you want," he responded. "Anything?" You wondered in a flirtatious tone. "Within reason," Matt chuckled at how dirty-minded you were.

"I'll be over soon," you replied, hanging up the phone and hurrying over to the neighbor boy's house. You let yourself in through Matt's front door, taking in all of the changes that had taken place since you'd last been over.

There were actually kitchen appliances on the counters and portraits on the wall of Matt in his younger years. You smiled, running your fingers along the frames and the glass before making your way up the staircase.

You turned the door knob to Matt's room, and as you swung open the door, he was pulling his zipper closed and still trying to catch his breath. He looked up at you and smiled. "So, what do you think of your new fleshlight?" You teased Matt.

"I think you know what I think," Matt playfully rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you leaned up against his door frame and looked him up and down. "Like is an understatement," he said, taking his toy to his bathroom to rinse it out. "Your house is coming together nicely," you called to him from his bedroom as your eyes glossed over the new additions to his space.

"Thanks. My dad and I had a lot of time to unpack today," Matt called back to you. You sifted through a few vinyls Matt had stored on a shelf beneath his record player. "I didn't know you were a music fan," you told him. "I mean, who doesn't love music?" Matt asked, coming back into the room and studying the way you ran your dainty fingers across his music collection.

"Yeah, but you listen to really good music," you replied, taking a Led Zeppelin album off of the shelf and slipping the record into the player. Traveling Riverside Blues came through clearly on the speaker. "What can I say? I have my dad's taste," he shrugged. You picked up Matt's journal off his desk and started flitting through the pages.

"May I?" You asked, glancing up at him. "I mean, I just came on the phone with you. I don't see why you can't read my journal," Matt chuckled and reached around to rub the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

There was nothing written for the day the two of you had met, but there was an entry written for the day after. "I met my new neighbor yesterday. She's kind of a slut," your jaw dropped as you read the words on the page and peered up to look at Matt.

"Look, I know that wasn't the nicest way to put it," Matt said, walking towards you, prepared to de-escalate your anger. "Don't worry. It turns me on to be called that," your shocked expression turned to a smirk, and you continued reading the next sentence.

"She's really hot, and she seems to know what she wants. I like that about her. She's nothing like May. Who's May?" You wondered, glancing up from the leather book again. "My ex-girlfriend," Matt timidly told you.

"I didn't know you had dated anyone before," you relayed in a surprised tone. "We dated for about three years, but she's the only girlfriend I've ever had," Matt admitted to you. "Three years? Why'd you guys break up?" You wondered aloud.

There was a moment of silence before Matt answered you. "We ended things because I moved away," Matt said with a somber tone in his voice. Your stomach dropped. "So you guys broke up recently," you replied, fiddling with the leather cover. "Yeah, fairly recently," Matt said.

"So, you're not over her yet? I mean, it would be crazy if you were. It was a three-year long relationship that ended recently," You insinuated, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes.

"I mean, I don't even know what it means to get over someone. I've never had to do it before," Matt said defensively. "Why didn't you tell me about her?" You narrowed your gaze at him.

"It didn't come up, and I was waiting until the right time to tell you," he answered you. "Do you still love her?" You wondered with a hurt look on your face, and Matt stood silently, staring at you for a moment.

You shut off the record player. "It's a simple question, Matthew. Are you still in love with her?" You interrogated him with a bit of anger in your tone now, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We ended things a couple weeks ago. How am I supposed to say no?" Matt asked, raising the volume of voice. "Do you guys still talk?" You wondered, taking a step closer to him.

"She texted me last night and asked me how I liked my new house. I was too high to answer her, but I texted her back this morning," Matt hesitantly admitted, shrugging his shoulder and sticking his hands in his pockets.

You didn't want Matt to see you cry, so you spun around without saying another word, bounded down the stairs, and ran out the front door. You headed for your backyard to be alone and collect your thoughts, climbing up the ladder to your treehouse as hot tears started falling from your eyes.

You knew that Matt and May weren't together anymore, but it was the fact that he still had leftover feelings for a girl he'd probably still be dating if he lived in the same state as her. Not only was he still in love with another girl, but a girl that, in his words, was very different from you.

On top of it all, you had always struggled with jealousy in relationships. Your mind raced through the worst-case scenarios. What would happen if Matt went back to visit May, or what if she traveled here to visit him? You wondered if it would change the way he felt about you.

You were wiping your tears with the back of your hand and sniffling when Matt poked his head up from under the treehouse as he followed you up the ladder. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he timidly said, looking at you with his big, blue eyes. "Did I say the wrong thing?"

You wanted to shout at him and tell him to leave you alone. You wanted to say anything to hurt him to make him feel what you were feeling. You wanted to hide behind your tough facade, secretly afraid to be vulnerable with him, but you couldn't look at him and imagine being mean to him or raising your voice at him.

"I don't want you to be in love with May," you blurted out as you started to sob again. Matt climbed into the shelter with you, his journal in hand, placing it in his lap as he sat beside you, wiping away your tears.

"It's just still fresh. That's all. It was three years, and the reason we broke up was beyond our control, but it doesn't make sense for us to be together, and now that I've met you.." Matt trailed off, rubbing your back.

"Since you met me, what?" You asked softly, lifting your head. "Well, you didn't even finish the journal entry, silly." Matt handed you his leather notebook, and despite your hesitancy to read on and hurt your own feelings worse, you opened it back up to the page you left off on.

"She's nothing like May. The more time I spend around her, the more I realize things I didn't really like about May and my relationship with her. Like how passive she was, how she always kept me guessing about how she felt about me, and the way she never disagreed with anything I said or challenged any of my beliefs," you read aloud.

"Wait, you actually like that I'm disagreeable and direct?" You asked, peering up at him, surprised because those were usually the qualities people criticized you for. "Yeah, those are my favorite things about you. It's refreshing to meet someone like you," Matt told you, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry I stormed off," you apologized. "I'm not upset," Matt assured you. "I just wasn't sure whether I was supposed to follow you or not."

You two sat silently for a few moments, just staring into each other's eyes, and the magnetic force between you and Matt pulled you each closer to one another until your lips were locked. The chemistry between you both when you'd kiss was undeniable, and you could each confirm that you felt it through your body language in the way your hands would wander, never being able to pull each other close enough.

"Do you wanna get high and go lay on your floor and Iisten to your records?" You asked him, looking into his blue eyes and caressing his face once you pulled back from the kiss. "Sure, but I'm only taking one hit," Matt looked at you, wide-eyed and smiling.

"That's really all you need," you smiled back at him, reaching for your stash and pulling a pre-rolled joint out of a plastic bag. You lit it up, exhaling smoke and watching it dissipate into the air.

"Do you wanna shotgun kiss again?" You asked Matt. "Shotgun kiss?" He reiterated in a confused tone. "Yeah, it's where I take a hit, and then we kiss, and I blow it into your mouth," you smirked at him. He nodded at you, leaning in as you took a drag, the cherry end of the joint glowing and crackling as you gently pulled from it.

Your lips softly brushed up against Matt's, blowing out the weed smoke as he breathed in and gave him a couple of pecks before pulling away. He exhaled, expelling the wispy, grey smoke from his lungs. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Matt laughed in between coughs.

You took a few more hits while you silently stared at the cute boy beside you. You watched as his eyelids grew heavy and the whites of his eyes turned a bit red. "Let's go check out your record collection," you suggested to Matt, nudging him in the arm and putting out the joint.

The two of you descended the ladder as the sun sank lower below the horizon, leaving behind a bright orange sky in its wake. You followed Matt's silhouette out your gate and back over the path that led to his house.

You found yourself lying on Matt's giant rug in the middle of his room while he laid his head next to yours but had his feet pointed in the opposite direction. You both stared up at the ceiling as Riders on the Storm by The Doors came through over the speaker of the record player, sounding textured and crisp.

"Can I stay the night here?" You asked Matt, peering over at him and his glazed over expression. "I don't see why not," Matt shrugged, looking at you wide-eyed. He did want you to stay the night, but he was afraid that you had certain sexual expectations about how the night would go.

"I'm not ready to have sex with you yet," Matt blurted out, searching your expression for a reaction and wondering if he was being too presumptuous by saying that. "That's okay. I understand. Could we maybe do other stuff?" You nibbled on your lip, looking at him hungrily. "I think I'd be okay with that," Matt nervously replied, nodding at you timidly.

The two of you enjoyed your highs a bit longer as The Doors' L.A. Woman album played through its track list until you were both too tired to keep your eyes open. Matt switched off the light, and you, the record player.

The two of you climbed into Matt's bed, stripping down into your underwear, nestling under the covers, and cuddling. Matt couldn't help but to get hard with your half-naked body curled up so closely to his with your nose nuzzled into his neck.

You guys heard Matt's dad pull up in his loud, rust-colored pickup truck, casting shadows across the bedroom as the headlights danced through the window. It's not that Matt wasn't allowed to have girls sleep over, but he certainly didn't think his father would approve of it, so the two of you silently decided to keep your staying the night a secret.

A couple hours later, you woke up to some movement in the bed. You figured Matt must have been tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. You listened a little more closely, and you heard soft noises and labored breathing coming from him.

It wasn't long after Matt's dad came in through the door that he trudged up the stairs and made his way into his bathroom, turning on the shower and getting ready for bed. You and Matt laid in the dark, the only bit of light pouring into the room from a nearby street lamp, and you fell asleep shortly after in each other's arms.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you caught a glimpse of desire on his face while he grinded against his pillow, desperate for relief. You watched quietly for a few minutes as he rutted into his blankets and listened as your name faintly fell from his lips. You smirked at how needy he was being.

"Need some help?" Your voice broke through his breathy whimpers. "What?" He asked, immediately stopping and acting like he'd just woken up. "Help me with what? I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, you naughty boy. Are you lying to me right now?" You moved closer to him, speaking in a low whisper while you tenderly grabbed him by his jaw. "Wanna try that again, hmm? You gonna tell me you weren't just humping your pillow?" You asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm sorry, mommy. It's so hard. It hurts," he whined in a bratty tone. You started slowly kissing Matt's neck, and you felt his body tighten against you. "I'm gonna make it feel all better," you moaned against his ear.

"My dad's asleep in the next room," Matt said quietly before letting out a stifled moan. "Makes it more hot that way, doesn't it? When it's a secret? When you have to keep your volume low? When it's risky and you could be caught if you're too loud?" You cooed, gently brushing your fingers over the fabric of his underwear, exciting him even further.

"Mmm. I dont know," he softly purred as you caressed his member. "I'll stop if you want me to. You know, so your dad doesn't hear us," you teased, whispering into his ear and delicately touching your lips to his ear lobe before kissing it. "No. Please. Keep going," he moaned quietly.

You slipped your hand into the waistband of his boxers and started running your fingers along his length while your lips moved back down to his neck. You could feel each of his veins as you lightly grazed him, testing how much teasing he could take.

He kept anticipating you wrapping your fingers around his thickness and sighing every time you didn't. "Why are you teasing so much?" He softly whimpered. You gave him a gentle squeeze, quietly chuckling at his neediness.

Finally, with his cock in your grip, you started to move your hand up and down, stroking his length while soft, delicate whimpers poured from his lips. "How do you like that, baby?" You asked in a voice just barely louder than a whisper.

"I love it, mommy. Please don't stop," he begged in a hushed volume. "Good boy," you cooed back as you started to pick up the pace a bit. "You can't finish until I tell you to," you added at the end.

He let out a long sigh. "But mommy. I'm already so close," he quietly cried. "Then you'd better get ahold of yourself," you responded in a sultry moan. He nodded at you obediently.

