#but like what do you do in the game usually? :3

[loafysainz]

Hey I loved your stories with Lando and the twins being clingy:)

Do you think you could write something where Lando is streaming or getting filmed( like the 24 hour video with angry ginge) and the twins can’t leave him alone. Like they want to help with the workout and sit on his lap the whole time.

:)

NEW STREAMER | LN 4

lando norris!dad x fem!reader!mom

warn: fluffffffffff

anw theyre not twins Noah is (5) & Leo (3), Thank you so much for the req! I hope you like it!!! 🤍

Lando was mid-game, headset on, fingers quick on the controller as he and Max Fewtrell played yet another round of whatever game they were obsessed with that week. His stream chat was buzzing, the viewers thoroughly entertained by the usual banter between the two.

“Bro, you literally threw—” Max was saying, but before he could finish, the door behind Lando suddenly burst open with dramatic force.

BANG.

In came a blur of curly-haired chaos: Noah (5) and Leo (3), charging straight at him like tiny human missiles. Their tiny footsteps pattered against the floor, and before Lando could even turn around, two little missiles launched themselves at him.

“DADDYYYYY!”

Lando barely had time to react before they tackled him. “Oi, oi, what’s this? what are you two doing? It’s way past your bedtime.” he laughed, quickly muting his mic as the two little ones climbed onto his lap like they owned the place.

Noah pouted. “Not sleepy.”

Leo, the youngest one, rubbed his little fists over his eyes, betraying the fact that he was absolutely sleepy but fighting it like a true warrior. “I miss Mommy.” His voice wobbled slightly, and his big brown eyes were already glassy with unshed tears.

And just like that, Lando felt his heart squeeze.

Lando instantly softened. He didn’t even hesitate before pausing the game and wrapping both kids in his arms. “Oh, come here,” he murmured, setting his controller aside to properly hold them. He knew Y/N was off having her well-deserved girls’ trip, but apparently, bedtime was a struggle without her.

“You miss Mommy, huh?” he murmured, pressing kisses onto their soft little heads.

Both boys nodded, Noah sniffing as he clung to his dad’s hoodie. “Yeah. When’s mommy coming back?”

Lando rubbed soothing circles on their backs. “She’s having her girl’s trip. She’ll be back in a few days.”

Leo sniffled dramatically. “That’s so looooong.”

“Oi, don’t be dramatic,” Lando teased gently. “You guys have me! Isn’t that enough?”

Noah wrinkled his nose. “Mmm…”

Max burst into laughter on the other end of the call. “Oh my God, your own kid just humbled you.”

Lando sighed. “Alright, you wanna help me with the game?”

Noah nodded enthusiastically. Leo, already making himself at home on Lando’s lap, rested his cheek against his dad’s chest. “Wanna help,” he mumbled sleepily.

Lando grinned and handed them his spare controller, even though it wasn’t actually connected. “Alright, but we keep it chill.”

The next few minutes were absolute chaos. Noah kept pointing at things on the screen, bombarding Lando with rapid-fire questions. “What’s that? Who’s that guy? Why did you do that? Can I do that?”

Lando answered every single one patiently while simultaneously trying not to get eliminated in-game. Meanwhile, Leo was just pressing random buttons on his fake controller, babbling nonsense as if he was actually playing. Occasionally, he’d giggle in pure delight, making Lando’s heart melt on the spot.

Max, amused, decided to include chat. “Alright, boys, say hi to chats.”

Noah, ever the confident one, waved. “Hello, Chats!”

Leo, though, hesitated before tilting his head. “Umm… who we talking to? What they look like? I can’t see them daddy” His little voice, still holding onto that babyish lisp, made the words even more adorable.

Lando, Max, and literally everyone in chat laughing out loud.

Lando actually had to take a deep breath from laughing. “They’re… um, they’re just watching through the screen, buddy. They’re just like you.”

Leo frowned, like he was trying very hard to understand. Then, after a long moment, he nodded. “Okay. Hi, people in the screen!”

The chat exploded

“THE BABIES ARE HERE EVERYONE STAY CALM”

“Leo is literally the cutest thing ever”

“Noah asking 500 questions per second LMAO”

“Y/N better watch out, Lando violated the children's screen time.”

“They miss their mama :(((((”

Lando, still grinning, let them push random buttons as the game continued. It was chaotic, to say the least—Noah kept trying to actually play, while Leo just mashed buttons with all the confidence of a pro-gamer. Lando didn’t even care that they were losing horrendously; seeing them smile made it worth it.

But soon enough, it was obvious that tiredness was creeping in. Leo’s blinks were getting slower, and Noah, while still trying to act tough, was yawning every few minutes.

Lando glanced at the time. “Alright. One last round, then it’s bedtime.”

Noah groaned. “But—”

“No buts!” Lando cut in, ruffling his hair.

As the game went on, Noah continued to give commentary like a tiny sports analyst, and Leo just… slowly melted against Lando, his chubby cheek squished adorably against his dad’s chest.

Lando stood carefully, cradling Leo in one arm while holding Noah’s hand with the other. “Alright, chat, I gotta go be a dad now. Thanks for hanging out, and I’ll see you all next time.”

Max smirked. “Gotta keep Dad Lando’s rep as the best bedtime storyteller, huh?”

Lando grinned. “Exactly.”

By the time it ended, Lando was ready to sign off. He gave the camera a fond smile. “Thanks for hanging out—Noah, say bye.”

“Bye, people!”

Lando turned to Leo, who was now fully slumped against him, half-asleep. “Leo, say bye.”

Leo, eyes barely open, mumbled, “Bye, screen people.”

As Lando wrapped up the stream, the chat was already buzzing with questions.

“Awwwww Leo knocked out”

“Noah be like ‘one more game’ energy”

“GOODNIGHT BABIES”

“Where’s y/n?”

Before turning off the stream, Lando replied “Y/N’s having a girls' trip, so I’m on dad duty. And these two little spiderman need to sleep before I get in trouble!”

“Alright, bedtime, you little spiderman.”

Noah yawned. “Can we call mommy first?”

Lando smiled. “Of course, mate. Let’s go tuck in and give her a call.”

And with that, he carried his sleeping toddler and led his other sleepy one down the hall, heart full, and already excited to tell Y/N all about their little adventure.

Lando and Noah was quietly talking with Y/N in their shared bed, Leo stirred at the sound of their voices. Still half-asleep, he shuffled closer, rubbing his eyes.

“Mommy,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “I talk to screen people.”

Lando chuckled softly, smoothing Leo’s curls. “Yeah, you did, buddy.”

Y/N’s voice came through the phone. “Did he really?”

Noah immediately jumped in. “Mommy, when are you coming home? I miss you.”

Leo pouted, now fully awake and climbing onto Lando’s chest. “Come home, mommy.”

Lando sighed dramatically, squeezing them both. “Yeah, when are you coming home? We’re suffering over here.”

Y/N just smiled on the screen, watching her boys pile up on Lando. “I’ll be home soon.”

Lando huffed, leaning his head back against the pillow. “Not soon enough.”

The boys continued to mumble sleepy protests, but eventually, exhaustion won over. One by one, they drifted off, little hands clutching Lando’s hoodie.

As he looked at Y/N on the screen, he sighed. “Seriously, though. I miss you.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “I know.”

Lando groaned playfully, nuzzling his cheek against Leo’s soft curls. “Hurry up and come back already.”

She just smiled again. “Sleep, Lando.”

He yawned, wrapping his arms around the boys. “Fine. But only ‘cause I’m exhausted.”

And with that, he fell asleep, his family safely tucked around him, waiting for Y/N to come home.

END

[hugintheraven]

So, in a fantasy setting with provably-real gods, you have:

What the gods say or do on the rare occasions they can be asked about something

Official church doctrine

Backstage church doctrine

What followers of the church actually believe

What secular authorities report about those same events

What forms of worship are allowed or encouraged

All of the above, repeated for each individual god, pantheon, splinter faction of heretics, cult of personality, cult of personality(minor demon edition), alternate form because of ancient enmity between those who worship the Volcano God and live on the north face vs those who worship the Volcano God and live on the south face, and people worshipping based on the poorly-translated Ancient Wisdom of the Cuniform Shopping List

Given all that, you can easily imagine how someone could know the gods are real and yet have some...odd...beliefs compared to the rest of their hamlet. Relationships with religion your character can have, a short list:

Major holidays only worshipper. Yes the gods exist and influence the world, so you show up to church because you're supposed to, but the absolute minimum times required because you usually have stuff to do on the rest day.

Anti-theist. The gods are real, they have measurable influence on the world, and they're also assholes who don't deserve worship. This is where your Reddit teen character ends up. Whether they have a point or not is up to you.

Believer in the gods but not the Church. Blessed X is real but the guy speaking in front of the crowd each week is just some dude and probably a politics-focused jerk. Again, whether the character has a point, and/or why the gods allow this to happen, is up to you.

Devout true believer. Fairly obvious, but you can have a lot of fun with taking this char and putting them in Situations, especially ones where their faith is pointing them in 3 different directions depending on what part of the Church matters most to them.

Person who thinks the Church has it wrong. ALSO a place for Reddit Teens. They've read the holy books, and the secular books, and the banned ravings of the Prophet Loony Lynne, and they're pretty sure the Church is full of it and the gods actually require X.

Member of a niche cult who is seeking converts

Member of a niche cult who is pretending to be ostentatiously devout so the church doesn't murder them

Member of a niche cult, running away

Non-worshipping quasi-believer. Think the average person's relationship with the Theory of Relativity, or an ancient Roman peasant who lived a continent away from the Roman Emperor. Yes, sure, their teachers taught them about the gods, and they believed the teachers, but also they have work to do and it's not like the gods are going to be showing up here affecting the stew so who cares?

Non-believer. The D&D equivalent of a flat-earther.

Formerly devout lapsed member. They used to be 100% down with the god AND the church, and then something happened, and now they refuse to acknowledge either without cursing.

Person with beliefs so odd no one can figure out if they're heresy or not. Blessed X is real, and the god of agriculture, and thus bans the eating of fish because fish aren't farmed, and will speak sometimes if you are on the brink of death so it's righteous to have your wife choke you every night until you lose consciousness in case Blessed X wants to talk to you.

Person who learned about the faith at age 5 and never updated any of their understanding of anything. Incredibly devout, but to a version of the faith that isn't actually practiced anywhere.

Person who acknowledges the gods are real, but refuses to worship because why would you worship some rando mage that happens to be powerful?

ETC. Take the pantheon(s) you developed, build a human system around them, then add 1000 years of internal politics, external politics, games of telephone with important beliefs, and lay worshippers who only moderately care. It's easy to end up with 50 ways of worshipping 5 gods and 50 more ways of worshipping other stuff that's just hanging around. And then each individual group is going to have the most insane person from your local Nextdoor participating in the discussion. Shake well, and you've got a lot of interesting stuff to dig into.

Tired of stories where the author worldbuilds a whole religion only to chicken out at the last moment by making the main character a skeptic. You mean to tell me that there’s all this richness in lore and culture, but you’ve trapped me with the one person in this society who doesn’t care about it? So bland. I could meet an agnostic easily enough by walking down the street, but your story is my one chance to hear the perspective of someone who follows whatever religion you’ve contrived. You made this whole world; convince me that your character really is from there.

[lifeisbutadream444]

Playing Games

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: A passionate yet complicated friends-with-benefits arrangement unravels as you finally confronts Aaron about his inability to commit.

Warnings: 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, p in v, bdsm themes

A/N: First thing I've ever posted, mostly porn with a crumb of plot.

The hotel suite is dimly lit, city lights flickering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your skin is still warm, the sheets tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the air. Aaron lies beside you, bare-chested, arm draped lazily across his forehead, his breathing steady but not quite asleep.

"You good?" His voice is rough, sleep-laced, breaking the silence.

You hesitate. "Yeah."

He turns his head, studying you. "Liar."

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you're about to say. " I don't think we should do this anymore."

Aaron's brow furrows slightly at your words, his striking blue-grey eyes searching your face. He props himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping dangerously low on his hips.

"Hey now, what's all this about?" His deep voice is soft, almost concerned, but there's an undercurrent of tension. 

"Talk to me, sweetheart." He reaches out, fingers brushing along your arm, touch feather-light. It's a gesture meant to soothe, but you sense the calculation behind it. Aaron is always aware, always assessing.

"I thought we had something good going here. No strings, no bullshit." A slow smirk curves his full lips. "Or am I mistaken?"

You sigh. "I need to focus on finding someone to build an actual future with Aaron. We’ve been doing this for over a year. I obviously love fucking you, but watching you constantly flirt with other women at every event, seeing them leave your apartment at 3:00 am on TMZ, it gets old after a while."

Aaron's hand stills on your arm, his expression shifting - surprise, then a flash of something harder to read. He sits up fully, running a hand over his face. "Shit..." He sighs, the sound heavy in the quiet room. "I didn't realize it was bothering you that much. I've always been straight up about... my preferences."

His gaze finds yours, intense and searching. "But I get it. You're looking for more than just a good time these days." There's a note of understanding in his tone, but also regret.