You couldn't tell how big he was because it was dark in the room, and you were jerking him off under his blanket, but it felt bigger than average. You noted that your fingers struggled to wrap around his girth, and your strokes felt long as you pumped his length back and forth. You couldn't wait until the day you'd get to see it.

You felt a wet warmth between your legs as you listened to the boy whimper beneath you while you continued sucking on his neck. "Mommy, please," he whispered. "Please, what?" You softly cooed against his hot skin.

"Please let me cum," he said in a strangled moan. "Not yet, baby." You smirked as you brushed your thumb over the tip, spreading around his pre-cum and eliciting more clear liquid from his sensitive slit.

"Mommy," he desperately whined, struggling to keep his volume down. "Sh, sh, sh," you whispered back into his ear while you stroked him mercilessly, admiring his facial expression that was saturated with pleasure in the dim, cool light offered by the street lamp.

His eyebrows were brought together, causing a little wrinkle between them, and his eyes were tightly closed. He caught his lip between his teeth in an attempt to muffle his pleasured sounds, which he did poorly.

You slowed down, taunting him some more. "No more teasing," Matt said in a breathy voice. "Oh. Please, mommy. Mmm. Need to - oh - need to cum so bad," Matt managed to get out in a series of broken moans and stifled whimpers.

You sped the pace back up for him, covering every inch of his cock, sending ripples of satisfaction through his body. "Please," he said once more. "Wait," you told him in a quiet, stern voice. He nodded at you with a submissive expression on his face.

You slowed down again, drawing out the process, really making him beg for it. He huffed in response. "If you wanna get an attitude with me, I'll stop and leave you unfinished," you replied, slowing the pace of your strokes.

"Mommy, please. I'm sorry. I won't get an attitude," he weakly answered, gripping your wrist to keep you from removing your hand from his dick. "Then be a good boy for mommy, okay?" You whispered, taking your free hand and tilting Matt's chin so that he was looking at you. He nodded, releasing his grasp on you.

You pumped back and forth again, fisting his cock while he started writhing under your control. "Good boy. You're doing such a good job," you cooed. Your name passed through his lips a few more times along with a few oohs and aahs.

"Mommy, please," Matt sobbed. You ignored his pleas, continuing your strokes, paying special attention to the head every time you brushed against it.

You felt him twitch against your palm, his dick begging for sweet release. Matt was so close to the edge, graciously trying to hold out just for you, but he wasn't used to waiting to cum or asking for permission to finish, but he was discovering how much he liked it.

He was so grateful when these next words left your mouth because he didn't know how much more he could take.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for mommy?" You whispered into his ear before you went back to kissing his neck. "Yes, mommy," he pathetically whined. He'd been waiting.

You saw the muscles in his face tighten in the dim light as his cock pulsated in your hand, blowing his load into your palm. His orgasm lasted several seconds due to how much you'd edged him, and he emitted a few guttural groans before a smile overcame his expression.

"Good boy," you whispered once more, kissing his forehead. He looked up at you breathlessly with his big, blue eyes and a satisfied grin on his face.

You got up and wandered into Matt's bathroom to clean the evidence off your hands, and once you got back into Matt's bed, the two of you wrapped yourselves up in each other.

You woke up early on Wednesday to the sound of the birds chirping and the morning sun peeking in through Matt's window as it came up over the hills.

You drifted back off to sleep, your legs intertwined with his and your head buried into his chest while you listened to the sound of his slowing heartbeat as his vitals returned to normal after his climax. Soon, you and Matt were both soundly asleep again.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You let out a big yawn, and you heard the cute boy beside you begin to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and your image became clearer as he adjusted to the change in lighting.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you said in a soft murmur. "Good morning, baby. You're up early," he mumbled back in his sexy morning voice. "I know. I have to work today," you told him, climbing out of bed and putting back on the clothes you'd wandered out of last night.

Matt reached for you with a pouty look on his face when he realized he wasn't going to get to see you until after your shift. You leaned in and kissed him. "How do you usually get to work?" Matt wondered out loud.

"I usually just walk. It's only a few blocks," you shrugged. "If you get back in this bed and cuddle with me for ten more minutes, I'll take you to work in the truck," Matt smiled up at you. "Deal," you replied, climbing back into bed and wrapping your arms around Matt for a few minutes longer.

"If you want to go run over to your place and get dressed for work, I'll go start up the truck," Matt offered, grinning at you. "That would be really sweet of you," you softly replied. The two of you left Matt's room, tiptoeing down the stairs and trying to stay as quiet as possible to keep from waking Matt's dad and blowing your little secret.

All your efforts were for naught when you and Matt made your way into the kitchen, realizing Matt's dad was already awake. He was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his Bible, and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Oh, good morning. I didn't realize you stayed over last night," his dad said, peering up at you both from the page, his gaze dancing between you and Matt. "Morning, Mr. Sturniolo," you timidly said, avoiding addressing the sleepover.

"Uh, hi Dad," Matt responded, reaching behind his head and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm gonna take the truck to go drop my friend off at work really quick," Matt said, picking the keys up off the counter.

"Why don't I come with you guys? So I can learn a little more about your friend here?" Matt's dad asked, getting up from his seat at the table and extending his arm for Matt to hand over the keys.

Matt gulped, knowing that on top of figuring out you had stayed the night, now he was also going to know what you did for work. He reluctantly forked over the keys. "I'll meet you guys at the truck in about a half hour," you said, giving Matt a quick, awkward side hug.

You couldn't get out of the situation quickly enough.

The whole time you were showering, changing into clean clothes, and brushing your hair and your teeth, you were dreading how awkward the drive over was going to be. You resented that this was only your second interaction with Matt's dad, who you really wanted to like you and approve of you.

You were afraid it would go how any other relationship you'd had went. Their parents would either outwardly not like you, judging you based on all the most scandalous things about your personality and not bothering to get to know the other aspects of you better.

Or worse, the parents would pretend to like you to your face and then would badmouth you to your partner in private, telling them how much better they could be doing and how bad of an influence you are.

You braced yourself for it all as you sauntered out the door and headed for the orange truck.

"You ready?" Matt asked as he opened the door for you. You nodded and nestled in between the two men as Matt climbed into the truck behind you.

"So, what do you do for work?" Matt's dad asked you, pulling out of the driveway. "I work in retail. It's this way," you said, trying to avoid giving too much detail about your job and pointing in the direction of the road he needed to take.

"What do your parents do for work?" His dad wondered. "My mom is a flight attendant, and my dad was a pilot, but now he works in air traffic," you responded.

"Ah, so they work in similar fields," Matt's dad nodded. "Yeah, they met at work. Fun fact, I was actually conceived on a plane," you told them both. "Shit. Sorry. That was an overshare," you said, putting your palm over your mouth once you realized you'd just sworn in front of Matt's very Christian dad.

He didn't laugh or find your quirkiness charming. Matt looked at you wide-eyed, knowing your humor wasn't going to land well with his father.

You continued giving him directions to your retail job, which wasn't totally a lie, and he cleared his throat and gave Matt a look when the three of you pulled into the parking lot of a sex shop. Matt stepped out of the truck to let you out.

"Well, this has been fun," you said sarcastically, feeling the thick tension in the air as your feet hit the pavement. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Sturniolo. Matt, I'll call you on my lunch break," you told him, leaning in and giving him a tender peck on the lips.

You could feel how warm and red your face was as you turned around and headed for the front door of your job. Your coworker, Carly was at the register, giving you an inquisitive look and watching the scene play out.

"Did your cute neighbor boy take you to work?" She asked, giving Matt a little subtle wave, and he waved back, giving Carly a shy smile.

"Yeah, and his very Christian father after he caught me sleeping over. Oh, and he didn't know I worked in the adult entertainment industry until about a minute ago," you added, looking at Carly with a deer in headlights look.

"Oh. That sounds like a very awkward morning," she said, trying to contain her laugher. "It's fine. You can laugh. It is comical, really. I just hope he's not in the truck, telling Matt that I'm a harlot and trying to convince him to stop hanging out with me," you expressed to Carly, tears forming in your eyes.

Her face softened, and she took on an expression of pity. "I'm so sorry. Come here. You know, no matter what his dad says about you, I'm sure Matt's still gonna like you," she said, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back while she comforted you. You wiped a tear out of the corner of your eye before it had a chance to fall. "Thank you for saying that."

Meanwhile, in the rusty-colored Dodge Dakota, your worst fears were unfolding. "Matt, what on earth are you thinking? Running around with a girl like that?" He asked angrily as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dad-" Matt started to say, but the older man cut him off. "She works at a place called Temptations. You don't see anything wrong with that? You think God wants you canoodling with a girl like that," he replied, giving Matt a somber look.

"A girl like that? What does that even mean? There's so much more to her than that," Matt defended you, raising his voice a bit. "Son, just be careful. Girls like that are trouble. I don't know if this is some kind of overcorrection because you're upset about May-" Matt's dad started.

"How dare you bring up May?" Matt glared at his father. "I'm just saying, son. You and May made sense together," his dad replied, shrugging. "Actually, dad. We didn't. May and I stayed together for so long because neither one of us wanted to admit we were incompatible," Matt scoffed. "What?" Matt's dad asked, completely taken aback by his kid's comment.

Matt and May's relationship was picture perfect on the outside. They didn't argue, they didn't complain about one another to their friends and families, and everyone envied what they had. Everyone thought they'd be together forever, including the two of them.

"I know this new girl is completely different from May. She's not a Christian. She's loud and domineering. She's aggressive, and she's overbearing. And she's honest. Maybe even too honest. She always says what's on her mind even if other people aren't going to like it. And I don't love her despite those qualities. I love her because of those qualities," Matt huffed, silencing his dad.

The two men sat quietly beside each other in the truck, mulling over what the other had said. Matt's dad was a lot of things, but unsupportive wasn't one of them.

A few more moments passed before his father finally spoke up. "Fine. Invite her over for dinner. I want to get to know the girl you love."

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[mogwaipoet]

I saw a few people asking for advice about how to distract themselves during the election

Here's the problem with that idea: trying to ignore the news just on election day is like showing up at the Olympics without ever having practiced your sport. You won't have any of the skills or habits you need.

Ignore the news every day. There's a big difference between "staying informed" and "stressing yourself out until it's a struggle to just exist, let alone take action." The modern conception of journalism is so far towards the stressing yourself out end of the spectrum -- and if you need to ask, getting your news on social media is even further down that dark, dark hole -- that "ignore all the news every day" is my genuine advice for how to be a good, effective citizen.

You are not obligated to bear witness. Posting is not activism. The extent of my activism is that I have recurring monthly donations to the ACLU and Southern Poverty Law Center and I absolutely claim the moral high ground over someone whose idea of activism is that they read a lot and post a lot.

Here's my advice for how to ignore the news:

Whatever you use to read the news, delete it from your phone. If that's your web browser, so be it -- you can have it back later, when you stop automatically trying to open it whenever you're bored or anxious. If it's your social media app, you can have it back after you curate the right list of people to follow.

Find a hobby, even if it's just binging TV shows or playing video games. If you're like me, you focus best on projects when you have something else to avoid, so now's a great opportunity to finish that novel or birdhouse.

Set boundaries. On the discord I run, there's a channel called interesting-times and it's understood that all the political talk goes in there. On my podcast Topic Lords, I reject political topics. My friends and family basically never talk to me about this stuff any more. That last part may be difficult if your friends are too poor to afford therapy. But the friends who can afford therapy but choose to vent at you instead? Shut those people the fuck down.

If you fuck up one of the above steps and accidentally read something, for god's sake don't post about it and make life harder for everyone else.

I've been living my life like this for several years. What are the consequences of being completely uninformed about what's going on in the world? I have no idea. I still hear plenty about the news, because it's fucking impossible to actually avoid. This is just what it takes to not drown in the news. Keeping my head above water and loving it.