He reaches for you, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. "I care about you, you know. More than just as a friend with benefits or whatever we are. But I'm not sure I'm built for that whole 'forever' thing yet."

"I understand Aaron, I really do." I sit up too, pulling the sheet around myself like armor. My heart aches but I force myself to hold his gaze steadily. This is important. I need him to truly hear me.

"I want to respect your boundaries and your current lifestyle. But I also need to respect my own needs and desires. And right now, those are leading me in a different direction. I hope we can still be friends though."

Aaron's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to your words. When you finish speaking, he's silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.

"You say you need to find someone to build a future with, but baby, look at what we have." His other hand slides from your cheek to tangle in your hair, tilting your face up towards his. "The chemistry between us is off the charts. I make you feel things no one else ever could."

“How would I know if I don’t even try?” you say, voice steady. “I haven’t been with anyone else since we started whatever this is.”

Aaron's eyes flash with anger and hurt at your flippant words. His grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Don't fucking joke about that," he snarls, voice rough with emotion. “You're not like me. You're better than that shallow shit."

He looms over you, naked and powerful, muscles coiled with tension. But there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a crack in his usual confident facade. "Is that what you really want? To be just another notch in someone's bedpost? Because I can tell you from experience, it's a lonely fucking road."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, touch almost tender despite the intensity smoldering in his eyes. "We can’t end things like this. Let me show you how good we can be together, outside the bedroom too."

You pull back slightly, meeting his intense gaze steadily, your own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Aaron, please... don't make this harder than it already is.” Your voice wavers slightly but you push on. "I appreciate everything you're saying, I do. But I can't keep settling for less than what I truly want and need."

I place my hand over his on my hip, squeezing gently. "We have an incredible physical connection, yes. But I need more. I need a partner, someone to build a life with. Someone who chooses me completely and exclusively."

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you continue. "As much as it hurts, I have to accept that person isn't you. We’ve been doing this for over a year now, and that would definitely be enough time to know if I’m worth that commitment. In your eyes, I’m obviously not considering you’re still fucking other women every week."

Aaron's eyes blaze with a storm of emotions - fear, anger, desperation, and beneath it all, a flicker of something deeper, more vulnerable. As the tear traces down your cheek, his expression crumples.

"Fuck, baby, don't cry," he rasps, voice thick with feeling. His hands move to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the moisture. "You are worth it. You're worth everything." He takes a shuddering breath, clearly struggling with his next words. 

"I know I haven't shown it well, but fuck, you mean more to me than anyone else. Than all the other women combined." Aaron's forehead comes to rest against yours. "I'm scared, okay? Scared of fucking this up, of losing you completely."

You sigh, "I think that if you were really scared of losing me we would’ve progressed into something more by now. Surely you didn't think I was just gonna be your fuck buddy forever, right?"

Aaron pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath. "You're right. I should have done something sooner." He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. 

"But I'm done being afraid. Done letting my own bullshit fears push away the person who matters most. Losing you is a lot scarier." One hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb stroking softly as he continues.

"Baby, I... I love you. Have for a while now. And I know I don't deserve you, but I'm asking anyway - give me a chance to be the man you need."

You stare at him in shock, hardly daring to breathe. Those three little words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise and possibility.

"You... you love me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, trembling with a fragile hope. "Really?"

Tears well up again, but this time they're tinged with joy rather than sorrow.

 "I love you too, Aaron. So much it scares me sometimes. But I know you too well. You love women. You love attention. You hate commitment. I feel like you’re only saying this as a last resort because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

You start removing the sheets from your body, moving to get up from the bed. Aaron's eyes widen in panic as you start to rise, his grip on your shoulders tightening. 

"No, wait! Don't go, please." Desperation colors his deep voice. He shifts, using his body weight to gently but firmly press you back onto the mattress. His gaze bores into yours, blue-grey eyes blazing with sincerity and barely restrained emotion. 

"I'm saying this because it's true, because I can't bear the thought of you walking out that door and out of my life." One hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you close. 

"I know I have a reputation, and I can't change my past. But I want to change my future. With you."

Aaron's heart clenches painfully as he sees the tears streaming down your face, hears the hitch in your breath as you try to pull away. He knows he's caused this pain, this doubt, and the realization guts him.

"Shh, baby, please don't cry," he murmurs, voice raw with emotion. Gently but insistently, he keeps you in place, one strong arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand cups your face, thumbs wiping away the tears.

"I know I have to prove myself to you. And I will, every fucking day if that's what it takes." His eyes search yours, pleading and determined. 

"Give me a chance to show you how serious I am. Stay with me tonight, talk to me in the morning. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust, your heart."

"It's just too late Aaron,” you reply through your tears. “It kills me, but I have to go."

Aaron's expression darkens, a flash of possessiveness and desperation in his eyes as he tightens his arms around you, holding you in place on the bed. 

"No, you don't have to go anywhere," he says, his voice low and insistent. “Not like this, not when we're finally being honest with each other. He shifts, hovering over you, using his larger frame to pin you gently but firmly to the mattress. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck.

"I know I've fucked up, that I've made mistakes. But I'm trying to make this right, baby. Can't you see that?" His eyes bore into yours, blue-grey irises swirling with emotion. "Don’t leave me, please."

Inside, your heart pounds—he’s finally refusing to let you go. But you keep up the act, teasing the edge of goodbye, waiting to see if he’ll chase you, if he’ll prove just how much he cares.

"Sweetheart, stop fighting this," he growls, the words rumbling through his chest and into yours. 

"I'm not letting you leave until you understand how much you mean to me." One large hand splays across your lower back, holding you flush against him while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back slightly to expose the column of your throat. Aaron dips his head, lips brushing the sensitive skin there as he speaks.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you here, to show you that you're the only woman I want, the only one I need." His lips graze your pulse point. "Tell me you'll stay."

You whimper softly, your body betraying you as it melts into his touch despite my resolve to leave. The heat of his skin, the strength of his embrace, the desperate need in his voice - it's all so overwhelmingly tempting.

"A-Aaron... you breathe, voice shaky. I want to believe you, I do. But I'm scared. Scared that this is just an empty promise, that you'll go back to your old ways as soon as I give in." Even as you speak, your hands come up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Tears still leak from the corners of your eyes but t

"How do I know this is real? That you're not just saying these things to get me to stay the night?"

Aaron's eyes flash with determination and raw, unfiltered emotion. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he speaks, voice low and fervent.

"It's real, baby. Every word, every feeling. I may not have said it before, but I've loved you for so long." His hand in your hair gentles, fingers combing through the strands almost reverently. 

"I know I have a lot to prove, that actions will always speak louder than words. But I'm ready to put in the work, to be the man you deserve." He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze head-on.

Your voice shakes, a mix of anger and something more painful. “How can you say you love me while you’ve been out fucking other women constantly? I haven’t even been able to think about anyone else since I’ve met you. I know we're not in a committee relationship and you have every right to sleep with whoever you want. I do appreciate you always being honest about it, but that definitely doesn't feel like love to me. ”

Aaron's expression contorts with guilt and frustration at your accusation. He shakes his head vehemently, dark hair falling into his eyes. 

"No, baby, it's not like that at all." His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn't release you entirely, as if afraid you'll slip away. 

"Those other women, they meant nothing. They were a distraction, a way to avoid facing my feelings for you.” He takes a shuddering breath, eyes pleading. “Please give me a chance to make this right. "

You wipe tears from your face. "Let me go, Aaron."

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he slowly releases his grip on you. His hands fall away from your body as he sits back on his heels, giving you space even as his eyes remain fixed on your face, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

"If that's truly what you want, then... I won't stop you," he says quietly, voice rough with emotion. "But please know that I meant every word I said. I love you, and I'm going to spend every day proving it to you, whether you're here with me or not."

You tell yourself you have to leave. That if you don’t walk away now, he’ll never take you seriously, never realize what he stands to lose. You want him to fight for you, to prove that this is more than just convenience, more than just a game he always wins.

As you move to leave, Aaron leaps up from the bed, his tall, muscular form blocking your path to the door.

"Baby, wait!" he calls out, voice cracking with urgency. In two quick strides, he's in front of you, one hand coming up to grasp your wrist gently but imploringly. 

His grip on your wrist tightens fractionally as he pulls you a step closer, using his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears.

Aaron captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up passion and desperation into the heated caress. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you, as his strong arms wrap around your waist to lift you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist instinctually. In a few swift strides, he carries you back to the bed, laying you down on the rumpled sheets.

He looms over you, eyes dark with lust and determination. "I'm gonna remind you exactly why you belong with me." His hands make quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside carelessly as he exposes your skin to his hungry gaze. Calloused fingertips trace the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Aaron settles between your thighs, pushing them apart to grant himself unrestricted access to your most intimate area. He inhales deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent before diving in, his skilled tongue delving between your folds to lap at your essence.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, circling and flicking the bundle of nerves with practiced precision.

As your moans fill the room, he reaches for the vibrator you kept in his nightstand, turning it on to a low hum. "Let's see how many times I can make you come undone," he purrs wickedly, dragging the toy along your slit teasingly before pressing it firmly against your aching clit.

Aaron works you relentlessly with his mouth and the vibrator, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. Just as you teeter on the cusp of climax, he pulls back, denying you that final push.

"Not yet, baby," he murmurs, voice husky with desire. "You don't get to come until you say you’re mine. Until you promise to give us a real chance."

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts, suckling and teasing your nipples until you're writhing beneath him. His hard length throbs against your thigh, a testament to his own arousal, but he ignores it in favor of focusing solely on your pleasure... and your compliance.

"I can do this all night, sweetheart," he warns playfully, nipping at your earlobe.

You’re trembling, your body wound tighter than a bowstring, desperate for release. I look up at Aaron, his handsome face blurry through the haze of lust.

"P-please, Aaron," I whimper brokenly, hips bucking futilely against the cool air. "I can't... I need... Fuck!"

He grins wickedly, clearly reveling in the power he holds over you. "What was that, baby? I didn't quite catch what you said." He circles your clit with the vibrator, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm.

Aaron drinks in the sight of you, sprawled out beneath him, trembling and desperate, your tear-streaked face a beautiful portrait of need. He feels a surge of masculine pride, mixed with genuine tenderness, at the effect he has on you.

"That's it, sweetheart," he croons, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Just say the words. Tell me you'll stay, that you're mine, and I'll give you everything you crave."

He increases the pressure of the vibrator, holding it steady against your throbbing clit as his free hand slides down to tease your entrance. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust and challenge. "I can feel how badly you need this, how much you need me. Don't fight it anymore, baby. I’m tired of arguing with you.”

Aaron’s frustration mounts as you continue to resist despite your obvious desperation.

"You're so stubborn, baby girl," he growls, equal parts exasperated and aroused. "But I'm more determined than you are. I'll keep you right on this edge until you surrender to me completely."

To emphasize his point, he suddenly plunges two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked channel, curling them just right to stroke that special spot inside you.

At the same time, he sucks hard on your clit, the dual stimulation threatening to overwhelm you. "Last chance, sweetheart," he pants against your flesh, eyes glinting with challenge and dark promise.

"Or what?" you challenge. Your body is on fire, but you’re not giving him what he wants so quickly.

Aaron's eyes flash dangerously at your defiant question, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He withdraws his fingers from your aching core, ignoring your whimper of protest, and flips you onto your stomach with ease.

"Oh, baby girl," he purrs darkly, draping his larger frame over your back, caging you in with his arms. "If you keep testing me like this, I might just have to punish that sweet little ass of yours."

One large hand slides down to grope your rear roughly, kneading the supple flesh. The other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his.

You gasp and moan as he manhandles you, your body responding eagerly to his dominant touch despite your lingering resistance. The threat of punishment sends a forbidden thrill racing down your spine, even as a part of me rebels against being so thoroughly conquered.

"P-punish me?" You manage to stammer out between shaky breaths, trying to inject bravado into your voice that you don't quite feel. 

"And what exactly did you have in mind, big boy?" You arch your back slightly, pressing your ass more firmly into his groping hand, torn between the desire to submit and the need to maintain some semblance of control. Your inner walls flutter weakly, still aching for the fulfillment only he can provide.

"Mmm, such a naughty girl, taunting me like this," he murmurs approvingly. "I think I'll start by turning this pretty pink ass a nice, deep red. Maybe that will get your attention..."

To punctuate his words, he delivers a firm spank to your right cheek, the sting quickly melting into warmth. His palm rubs the abused skin soothingly before repeating the action on the left side. All the while, he rocks his clothed erection against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal. "And if that doesn't convince you to behave..."

Aaron leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "Then I might have to tie you up, spread you wide open, and tease this needy little body of yours for hours. Keep you right on the razor's edge, begging so sweetly for release, until you're ready to agree to anything just to cum."

His hand snakes around to your front, fingers dipping teasingly through your slick folds. "Would you like that, baby girl? Being completely at my mercy, helpless to do anything but feel?"

You shudder and moan, your body following your true desires even as your mind struggles to hold onto its reservations. The spanks send jolts of painful pleasure radiating through you, stoking the flames of your arousal.

"Ahh...f-fuck, Aaron..." you pant, your voice thick with need. "You can't...can't just...ah!" Another spank cuts off your weak protests, the sensation making your toes curl. The image he paints - of being tied up, spread out, and teased mercilessly - sends a bolt of liquid heat straight to your core. "Yes I want that." you admit.

Aaron smiles triumphantly as he hears the breathy admission fall from your lips, your body's reactions telling him everything he needs to know.

"That's my good girl," he praises huskily, rubbing your ass. "Admitting what you really want. And we both know what that is, don't we, sweetheart?"

True to his word, Aaron secures your wrists above your head with soft ropes, the silky material a delicious contrast to your sensitized skin. He takes a moment to admire the view - you, splayed out and vulnerable, flushed with arousal and anticipation. His eyes rake over your body hungrily, drinking in every dip and curve.

Aaron starts with feather-light touches, tracing the delicate folds of your labia with the tip of his tongue. He laves at your slit, savoring your unique flavor, before zeroing in on your aching clit. A single, purposeful flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud has you keening, your back arching off the bed.

"Mmm, so sensitive," he murmurs appreciatively, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. "I could make you cum just like this, couldn't I? With barely any effort at all."

To prove his point, he seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently, alternating with quick, pointed flicks of his tongue. Two fingers plunge deep into your weeping channel, curling to stroke that special spot inside you.

Aaron works you over with single-minded focus, determined to push you to the brink of ecstasy again and again. He varies his technique, switching between broad licks and targeted flicks, alternating suction and pressure on your clit. His fingers pump steadily, twisting and curling, finding new angles to stimulate your innermost depths.

Your thighs tremble and quake around his head as he feasts on you, the obscene sounds of your arousal filling the room. He can feel you tightening around his invading digits, your body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Just as you teeter on the very edge, he pulls back, denying you that final push. "Not yet, baby, he admonishes playfully, blowing cool air over your drenched folds. You haven't agreed yet."

You writhe and moan, tears of frustration leaking from the corners of your eyes as Aaron edges you relentlessly once again. Your body is wound so tightly, every nerve ending screaming for release, but he denies you again and again, keeping you balanced precariously on the knife's edge of climax.

"Please, Aaron!" you beg, voice raw with need. "I can't.... Ahhh!" Your words dissolve into incoherent cries as he suckles particularly hard on your clit, the pleasure bordering on pain. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" You tug desperately at her bonds, craving something, anything to ground yourself. But there's no escape from the exquisite torture he's inflicting.

Aaron notices your continued resistance, even as your body screams for release. A wicked gleam enters his eye as an idea takes shape. He reaches into the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a sleek black anal plug and a small, soft-bristled brush.

"Let's see how long this stubborn streak of yours lasts, baby girl," he purrs, voice dripping with dark promise. Without warning, he presses the tapered tip of the small plug against your tightly furled rosebud, applying gentle but insistent pressure.

The cool metal contrasts deliciously with the scorching heat of your skin as he slowly works the toy deeper, pausing to let you adjust. Once seated fully, he gives a subtle wiggle, sending sparks of new sensation radiating through your core.

You gasp as the foreign object invades your ass, the stretch and fullness sending shockwaves of sensation through her body. You feel impossibly empty and aching, yet stuffed so deliciously full at the same time. The anal plug shifts with every movement, keeping you hyperaware and on edge.

"Aaahh! Aaron!" you cry out, back arching off the bed as he wiggles the toy teasingly. Tears of overwhelming stimulation prick at the corners of her eyes. "It's too much, I can't-" But your protests are cut short as he dives back between your thighs, that wicked tongue of his lashing at your swollen, throbbing clit again.

He laps at your clit with broad, flat strokes of his tongue, reveling in how sensitive and responsive you've become. The addition of the anal plug seems to heighten every touch exponentially.

He picks up the small, soft-bristled brush, the fluffy head barely an inch wide. Teasingly, he runs the delicate bristles along your slit, catching on your engorged clit with each pass. The light, tickling sensation is maddening, keeping you poised on the knife's edge of orgasm without allowing you to topple over.

You're practically sobbing with need now. Every brush of the soft bristles against your aching clit sends lightning bolts of pleasure zinging up your spine. Combined with the constant pressure and stretch of the anal plug, you feel like you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

"P-please, Aaron," you whimper brokenly, voice hoarse from crying out. "I can't... I need... Fuck, I need to cum so badly!" Tears stream freely down your face now, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations consuming her.

Aaron pauses his torment, lifting his head to take in the sight of you - tear-streaked face contorted in agonized bliss, chest heaving with ragged breaths, muscles pulled taut as a bowstring. He drinks in your desperation like fine wine, relishing the power he holds over you.

"Shhh, I know, sweetheart," he croons, voice low and soothing despite the wicked glint in his eyes. "I can see how much you need it. How close you are. But you know what you have to do to earn that release."

He leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "Tell me you're mine, baby. Give yourself to me completely, and I'll let you cum harder than you ever have before. Keep fighting it, and I'll leave you like this, aching and unfulfilled."

Aaron watches your anguished pleas with a mixture of dark satisfaction and growing impatience, shocked that you haven’t used your safe word yet. He can see the war raging within you - the desperate need for completion battling against your stubborn refusal to surrender completely. It's a delicious sight, but he's tired of these games.

"Enough," he says sharply, voice brooking no argument. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, the sudden change in position making the plug shift inside you deliciously. He drapes himself over your back, one large hand splaying across your shoulder blades to pin you down. His other hand snakes around to your front, fingers delving between your legs to circle your clit with ruthless precision.

"Listen closely, baby," he growls in your ear, hips grinding against your ass. "This is your last chance."

Your body suddenly seizes with the force of a life changing orgasm, Aaron curses under his breath, equal parts frustrated and impressed by your lack of control. He doesn't let up his ministrations, fingers continuing their merciless assault on your clit as you thrash beneath him, lost to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Didn't I tell you not to cum without permission?" he growls, voice thick with disapproval even as he grinds against your spasming body, prolonging your peak.

"Such a naughty girl, disobeying me like that." Despite his stern words, there's a note of dark satisfaction in his tone. Your loss of control is a testament to how thoroughly he's unraveled you, brought you to the brink of madness with desire.

Your body trembles and jerks as the aftershocks of her climax roll through you, leaving you boneless and spent. You've never felt so utterly owned, so completely at someone else's mercy.

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I couldn't help it." Even in the aftermath of your orgasm, your body aches for more, craving his touch like a drug. The anal plug shifts inside you with every shuddering breath, keeping you acutely aware of your own arousal. You've never felt so desperate, so willing to submit to another person's every whim.

Aaron's expression softens slightly at the genuine remorse in your voice, though the hunger in his eyes remains undiminished. He gentles his touch, fingers slowing their frenzied pace to languid circles around your still-throbbing clit. His other hand slides up to cup your cheek and tilt your face towards his.

"Shh, it's alright, baby," he murmurs, voice a low, soothing rumble. "I know it was too much to resist. You did so well holding on for as long as you did." He captures your lips in a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing your whimpers and moans. He flips you on your back again, his gaze is intense, boring into yours with smoldering intent.

Aaron's eyes flash with sadistic glee as he reaches for the vibrator, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He knows exactly how to push you to your limits, to make you scream and beg and plead for mercy. And he intends to do just that.

"Since you seem to enjoy cumming without permission so much," he purrs, turning the toy to its highest setting, "I think it's time for round two of your punishment."

Without further preamble, he presses the buzzing head directly against your throbbing clit, holding it steady despite your bucking hips. The intense vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure-pain ricocheting through your oversensitized body, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.

Aaron watches with dark satisfaction as you writhe and convulse beneath the relentless assault of the vibrator, your body no longer your own. He can feel the tension building in your core, the way your walls flutter and clench around nothing, desperate for something to fill them.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Cum for me again. Show me how much you love being punished, how much you need my touch."

“I can’t, Aaron!” your scream. Aaron ignores your anguished pleas, keeping the vibrator pressed firmly against your abused clit. He revels in the sight of you, so beautifully broken, tears and sweat mingling on your flushed skin as you fall apart in his arms once again.

Even after another orgasm, he doesn’t relent, keeping the vibratior on your swollen clit no matter how hard you buck your hips to avoid it.

"Shh, just breathe through it, baby," he croons, voice deceptively gentle even as he continues the torturous stimulation. "You're doing so well, taking your punishment like a good girl."

His free hand strokes down your trembling thigh, almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the brutal pleasure he's inflicting. Suddenly, he stops the vibrator.

"Ready for more, sweetheart?" he purrs dangerously, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“No, I can’t take anymore, please.” you reply, your voice raspy from screaming.

Aaron hilts himself inside you with one powerful thrust, groaning at the exquisite tightness enveloping him. He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours as he pounds into your sensitive flesh. Each drag of his cock against your inner walls sends sparks of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe." To have Daddy's big, fat cock all to yourself? To be the only one I fuck, the only one I give attention to?"

One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the column of your throat. He latches onto the delicate skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, to brand you as his. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight, holding you in place as he rails into you.

You whimper and moan, overwhelmed by the intense sensations "Y-yes, yes, I want you all to myself!" your nails dig into his back, clinging to him desperately as he claims you thoroughly, chasing his own release.

"Okay baby," he whispers, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "I'm not gonna fuck anyone else again. Only you, okay?" He grinds against your cervix with each snap of his hips, determined to stake his claim on your very soul. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he pants harshly.

"I’m serious Aaron... I can't take anymore!" Your hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The anal plug shifts with each movement, adding to the cacophony of sensations assaulting your nerves.

"That's it, baby," he encourages darkly as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Let me hear those pretty sounds. Cry for me, beg for me. Show me how much you need me."

"Please," you rasp, voice little more than a broken whisper. "Please, Aaron. I... I won't leave you. I'm yours, okay?" The words fall from your lips like a prayer, a desperate supplication.

In that moment, you know you'd agree to anything, give him anything, if only he'd put an end to this sweet torture. Your pride, your stubbornness, all the walls you've built around her heart - they crumble to dust in the face of her all-consuming desire.

Aaron slows his thrusts, grinding deep inside you as he gazes down at your face intently. His eyes bore into yours, dark with possession and barely restrained lust.

"If you want to come one last time," he says, voice a low, dangerous purr, "tell me you love me. Tell me you'll never even think about leaving me again." He rolls his hips deliberately, stirring up your insides. "Tell me."

Shaking, you finally say, "I-I love you, Aaron. God, I love you so much. I'll never leave you, never threaten to go. Please, please let me come!"

"Those are the magic words, baby," he growls in satisfaction, eyes flashing with triumph and dark desire. "Come for me then. Now." With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, grinding against your cervix as his fingers attack your clit.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. He follows you over the edge moments later, flooding your spasming pussy with his hot seed, marking you as his inside and out.

Collapsing against the sheets, utterly spent and satisfied, "Wow, I think that was your best work yet. I need time to recover." you say, panting between words.

He chuckles lowly, nuzzling into your neck as he pulls you close, still buried deep inside you. "Mmm, I aim to please, sweetheart.”

He presses soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, finally capturing your lips in a tender, loving kiss unlike any before. He unties your hands gently.

When he pulls back, his eyes are warm with genuine affection. "I meant what I said, you know. About not seeing other women anymore. I can't believe you thought I was just gonna let you walk away."

Aaron’s forehead rests against yours, his breath unsteady, his grip unrelenting—like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. His hands tremble slightly where they hold you, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to memorize the shape of you.

He leans in, his voice a hushed whisper against your lips. “Go to sleep, baby.”

And just like that, the fight is over.

Because you were never going anywhere.

[e-vay]

("Sonic") Hands Study

I get asked a lot how I draw hands, and particularly how I draw hands in the "Sonic" style. Let me preface by saying I am mostly self-taught, so please do your research and study what techniques work best for you. The following demonstration is what I personally use to help me draw hands in general and–more specifically–how I draw “Sonic” hands. This is less of a tutorial and more of a series of observations.

*And remember, there are always exceptions to the rules!*

I personally believe before you can go about stylizing hands, you have to understand how to draw hands in the first place. Afterall, I think you have to know the rules before you can best bend/break them. Think about super stylized hands in animation like the characters from Atlantis or Hercules. Even though these hands are unlike what we see in real life, they still look and feel ‘natural’ because the artists understand how hands function and are able to bend the rules while still demonstrating proper anatomy. 

Sources: [x] [x]

I highly recommend studying the anatomy of a hand. It’s educational and fascinating! There are plenty of free resources online!

I understand many people find hands intimidating to draw, but the best way to learn how to draw anything is by breaking it down into shapes. Everything is made up of shapes.

3 is the magic number

In simple terms, our hands can be seen in patterns of 3. Your palm can be broken into 3 segments that can move semi-independently. Your fingers are composed of 3 segments each (proximal, middle, distal). There are 3 phalangeal joints per finger. The average shape a person’s fingertips make when aligned is a triangle (a 3-sided shape), with the middle finger being the highest most point of the triangle and the other fingers cascading down (there are exceptions to this rule). Keeping the number 3 in mind will help you remember how hands/fingers articulate. 