Your training regimen starts today. Good luck.

[bawnjourno]

finished w school for the next 40 days moodboard

[raiiny-bay]

more outtakes

[wutheringmights]

I am so close to finishing off my journal, which means that after a 5 year backlog of gifted journals, I can finally buy myself one of my own choosing

[fifteensjukebox]

today's sierra news is that im accepting that i almost definitely have contamination ocd and ive called my dr who in june said it sounded like anxiety and neither of us brought up ocd despite. i mean. fucking look at this situation it's obvious. anw we discussed referring to ppl for either therapy or meds and i started the process of trying therapy after that but even as early as research and the intake call i just know im one of those introspective bitches who hate that shit bc im already so in my head i don't need someone to tell me what i already know. and i had been against meds too bc i had so many side effects from adhd meds as a kid and birth control for my period more recently. but it's clear that it's hard for me to fix my sleep schedule BECAUSE i spend too much time cleaning myself so. i'll keep trying that but also we know my brain chemicals are fucked so why not give in and t r e a t that.

[princevinenzo]

I finally finished the font I was making.

It only took a month.

Bloody hell

[mudandvodka]

taking time off from work is just realising how much u can get done when ur not torturing urself all the time

[wallflowerglitter]

My yellow phone case arrived and I’m so glad my phone is the color it was supposed to be.

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[ayyy-pee]

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Model!Shoko Ieri x Female Reader, Model!Utahime Iori x Female Reader, Shokohime x Female Reader

Summary: You're a top Public Relations manager covering Tokyo Fashion Week. All the drugs, sex and outrageous going ons never see the light of day. Why? Because it's your job to cover up scandal.

But that doesn't mean you can't have your own risky fun.

Story Warning: Smut, LESBIANS, Reader works in Public Relations, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of hookups, Bath sex, Bathtub Threesome, Cunnilingus, Cum Eating, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Bumping and Grinding, Referenced STRAP usage, Fingering, Secret Flings, Sneaky Sex, Dub-con? (Reader and ShokoHime have a few drinks...but do consent to sex), Sneaking Around, Secret Recordings

Art by: Cake__Sensei (Twitter)

A/N: I FINALLY finished something for my Jujutsu Journal Collab Event! I hope yall enjoy!!! Thank you to everyone participating and for everyone who has helped me to reach 3k followers!!!

You’ve always loved the fast paced feel of Tokyo Fashion Week. The bright lights flashing and catching every crease and detail of the fabrics on display. The music thumping and crowd cheering as the models strut down the runway. The chaos backstage as everyone rushes to slip in and out of the next garment in time for their cue. Yes, you loved being a part of that feeling, you loved capturing that feeling. Because it was your job to catch every crease and detail, the sexy walks of the models, the mayhem that happens behind the scenes while the audience patiently waits.

It’s exhilarating, really. Being invited to such elite and exclusive events has changed your life in ways you could have never imagined. When you first started your career in fashion, you would have never dreamed of making it this far. This was worlds away from filming street fashion on your shitty little cell phone and interviewing small time designers. But you’ve worked so hard, worked even smarter and have networked your way to the top of your department.

And now, you're the head of the PR team for one of the top fashion magazines in Japan, currently assigned to cover the after party of Tokyo Fashion Week to collect enough content for a post show documentary.

The after party is as wild as you’d imagined it would be. The ritziness and glam of the actual fashion show can hardly be found here. It’s all thumping loud music, raunchy dancing and paraphernalia scattered across various surfaces. 

Looking for sweaty bodies bumping and grinding in off the runway Dior? You’ll find it here. 

Want to catch someone snorting a line in vintage Chanel? Just turn your head in any direction, really. 

Can you see a pair of this season’s YSL heels peeking out from around the corner where someone is on their knees giving the sloppiest blowjob? Absolutely.

And it’s your job to make sure that what’s happening here never sees the light of day.

You love scandal, because it gives you a job, pays your bills and keeps your lights on and food in your fridge. As long as some celebrity is getting into shit they’re not supposed to, you’ll always have a job. But outside of work, you loathe scandal, avoid it at all costs because the biggest cost would be your career. Sure, you’ve joined in on the fun, partook in scandalous behavior from time to time, but you’re always careful. There are never any traces, never any receipts, never any damning evidence that could lead back to you.

No one will ever know that you spent a weekend in Bali with famous pop musician Satoru Gojo while his wife waited patiently for him to return from “filming” a new music video.

They will also never know about your brief tryst with his best friend, Suguru Geto in Nara, Seoul and Bora Bora. Not even Satoru.

And your romantic holiday trip with award winning actress Yuki Tsukumo? As far as everyone else knows, it never happened.

See, you were that damn good at your job. That’s why you were the head of your PR team, after all. It’s why you knew exactly where to direct your videographer to point their camera. You spot the rolled dollar bills and white lines before they can react, finger pushing the camera sideways to focus on something else.

Lo and behold, it points to a group of models standing casually off to the side of the party as they mingle with guests. You recognize one face among the crowd, those deep purple bags beneath his eyes highlighted by the flashing neon lights.

It’s Choso, a model, with his hair up in space buns, a part of his styling. He’s dressed to the nines in the most stylish streetwear of the season, his signature Prada combat boots on. 

You’ve known Choso for quite some time, often running into each other at these afterparties. Years ago, in the early hours of the morning, you’d clumsily attempted a drunk hookup. Every kiss, every touch, every attempt to work each other up to something more amounted to nothing. It ended with you both tangled in each other’s arms, falling apart with laughter. And so, you’d decided you were better off as friends, and had become quite close since. It worked better for you both that way. You just weren’t into each other like that.

But Choso has been a good friend to you. You often find yourself hanging out together after the chaos of the fashion show has died down and a new session of mayhem has begun for the afterparty. You haven’t seen him in months, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference because Choso spots you easily behind the camera and waves you over to his group of friends.

“Haven’t seen you since Paris,” he calls out to you as you approach. He slings an arm around your shoulders, hugging you tightly to his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know! I’ve missed you!” You yell back. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad, not too bad at all. Dating someone now!”

You lean back in his hold, brows rising to your hairline. “You? In a relationship?” 

You’re shocked. You’ve seen Choso go through different women, but never heard him refer to whoever he was seeing as dating. He nods, just as one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever laid eyes on approaches you two. Her lips quirk into a pretty smile and you can tell right away that she’s not a model. The smile is far too genuine, but that’s not to say she couldn’t be one if she wanted. She’s stunning, with smooth caramel brown skin and braids that fall down her back, and big brown eyes that you can already see Choso getting lost in as he pulls away from you to wrap his arms around her waist. He peers down at her, the awe apparent in his gaze. Like he just can’t believe he’s got her.

“Hey, babe,” he mutters just before his lips meet hers in a hungry kiss.

Oh, he’s in love, love.

Choso introduces you to his babe, Kamila and she’s as sweet as she looks. But you don’t get to talk to her much, because Choso is not willing to spend any time he’s not obligated to away from his love. You don’t blame him. She’s breathtaking. You can’t help but smile, watching as Choso and his girlfriend completely forget they’re at this party together, surrounded by people. 

Which is fine, because it’s about time to wrap it up yourself so that you and your crew can also take time to enjoy the rest of the festivities.

Turning to your associate, you signal for them to hand you their camera. They quickly switch it off before placing it in your hands. “Go party,” you tell them, dismissing them for the night. “Nothing crazy,” you add. “And if it gets crazy, make sure there’s nothing that can be traced back to the company. And if something happens that can be traced back to the company, call me.”

They know the rules. They’re the same ones you follow and the same ones the company practically beat into your skull when you were first brought on. So far, they’ve worked for you. No one has been able to outsmart any of you. Your team is solid.

“Got it boss,” your cameraman exclaims. Then they’re off to get into whatever trouble the night has in store for them.

And while you’re pondering what trouble you can get into, it seems to find you first.

“Boss, huh?” A sweet voice questions behind you. You spin around to see Choso and his girlfriend are now nowhere in sight. Instead, you’re face to face with two of the most alluring women you’ve ever laid eyes on. They’re dressed in skin tight dresses that leave little to the imagination, their long legs exposed and damn they look good. You recognize them from the show and from the model roster.

The beautiful slender one with the cute little beauty mark beneath one of her tired eyes – Shoko Ieiri. She’s got a bit of an intimidating aura and a smile that has your heart pounding rapidly behind your ribcage. She’s a bit scary. And admittedly, you find it sexy. 

You’ve never spoken to Shoko. The models are usually too busy working and racing around backstage to have much time to mingle. By the time the show’s over, they’re either back in their rooms or out at whatever party they can get into. But have also never heard anything negative about Shoko from any contacts in the industry, which speaks volumes to you. You hear everything. It’s easy for anyone to get their hands on anything if they try hard enough.

When there’s nothing to find, it means they’re good at keeping their dirt swept under the rug. Those are the types of people you get along best with.

Then, there’s the slightly shorter one, with a rough scar that runs from one side of her face to the other in contrast to her soft features – Utahime Iori. She’s as striking as Shoko – curvy and looks soft in all the right places. 

Again, nothing crazy about Utahime. You’ve heard she’s quite the hothead, which would be quite interesting if it were true. She has a less intimidating air about her. Her big brown eyes make her seem sweeter than the woman standing beside her. It makes her all the more intriguing to you.

Regardless, they both have their pretty gazes on you and for a split second, you feel the roles reverse. In this world, you’re at the top of the food chain. Everyone else is the prey. Because you could spin any story, take any insult slung your way and crush your target. Because no one had anything on you. But for some reason, as these two women stare you down, Utahime with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and Shoko puckering her lips around the butt of a cigarette, you feel like they could destroy you.

And if there’s one thing you love, it’s a woman who feels dangerous.

So when Shoko asks if you’d like to join her and Utahime for some drinks, you really can’t say no. And you don’t want to.

- - - - - - - - -

“What’d you think of the show?” Utahime asks eagerly. You’re all seated on one of the expensive velvet sofas on the second floor of this club. Shoko has made herself comfortable, leaning back against the arm of the chair. And you’ve made yourself even more comfortable, seated between her long legs and leaning against Shoko’s chest while Utahime sits next to you, idly playing with your fingers.

You take a slow sip of your drink. It’ll probably be your last for the night. From the moment you laid eyes on these two, you knew what direction you wanted the night to go. You want to be sober enough to enjoy it.

Utahime peers up expectantly at you with those big brown eyes of hers, long lashes curling cutely and it makes your cheeks heat. The alcohol is not helping with how easily your body is responding.

“It was really good,” you finally answer. Utahime beams, a little smile beginning to grow on her lips.

“Really?” She asks, and you nod. “We did good?”

Behind you, you feel the vibration of Shoko’s chuckle rumble against your back. And as you stare down into Utahime’s eyes, it’s clear why.

Okay. This one likes praise, you note mentally. You nod again. “So good.” And you’re unable to stop the smile forming on your lips when Utahime’s grin widens. She looks over to Shoko, who lazily takes a drag of another cigarette, blowing her smoke out of the side of her mouth to avoid suffocating you. Her long fingers trail absentmindedly up and down your arm as she listens to you and Utahime continue on about the show.

You’ve noticed that Shoko isn’t very talkative. She’s more observant than anything and while that would usually bother you, there’s something about Shoko that puts you at ease. Like you can put your life in her hands and can be confident you would be alright. Maybe it’s because everything around you is always so busy, always so loud. Her silence feels grounding amongst the chaos. 