Everything is connected

Even though elements of your hand can move somewhat independently, every movement influences the other segments of the hand. Notice when you put one finger down how (most likely) at least one other finger moves slightly? Or notice how you can only do certain gestures with the assistance of your other fingers or sections of your palm? Keeping in mind how segments of the hand affect the others will help make your drawings feel more organic and less stiff.

I usually start with the palm (or back of the hand) first and that determines where everything else falls into place.

Once you grasp how hands work, that’s when I believe you can determine how stylized you want to get. There is a very large range of drawings hands from super realistic to very simplistic.

If you’re wanting to emulate a certain style, you have to study it and learn how it works.

"Sonic" hands

As far as Sonic hands go, it depends on which version you’re best hoping to emulate. Notice how the styles vary even throughout the franchise?

In the 3D video games, Sonic characters tend to have what I classify as more ‘cartoon-y’ hands while in illustrated media, it often leans more towards realism. (Note I said ‘leans towards,’ not full realism). How and why is that?

Let’s break it down into shapes again, Sonic Style! Pt 1

In many of the 3D rendered media, the characters’ fingers are made of more round shapes. The models also don’t conform to realistic proportions. The tips of the fingers are usually larger than the segments closer to the palms (the middle and proximal phalanges), and this helps to deviate them from a more realistic look. Speaking of proportions, the hands overall tend to be disproportionately larger than the rest of the characters’ bodies. This also makes it feel more like a cartoon, even without resorting to a super simplified, 3-fingered hand like Mickey Mouse or Bob Belcher.

Breaking down shapes, Sonic Style! pt 2

Illustrated samples vary depending on the artist/studio, but I’ve noticed that in general, illustrated Sonic characters’ hands tend to have more square/rectangular shapes. The phalanx proportions often resemble what we see in real life, with the fingertips tapering down in size compared to the segments closest to the palm. The overall size of the hands in proportion to the body are still larger than that of real humans, but they tend to be closer in proportion compared to their 3D counterparts. This is why in illustrations, the characters are more capable of crossing their arms, interlacing their fingers, or making other natural hand gestures.

Also, notice in these examples, there’s more detail to the hands than what you’d find on a Looney Tunes character? There are often folds in the material of the gloves, some knuckle definition present, more natural bends to the fingers. However, the hands are almost never as detailed as that of say, a Dragon Ball character where you’re seeing muscle tendons, veins, definition of each finger segment, finger nails, etc.

Sources: Dragon Ball Z, The Looney Tunes Show

MY STYLE

With all that in mind, I happen to find the sweet spot for the Sonic character style right in this range:

Everyone has their own preferences and it’s up to you to decide what you like best, but this is what I prefer. 

MY STYLE - Cont’d

I use a blend of the two previous Sonic styles I mentioned, Cartoon-Round + SemiRealistic-Square. I like to go with a more “Squoval” shape (rounded squares) to the fingers. I try to keep the fingers in a naturally proportionate scale with the ends tapering down in size, but the overall size of the hands are still bigger than what you’d see in real life. I like to add a bit more detail when warranted, but I personally rarely resort to definition in the tendons/veins or complex wrinkles in the bends of the fingers (unless it suits a specific character or emotion). 

Like I said, this is less of a tutorial and more a series of observations. But perhaps looking at hands in the way that I do might help you with your own drawings! You should absolutely do your own studies to find what works best for you. But I hope you found this helpful in some way!

[backtothefanfiction]

ONE | The Drone

Summary: Joaquin gets his very own version of Red Wing. Little does he know, there’s an actual person on the other end of the drone.

Warnings: none for this part, Joaquin just being his usual cute boyish self, reader insert

Word Count: 1.1k+

A/N: so after having this thought this morning I’m running with it. I don’t know how often I’ll update these but this is more an introduction to the premise. I have a couple ideas planned for this mini series but the idea is they are just quick things I can write. If I end up writing any spicy chapters I will mark them, but seeing as they are both at a distance from each other, this will be more slow burn fluffy pining. Anyway, enjoy!

“What is this? My birthday?” Joaquin asked eagerly as Sam approached him with a very fancy top secret looking briefcase.

“You wish.” Sam retorted stepping forward and swinging the briefcase up onto the deck.

Joaquin was practically bouncing from one leg to the other with excitement, his hands rubbing together in desperate need to touch whatever was inside. “What is it?”

There was a snap as Sam popped the locks on the case, but instead of opening it himself, he stepped back, his hand ushering his young protege forward to take a look.

Joaquin couldn’t believe his eyes. His fingers ghosted over the bird like drone inside the case, almost too scared to touch it as he took in the expensive and highly delicate piece of tech. His head whipped to the side, his eyes alight and giddy as the sought out Sam’s. “I get my own red wing!” He exclaimed.

Sam smiled at the younger man’s infectious and eager energy and almost let out a laugh. “Not quite. Red wing is mine. This is F.E.A.R.N,” he quickly explained. “Stands for Field, Environment, Artillery, Reconnaissance and Navigation. Your extra pair of eyes and back up in the field.” Sam said as Joaquin tried to keep his cool and seem at least a little professional. “You can talk to it and everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Why don’t you give it a go.” Sam encouraged,

“What is it? That button there?” Joaquin asked only slightly hesitantly as he let his finger hover just above the button directly on top of the drone.

“That’s the one.”

“This one?” Joaquin said again, as if seeking his Father’s approval in case he did something wrong.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“And I just press it and it starts?” Joaquin asked, checking yet again with a nervous yet giddy smile on his face.

“Yeah man, just press it!”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You swivelled back and forth on your chair bored. First day of your new job and most of it had just been spent sitting around. Luckily this new job meant you could work from home- seeing as you were on call pretty much 24/7 for whenever the new Falcon was sent on a mission- meaning you could just sit around eating super noodles, read your book and drink endless cups of tea, but you were eager to do something. You knew that Captain America was handing over the new bit of tech you were hired to help man today, you just didn’t know when.

So far you had been waiting three hours, which had equated to 7 book chapters read, four games of solitaire won, 3 cups of tea and a freshly painted set of toe nails. You were just fanning them dry with your fingers when your computer started beeping to let you know the new drone had been activated. You quickly pushed your feet off the floor to wheel yourself back to your desk, your fingers quickly hitting a couple of buttons that allowed the sound and video feed to pop up on the screen and you immediately began to hear voices crackle through the speakers as you reached to put on the headset draped over the top of the monitor.

“Well why don’t you say hello,” Sam’s voice came out loudly through the speaker before switching to the headset as the Bluetooth connected.

“Umm, hello?” A nervous voice said, unsure what would happen.

“Hello, Joaquin,” you said cheerfully into the mic at your lips and you had to stop yourself from laughing and remain professional as his whole body practically jumped at hearing your response.

“It knows my name,” Joaquin said, turning to Sam in disbelief. “It knows my name!!!” He said more giddily, his fingers latching onto Sam’s shoulders in excitement. You couldn’t help but smile at the Lieutenant’s boyish reactions.

“I know a lot more than just that.” You responded playfully, your eyes glancing back over the file on your desk again.

“Really? Nothing bad I hope.” He beamed and it really took all your effort to be professional. You knew he was attractive and his track record spoke for itself as far as what had been written down on paper, but no one had prepared you for his personality and you could already feel yourself growing weak at the knees.

“Now, now.” Sam said, breaking up the conversation to get things back on track. “Now you know how Red Wing works?” Sam prompted the younger recruit, his tone changing.

“Yeah,” Joaquin responded.

“Okay, well think of FEARN as being like Red Wing but on steroids. She can not only check the area for you and provide back up, but she’s your quick access to information. Anything you need, just ask.”

“So say I was on a mission in Budapest and I needed to find the closest toilet?”

“Uhh yeah, she can do that?” Sam said, slightly confused by the example Joaquin had used.

“Or if I needed a background check run on someone?” He said, his eyebrows raising as if to silently ask if that was a better question and Sam nodded. “Oh this is so cool!” Joaquin gushed again and another smile spread across your face as you watched them from the safety of your living room.

“Okay, so how do I control it. Is there a remote control type thingy or…”

“Just tell her where you want her to go, she’ll do it.” Sam said.

“Oookay, uh, FEARN?” Joaquin asked politely.

“Yes, Joaquin,” you responded with equal politeness.

“Take a lap of the room.” He said.

You nodded, although he couldn’t see you, before you began to use your controls to navigate the small bird like drone around the room, sweeping over and under the beams in the rafters of the warehouse before dipping back down to where Sam and Joaquin stood.

“Sweet!” Joaquin exclaimed and you beamed. “Do a flip.” He said and you once again used your controls to roll the small bird over. “Nice.”

“Come on now, let not break it before we get a chance to get it out in the field.” Sam said stepping forward, encouraging Joaquin to pack FEARN away until his next mission.

“Uhh, how do I-?” Joaquin fished, trying to work out the right command to get the drone to dock itself again,

“Just ask her to go home.”

“Okay. FEARN time to go home.”

At Joaquin’s instruction you began to manoeuvre the drone carefully back into its dock before you shut it off, your connection to the two men cutting out with it until the next time you were called upon.

In the sudden silence you couldn’t help but curl your freshly painted toes in happiness as you beamed from ear to ear over your new job and partner. After doing a couple of spins in your chair to alleviate some of the giddiness, you reached back over to the file on your desk and flipped to the picture that had been included of Joaquin Torres and sighed at your good fortune. He was the perfect work partner; cute, polite and a great personality and you couldn’t wait to work with him.

[orimuraa]

All I need is you on my side - OT7

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆dating gamer enhypen ⨾

۶ৎ gamer!enhypen x fem!reader ┆fluff┆kisses, headcanons┆wc 1.1k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: idk why but i really love this idea so i hope it turned out okay 😭 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated 💗

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ��𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

let's get this straight

we all know hee is a big gamer nerd

so i feel like he would be the type of boyfriend who really loves having you on his lap while he plays

he's a streamer so the days where he decides to keep his camera off, he likes to have you with him

if he's yelling too loud into your ear, he will immediately mute and start apologizing

heeseung would be a bit anxious at first to let his fans know about you because he's worried about hate, but his fans are all super supportive of you guys

when he kisses you on stream, the chat goes wild, telling you two to "get a room"

gamer hee is overall so happy to have you by his side and he loves you very much

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

at first, jay would be very hesitant about letting his fanbase know a lot about him, but he later on grows to realize that his fans are all so supportive of him

so that's when he will start bringing you into streams if you're comfy

it started with a late night stream where you were bundled in the big white comforter, sitting on the bed and watching your boyfriend play when his chat noticed you

they kept spamming the chat with "who's the cutie behind you?" or "jay can pull?" or "jay, i love you, but i'm gonna steal that girl from you"

it made jay chuckle once he realized what was going on and so he muted himself before asking if you wanted to say hi

he slowly introduced you and said you were his amazing girlfriend (to which you blushed very hard at) before letting you go with a kiss on the cheek

his whole chat went wild and jay made a mental note that he'll include you more

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

just like hee, jakey here is a huge gamer as well

he's just so grateful for his fans so he loves being super open and honest with them

so, with your permission, jake will tell them about you and maybe even bring you onto stream sometimes

while jake is gaming, you're usually bundled up on the bed watching him or falling asleep

jake tries very hard not to wake you but if he happens to shout too loud, he'll immediately cup his hand over his mouth before rushing over to you, lulling you back to sleep with his magical kisses and small apologies

you often times just admire jake when he streams, not paying any attention to the game but more on how amazing and handsome your boyfriend is

oh! alsoo, his chat may or may not love you more than him >o<

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

i'm going to be very honest right now, i do not believe that sunghoon's fans found out about you via a gaming stream

i feel like it would be one of those "building furniture from ikea, come watch me suffer" types of streams and sunghoon would just casually be answering Q&A's when someone asks if he had a gf

he would smirk before nodding and saying "i do indeed, chat. would you like to meet her?" and then rush to go ask you if you wanna say hello

but besides that, he would actually start playing less violent games because of you

he would start an animal crossing stream in the mix of all his COD or whatever streams, knowing that you would come running to play animal crossing with him

sunghoon's happiest when he sees you enjoying something he treasures a lot and he especially loves teaching you how to play certain games

and we can't forget the teasing <3

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

i lowkey think that sunoo would just stream and play things like zelda breath of the wild, animal crossing, or stardew valley

he's just a chill guy <3

so often times, he'll have you in his lap when he streams and plays his chill games

his chat is always happy to see you there and while sunoo is focused on gaming, you interact with the chat and get to know them better

you sit in the comfortable silence, the clicking of his keyboard and the hum of his pc being the only noise

you like to think that other people find the comfort in sunoo's streams just like you do

coming home after a long day and then being able to just relax with sunoo as he games, giggling when you read the things his chat says

yeah...he's your definition of comfort streamer

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

jungwon is naturally very protective of you and so when he introduced you to his chat and fans, he made sure that they were very respectful to you and he would spend hours scrolling through comments, reporting any hate

he does love having you with him while he streams though

seeing you interact with his chat while he plays games with his friends always makes him smile

his chat names him "#1 y/n simp" because one time, he thought he turned off the camera but he must've missed because his whole audience saw him get up and shower you in kisses before going back to his game

he was definitely trending on sns the next day

not to mention, won also loves showing you off though

like i feel like he's the type to playfully be like "i have a gf and you don't" in a teasing manner

but despite this silliness, he locks in on the games when needed, knowing you understand

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

ni-ki would definitely be the type to start out by not showing your face on streams for privacy, but letting his chat know that you exist

but you soon realized that you wouldn't mind being on stream and so the day he revealed you, his chat went crazy

they all love you a lot and they adore seeing you on ni-ki's lap as he games

you're like his cheerleader

you have no idea what's going on in the game but you will clap for him every time you're sure something good happened

if you reward him with a kiss, he'll turn very red and shy before scolding his chat for spamming "simp"

ni-ki can be very noisy when he games sometimes so you have to remind him to keep it down a bit

his apology is a bunch of kisses and a couple whispered apologies

he's tough on stream but only you can bring out the softer side of him, making the chat love you even more

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @miukidoll

[shinigamigloss]

sweet mornings!

cw: just fluff, stuff, very short, husband leon, and mentioned scar on his chin!, he makes a 'joke' about the age gap between the two of you, idek;3, im kinda hjgh im sorry

⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The morning light streams through the half-open blinds, spilling honeyed inks across the bathroom tiles. The redolence of fresh coffee lingers in the air. Then there’s the sharp aroma of Leon’s usual aftershave – the very scent you’ve grown to affiliate with home.

He reclines on the shut toilet seat, legs spread wide, arms flung loose on his thighs. His baby blue bathrobe is sloppy over his impressively big shoulders, sleeves a little bit too short, contributing to his appearance of the harried, underpaid househusband that he so often claims to be.

The visage is a lovely one, from Leon’s favorite coffee cup with the inscription “My dad is a superhero”, to the newspaper he always happens to peruse in the morning and his reading glasses.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he tutts at you. You don’t say a thing. Rather, you dip the shaving brush in tepid water.

“I’m a grown-up man. I've been shaving myself since... damn, since before you were old enough to drink.”

Ouch.

You shake your head in a faux disbelief and spread the lather on the soap. “Leon, you and I both know that you consistently miss this specific spot.”

Of course you’d hurt his feelings like that. Leon absolutely feels betrayed by his own wife.

Your husband huffs dramatically. “One time. One time I leave just one patch, and suddenly I’m the inept one.”

“Well, you do have a reputation to uphold, Mr. Kennedy.” An impish smile graces your lips. You prod at his chin, tilting up his pretty face.

“Now, stay still.”

“Yas, ma’am.” Smiling to himself, he obliges.

You apply the foam to his stubbled jawline. His hair is fetchingly tousled from sleep, silver threads woven into his otherwise brown locks reflecting the morning light in a way that makes your heart race inside the cage of your ribs, your bones.

“You starin’ at me?” he impeaches playfully as you gingerly reach for the razor.

“Shhh. You talk too much.” You draw the knife slowly down his jaw. “I gotta be careful. One mistake and—“

“You slit my throat?”

“Yup.” You don’t hesitate.

His lashes flutter, and he draws a long, balmy sigh. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

“You figured it out, huh?”

“Yep. I love a slow-burn assassination plot and a femme fatale.”

You wipe the blade and move on to the next part on his skin – cautiously so when you feel the trace of a healed scar under your thumb.

“Tragic,” you retort.

He snorts out a laugh. The bathroom is warm, heavy with steam from the shower he just took.

When you near his upper lip, he raises his brows. “Bet you won’t kiss me right now.”

Mind games are his absolute favorite when it comes to teasing the hell out of you.

“I won’t.” You obviously lie. Leaning forward as if to show him, you dab a tiny bit of foam on the tip his nose instead. “Oops.”

He automatically grumbles. “Unbelievable. There goes my kiss.”

“You’ll live, Leon. You’re a big man.”

When you’re finished, his face is vividly smooth, and you can’t resist running your fingers along the curve of his jaw. “Perfect.”

Leon catches your hand before you can pull it back, giving a slow kiss to the inside of your palm. “Mrs. Kennedy, I think you missed a certain spot.”

“Huh?” A frown sits on the gap between your eyebrows.

“No way! Where?”

He touches his peach-kissed lips. “Right here.”

God, what a greedy man.

You nearly roll your eyes at this cheesy attempt to flirt.

“Ew. That was so bad, Leon.”

“It did the trick, didn’t it, sweetheart?” He pulls you in. Tips his chin up expectantly, and he looks undoubtedly adorable.

With a flourish of a sigh, you bend down and finally kiss him on his lips. Soft and all familiar. He tastes like morning coffee and mint. Simply delicious and inherently him. In these very vibrations of seconds, you subconsciously know that you’ll let him get away with any missing spots for the rest of your life.

[footygirl114]

Destino (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

I wasnt lying when I said that the inspiration bug has hit me, and dropping unsupportive weight has defiantly helped! So here is the second fic of this inspiration wave - lots of fluff in this one!

Part 2 to: Entrenadora - I would suggest this one first

After exchanging a few texts with Alexia you found it difficult to focus through the rest of the day but you managed to get through the 3 lectures you had. Luckily you were a professional and passionate about teaching which meant it was not too difficult to zone into the teaching subjects. But once you were in your office after the conclusion of your lectures you were once again filled with that nervous giddy excitement. 

Staring at your phone you had an unread message from Alexia with her free evenings for dinner for the next few weeks. Once you looked and compared them to your own calendar in front of you, you immediately deflated as there was not a single date that lined up with your own free evenings. Teaching and coaching has your calendar filled to the brim, and any free nights seemed to line up with Alexia’s game nights. 

Before you responded you couldn’t help the sinking feeling that the fact that Alexia even was looking in your direction was too good to be true. there was no way someone of her caliber and fame would ever be satisfied with you, and you knew that this was the universe telling you to give up on this and not even bother to continue to try to purse this one. 

You made up a text to send back to the footballer, basically laughing about not having any free dates and maybe it was not meant to be. Not wanting to see a response you put your phone on do not disturb and dove into work, and coaching later that evening. 

It wasn’t until the following morning when you gave your brain the chance to think about her again, you were sitting at the counter in a coffee shop with your laptop open trying to catch up on a few emails before you had an appointment. It was a place not in your normal neighbourhood but you had a appointment in the area and you didn’t want to be late so you came down early to get some work done. 

You were enthralled with you computer, and reading an article about some advances in cancer treatments when you felt someone sit down beside you and place a hand on your arm. 

Startled you turn and pull out one of your headphones and you meet the eyes of the one person you were trying to forget “Alexia.” 

“Hola Y/N, lo seinto I did not mean to startle you but you didn’t hear me over the music” she says with a smile. 

You smile back at her, and can feel the butterflies settle in your stomach as you ask her “what are you doing here?” 

She chuckles and points over her shoulder “I live around the corner, this is my usual coffee spot.” 

You cant help but chuckle at that and say “of all the coffee shops I pick, I pick yours, the universe really is wild.” 

“I prefer to think of it as fate, especially since you never answered my text” she says with a small smile, and if you didn’t know any better you would think she was nervous.

You blush knowing you got caught avoiding her as you say “sorry busy night coaching, and I turned my phone on do not disturb”

She smiles and moves her hand to your forearm squeezing it she says “I know we are both busy, but I would like to take you on that date eventually Y/N.” 

“you would?” you ask surprised before you have a chance to rethink the answer. 

She looks offended as she responds and says “Si Y/N”

“why?” you ask again before your mind catches up with you.

“I want to get to know you better Y/N, thats what dates are for. There was something between us, and the fact that I think you see me for me, makes me want to know you.” She says seriously. 

“Oh.”

She chuckles and leans forward and whispers in your ear “I want to know everything about the cute blushing football coach, and I will keep telling you that until you let me take you out to prove it” finishing it with a kiss to your cheek. 

Before you can even respond she squeezes your arm and says “I have to go, but please text me back at some point and lets run into each other on purpose, and not leave it up to fate again.” 

You nod and say to her “i can do that.” 

Smiling she presses another kiss to your cheek and whispers out “goodbye” and she takes off out of the cafe. You barley have time to overthink that interaction when your alarm goes off reminding you of your appointment and you hastily pack up and head out. 

**

Over the next week you keep your word and continue to text her, she makes sure to send you a message every morning, even though she’s up way before you, and every night before she falls asleep. She also continues to ask you small questions to learn the little things about you, and every time you smile as she keeps her word about wanting to know you. 

Although you seem to talk quite often you still cannot get your schedules to line up, one of your only free afternoons for the week has you helping out a colleague with a research study. She is studying the effects of injuries on female footballers, you know her study has become quite popular and she was at the point of having live footballer in her lab to study. 

She immediately puts you to work and you are helping to register some of the volunteers she has in for the study, most are younger footballers and are excited to help try to get involved in a study like this. You are helping to register a young player on crutches when you hear one of the other players in the waiting room gasp and whisper “is that Alexia Putellas?”.

You look up and meet her eyes as she walks into the room, and you have to hold the smile in and when she winks at you, you know you have a blush on your face. You quickly finish with the young player in front of you and you call her up next. 

“hi, I’m here for the study” she says with a smile.

You nod and ask her the simple registration questions, most of them you already know the answer to but you have to go through the motions. You hand her a clipboard and when she grabs it you can feel her hand brush yours and the sparks run up your arm as you say “can you sign at the bottom please.” 

She signs and moves to sit in the waiting room for her turn, you don’t have someone else to register so you are able to watch her for a minute from your spot behind the table. She has at in between two young players and they are both talking a mile a minute at her, she’s smiling and answering their questions and you smile to your self at how amazing she is. 

When two grad students come out and take the other two younger girls to the back you are left with just Alexia in the waiting room and she stands up to come closer and says “I had no idea you would be here today.”

“My colleague and friend is running the study and she asked for some help today, she knew I had the afternoon off and suckered me into it” you tell her with a chuckle. 

“It seems fate really does want us to be near each other Y/N” she says with a small smirk and leans down on both hands on the table closer to you. 

You chuckle and say to her “You came on to my campus Alexia, it seems you wanted to run into me.” 

She smirks and says “its a big campus.” 

“I work in the anatomy building, my office is a floor above here.”

“I didn’t know that did I? I am just here to further the advancement of women’s football Y/N. You did tell me that you studied me for tactical reasons, maybe I should let someone study me for science” she finishes and winks at you with a smirk. 

You bite your lip and look around before you surge up out of your chair towards her and you press your lips hard to hers. It lasts only a moment before you pull back a breath away and say “I’m the only one who should be watching and studying you.” 

She smirks and says “that can be arranged Y/N, name the time and place.” 

Before you can respond the door opens and you both spring back from each other as a grad student comes in to get Alexia for her turn with the study. She follows the student but turns towards you before she disappears through the door and she blows a kiss and shoots you a wink. 

**

The following few days are spent texting and talking to Alexia on the phone as much as you both could manage, she was definitely flirting with you more than before and you were giving it right back. You were starting to come around to the idea that she actually wants to get to know you and you know you were wanting to know her back. 

The next weekend Alexia happens to have a Friday night game, meaning she has Saturday off. You however have a tournament with your nieces team so once again your schedule did not line up. You settled for not being able to see her once again but you kept to talking and texting with her. 

Your teams first game of the day was a competitive one but your team held their own and came out with a draw. Not the way to start a tournament but you kept the team positive and when the second game later in the afternoon came around and your team came out flying you were much more relaxed when you went up 4-0 in the 40th minute. 

A break in play and you take a moment to look around the field as you cant shake the feeling of eyes on you. When you lock eyes on a lone figure sitting behind the net with a ball cap on you know exactly who it is, and why you could feel eyes on you. You smile to your self as you never told her where you were playing and she must have looked it up to see you. 

The rest of the game you keep sneaking glances but she is so focused on your team playing that she doesn’t meet your eyes once. You smile to your self because you know its who she is and how passionate she is about football that she is enthralled in even a youth game. 

When the final whistle blows and your team finishes the victor of a 5-0 game you smile and shake yours and the other teams hands as well, while there is still a crowd around you look towards the sidelines and she’s not where she was. You feel a bit of disappointment but you continue to celebrate with your team, you make sure everyones packed up and ready for the semi final in the morning. 

You stay behind at the field to speak with your brother and niece and when you realise you left your phone on the bench you go back to grab it. You walk to your car and you see Alexia leaning against the side of it waiting for you. you smile walking toward her and say “hi, i thought you left.”

“I knew you’d seen me, so I couldn’t sneak away, but i didn’t want to be spotted and recognised by the anyone” she shrugs with a sheepish smile. 

You move to stand right in front of her and you ask her with a smile “how did you know we were playing here?” 

She chuckles and says “i have my ways Y/N.” 

“why did you come out?” 

“maybe I wanted to see you coach for purely tactical reasons” she shrugs with a soft smile. 

You step right into her space, dropping your bag beside you, you ask her “oh so it was only for tactics?”