But you also find her silence a little funny since she and Utahime seem to be so close. Utahime seems more the party type than Shoko does. She’s outgoing and friendly, warm and inviting. It’s such a stark contrast to Shoko, and yet they’re always with each other. Even earlier in the night, if Shoko went to the bar, Utahime was right behind her, telling you they’d be right back before chasing after her. If Utahime wanted to dance, Shoko was next to her. You suppose opposites do attract.

You suspect they’re more than just colleagues or friends and you file that tidbit away in your mind. If the night is headed where you want it to go, where you suspect it’s going to go, you need to collect any pertinent information you can beforehand. 

Just in case.

“Ugh,” Shoko groans, leaning forward suddenly to smash her half finished cigarette into the ashtray on the side table next to her. “All this noise is making my head hurt.”

Utahime nods in agreement. “It has been a long day…” She sits straighter, grasping your hand tightly she asks, “Should we get going?”

Damn, you think. You’re a little disappointed to think the night is ending here. “Are you two heading home?” You’re sure the frown on your face is clear, even in the darkness of the venue. You don’t want them to go yet.

Shoko snorts, shaking her head. She leans back against the chair, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you back onto her. “No,” she breathes, and she’s so close to your ear, you can feel her breath ghost along your skin, can smell the faint mixture of nicotine and spearmint. “We don’t live anywhere near here,” she explains, fingers gliding along your skin again. “Hime and I got a reservation at one of those onsen hotels up the street.”

“It’s really nice from the pictures I saw online,” Utahime adds, a cheerful lilt to her tone when she speaks. “Can’t wait to get there.”

You can feel the shift in the atmosphere when those words leave her lips. The air is thick, heavy. You’re familiar with this feeling. You know it all too well, and your heart races in your chest. Behind you, you feel Shoko’s body tense up briefly before she relaxes.

Then Utahime is crawling along your form, moving closer to you, closer and closer, and you think she’s going to try and kiss you. And damn it, you’d let her…if it was you she was aiming for. Instead, you watch, eyes blown wide with curiosity and honestly, desire as Utahime presses her plush lips to Shoko’s. Normally, you’d be elated to know your hunch was correct, that they were in fact more than friends, but you can’t seem to care when you see their lips connect. Their kiss is sweet at first, just a few light pecks, quiet sighs between them. Until Utahime grins into the kiss, pulling back slightly to giggle at the way Shoko’s brows knit together. Shoko frowns, bringing a hand up to grip Utahime’s long chocolate tresses.

“Don’t tease me, Hime,” she breathes through gritted teeth. Then she’s pulling Utahime’s face to hers, smashing their lips together for a messy, passionate kiss. And all you can do is watch as their tongues slip into each other’s mouths, breaths heavy as they quietly moan into each kiss. It’s so sexy, the way Utahime whimpers. How Shoko nips at Utahime’s already swollen lips. How Shoko pulls you tighter against her, pressing your ass against her groin.

You’re not sure if it’s the drinks you’ve had with these girls, the cigarettes or the scent of their perfumes that has your head swimming. Hell, maybe it’s a mixture of it all, but you’re so turned on watching these beautiful women kissing in front of you. All of their lust being poured into each slot of their lips, every groan and whimper between them, it’s all so arousing. You squeeze your thighs together, prompting a soft chuckle from the woman behind you. Shoko breaks away from the kiss, releasing her hold on Utahime’s hair who pouts cutely, sitting back on her knees.

“Don’t look so sad, Hime,” Shoko coos. She turns her attention back to you. “Just seemed like someone wanted to join us.”

And you do. You want to join them real fucking bad.

But when Shoko leans forward, just trying to press a kiss to your neck, your brain suddenly crawls out of the fog. You’re out in the open, in a compromising position with two models, at that. So you move, a hand flying up to push Shoko back a little.

Her brows furrow, head tilting in confusion and she releases her hold on you. “Oh– Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume…I just thought–”

“No you’re right,” you reassure them. Your eyes dart around the venue, and while everyone is likely drugged up or too drunk out of their minds to notice three girls feeling each other up in the club, you can never be too careful. “Just…not here. Let’s go back to your hotel.”

Shoko looks at Utahime, who stares at you two with eager eyes and a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. “Okay! Let’s go!”

- - - - - - - - -

Shoko checks you all into the hotel, and the room is as beautiful as you’d imagine it would be. There’s a main bedroom with a fluffy king bed ready to be slept in…or not. Off to the side of the room is a small dining area, and through large glass doors is the onsen bath, the water already run by the hotel staff for you. It screams luxury. You can see the steam curling from the water and god, if you couldn’t use a bath to wash away the day.

You set your bag and camera down on the dining table. Stretching your arms over your head, you take in the room, moving across the space. “This hotel is fucking incredible,” you gasp. “I can’t believe your agency spoils you guys like this.”

Shoko laughs, kicking her heels off and setting them in the little armoire by the entrance. “Right? I was surprised myself. Make yourself at home,” she tells you from the other side of the room.

She didn’t have to tell you twice. You couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed and – 

“What’s this for?”

You peek over your shoulder, eyes landing on Utahime fumbling around with the camera and panic sets in. You cannot lose that footage. “Please don’t touch that!” It comes out more forcefully than you intended and Utahime sets the camera down quickly, holding her hands up defensively. 

“Sorry!”

You rush toward her, only to be stopped in your tracks by Shoko, who places her hands on your shoulders. “Hey, relax. She was just looking.” She fixes you with a small smile, running her hands soothingly along your arms. And it does calm you, the earlier fear you felt melting away. “Be glad you caught her before she dropped it.” Shoko shakes her head, releasing your shoulders before she turns, moving towards the other woman. Utahime stands still, watching and waiting as Shoko slips behind her easily. Shoko’s fingers pinch the zipper of Utahime’s dress and drag it along the fabric until her dress slowly loosens around her chest and your gaze falls to the movement. “She can be careless sometimes,” Shoko speaks softly. Her fingers glide along Utahime’s collarbone, dragging down to the swell of her breasts. “Don’t mind her.” 

Shoko spins around, and Utahime follows, gently pushing Shoko’s hair aside. She presses a soft kiss to the back of Shoko’s neck and you watch as she trails kisses along the side of Shoko’s neck, pulling quiet sighs from the taller woman as she pulls the zipper until the fabric falls to the floor, revealing her bare slim form. Shoko turns back around and captures Utahime’s lips with hers, only breaking away to whisper, “Be more careful, okay?” before she’s back on her.

And all you can do is watch, the nerves you felt earlier about the camera now melted away. Beneath the soft lighting of the hotel room, they look like ethereal beings. Too innocent to be partaking in such salacious behavior. Arousal pools in your core as the vision of the two model’s tongues tangling sends you spiraling. Have you ever been so turned on, so eager to touch someone, to feel their body on yours? Even your nights spent with the most famous celebrities never had you so tempted to slip your hands into your panties.

It’s the way Shoko holds onto Utahime’s form against her own. How she reaches a hand up to pull down the loosened fabric against Utahime’s chest. How Utahime becomes exposed, her supple breasts falling gently. Utahime’s soft whimpers when the chill air ghosts along her pretty pink nipples, the buds puckering when Shoko rolls them gently between her fingers.

Shoko sighs, pulling away reluctantly. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers, hands kneading Utahime’s breasts. “So beautiful. My perfect girl.”

You can see the way Utahime’s eyes light up from across the room, a shy smile lifting the corners of her lips. “No, you,” she teases and Shoko chuckles.

Her heated gaze finds yours from across the room, how you’re watching them intently with desire clear in your eyes. Utahime follows her line of sight, and it’s clear to her what Shoko wants. She raises her hand, inviting you over to join. And you don’t hesitate. Like magnets drawn to each other, your legs carry you to them with ease.

Both women welcome you, the anticipation clear. They want this just as badly as you do, and for a moment, you wonder if their panties are just as soaked as yours. They’ve been kissing each other, touching each other, getting to taste and enjoy each other while you’ve gotten the pleasure of watching from the sidelines. Now you’re about to partake in these pleasures with them. You’re more excited than you care to admit.

Utahime takes your hand, guiding you closer and closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Are you okay with this?” She asks, eyes locked on your parted lips and you nod your consent.

“Yes, I want this.”

Utahime’s bright eyes travel to Shoko, who watches you both with hardly concealed interest. 

“This stays here, though. Right?” 

You want to be sure before moving forward. Not that you were concerned, but better to have heard it with your own ears.

”Of course,” Shoko confirms. She bites down on her lip before looping an arm around your waist. Now she has both you and Utahime in her hold. “Now kiss her.”

The command has your core aching. You’ve wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like, tasted like, to kiss them. Didn’t matter who first or if it was both at the same time. You just wanted to feel their lips on yours.

And you do, when Shoko dips her head down to bury her face in your neck just as Utahime presses her mouth on yours. The moment their mouths connect with your skin, your body ignites with heat. Utahime is an amazing kisser. She has pretty, plush and soft lips that easily mold against yours. And she makes cute little noises when your tongues touch.

Shoko on the other hand, is a bit rougher, hungrier with her kisses. When she cups your cheek and breaks your kiss with Utahime by turning your head, she’s quick to nip at your lips. Her tongue slips into your mouth the second you let out a moan. While you and Shoko are heavily making out, Utahime takes this time to grab your hands, laying them against her large breasts.

“Touch me,” she sighs, squeezing your hands beneath hers and moaning at the applied pressure. 

You oblige, hands running lightly over the hardened buds and you revel in the way Shoko moans a quiet “I love the way you play with her tits…” into your mouth. “I wanna see you play with her pussy later.” You whimper into the kiss, her confession making your cheeks heat. You’ll admit, this is your first threesome. It’s hard to focus, your mind is so foggy with the arousal building in your core. It’s all too much – too much movement, too much touching, too much sound and way too much going on with your own body.

Your lips tingle, almost numb from how hard and greedily Shoko kisses you. Your skin vibrates with the way Utahime is practically helping you to play with her breasts. And your panties are probably dripping with arousal right now. You are desperate to cum.

“We should get into the bath,” Utahime groans when you cup her breasts. She leans forward, nudging Shoko away from your lips. Shoko gives her hardly any space at all, taking one side of your mouth while Utahime takes the other. Then it’s all three of your tongues tangling together in this sloppy, wet kiss. 

Though you’re all reluctant to break away, Shoko moves first, stepping back enough to grab the hem of your shirt and peel it off of you, forcing Utahime back as well. You’re all breathing heavily, flushed and aroused beyond measure, but you still nod. “Yeah, let's get in bath…” 

++++++++++

“Have you been with a woman before?” Shoko asks, lacing her fingers between yours as she guides you into her lap. You straddle her, though you don’t sit fully on her lap yet.

You’ve all slipped into the warmth of the deep hotel bathtub. Shoko sits half submerged on the bathtub’s built-in bench with her back against the tub’s wall. If your body was burning up before, it’s on fire now, your pulse racing after spending the last few minutes lathering each other’s bodies and kissing until your lips hurt.

“I have.”

Shoko’s brows rise, almost as if she’s surprised by the confirmation. “Two women?”

You shake your head. Nevertheless, Shoko grins as she asks, “Well? The one you’ve been with…How was it?” She pulls you closer, until your lips are hovering barely over hers, breaths mingling. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The question hangs heavy between you two. It’s not as though answering this question would implicate you in any way, or give them any clues as to who the last woman you slept with was. So you answer honestly, just barely above a whisper. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Utahime giggles, gliding through the water to close the distance between you all. “She’s so cute, Shoko.” 

Shoko cups your face, eyes cast down to your lips. “She is, isn’t she?” She runs her thumb along your lip teasingly before she declares, “I can give you something better than pretty good.” 

“Yeah?” You challenge her.