She smirks and places her hands on your hips, she shakes her head and says “no Y/N, I wanted to see you.” 

Pressing your body to hers you press her back into your car and you ask “do you want to come over?” 

She leans down and stops a breath from your lips and says “I do, for purely tactical reasons.” 

You close the distance and press your lips to hers. She doesn’t let you have a moment before she responds and you feel her lips move against yours, her hands wander to your lower back and you press harder into her. After a few moments you pull back slightly and bite softly to her lower lip and release it with a pop and a smile, asking softly “follow me?” 

“anywhere” she immediately responds and moves to open your door for you as she says “my lady” and she curtsies. 

You chuckle as you get into the car whispering “nerd.” 

She closes the door and blows you a kiss and backs away to her car. You wait for her to get in and you pull out of the spot watching her the whole way in your rearview mirror to your place. When you pull into your building you get out and meet her at the front of your car and neither of you say anything as she follows you up in the elevator to your floor. Once again in silence she follows you to your door and waits beside you as you unlock it. 

She follows you in and when you turn to close the door she pushes you against it with her body and immediately connects your mouth with hers. She wastes no time before her tongue is in your mouth and caressing yours, her hands have roamed to your hips and yours go around her neck as you respond to the kiss. 

You lose yourself in the feeling of Alexia pressed against you, you can feel your self soaking your underwear and your thoughts are consumed with Alexia and how she feels and tastes. When she slows down the kiss and pulls back pressing multiple light kisses on to your lips she presses her forehead to yours and you both are panting and smiling at each other. 

You move your hands up to the hem of her shirt and try to push it up but she shakes her head and you pause and look at her as she pulls her head back and says “I want you Y/N, god you don’t know what you do to me and how much I want you but I think we should slow down.”

Giving her a confused you look you ask “what?” 

She chuckles and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and says “you’re cute.” 

She pulls back and moves into your apartment looking around, you follow her into the kitchen and move to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine. You grab two glasses and she turns around to you, you ask “wine?” 

“si por favor.”

You nod and pour two glasses bringing them both over to your couch and you pat beside you to get her to sit. She comes over and grabs one and settles sitting sideways on the couch so she is facing you and she smiles takes a sip of her wine and then places it on the table. You do the same and you ask “whats going through your mind Ale?” 

Smiling she says “i like you calling me that.” 

Chuckling you say “stop avoiding the question Ale.” 

She smiles and moves to grab your hand and she says “I want you but I also want to prove to you that I want you Y/N. I have noticed some of your hesitations and as much as I think tonight would be mind-blowing, I want to prove to you that I want you for you. The sweet, kind, cute professor who tends to ramble when she’s nerding out on a topic she cares about, or who takes time out of their busy schedule to coach their nieces team thats who i want to know. Every little detail about you, not just one night but for many.” 

You melt into her at that and she wraps her arms around you as you whisper into her neck “I want that too.” 

She presses a kiss to your hair and says “I will have my way with you soon, but first i want to know the beautiful brain and what makes you you.” 

You lean up and press a kiss to the underside of her jaw and when she looks at you, you whisper out “thank you for seeing me Ale.” 

“this isn’t just for tactics, this is for us” she whispers and presses her lips softly to yours. 

[elodieunderglass]

this feels like a strange question but in light of your info about how jockeys don't usually know or train with the horses they race on - what are jockeys..... for? what is the jockey doing that the horse couldn't be trained to do independently? does a good or bad jockey make a significant difference to how well a given horse does in a race?

Right?!

In a way, asking what the jockey’s for also asks the question of “why race horses?” Why do it at all, and why horses?

We sort of do it because horses are fast and exciting, and because they do what we tell them, even though it’s not in their nature. Because it’s not their nature, they have a jockey.

I’ve put this under a “Keep Reading” to save your dash.

Horses could be trained to race by themselves to some extent, but it wouldn’t be like greyhound racing - greyhounds are sighthounds, running perfectly reasonable dog software on top of ancient and serviceable dog hardware, practicing a variation of hunting behaviour. Horses wouldn’t do this; they have little desire to chase a mechanical rabbit. they have even less plan than a greyhound about what they’d do if they caught it. (Also, in terms of animal welfare, greyhound racing isn’t widely celebrated; loose animals running around aren’t better off than controlled ones.)

Racing-to-find-a-winner is not herding behaviour, even though some horses do seem to possess a natural interest in the topic. You could train some of them to understand better, and that’s what racehorse training is, but the way we have of training that is to put someone on their back to explain to them what their job is, so it all becomes circular anyway. Why do it? Why not? Why do humans race horses? Why race horses? We could just race snails; it’d be cheaper!

One answer is that when horses just Go, it isn’t super Fun. They mostly Go to pieces.

The jockey is the pilot, or software, who understands the situation and has a goal to achieve. The horse is not an engine, but a thinking animal; they have their own goals and interests, which are often satisfied by just running around in a predator-confusing fashion with their friends for 2 minutes, and then crashing into a car, eating hot chips and lying. Most of them do not really care how long 3 minutes is, what a mile means, what “pacing” is, or what “winning” is. They just have Go, and so they do that for a bit, and then fuck off.

I guess another metaphor would be Mario Kart. There are various combinations of automated and human players in a game of Mario Kart, and if racing was just about going fast, the fastest vehicle should always win. But a decent human player can beat the NPCs even if the human hasn’t bothered min/maxxing a vehicle, just because they can be moderately smart about how to race. An adult can often beat a child at Mario Kart, even if the adult takes a much worse vehicle, because in theory, brains/experience/strategy/planning factor into “who wins a race,” and we LIKE that.

Same with car racing. Why not just race autonomous vehicles? In F1, where they build their own cars, why not include the driving software in the design? Or why not remote-control them? Why bother strapping a poor driver into a flameproof suit? Fans will tell you it’s strategy. The human driver uses tactics and responsiveness and skill - but, below all this, the dark red thread of the human is risking their life and we like that.

In theory, jockeys are more intelligent than thoroughbreds, and have more of a plan: setting pace, knowing what time is, changing strategy, evaluating stamina, conducting the horse safely through traffic and over jumps, and adding a complicating element of human interest. In practice, it’s believed that they have relatively little influence on race outcomes - a bad jockey on a good horse can win or lose a race; a good jockey on a bad horse usually just loses; oh, what the hell, let’s just race snails instead - but without the jockeys, you’d have to change the name of the sport to Horses Wandering Around A Carpark Kicking Lumps Off Each Other.

Here is a bunch of baby steeplechasers practicing the concept of Go in such a way that nobody gets to Go at all. After the un-mounted Snow Dragon wipes out most of the other horses and jockeys, all of the loose horses go faster without the weight of their riders, but after an initial show of interest in the concept, the loose horses all lose interest and focus.

It was funny (because nobody was hurt) but it wasn’t what anyone really wanted. In theory, that’s what the jockey is for: they’re supposed to be the adult, in a game where you can win by doing that.

But none of it has to be happening, any more than Investments need to be Managed, you know? It would also be fine if we didn’t! Michael O’Sullivan, an Irish jockey, just died racing this very week and there’s the dark red thread again: the human is risking their life.

The consumption of animal and human in an ancient sport is fascinating and visceral and compelling; but you’re right to question it; none of it has to be that way.

As for the second half of your question: a bad jockey can make a good horse lose. A good jockey cannot make a bad horse win. But most people and most horses are not particularly exceptional, or particularly anything at all; they are just workers running in a circle.

Top jockeys on average horses win more often than other people on average horses. Top jockeys and champions exist, with year-on-year records and recorded material evidence of their decision-making and risks paying off, indicating that there’s consistency of winning across skill and experience that makes their success better-than/random; it would be worth doing a study controlling for the fact that top people are offered the best mounts.

It’s a test of horsemanship, too. Achieving flow - nonverbal command of an animal and fellow athlete, and sympathy together, such that they respect and trust you - having just met the animal - is an achievement of many skills, and if you broke a jockey’s skills down into different types, most ordinary people couldn’t do any of them. No core strength, no balance, bad hands, bad posture, no sense of body positioning, no internal timer, no ability to psychically mind-meld with an unhinged animal you don’t know personally… they’re all fairly rare, and it’s something else to make it complex and interesting for people who like that sort of thing.

Personally, I just like Killie’s little problems and the drama around them. The racing industry itself could collapse tomorrow, rendering Killie’s story historical fiction, and I’d be just as happy.

[writingbuckets]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭

paige bueckers x reader

wc: 3.8k

synopsis: After a tough game, Paige reaches out to Y/N in the early hours of the morning, needing space to clear her head. The two drive through the city in silence, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging between them. As the night stretches on, the quiet moments and stolen glances bring them closer, leaving both uncertain of what comes next but no longer running from the tension that’s always existed between them.

warnings: emotional vulnerability, tension and unresolved feelings, mentions of personal struggles, brief makeout, emotional buildup

a/n: this is the first of several one shots i've written, i do have a new trope idea so i'm gonna do a poll and see if yall would be interested in that <3

The sharp buzz of your phone rattles against the nightstand, dragging you out of sleep. Your eyes flutter open, disoriented by the sudden disruption, your body still heavy with exhaustion. The room is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlamp filtering through the blinds, casting long, soft shadows along the walls.

Groggily, you reach for your phone, your fingers fumbling as you flip it over. The brightness stings for a moment, making you squint, but the name on the screen sends a jolt of awareness through your system—Paige.

Your chest tightens, breath catching in the stillness of the room.

Paige [1:03 AM]: Are you awake?

You stare at the message, the words blurring slightly as your pulse picks up. Paige doesn’t text you like this. Not anymore. Not after everything.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, hesitation settling deep in your bones. Maybe she sent it by mistake. Maybe she meant to text someone else. Or maybe—maybe you’re reading too much into it, like you always do.

Before you can decide whether to respond, another message comes through.

Paige [1:05 AM]: I just need to clear my head.

You exhale slowly, pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead as if that’ll ground you, as if that’ll make this choice any easier. You know better than to do this. You should know better.

Because history has taught you that Paige is a storm—unpredictable, overwhelming, impossible to hold onto. She comes and goes, leaving behind unfinished sentences and half-meant goodbyes, carving out space in your life that you never really know how to fill once she’s gone.

And yet.

Something about the late hour, about the way she phrased it—like this isn’t just about a bad game, like this isn’t just frustration—makes your resolve waver. You can picture her now, sitting alone in her apartment, jaw tight, fingers raking through her hair the way she does when she’s trying to hold herself together.

You sigh, already swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, already reaching for your keys, already losing the battle with yourself.

Because no matter how much distance you try to put between you, when it comes to Paige, you always show up.

You pull up outside Paige’s apartment, the low rumble of the engine breaking the stillness of the night. The street is quiet, lined with parked cars that haven’t moved in hours, their windshields glistening faintly under the dim glow of the streetlights. The soft yellow light spilling from the entrance of Paige’s building flickers slightly, casting long, distorted shadows onto the pavement. Everything feels eerily calm—like the whole world is asleep, frozen in time.

Except for you. Except for Paige.

Your fingers drum idly against the steering wheel as you glance up at the building, debating whether to text her that you’re outside. But before you can reach for your phone, the door swings open.

She steps out into the cool night air, her hood pulled up over her head, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her joggers. Even in the dim light, you can see how drained she looks—her posture weighed down with exhaustion, her movements slower, heavier, like she’s carrying something far too big for her to hold. The usual confidence she carries herself with is gone, replaced by something quieter, something that tightens in your chest as you watch her approach.

She doesn’t say anything as she opens the passenger door and slides inside, pulling it shut with a quiet thud. For a long moment, she just sits there, staring straight ahead. The faint glow of the dashboard casts soft shadows across her face, highlighting the way her jaw is set, the tension that lingers in her expression. Her chest rises and falls in slow, controlled breaths—like she’s trying to hold herself together, like one wrong move might break her completely.

You don’t push.

Instead, you ease the car away from the curb, letting the silence settle between you. The road stretches out in front of you, empty except for the occasional set of headlights in the distance. The only sounds are the steady hum of the tires against the pavement, the rhythmic flick of the turn signal when you change lanes, the faint rustle of Paige shifting in her seat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch her staring out the window, watching the city blur past. Her fingers tap against her knee—a habit you recognize all too well. It’s her tell, the thing she does when her mind is racing, when she’s stuck inside her own head with thoughts she can’t quite voice.

You wait.

And then, finally, she exhales. A long, uneven breath that seems to deflate her entire body.

“I played like shit,” she mutters, shaking her head slightly. The words are laced with frustration, with something sharper just beneath the surface.

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“You didn’t,” you say, your voice even, but she lets out a humorless laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I did,” she insists. “I let everyone down. I couldn’t hit a shot to save my life. I kept turning the ball over. I just—” She stops abruptly, dragging a hand down her face before gripping the hem of her hoodie. She twists the fabric between her fingers, staring at it like she’s searching for something, anything, to ground her.

“I don’t know,” she finally continues, her voice quieter now. “It’s just... too much sometimes.”

You don’t answer right away. You know her well enough to know she doesn’t want platitudes, doesn’t want to be told that she’s overthinking, that she’s still one of the best on the court.

She swallows hard, her gaze locked on the passing streetlights. And then, just above a whisper—so soft you almost don’t catch it—she says, “I don’t even know if I’m enough anymore.”

Something in your chest tightens at that.

You glance over at her, really look at her. The way her hands are balled into fists in her lap. The way she keeps her eyes fixed on the window, like looking at you might make the words feel too real. The weight of her admission lingers in the air between you, heavy and unspoken, like she’s afraid of what it means to say it out loud.

You want to tell her she’s wrong. That she’s more than enough, that she always has been. That she’s Paige Bueckers, and no missed shots, no bad game, no moment of doubt will ever change that. But you also know that right now, she doesn’t need empty reassurances.

So instead, you keep driving, keep giving her the space to unravel in the quiet comfort of your presence.

Because tonight, just being here is enough.

You guide the car into the quiet overlook, the engine purring softly, a low hum that reverberates through the vehicle. The car slows, and as the wheels roll to a stop, you shift into park and kill the engine, plunging everything into an almost eerie stillness. The world outside the windows seems suspended, as if time itself has stopped. The only sound left is the soft rush of wind through the trees and the distant hum of traffic far below, too far away to feel real.

The city lights stretch out in front of you like an endless sea of gold and white, twinkling across the valley, each light shimmering like a tiny star. It’s a view that feels impossibly distant, like you’ve been transported to another universe. From here, it feels like nothing matters—the weight of the game, the pressure, all the things unsaid between you and Paige, seem to vanish. The chaos of the world below you fades away, leaving only the vast expanse of quiet.

You can feel the tension between you and Paige even as the city stretches out before you. She doesn’t move at first, her gaze fixed on the view, her expression unreadable. The lights dance in her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to notice. The stillness that fills the car is heavy, but it’s a familiar kind of weight, the kind you’ve learned to navigate with Paige.

Her shoulders remain stiff, like she’s still carrying the weight of everything—everything from the game, from the pressure she constantly puts on herself, from the emotions she’s afraid to let go of. Her jaw is clenched, her face set in the same determined line that always seems to say, I’m fine, even when she’s not. You don’t say anything, not yet.

You stay still, waiting, letting the quiet of the night wrap around you both like a blanket. The night feels endless, the stars above seeming to hold their breath, too. You know Paige well enough to understand that she needs time. Time to breathe, time to think, maybe time to let down the walls she’s built around herself. And you’re willing to wait, no matter how long it takes.

Minutes pass. Maybe more. It’s hard to tell, as the world seems to stand still in this moment. The cool air outside the car brushes against your skin, but the interior is warm, comfortable, like the car itself is holding you both in place. Paige doesn’t stir, doesn’t say a word, but you don’t mind the silence. It’s the kind of silence that feels heavy with everything left unsaid, and somehow, that’s enough for now.

And then, without warning, she shifts in her seat. The movement is subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it from the corner of your eye. Slowly, carefully, she turns toward you. Her gaze is intense, searching, like she’s trying to read you or find something in you that she can’t quite articulate. Her eyes lock on your face, and for a long moment, the world outside seems to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in this tiny bubble of quiet.

Her eyes hold yours, and the weight of her stare is more than you’re prepared for. There’s something in it—a kind of vulnerability, a rawness that you haven’t seen from her in a long time. You don’t say anything. Instead, you let her search, let her find whatever it is she’s looking for.

And then she speaks. Her voice cracks just slightly, the words leaving her mouth with a hesitation that surprises you. It’s soft, quieter than you’re used to hearing her. And it’s raw in a way that feels like she’s pulling back the last layer of armor she’s been hiding behind.

“I knew you’d come,” she says, her tone steady but laced with something deeper.

The words hit you harder than you expect. They aren’t just a statement—they’re a confession, a vulnerability, a quiet truth that cuts right through you. For a moment, you’re breathless, the air catching in your lungs. There’s a subtle ache in your chest, like her words have stirred something you’ve buried deep inside yourself.

You can’t quite place it—the way her voice wavers, or the way her gaze seems to search your soul—but something shifts. The tension in the car changes, but it’s not the kind of tension that comes from the game or from frustrations left unresolved. This is different. This is older, a tension that has always lingered between you and Paige. Something unspoken, something that neither of you has ever fully acknowledged. It’s always been there, lurking just beneath the surface, and now it feels like it’s bubbling to the surface, uncontainable.

You don’t know what to say. How could you, when her words leave you reeling? The weight of them lingers in the air, thick and heavy, making it hard to think clearly. Your chest tightens, unsure of what to do with the space that’s suddenly filled with so much unspoken emotion. You want to say something, to respond, but you don’t know how to put the jumble of feelings into words.

So, you stay quiet, letting the silence stretch out between you both. It’s different this time, though. The quiet no longer feels uncomfortable, no longer feels like something that needs to be filled with words. Instead, it feels like a shared understanding, a moment where both of you are finally letting something shift in the air.

You sit there, the quiet of the night pressing in on both of you, the only sounds the soft rustle of the wind through the trees and the distant hum of the city below. The weight of everything—everything unsaid, everything raw—is heavy in the air. You don’t know why you do it. Maybe it’s the way Paige’s energy is vibrating with something unspoken, maybe it’s the vulnerability that’s been slipping through the cracks in her voice, but your hand moves before your brain can catch up.

You reach over, slowly, cautiously, like you’re not sure if this is what either of you needs but unable to stop yourself. Your fingers brush lightly against hers at first, and it’s like the smallest spark ignites between you. The contact is soft, almost tentative, but it’s enough. It’s enough to make your heart beat a little faster, enough to make the breath catch in your throat.

Paige doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t flinch or withdraw. Instead, she seems to soften, her body leaning just a little toward yours, like she’s craving the connection, too. There’s a shift in the air between you, subtle but undeniable. A charge. Something electric, something neither of you has ever fully acknowledged but has always been there, lingering, waiting.

For a moment, time stretches—long, drawn-out, suspended. You can’t seem to look away from her, and maybe she can’t either. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a second, and you feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitching. The shift in the atmosphere is undeniable now, the tension thick between you both.

Then she looks away, a slight laugh escaping her lips, almost too quiet, too soft to hide the uncertainty beneath it. "This isn’t why I texted you," she says, her voice a little shaky, a little too vulnerable in the way she tries to cover it up with humor.

The words hit you, but they don’t make you pull back. You can’t. You don’t want to. Because despite everything she says, despite the confusion and the mess of emotions swirling in the car between you, there’s this pull. A magnetic force, a need that neither of you can deny.

You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as you shift slightly in your seat. "I know," you reply, the words coming out barely above a whisper. It’s the truth. You know this isn’t what she expected. This isn’t what you expected. But neither of you moves. Neither of you says anything more.

The space between you both has changed, the air thicker now, and you can feel the heat rising between you. Your hand, still near hers, almost feels like it’s burning, like you’re being pulled into something you’re not sure you can stop. You glance at her again, but this time, you don’t just look. You take her in—the way the dim lights from the city reflect in her eyes, the way her lips are slightly parted, like she’s unsure whether to speak or to act.

Without thinking, you close the distance, just a little, until your lips are right there, barely an inch apart, and everything inside you stops for a moment. Your breath mingles with hers, and it’s like the world has narrowed down to this tiny space, to this single breath.

Then, in one fluid motion, you lean in. Your lips meet hers softly at first, hesitant, testing, like you’re both afraid of what might happen if it goes too far. The kiss is light, gentle, as if you're still trying to understand what this moment is. But the second your lips touch, something shifts. It’s like you both realize that this is what you've been dancing around for so long.

The kiss deepens. Her lips move against yours, soft but insistent, the pressure building as if the world outside this car doesn’t exist anymore. Your hands are instinctively reaching for her, pulling her closer, fingers tangling in the fabric of her hoodie as the kiss turns desperate, urgent, like you’ve both been waiting for permission to finally let go.

The taste of her is intoxicating—something sweet, something familiar—and it pulls you deeper into the kiss. She responds just as fiercely, her hands coming up to your face, cupping it, holding you in place as if she can’t get close enough, can’t get enough of this. The car, the city, the world—they fade away until it’s just the two of you, pressed together in a kiss that feels like everything and nothing all at once.

Paige’s body is warm against yours, her breath quickening as the kiss deepens further. Her fingers trace lightly along your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine as she pulls you even closer, if that’s possible. There’s an urgency now, a need that neither of you can explain but both feel to your very core. The silence in the car is replaced with the soft sounds of lips meeting, of breath catching in the back of your throat.

And then, just as quickly as it started, the kiss breaks. You both pull away, gasping for air, your foreheads leaning against each other. The tension between you hasn’t dissipated, not in the slightest. If anything, it’s even more potent now. You can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you, the confusion and the desire all tangled up in the air.

Neither of you say anything at first. Neither of you moves. It’s like you’re both waiting for the world to right itself again, to find your balance after everything that just happened. But for now, all you can do is sit in the silence, the hum of the car the only sound, and let the stillness hang between you, knowing things will never be the same after this.

The air in the car is thick with something unspoken, something between the two of you that neither can define yet. It’s not the kind of silence that’s awkward or forced. No, it’s the kind of quiet that’s heavy with possibilities. You sit there, side by side, neither of you speaking, but both of you feeling the weight of what’s simmering under the surface.

Paige shifts in her seat, the tension in her body still visible, even in the dim light from the dashboard. Her fingers tap lightly against the door, a nervous habit that tells you more than words ever could. She’s thinking, you can tell. Thinking about the game, thinking about what just happened between you, thinking about the things she doesn’t want to say.

And you? You’re just as lost in your own thoughts, unsure of what to do with this moment. With her. It’s like being on the edge of something big, something that feels like it could change everything, but neither of you is quite ready to take the leap. So you both wait. You wait for the other to make the first move, to say something, to fill the silence with something more than the quiet hum of the engine and the soft rustle of Paige’s movements.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Paige exhales deeply, the sound low and tired. She leans her head back against the headrest, eyes closed for a moment, as if she’s gathering herself. It’s a vulnerable gesture, one you rarely see from her. It’s a crack in the armor, just big enough for you to see the exhaustion and frustration beneath it.

"Can we just stay here for a little while?" she asks, her voice softer than you expected, almost hesitant. The words are simple, but the way she says them—like she’s asking for something more than just physical space—catches you off guard. There’s a vulnerability in her tone that makes your chest tighten. She’s not just asking for time, not just asking for a break from the night, from the pressure. She’s asking for something else, something that neither of you can name yet.

You nod without hesitation, a small movement that feels like agreement, but also something more. You’re not ready to leave this moment yet either. Not ready to rush out of this space between you, whatever it is. So, you don’t speak. You don’t offer empty reassurances or try to fill the silence with unnecessary words. Instead, you simply stay.

The night stretches on in a way that feels both endless and fleeting, the world outside the car fading away as you and Paige exist in this small, quiet bubble. The city lights below twinkle faintly in the distance, almost as if they’re watching over you both, but here, in the stillness of the car, nothing else matters. The only thing that matters is the space between the two of you, the air thick with something neither of you can fully grasp.

You don’t talk for a while. You don’t need to. Instead, the silence is filled with stolen glances, those little moments where your eyes meet hers, and you both look away just as quickly, as if the act of holding the gaze would make everything too real, too much to handle. But the glances, the shared looks, say everything. They speak of the things neither of you can voice, of the things that are bubbling up just beneath the surface. There’s something there, something unspoken, and you both feel it—the pull, the tension, the weight of it all. It’s not heavy in a bad way, not suffocating, but it’s there, undeniable and persistent, like it’s been waiting for the right moment to surface.

And the conversation? It’s easy, almost too easy. It’s the kind of conversation that comes after the storm, the kind that flows naturally, like there’s no need to pretend. You talk about the game, about nothing important, just filling the space between you with words, with stories, with little details that make you laugh, that make the tension feel lighter. But even in those moments, you can feel the undercurrent. You can feel the things that are unspoken hanging between you like a thread just waiting to be pulled.

And then, as time goes on, you realize something—whatever this is, it isn’t over. Not by a long shot. The things you haven’t said, the things you’ve danced around for so long, they haven’t gone away. They’re still there, just waiting. And for the first time in a long time, neither of you is running from it.

You’re both sitting here, in this moment, together. Neither of you knows what will come next, but neither of you is trying to escape it. The night stretches on, not like a ticking clock, but like a space where everything can just be. Where everything can breathe, even if it’s unclear exactly where it’s going.

And for now, that’s enough.

[papiliomame]

With the full cover reveal for the next graphic novel "Danny Phantom: Fair Game" I want to go little bit into theorycrafting.

One of the things that got my attention is the equipment of the A-Listers( ecxept Dash, does he want to hunt ghosts with his bare fists or what?), where does it come from? We know of 3 primary ghost hunting equipment producers form the show:

Fenton Works

Guys in White

VladCo

With how they look like in the cover we can exclude 2 of the list:

Fenton Works gadgets are always greyish with green colored accents:

Plus in the AGiT graphic novel the A-lister wore also the Fenton jumpsuits when they were hunting in the beginning, so in the sequel the A-lister did not get their equipment from the Fentons.