“Yeah, she can,” Utahime confirms. “We can.” She closes the gap between you all, placing her hands on your waist from behind. You feel her wet breasts press against your back and your eyes flutter closed. Utahime is curvy in all the right places. You are no better than a man, more than turned on by the feeling of her pressed against you. Your absolute favorite part about her is her pretty, large breasts. You can’t wait to have her nipples in your mouth.

Utahime places light kisses along your skin, along your neck, moving so that she’s on her knees beside you and Shoko. She adjusts her height smoothly so that she sits a little taller, enough so that she can cup the back of your head and pull you to her chest. Your lips latch onto her nipple quickly, eagerly and she gasps, back arching and pushing her breast further into the cavern of your mouth. You hum against her, tongue rolling the pert bud. She tastes of the strawberry body wash you just rinsed off of her. You’re so distracted, moving back and forth between Utahime’s breasts that you don’t notice Shoko slipping a hand between the other woman’s thighs beneath the water. Not until Utahime cries out, hands coming up to find purchase on your shoulders. 

And Shoko, the bitch that she is, places her other hand on your thigh and guides you to sit down, mouth falling open with a soft moan when your hips connect under the bath water. Shoko rolls hips, brushing her core with yours and grinning as she watches your mouth fall agape against Utahime’s breast. She does it again, smiling wide when a small whimper falls from your lips. Then she keeps doing it, keeps grinding herself against you until your thighs are trembling, and you’re nothing but a puddle clinging to Utahime’s waist.

And Utahime, she’s not any better off. Shoko’s fingers are slowly working her towards her release. She’s already been pent up, teased and turned on since you’d all gotten together at the nightclub. Now, as Shoko scissors her fingers inside her sex, presses her palm to her clit, Utahime only inches closer to the edge. 

The smaller woman pushes you from her chest, her hands cupping your face so she can capture your lips with hers. And you’re so overstimulated, your mind reeling while the water sloshes with every thrust of Shoko’s hips. Shoko gently cups one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between her thumb and forefinger, moaning as she feels your clits brush against each other repeatedly. She sighs sweetly watching as you ride her, all while Utahime rides her hand while her lips slot against yours.

“You’re so soft,” Utahime breathes, tongue pushing past your lips to press against your own wet muscle. One hand finds the back of Utahime’s head, fingers tangling in her soft tresses and you hear Shoko moan beneath you, her hips slamming into yours. Your tongue tangles messily with Utahime’s, all saliva and groans as Shoko moves you against her. Water splashes over the sides of the tub. You can’t be bothered to care about the mess you’re all making. Not when this feels so good, not when Utahime kisses you like this, not while Shoko makes her sob into your mouth, not when you can feel the delicious tension beginning to build in your core. 

“Fuck, ah – you’re both so sexy…” Shoko groans. “Love watching you kiss each other. So fucking sexy…Play with my tits while I fuck her, Hime.”

Without breaking the kiss, Utahime grasps one of Shoko’s breasts, tweaking her nipple and grinning against your mouth when Shoko gasps loudly. Her thrusts come faster, head falling back as she moans.

“Ahh…Shoko…you make such pretty sounds, baby.” Utahime coos and you whimper, eyes rolling back when your cunt slides against Shoko’s deliciously. “You do, too,” Utahime tells you, kissing you one last time before breaking away to lean down and kiss Shoko now.

All the while, Shoko never stops her movements. It’s like she’s an expert with her hands because she never loses hold of your hip, guiding you against her while she fucks her fingers into Utahime with her other hand. The room is full of the lewd sounds of you three whimpering, moaning, and whining at the shared intimacy. If there’s anyone in the rooms next to you, they may complain, but you’re not worried about that. You’re more concerned with the way Utahime’s voice rises several octaves, her cheeks pink and eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna cum?” Shoko groans. “C’mere. C’mere, baby,” Shoko stops moving, gently pulling her fingers from Utahime’s pussy. She’s so gentle with the other woman as she adjusts herself so that she’s able to lean her head back enough for Utahime to stand between you and her, legs spread as she settles her knees on the edge of the tub, positioning her core over Shoko’s face. You’ve got a nice view of Utahime’s pretty round ass, and an even better view of Shoko pressing a passionate kiss to Utahime’s cunt, tongue running through her folds, lips wrapping around Utahime’s swollen bud.

Utahime gasps, moaning breathlessly when Shoko sucks her clit hard, then teases it with the tip of her tongue. Your hands play idly with Shoko’s nipples, eyes locked on the way Shoko devours Utahime, like she’s never tasted something sweeter in her life. It’s such an arousing vision. Utahime’s thighs begin to tremble and you’re grateful for the platform of the bath, where Utahime falls forward onto her hands. She’s on all fours, riding Shoko’s face. 

“Shokoooo, ooh–,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “Gonna fucking cum, babe,” she warns, and Shoko’s lips wrap around her clit again, humming loudly as she gives Utahime’s ass a harsh smack. This has Utahime’s body spasming, a high pitched cry leaving her as she reaches her peak. And as you watch Shoko drive Utahime over the edge with just her tongue, you’re unsure if it’s the water from the bath or Utahime’s release that’s running down Shoko’s face, absolutely soaking the taller woman’s chin.

“Fuck,” you moan quietly, eyes locked on the sexy sight before you. Your clit throbs beneath the surface. Maybe Shoko feels it, because she picks her movements back up after returning both hands to your hips. Your cunt slips and slides against Shoko’s again and this time, after watching Utahime fall apart on Shoko’s tongue, you’re even more aroused and eager to reach your own release. It’s not too far off, only getting closer as you watch Utahime shudder while Shoko continues making out with her pussy.

When it’s clear Utahime is spent, she climbs off of Shoko and slips back into the water, gliding through the liquid to position herself behind you where she begins kissing along your neck again. Her hands finds your breasts and she kneads them gently from behind, the motion such a contrast to the way Shoko is roughly fucking you again.

And once more, you’re all whimpering, hands roaming each other’s bodies. Grabbing soft flesh and squeezing anywhere you can that pulls sweet noises. You’re riding Shoko hard, desperately trying to cum. Each stroke of your clit against hers has you reeling, the sweet sensation pushing you closer and closer to your climax.

“I’m jealous,” Utahime pouts cutely. “Shoko gets to fuck you so good. I wanna fuck you, too.” 

You can’t do anything but whimper pathetically at the aspect of your legs crossed with Utahime’s. Shoko’s moans follow. “I wanna see you fuck her, baby.” She thrusts her hips up, a loud moan rushing past your lips. “You wanna fuck Hime, too? She eats pussy so good.”

“God, yes!” You cry, eyes closed as you focus on your impending climax.

“We have plenty of time tonight,” Utahime assures you. “Maybe we can even do this another time.”

“Oh, I’d love that. Get to see this pretty pussy again,” Shoko grunts, eyes locked on the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. “God, even in the water, your pussy is so fucking wet.”

Utahime groans, pouting further. “Stopppp, Shoko. I already said I’m–”

“Gonna cum,” Shoko whines. “Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!”

Shoko leans forward suddenly, grasping you by the back of your neck and pulling you close so she can crash her lips into yours. The mixture of Shoko's taste and the tang of Utahime’s cum on Shoko’s tongue has your eyes rolling back, and you’re toppling over. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, the tension and build up throughout the night finally snapping the band that had been coiling in your core for the last several hours.

Your arms wrap around Shoko’s shoulders as you keen into each other's mouths, riding out your highs.

“Oh wow…” Utahime rubs small circles on your back. “That was…really hot.”

You’re catching your breath, Shoko still holding onto your hips tightly. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, a sweaty mess that somehow looks even more beautiful this way.

“We’re gonna need another bath,” she chuckles.

The night carries on with much of the same taking place. After the bath (and second bath), the three of you fall into bed, quickly finding yourselves tangled in the sheets.

++++++++++

The next morning, you’re awakened by the sound of your phone buzzing incessantly on the hotel table. Your head is pounding and you’re not sure if it’s the couple glasses of wine you had, or the dehydration from the many orgasms both women pulled from you last night. Probably a mixture of both.

Speaking of Shoko and Utahime, you stretch carefully in bed, remembering you all fell asleep with you sandwiched between them. But you’re left confused when you don’t feel a warm body on either side of you. You open your eyes slowly, wincing when the early morning rays of sun feel like a punch to the forehead. But even the aching in your skull isn’t enough for you to ignore that you appear to be alone in a hotel room that is not yours.

You crawl out of bed, peering around the room. “Hello?” You call out, and it feels like your voice is echoing, bouncing off the walls of this quiet room. You check the bathroom and find it’s empty. You check the closet and don’t see any evidence that clothes were inside last night. “Maybe they just had to leave,” you murmur to yourself. Because it helps soothe the nagging feeling you have sitting in the pit of your stomach at the moment.

Shrugging off the feeling, you go about your morning as you normally would. You shower, brush your teeth, dress in the clothes you’d come over in last night and plan on heading back home to report back to work.

Your phone is still buzzing when you’re about ready to head out. You finally pick it up, unlocking the device and seeing a plethora of missed calls as well as several text messages from some of your team members and associates.

Associate 1: Where are you?

Associate 1: 911!! Please pick up!

You roll your eyes, wondering what trouble they’d gotten into last night. What mess will you have to clean up this morning?

Associate 3: PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

Director: You need to call me.

Director: NOW.

Slight panic begins to set in, and you continue scrolling through your messages. There’s one from an unknown number, sent in the early hours of the morning. You open the message, eyes practically bulging out of your head when you see the contents.

Unknown: No hard feelings, okay? We really needed the exposure so we could get booked for more shows. Thanks for last night! - H

Another text comes through, and you think you might be fucking sick when you read it. It’s a link to a news article for…Jujutsu Journal? Stupid ass name, but it’s a gossip blog so what did you expect? 

The page has screenshots of a very familiar scene. You and the models in the bath. You and Utahime on the bed with your heads thrown back in ecstasy. A blurred pic, censoring what may be the dirtiest of all – you bent over the bed on all fours, with your face buried between Utahime’s legs while Shoko (and her lilac colored strap) destroy you from behind. 

Where the absolute hell would they get these?!

The headline reads:

TAKING RELATING TO THE PUBLIC TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL! Head Public Relations manager for one of Japan’s top fashion magazines is in quite a pickle! This morning Jujutsu Journal received EXCLUSIVE footage of her in various intimate positions with models Shoko Ieiri and Utahime Iori! Rumor has it these two are already booked and busy. Meanwhile, it looks like this Public Relations manager may soon be booted and broke! Want to see the tape? Click here to sign up for exclusive members only access!

The pieces begin to connect, your mind flashing back to just last night. The camera is right where you left it the night before. Well, where Utahime left it. But when your fingers push the button to open the tape cartridge, you find it empty. All the footage from the night before is gone! You feel like you may faint. All these years of being so careful, at least twenty steps ahead. All the progress you’ve made…gone.

And not just that! Now there’s a sextape of you three floating around the internet! Is that why Utahime was fumbling around with the camera? Why Shoko went out of her way to distract you? So that she could buy Utahime time to turn the camera on and hit record? Is that why they showed so much interest in you in the first place? Everything is beginning to make more and more sense, while simultaneously making less and less sense. You’re so confused.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to no one but yourself.

Your phone buzzes. You’re scared to look, but you know you should.

“What…the…fuck…” You still can’t believe this is happening. To you of all people.

Your eyes see the name light up on your screen. It’s your boss.

There’s no way you’ll be able to spin this one. 

[no-144444]

making moves- l.norris

a/n: HI AND WELCOME TO MY FIRST FIC-TOBER FIC I HOPE YOU ENJOY :)))))

Day 1 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Lando and you don't exactly get along and now you're quitting, he'll surely take it well, right?

pairing: lando norris x fem! mclaren publicist! fem! reader

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You turned the corner of the media pen with Lando’s arm in your hand. If he stepped one foot out of line, if one hair was out of place, one unnecessary giggle or joke, you’d lose your mind. You were getting sick of this, of him, of cleaning up every single one of his messes. 

“I said I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you sighed. You hadn’t studied mechanical engineering and sports journalism for years in college to become a goddamn babysitter. “Just do your interviews and don’t say anything about your relationship status, please Lando.”

He rolled his eyes but obliged, moving past you to start an interview with some sports journal.

You watched the room around you. You would miss this, the buzz of the media pen, the entire paddock, being so close in the action of your favourite sport. You wished it hadn’t come to this. You didn’t want to quit, but you were being driven mad by a 24 year old man-child, and you couldn’t take it anymore. A year and a half ago, you were being driven crazy by how much you wanted him, now, it was his party-boy ways and arrogant smirk that set you off. Lando had always been a popular driver, you understood the attraction on every level. He was a pretty, sometimes funny, and rich man. He was on the younger side of the grid, and he was talented. Christ, was he annoying to work with. He was conceited, self-centred, a manwhore, and downright difficult the majority of the time. You disregarded almost every time he was kind to you, because less than 48 hours later he would do something dickish and ruin your weekend off, or make you cancel a date to come get him from a club because he was drunk and his friends left him alone, blah, blah, blah. You were excited to finally be free of Lando Norris and his asshole-ish ways, yet, maybe you’d miss his face. Anyways, just one race left, and your two-weeks are up. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ Team dinners were simple, you usually sat beside Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend, and chatted with her about her course (the same one you took) and whatever else came to your minds. As the night came to a close, you walked Lily and Oscar back to their rooms with Lando trailing behind, texting on his phone. 

Lily pulled you into a hug. “I’ll miss you so much!” she sighed. “It sucks you’re not even finishing the season with McLaren.”

You shrugged, hugging her back. “I’ll call you, I promise. And we have Greece in January,” you reminded her. She nodded and pulled back. 

“See you in the morning,” she smiled, then disappeared back to their hotel room. 

“See you in the morning,” Oscar smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “You better call her once you land in New York, or she’ll lose her mind,” he chuckled. 

You nodded, smiling. “I will, don’t worry. And I’ll miss you too, Osc.”

He smiled, pulling back. “I’ll miss you too.”

You turned to go to your room, but Lando stopped you. “Why are you going to New York?”

“For my new job,” you explained calmly. “I’m leaving on Sunday night.”

Confusion flashed across his face, and you took the silence as a chance to leave. You brushed past him and continued on your way down the hall. 

“What do you mean you’re ‘leaving’ on Sunday night? Are you going on holidays for the weeks we have off?” he asked, catching up with you. 

“No, I start my new job the next week and I need to get my apartment unpacked and sort out my office,” you explained. 

“What? Why are you doing that?”

“Unpacking my apartment? I’ll be living there-”

“No, moving? You have a job, y-you work here, you work with me,” he stumbled through his sentence and you raised an eyebrow. 

“Did Stella not tell you? I’m leaving after the race this weekend. I sent in my two-week notice almost two weeks ago. I got a job offer from the New York Jets and I took it. Anyway, good night Lando, I’ll see you in the morning,” You continued on your way to your room. 

“You can’t just leave! What will I do without y- someone to-”

“Get your laundry and fix your mistakes in the media? You’ll be getting a replacement when I leave. His name is Will, he’s organised, and he’s quite funny. I think you’ll get along.” 

“What will I do without you?” he gritted out. “You’re meant to be here, with me, and now you’re leaving? How am I supposed to feel?”

“Imparcial I’d assume.”

“Imparcial? Y/n, come on, you can’t be that blind?” This was a different version of Lando than what you were used to. He was usually a brass and confident arsehole. Yet, here he stood in front of you, upset that you were leaving. 

“Blind to what? The way you abuse your power? The way you make me do your bidding? The way you make me cancel important things in my personal life to fit your schedule of heavy drinking? The way-”

“The way I’m in love with you?!” He practically shouted. You clapped a hand over his mouth and a surge of panic ran though you. You pulled him into your hotel room after you and sat him on the bed, then proceeded to pace the room. 

What did he mean he loved you? He hated you. He made your life a living hell. He made sure you’d have to see him everyday. He made sure you’d be in his apartment building. He made sure to-

Oh. Shit. He loved you. 

“Y/n,” his voice was soft. “You need to calm down.” 

You turned to him. “Calm down? What the fuck do you mean ‘calm down’? I’ve just spent the last fucking year and a half burying any and all romantic feelings for you, tried to hone in on all of your flaws to make myself hate you, quit my job to get away from you, and now you’re telling me you love me? What the fuck Lando?!” 

“You had romantic feelings for me?” He blushed. 

“That’s what you got from that?!” 

He chuckled. “I’m sorry, alright. We can work this out, just tell Andrea you don’t want to quit-”

“Lando I’ve accepted the job offer in New York, I’ve signed the contract. I can’t back out,” you sighed, putting your head in your hands. “You really have great timing,” you scoffed. 

He smiled, placing his hands on your waist. “Then we’ll make it work,” he shrugged. “I want you, if you’ll have me.” 

You looked up at him. Were you really doing this?  Lando Norris was your typical male celebrity in his twenties. He had everything he could ever want, any girl he could ever want, and he wanted you? Every insecurity and logical bone  in your body told you to run away. You’d seen what the internet did to girls he was seen in public with, let alone a girl he actually came out and admitted to dating. Was he worth being torn apart for? 

“You’re killing me here,” he laughed to hide his fear. He’d waited a year and a half for this moment. He wanted you more than anything. He wanted to be able to call himself your boyfriend and get to call you his girlfriend. He wanted you around him all the time. Every time he’d found out about a date you’d been on or met a guy you’d been seeing he was filled with jealousy. He was yours, he just needed you to be his too. 

“Lando, I don’t know if this is a good idea-”

He pressed his lips to yours and it was undeniable. This was what you had been searching for. That stupid ‘spark’ all those rom coms talked about all the time. Kissing him was like fireworks. He brought your hands up to wrap around his neck and smirked when you kissed him back. You fit together so perfectly, his lips against yours, your skin against his, everything. 

You pulled back slowly. 

“So can I be your boyfriend now?” he whispered, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Only if I can be your girlfriend,” you smiled back.  He pressed his lips to yours again. Maybe he was worth being torn apart for.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff

[i99zhuo]

A routine inspired by thewizardliz ? She has skin care hair care routine reads motivating books

How to live like thewizardliz 🧚🏼‍♀️🪄⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ quit your lazy girl era!

This is a guide on daily routines inspired by Thewizardliz! This routine is perfect to stop being lazy and pathetic and finally start taking care of yourself!

content list (routines):

morning

study

workout

shower + self care

night

(_ _ ) . . z Z⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨ :★: ୧ ∗  ˖࣪ ໒꒱  ˚₊·

✸ ꒰ morning routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧼 First things first, after you wake up make sure to drink water to boost your metabolism throughout the day! Also, create a mind movie so you can watch it everyday after you wake up.

Now, take your journal and start writing about your dream, ideal higher self, ask yourself questions like ‘What reality do i want to create?´ 'Who do i look up to?’ ‘What is the behavior I need to change about myself?’ ‘What's a new habit that I would like to create?’ ‘What is a thing I can focus on right now?’. After we have in mind who we want to become, it's important that every little decision you make today is centered to achieve your goals, and become your dream self. You can listen to a podcast while doing this so you get motivation!

💶 Then, head to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror and start repeating positive affirmations, such as ‘I am so beautiful’ or ‘My hair looks so pretty today’, even if you don't believe it, having a positive mindset is going to help us to stay in track with our goals!

Take care of your teeth, Liz says that our smile is one of the most important things in a person, and one of the key things that is going to make you more attractive! so, make sure to brush your teeth, floss, clean your tongue, etc.

🛣 Liz has a rather simple skincare routine, since her skin is so sensitive, it only consists of using a foam cleanser, moisturizer and eye cream to help with her eye bags.

Next step is to research and find our own personal clothing and makeup style, find out your body type, personal color, face shape, etc. It doesn't matter if you have to mix multiple styles that already exist to make your own! The most important thing is to feel comfortable while wearing those clothes or having that type of makeup on your face.

🏔 Liz doesn't like to force herself to have breakfast, she just dont eat if she's not hungry, however if you are hungry rather than focusing on calories focus on how nutritious your meal is. Whatsoever if you are not hungry and you are not going to eat, make sure to always take your vitamins and supplements!

✸ ꒰ study routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Yes, it's time to drink a little more water!

⛰ Liz doesn't have a settled study routine but, it's important to spend our time wisely, if you can finish an assignment way before the time it's due, DO IT! Also, she emphasized that knowledge leads to confidence. If you put effort in your studies, every little thing in your life will slowly fall into place.

✸ ꒰ workout routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

First, set healthy goals, like toning up your body or building muscle, try not to make ‘just being skinny’ your goal.

🧩 second, don't measure yourself with a scale or measuring tape and focus on how you look in the mirror, are you satisfied? if you are then you are done with the intense workout routine!

Liz goes to the gym and has her own personal training program, but here’s some kind of exercises she recommends; weight training, pilates and dancing with her main focus being toning up her abs and butt.

🏄‍♀️ Remember to drink water and that consistency is more important than perfection, go at your own pace, it doesn't matter if you can't do a 2 hour workout and look snatched in 3 days and you can only do a 5 minute workout, every little effort adds up!

✸ ꒰ shower and self care routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Before showering, do dry brushing to exfoliate your skin and increase circulation (1-2 times per week). Then use shampoo and conditioner, research to find the best one for you, what may help others won't help you. Liz also uses a hair mask 1 to 2 times per week to get that shiny silk hair.

🎾 After showering take some time to shape and pluck your eyebrows depending on your face shape and what impression you want to give! 

Liz uses face masks 1 to 2 times per week to cleansing her face deeply, then she does her skincare. After applying all the products do a lymphatic massage on your face and neck, you can also cool down your face with massagers or cold spoons for an extra depuff.

🍾 For self care, you can journal again, search for shadow work prompts, think of what things you should unlearn and relearn and don't forget to practice gratitude. Or you can take time to clean your room or house, you deserve to have a clean safe place! 

Oh! and don't forget to drink water again.

✸ ꒰ night routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧃 Time for dinner! (only if you are not full yet), again, make sure to focus on nutrients rather than calories. Don't forget to drink a glass of water with your dinner. You can watch a documentary while eating to keep gaining even more knowledge.

Now, do your oral hygiene routine again. Also, put on eyelash conditioner and serum to wake up with perfect lashes! Then wear a silk cap or do a protective hairstyle to protect your hair from getting damaged while you're sleeping.

🍵 Then get in bed and drink a cup of tea with collagen to start relaxing your body. and it's finally time to manifest! watch your mind movie again and use your most useful method (affirming visualizing, subliminals, etc.), don't forget to ask god, the universe or whatever you believe in for signals and help!

Afterwards, you can read an inspirational book like ‘atomic habits’ or ‘the art of thinking clearly’ to keep nourishing your brain. keep a reachable goal like reading 5 pages everyday and then decide if you want to continue reading or not.

🥬 Before sleeping listen to a guided meditation, liz have one to be more confident and one to attract money, choose one that aligns with your goals!

Finally fall asleep in a healthy sleeping position, Liz sleeps in her back looking at the roof, but you can choose your favorite position, don't forget to get a pillow that fits the position (example: tall and lofty pillow -> for sleeping on your side)

🍈 Good night!

Woah second request done!! hope you liked this one was pretty fun to do and I might add some of these things in my own personal routine so I don't fall back into laziness, anyways how about you guys??

toodlezzzz!1!!!!!

[bnpd]

Golden Boy ! ᡣ𐭩

"so this is gojo satoru."

you first heard of gojo when you were a freshman in high school, you first saw gojo when you were a junior, you first talked to him when you were a senior, and then you disliked him. but he first loved you when he first met you.

basketball player!gojo x photography/journalist!reader DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 3K

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : ᡣ𐭩 NAVIGATION : ꩜

NOTE: basketball gojo is rotting my brain btw! so here’s another AU of them, enjoy. not a fic, more of a really really long drabble. posting this while you guys wait for long shot part 3! okay sorry too much yap! not proof read sorry chat

high school: 2007

you grew up with a fascination for cameras–photography as a whole–, and the idea of perfectly capturing the moment.

when you first started high school you would bring your camera and a journal everywhere. it was a small camera your parents bought to allow you to explore your life-long interest. 

you were very much kept to yourself. if you didn’t have to talk to anyone, you didn’t choose to. you liked being alone, and there’s nothing depressing about that. you only had one friend, and her name was utahime. 

you were a geek! not in a bad way, but in a way where you had a passion for books, writing, games, photography, you name it.

if anyone asked about you, no one would know how to answer. no one really knew much about you. with that in mind, you were still approachable, and kind.

if anyone engaged in conversation with you, you didn’t shy away—you politely engaged back. 

now, things stayed like that for the entirety of freshman to spring semester of sophomore year because one day your graphics and design teacher, mr. mendez, caught you taking pictures of inanimate objects, offering you a position on the yearbook team.

your high school was huge, and names weren’t frequently known, especially not yours. but those rules didn’t apply to athletes. especially the golden boy—gojo satoru. 

gojo satoru was a well-known name—gojo, itself, was a well-known name—his family came from money and they funded the entire school. you never actually met, or saw him, considering your schedules were completely different. but, in your junior year that changed. when your teacher asks you to go to a basketball game to cover the athlete section since the boy who was initially covering it got sick. 

you’re frowning to yourself the entire day just thinking about having to stay after school to watch the game.

the time comes and you’re sitting at the back of the stands, holding onto your camera, waiting for the game to start. it’s a packed game. that doesn’t surprise you. what does surprise you, is how crazy everyone is going over a mere game of basketball before it even starts. 

you almost jolt out of your seat when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and turn to see someone sweetly smiling at you. a boy. “I think mr. mendez is trying to get your attention,” he extends his finger, pointing, and you follow the direction of it. and, indeed, your teacher was trying to get your attention. 

you sweetly mutter a quick ‘thank you’, to the boy before collecting your things, and walking towards mr. mendez. 

“so, i figured you’re new to this, but when you take pictures during sports events, you’re usually pretty close to the court, standing,” he motions to the court with his hands, and you give him a confused look even though you understood exactly what he was saying, in hopes of a different alternative. unfortunately he does not give you one.

so, now you’re standing next to the court. camera, in hand, when the lights dim down just a tiny bit and cheerleaders emerge from the sides to begin their routine.

you take this as your opportunity to snap a few pictures. you capture a picture of the captain smiling, a few others of flyers mid-air, and some of the perfect routine moments.

after they finish, you find an empty seat at the very front. you think of all the things that you could’ve been doing at the moment. like reading on your porch swing, watching the sun set. 

then the coach blows the whistle and finally the game is about to begin. the faster this goes, the faster you’ll be home, snuggled up in bed with your dog keeping your feet warm. 

you stand to take pictures, and watch as the players emerge from the locker room, one after the other, jogging down to their designated seating area. but you don’t have a particular reaction, until you see another figure emerge, and you’re a bit struck at how handsome he is. gorgeous, even. 

‘so, this is gojo satoru.’

he’s smiling, and you just know he thinks he’s hot shit with the way he jogs over to the rest of his teammates. ‘we’ll see about that’ you thought to yourself. 

and see you did. 

he was incredible on the court—professional level good—.

you took a great number of pictures, ones where he’s doing some kind of handshake with another star player, geto suguru, another set of pictures of other players, some of gojo by himself, but your favorite one, by far, had to be the one after he shoots the final shot, and almost as if he sensed the camera, looked your way, and smiled. a cute boyish smile. you looked at your camera in shock and disbelief.

you felt your face heat up by a billion degrees.

it was the most perfect picture you ever captured. and you don’t even think he noticed because he runs back to his teammates, as if nothing had happened. 

you went home that night in a bit of a daze. a new crush had developed. a very tiny, atom sized crush, but a crush nonetheless. 

the next day mr. mendez asked for the pictures you took at the basketball game, yet you found yourself not uploading the picture of gojo smiling directly at the camera to the USB drive. it felt wrong. 

so you kept it to yourself. 

you still didn’t see him much after that. he was like an enigma to you. everyone knew so much of him.

senior year rolls around and you’re now the head of the yearbook team. you’re applying to colleges/unis, and you’re really shooting high for this specific ivy league university because of the amazing combined photography–journalism program they offered, praying that they give you the full-ride you applied for. 

you’re sitting in the graphic and design room one day, editing some final touches of the yearbook, when mr. mendez calls your name, “we have a yearbook interview for the time capsule and photoshoot for the basketball team today, and i need you to be there to direct both, is that okay?” 

you nod and reply with a simple, “sure”. 

in reality your heart is pounding because you know you’ll have to see gojo again, and actually talk to him. 

it’s finally after school, and you’re setting up the equipment for, not only, the photos, but the interviews as well. 

you hear the ruffling of the setup behind you while you try to position the camera for the interviews at the right angle, you let out a small frustrated groan “mahito stop fucking around and help me–”

“mahito?” the voice asks you and you feel yourself still because that voice is not mahitos’s. you get up from your position, and you almost die in your spot when you see gojo standing there with an unreadable look on his face. 

an unreadable look that studies you.

“oh, im sorry i thought-”, he cuts you off before you can finish.

“hm,” he lets out in a rude manner and you almost reel back at how condescending he looked. (canon high school gojo i fear).

 ‘this can’t be the same guy that I had a crush on last year’

but it was. 

the worst part is, the entire time you took the team’s photos, he wasn’t outwardly mean. but he had an energy to him that put you off. one that told you he thought he was better than you. his mannerisms screamed arrogance, and carelessness.

you kept to yourself for the majority of the photoshoot, muttering occasional instructions. 

the rest of the team were really nice. they’d strike up a conversation, here and there. you, of course, responded politely and engaged in conversation, returning their enthusiasm. but the entire time you felt piercing blue eyes. 

you’d catch him whispering to geto, and even though you knew they weren’t talking about you, it left you paranoid. 

for the interviews, you kept it polite. until you got to gojo. you hit the record button on the camera, asked him the question, and listened to him as he talked about how great and amazing he was. you found yourself drifting off. 

‘there’s no way this guy is that full of himself.’

he was. 

you wrap up the interviews and go home. a bit caught off guard by his behavior. it wasn't that he was mean, but why would you willingly be in the presence of someone like this? and from that point on, you disliked gojo satoru.

college: 2013

in the end, you got accepted into the ivy league you had hoped for, got a full ride, and were accepted into the photography and journalist program. you looked completely different than how you did in college (you were grateful for this). things couldn’t get any better, but they could get worse. 

you found out you actually went to the same university as gojo. you didn’t realize it until you saw his huge basketball banner in the gymnasium one day. you’re not paranoid of bumping into him here. if you didn’t bump into him in high school, you definitely won’t here. 

but perhaps a party. 

let’s say, one of your friends invited you, and gojo definitely notices you because he finds you somehow familiar and attractive. still, he hasn’t recognized you because you’re not angled in a manner that he can see you.

so he goes to talk to you, and let’s say you don’t take it lightly. you're not rude or anything, but you reject him, and he’s shocked. 

you stare at him before walking away, leaving him standing there in bewilderment. 

he watches you leave, and it takes him a while as he’s standing there but it clicks. he can’t be upset that you just rejected him in front of people, nor can he be upset that you walked away from him. he’s just honestly elated to find you here. 

the only thought in his head is that you’re here and he finally has a chance again after realizing his attempt in high school was not it. he didn’t know you in high school, nor did he know you now, but he thought you were the most interesting person back then. and it looks to him that you still are. 

now’s his chance, and he’d be damned if he passed it up. 

so he kind of finds out where you work part-time, and goes to the campus diner around the corner (where you work). it’s a late evening, and the only customers around were the old couple who visited every friday, the frequent patrons (who were college students), were all at a party that’d been advertised all week. 

it was only you, the couple, and now gojo. 

you don’t look up when you hear the door bells jingle, only gently shouting a “welcome!”, while you’re too busy wiping down the milkshake bottle. 

gojo is a bit nervous, but he pushed forward. 

he sits on the barstool by the counter you're now wiping down, sensing a presence you look up are surprised to find gojo, “hi,” gojo starts, you narrow your eyes at him a little. 

“hello,” you reply back, “what can i get for you?” you ask him before reaching under the counter to grab a menu, placing it in front of him. he doesn’t touch the menu, nor look at it, he stares into you as he says, “i’d like to start off with the sweetest milkshake you have.” 

since that night at the diner he would often show up on fridays, sit on the same stool, and order the same thing. if he didn’t order the same thing, he’d ask you for any recommendations. whatever you told him to get, he’d get it and completely finish it. 

gradually you began to warm up to him. it blossomed into a sweet genuine friendship. after that checkpoint, he would wait for you to finish your shift, and walk you out. 

when your friendship developed into something deeper—something more—he knew he had it good. he was so smitten, anyone who saw you two could tell. 

your first date happened after he came to the diner one night. 

“what can i get for you?” you asked him with a cheeky smile, leaning over the counter with your elbows on the table. he takes it as his sign to also lean his elbows over the counter, mirroring your stance.

satoru’s head slightly tilts playfully, eyes briefly landing on your lips before landing on your eyes again. 

a pause. 

“a date.”

it took him only a single date to ask you out because he knew before the first one that you were the one. 

now

“daddy was mean to mommy?” your son asked, an extremely worried and shocked look on his face. 

you gently laugh before settling into a smile but satoru has a big frown on his face.

satoru puts his hand on top of your son's head, “well, daddy was an idiot, i was just trying to impress your mommy,” he explains.

“daddy is a jerk!” your daughter then speaks, and satoru’s jaw drops. you’re trying to contain your laughter as satoru stands up and grabs both of your kids off the couch, throwing them over his shoulders as they squeal. your daughter lets go of the scrapbook you made, but you catch it just before it hits the ground. 

you gently place it over the coffee table as you follow your husband up the stairs to the kids rooms. 

they’re both squealing when satoru puts them both in their respective beds. 

you watch silently from the door as he kneels between both beds to whisper something to the kids and your heart leaps as you watch their eyes light up. just like their father. he kisses them each on the forehead as he tucks them into their beds. 

“mommy! we want your kiss too,” your son says. you walk over and give them both loud forehead pecks. 

you’re so incredibly happy with your little family. 

satoru stands up from his kneeling position to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around you. 

“goodnight my little angels. sleep well, you’ll need energy tomorrow for the aquarium,” he tells them sweetly. 

you turn on their night light before turning off the room light, “and don’t forget, mommy and daddy are here if you need anything,” you remind them. 

“okay mommy,” you hear your babies say. 

you shut the door and head to your room. 

satoru is on you in seconds. 

his hands move from your waist to your rear as he peppers kisses all over your face, and neck. you sigh happily into him as you wrap your arms around him. 

he gives you a squeeze, and he swallows the moan that releases out of you in a passionate, and longing kiss. 

“missed you so much,” he admits in between kisses. satoru had been away for two weeks for some out-of-state games, but he would call, text, and facetime you every chance he got. he’d call first thing in the morning as soon as he would wake up, while he was getting ready, during breaks at practice, before a game (always before a game), after a game (you watched every single game), on his way back to his hotel, right before bed, and even in his sleep he’d ask to stay on the phone. 

you’re a bit embarrassed to admit to how many times you two had phone sex during the away games that you couldn’t go to. 

before you had kids, he would take you everywhere with him, and while that is still somewhat the case. the children have school so it's a bit harder to manage to travel with him. 

“me too ‘toru,” you moaned, your tone earning a tiny whine from him.

“don’t do that," he starts "you know what calling me that does to me.”

he leans in to capture your lips again, but you’re leaning away. satoru pulls you closer in an attempt to kiss you again, but you refuse again.

you settle with a quick peck on the lips.

“we need to go to bed too because we have to be up earlier.” you remind him, and he’s smiling at you, “i know what’ll put you to sleep.”

you playfully push him off, “that's what you said right before i got pregnant with our second child,” you joke. 

he’s trailing after you like a puppy into the restroom as you ready yourself for bed, “maybe i want a third child,” he challenges and you look at him through the reflection in the mirror. 

you take in the serious look on his face, and you stand straighter at his admission. 

“'toru–” you start before he cuts in, “i’m retiring,” he starts, “i want to focus on our family. basketball is great, but it’s not my life. you are. after we win finals, im retiring.” 

you turn to him completely, and pull him into a strong hug. “I love you,” you gently admit. “I love you so much more, you have no idea,” he tells you, wrapping you in his arms. he engulfed you in his safety.

you share a moment of silence, before satoru ruins the moment. 

“I’m telling the kids you stalked me and secretly took pictures of me,” you pinch him. 

“Ow!”

BONUS ୭ ˚

your parents had convinced you to try out for the cheerleading team in high school. and you did. 

it was on a sunny afternoon, every school sports team imaginable was outside in the field. even the basketball team. they were doing their laps around the track field, which circled the current patch of grass that was hosting the cheerleader tryouts. 

“alright everyone, let's get ready for toe touches,” the captain announced enthusiastically. you’re a little distracted when you briefly make eye contact with a certain white-haired boy from across the field then you remember where you are and what was just said. you felt a little out of place, “i’m sorry,” you started, “what are toe tou–”

“ready? okay!” she shouted. 

you stand dumbfounded in the middle. however, you soon find out what a toe touch is as the girl beside you launches her foot into your face, knocking your head back from the force and collision. the impact is unexpected and the girls gasp. 

you’re too busy on the ground to realize a certain boy also created his own commotion on the track field when he collided with his best friend, sending them both to the ground because of his momentary distraction. 

feel more than welcome to submit a request <3 ᥫ᭡ join my tag list :

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gojo and reader loser agenda

©2024 bnpd. All rights reserved to the copyrights owner. Do not share, plagiarize, or translate. I WILL FIND YOU.

[marlshroom]

came to the fucked up realization after finishing gravity falls again last night the parallels of the dream bubble bill made for mabel and the literal state of delusion he keeps himself in.

in the book of bill on the page where bill cipher describes how he figured out a way to manipulate her into giving him the rift, it says:

"Summers ending, my guy. Ending to death, bro. She'd do anything to make it last just a day longer. Probably something RASH and OUT OF CHARACTER, even!"

as we know, mabel cannot handle the fact that she will be growing up. that the relationship with her brother is going to change. she is scared of high school.

bill then says "That was it. She'd never make a deal with me. But she'd make a deal with someone she believed could give her more time. The dream was done. I had her."

bill then creates the dream bubble for mabel, he makes every one of her dreams come true, a place where time is still and she can be a kid forever. a lie so great that she wont have to face the truth.

in journal 3 on one of the pages bill is writing in code, we see this:

[ID: "I ask you, why must[should] time only move forward? Why must cause preceded effect. Who voted on the law of physics."]

my friend helped me break down what bill means by this:

why can we only move forward in the 4th dimension of time. why does something have to make another thing happen, why must cause come before the effect. why cant you move backwards, in the other direction, change the decisions youve made.

how interpret this is bill asking why he is not able to back and stop what he did to his family. he says to ford that he tried and failed to undo the past.** why did him wanting people to acknowledge his advantages instead of suppress him lead to the destruction of his whole dimension?

**(i just want to point out that this is probably the time where bill is the MOST open to anybody, or at least the first. to his henchmaniacs he had been telling them that he liberated his dimension until the oracle discovered the truth. here, to ford, he got so much closer to telling the truth. he SHOWS ford the last atoms of his world. he says that it was destroyed by a monster, not that it was liberated! destroyed)

back to when bill says "I had her" about mabel, he had her cause he knew exactly what needed to happen to trap mabel in a delusion because it is exactly what he is doing to himself. creating a fake narrative of what happened to him, that he was vindicated in killing his whole dimension. only ever doing exactly what he wants because confronting the truth is too scary for him(good fucking lord). the morality page offers good insight into this too.

i am actually just going to quote the whole page and highlight the important part. it speaks for itself really

"THE POINT IS it's[morality] is a very flexible concept! But parents and presidents don't want you to know that, because then you might start asking other questions, like who put them in charge, anyway? So they cram your brain full of guilt and regrets for transgressing the laws that they just made up(the laws that they made to prevent the destruction of their dimension, regardless of if the law + the wrongful medication of a fucking baby triangle did any good to actually prevent it). Wouldn't it be nice if you could put all that baggage down? Quell the shame that follows you everywhere for a lifetime of crimes? MAKE THE SCREAMS FINALLY STOP? The good news is you CAN silence that annoying voice, and here's how!

DENIAL

Works 100% of the time in every situation. What you you mean there are people who disagree? I can confidently say there aren't!

RATIONALIZATION

If you can do it, you can justify it! "Truth" is open-source code and anyone can edit it anytime! Want to be like me? List 3 "evil" things and then 3 "reasons why they're actually good." You'll be rationalizing like Bill in no time!

DETACHMENT

Did you know 100% of your human cells die and are replaced every 7 years? That means that anything you did 7 years ago wasn't even you-it was some dead loser! You can't be held accountable for what a dead person did! What? You think this is just another form of rationalization? I DENY THAT!

THE BILL CIPHER DECISION METHOD!

Working over the eons, the voices in my head teamed up and worked out a foolproof method for making any decision in any situation.

DO WHATEVER I WANT."

ooooooooooooooooooh boy.

he is fully admitting here that he is living in a completely different really in order to justify doing whatever he wants. he gives mabel the tools to deny, to rationalize, to detach herself from the reality of it all. that time has to move forward. and he thinks it will work because it worked on himself.

but it doesn't work on mabel because she understands that she needs other people. shes vunerable, she lets people in, admits when shes wrong. and bill cant do that because it would destroy the fantasy he's created for himself.

[ellecdc]

Hi!! Ok this is my first time doing an actual request so…I hope I do this right 😭.

Poly!marauders x transfer student reader: Reader comes from the US, where quodpot is the more popular wizarding sport (like quidditch is rugby and quodpot is football). Reader has always LOVED quidditch and is excited Hogwarts actually has a team. Maybe reader trying out for the team? Seeker would be cool bc the reader would be able to practice that by themself. Reader going to the pitch early every morning to practice leading up to tryouts, Sirius and James watching from the stands bc that’s normally THEIR time to practice. Remus sitting with a hot tea and bundled up…UGH I LOVE!

this was such a cute idea! this is actually the second fic I've ever written that involved 0 dialogue and I only realized that about either fic once I finished this one, so hopefully it's good! thanks for your request, love, I hope I did it justice!

poly!marauders x transfer student!reader who is obsessed with quidditch [900 words]

CW: .... I don't think any?? read is Gryffindor, written for a fem!reader (term that's used is witch) but could be read as gender neutral as they/them/their are used

If someone were to ask Remus why he could suddenly be spotted haunting the castle grounds before the sun rose most mornings now-a-days, he would quickly blame it on his sodding no good energetic and horribly devious boyfriends (who he loved very much). 

But the real answer was a far more selfish one.

You see, Remus (and Sirius and James) had developed a rather peculiar crush on a rather peculiar witch in their final year of Hogwarts. 

The rumour had been that a new student transferring from Ilvermory was going to be attending Hogwarts for their seventh year, and with Hogwarts (and the wizarding community in general) being as small as it was, it had created quite the buzz. 

The rumours were proven true when a witch far older than the many first years lined up for their turn at the sorting ceremony took their place below the hat only for it to shout GRYFFINDOR before their robes were decorated in red and gold.

You seemed utterly enchanted by it all; by the floating candles, by the stone walls, and by the feast itself. 

Watching you skip throughout the castle in the weeks following the Welcome Feast was nothing short of inspiring; it was as if watching a muggleborn first year see the castle and all of its secrets for the first time again. 

You seemed to be very skilled at finding the magic in, well, magic. 

Remus wondered then when magic stopped feeling so magical to the rest of the seventh year class; even children who were raised by magical parents were nothing short of ecstatic to begin honing their own skills at Hogwarts.

When did that stop feeling so exciting? When did throwing up silencing charms and summoning objects towards yourself become second nature instead of an exciting and exceptional learned skill? When did transfiguring buttons into butterflies become an arduous lesson instead of a wondrous adventure?

And that's not to say that you hadn’t seen or experienced magic before; on the contrary, you were a very talented witch. But you seemed to be awestruck by every single thing that you set your eyes on.

The fact that you were living in a castle had been particularly exciting for you, from what Remus had overheard, as was the game of quidditch. 

The popular and more commonly played sport in the magical United States was that of quodpot, and what little Remus actually understood about quidditch, he understood even less of quodpot, which is to say that he understood absolutely none of it. But even Remus had to admit there was something mesmerising about watching the way your tongue stuck out a little bit through your teeth as you drew out different drills and formations in your dedicated quidditch journal.

Though the quidditch season hadn’t started yet, every time there was a pickup game or a one-on-one, or even a few players feeling the familiar itch of flying through the air at record speeds and dodging other players and flying balls, one could be certain that you would be standing in the bleachers - often even hanging over the edge of the railing (in a way that made Remus very nervous, thank you very much) - with a wide smile on your face as you took it all in. 

And if Remus was really lucky, he’d even get a chance to watch as you balanced on the balls of your feet as if your body was just itching to join in on the fun. 

And if Sirius and James both took the piss for Remus finally enjoying ‘quidditch’ enough to put his sodding book down every once in a while, well, that was neither here nor there. 

So, the second that madame Hooch announced that tryouts for house teams would be starting in a few short weeks; you were hardly ever spotted around the common room anymore. 

Any time there was a free moment, one could bet you’d be down at the pitch - or even elsewhere on the grounds - with a broom underneath you and your eyes peeled for the wiley little snitch. And anytime you were found at the pitch? Well, one could bet James and Sirius would be too.

….

… As was Remus. 

James was all too happy to finally have (enthusiastic and consensual) company in the mornings to comment on the fact that it had been nothing short of painstaking torture to extricate Sirius from his bed for quidditch practices before you had transferred to Hogwarts, or to comment on the fact that it had been nothing short of painstaking torture to extricate Remus from his bed on any given day before you had transferred to Hogwarts.

Because it appeared that they were all in agreement that, even if it had to be at six in the bloody morning, watching you experience the unbridled joy that Hogwarts and quidditch and magic could give you was the best place to be.

Sirius leaned casually against the railing flashing you the odd wink or holler of encouragement when you happened to look over at your admirers in the stands whilst James shouted pointers and cheered you on, basically hanging over the railing in much the same way you would when the roles were reversed.

And Remus?

Well, Remus usually had about three layers on, a hot cup of tea, and a book that laid untouched as he got to enjoy the view.