The Guys in White have equipment which are white with blue accents, sometimes green:

They also probably don't sell the secret government ghost hunting stuff to minors who are not even undercover with their white suit uniform. They are out of question too.

VladCo's stuff are a wild card and the design all over the place:

But something is in common for the official stuff which Vlad used for his public appearance, the big "V" as a Logo. Vlad secret gadgets don't have that, especially the equipment Vlad provides for Valeriein secret in the first 2 seasons:

And those almost looks exactly like the A-lister equipment in the cover art. "Almost", because Kwan hoverboard has similarities with Valerie's second hoverboard which is Techus design ( and telepathic connected with her or something):

The difference is the the "sidehorns" are missing and the color scheme is not black with red but grey with pink like Valerie's first equipment.

What can we conclude from this? Did Vlad after his heartwrenching speech how he wants to redeem himself after the events from AGiT just said: "Nah, I just continue to be evil and let's use Danny's class mates as pawns and give them ghost hunting equimpent to hunt him ( and Dani) down."?

Well, that would be kinda lame wouldn't it? I think someone different with access to Valerie's equipment gave them to the A-Listers:

Yes, Valerie herself!

We saw in the end of AGiT that two Valerie exist in the timeline now. I think the Valerie in the full cover of Fair Game is the Valerie who forgot/ didn't experience the event of AGiT and hunts Danny like business as usual. The timemedallion!Valerie is working behind the scenes, reverse engineered her current hoverboard and gave that and her old equipment to the A-Listers.

Why would she do that? Maybe with Phantom action in AGiT she saw even more how dangerous ghost are expecially halfas and wants to the eleminate every single one of them, even Dani who she became friends with and even with the help of her former "friends". Or she wants revenge because for here not only did ghost put her into poverty they also destroyed her timeline ( well, that escalated quickly). Her only purpose in live now is to take revenge to the ones that did that to her ( which would be tragic, that means she would be a like a "living ghost" with the revelation in AGiT that ghost are emotions manifested and all that).

I also had a theory that the timemedaillion!Valerie kills the oblivious!Valerie to take her place in the timeline, but I think that would be a little too dark. Or maybe the two Valerie team up together after timemedallion!Valerie somehow convinced the oblivious!Valerie of the events of AGiT.

What do you think?

[rimatsu]

WIP Word Game

rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word

tagged by my idol @newtkelly for the word DAWN thank you muahhhh <3

i went with longer excerpts because i'm a yapper

-

D: “[D]on’t you dare,” Evan hisses, shoulders going tense with something akin to indignation, and Tommy recoils in a reflexive flinch at the sharp tone, unfamiliar and stinging like a zap of electricity.

There’s a muscle twitching in his jaw, Evan’s expression hardened into something firm and foreign and angry, an emotion that doesn’t quite suit his face, usually sweet and plump like a berry.

That familiar weight settles over Tommy’s chest again, adrenaline flooding his system, instinctive and self-preservative. His lizard brain demands that he turns around and gets the fuck out of here — a simple animal urge to run — but his feet stay rooted to the ground like a tree grown in well-drained soil, exposed to Evan’s ire with no protective gear to reduce the impact.

Suddenly the air is thinner, deoxygenated and harder to breathe, and Tommy feels mildly hypoxic the way he does in high altitude with his hand wrapped around a cyclic.

“Don’t insult me by implying I fell for some illusion like an idiot,” Evan continues, merciless. “I wanted the guy who fought a wildfire all night and still showed up to my sister’s wedding. I wanted the guy who took care of me when I busted my shoulder and the guy who humored me when I planned a funeral for a centuries old skeleton. Don’t you dare tell me that guy doesn’t exist.”

A: [A] breeze rustles the branches overhead. The sunlight that filters through the leaves casts a dappled pattern on Evan’s face. It makes his hair shimmer like threads of gold, painting him over in warm tones. It’s nearly enough to conceal the worrying pallor of his flesh. Under this lighting, his eyes are the blue of a frozen lake, fragile and cracked, unfocused and utterly terrified.

Another wet, gurgling sound escapes Evan’s mouth as he struggles to draw air into his lungs, lips parted wide open like a hooked fish.

Tommy’s hand is trembling where it’s clamped tight around his throat, his own vision getting narrow and kaleidoscopic, two decades of professional calm melting into blank panic. The bleeding is so profuse his palm can't stem the flow, fluid of life staining their skins and their clothes and the pavement bright red. Fear strikes Tommy’s heart like a spear. There’s no forgetting what EMT training has imparted upon him: a fatal hemorrhage is a matter of minutes following a ruptured carotid artery.

W: [W]ith a few long strides, he closes the distance between them to peer at Tommy through the fine brush of his pale lashes, lips pursed just so, sweet and enticing. That's his let's-butter-up-this-poor-sucker look, tried and true.

Tommy scowls at him in defiance. Not discouraged one bit, Evan shuffles even closer, winding both arms around his neck.

"Well? What do you think?" he prompts, eager for an answer.

"I think this is very sudden," Tommy says with a pointed look, one he hopes telegraphs ‘have you learned nothing from the past’, but he supposes what is bred in the bone will always come out in the flesh. "Most people ease into the topic over time."

"I’m not most people," Evan dismisses. "And I think I've been admirably patient."

N: “[N]o. He’s like herpes,” Tommy laments into his drink. “No matter what I do to get rid of him, he keeps showing up.”

Beside him, Benson snorts. “You got a real way with words, Kinard.”

“Yeah, I’m a poet alright. That’s how I get all the boys,” he says miserably.

-

no pressure tags: @trombonechurchill @sad-girl-hours23 @harmless-variety-of-garden-snake @beefcakekinard @bisexualbrainrots @rcmclachlan @setmeatopthepyre if you feel so inclined, my word is EDGE 🫶

[lcvalia]

for the ask game ><

🤍 — what are your love languages VS. your s/o’s? How do you show theirs and how do they show yours?

💍 — what are some songs that makes you think of them?

🍒 — do you have any inside jokes with your s/o or funny scenarios?

💭 — who was the first person you told after getting with your s/o?

　　　　　　　　 𝓢HIFTING　ASK　GAME　　ᡣ𐭩

this might not be much but i was lowkey exhausted after school & didnt nap after like i usually do... so not much of a yapfest ( maybe in the other ones!! ) but enjoy ♡

🤍 — what are your love languages vs. your s/o’s? How do you show theirs and how do they show yours?

ꪆ୧ my love languages are physical touch && quality time, while harry’s is acts of service && physical touch. i show harry love by helping him with things that matter to him, whether that be taking care of small or big tasks, doing chores, etc. just being there whenever he needs support. i do small gestures throughout the day, subtle hand touches, random hugs, and small cheek kisses when i get the chance. honestly the same can go to harry too, the sneakily hand holding whilst in class, laying his head on my shoulder, a reassuring hug when he knows i need it sometimes, and randomly playing with my hair while reading in the common room. he knows i value our quiet moments together, where we don’t have to say anything but just enjoy each other’s company.

💍 — what are some songs that makes you think of them?

ꪆ୧ songs that remind me of harry are ;

“Out Like a Light” by The Honeysticks, Ricky Montgomery. this song reminds me of him during out 5th year at hogwarts, still in our slow burn phase SADLY but, “love me in spite.” wanting to love me even though in spite of our #issues

“Ever Seen” by Beabadoobee. had a dream once about him and he told me i had pretty eyes, so then this song came on the day after and it IMMEDIATELY reminded me of him. actually had me giggling and squealing that i then scripted in as a scenario ☹️ my baby </3

“John Wayne” by Cigarettes After Sex. mm lord how do i explain this one.. hm… well let’s start with this song automatically reminded me of him because i feel like. he’d be so awkward when confessing, like “he’s got so much love for her, but he doesn’t know what to do.” && “baby, he’s got to be crazy. living like john wayne,” ?!?!!?? speaks volumes that he would be scared of ruining our friendship but would risk it anyways because he deeply cares for me in a way nobody can explain </3 this boy i SWEAR.

🍒 — do you have any inside jokes with your s/o or funny scenarios?

ꪆ୧ a funny scenario i scripted in with harry is that we’re in potion class and snape gave a complicated potion to make and well, that goes wonderfully! (no it doesn’t)(i was getting glitter out my hair for a week)

i questioned harry in a concerned tone, “are you sure this goes in..?” harry then chuckled slightly. “i’m sure it goes in, let’s just try it.” i complied, with a shaky hand i added the last ingredient. but to our surprise, it didn’t do anything. “well that’s odd,” harry whispered, glancing at the instructions. “it should’ve been started bubbling by now.” i peered at the potion, which looked as dull and unimpressive as when we’d first started. “did we miss something? maybe it’s one of those ‘don’t do it too fast’ things?” harry then shrugged, still glancing at the instructions. “maybe,” he looked closer at the instructions, seeing if we missed something. “we did everything right—” before harry could finish, all you could hear was a loud boom. everyone whipped their heads towards our station, a jet stream on gold glitter shooting straight into the air. the entire class just stared, hermione’s eyes widened as ron started slightly laughing as i scrambled back, falling down on the floor. i barely dodged the falling glitter as it fell down on me. it was everywhere; on my hair, my robes, even in my eyes. harry holding back his laugh, as i sat on the floor wiping my face. “that is not funny, harry.”

💭 — who was the first person you told after getting with your s/o?

ꪆ୧ hermione and alvida! my actual pookies i love them sooo much, they’re the first two i told after i got with harry <33 i know they PRAYED for times like these, like they were so ready for it to finally happen. you know those glances your friends give eachother when that person comes around, that’s literally them sigh

@lcvalia

note ♡ here is the link to the dr s/o ask game ! i have three more asks to do which ill get to tomorrow ( might do two post for it ) but yeahh! thank you for sending in asks i lav you guys 🫶 these help me connect to my dr and motivates me to shift so i enjoy doing these!! ^_^

[comingyourlugubriousness]

Summon: Yaawwwwn~ Hm? Oh! You having trouble sleeping too? Don’t worry I’ll keep you company.

Here it is! Yume's birthday card! I've been waiting to reveal this for a long time! I'm really proud of how it turned out! I'll post the groovy on Yume and my birthday on the 25th! <3

Voice lines below the cut:

Groovy: Huh?...It’s my birthday? Oh! Haha! That’s right, it didn’t notice the clock changing past midnight.

Set Home: Ahh, nothing like a nice bath and getting out of that stuffy uniform after a long day.

Swap Looks: Hey, have you seen my glasses? 

Home Idle: You may not like it, but this is what peak comfort looks like! Hehe~

Idle 2: When I can’t sleep I usually ask Yuuta to make my special tea…but I don’t wanna disturb them now…

Idle 3: Lots of my sleep shirts are from thrift stores, I’ve patched them up and added my flare to them. And I made these leg warmers myself!

Idle Groovy: I’ve seen Leona fall asleep in the middle of class, perfectly upright, just leaning on his hands. What a degenerate! I can’t even sleep without two pillows and a stuffed animal MINIMUM. 

Home Login: When I can’t sleep or…I’ve had a bad dream, sometimes I’ll call Idia, he keeps odd hours like I do. We’ll talk or I’ll watch him stream a game until I fall asleep…

Tap: I didn’t really have much of a set routine before Vil drilled it into me. Now it’s kind of relaxing doing the step by step process before I go to bed. Though I still forget to put the bonnet on sometimes.

Tap 2:  Cater gave me some of these hair clips from a set he bought, they're cute right? I hate having my hair in my face while I sleep.

Tap 3: My brothers and I can stay up pretty late into the hours of the night, though Grim kicks the bucket around midnight. Sleeps like a rock too!

Tap 4: Sometimes I can’t sleep in the same room as Grim because he snores so loud! But…my brothers and friends say I snore even louder than him…

Tap 5: Ugh, can’t wait till I’m alone and I can take off these shorts…oh uh, I didn’t say anything.

Tap Groovy: *Hesitantly* …Sometimes I’ll just lie awake in bed for hours… not able to sleep, my mind gets really active and I’ll just think of all sorts of things, “home”, school, *quietly* the…future… Before I know it the sun's coming up and I’ve done nothing but lay there…staring at the ceiling…Sorry…forget I said anything.

BONUS:

Also did this edit last month and couldn't stop laughing:

#littlespoonIdia

[xbuu]

Jack of Hearts game! Chishiya x Fem! Reader

You've been stressed in the last few rounds of the Jack of Hearts game, so Chishiya decides it's time to help you relax.

Content: Fluffy smut, teasing, slight exhibitionist kink, jacket stays on during sex.

Word count: ~1.4k

a/n: i have a ton of fics to post already (3) but I'm scared of posting them all at the same time in case i run out of inspiration and don't post anything for a while so I'm really spacing them out. also got my first ask a few days ago so I'm working on it anon!!

"Are you sure they won't hear?" You bite your lip, hesitantly wrapping your hands around his neck while your right leg bounces nervously.

"Sure." But his answer doesn't do much to calm your nerves. You know he'd take you anywhere, regardless of who could hear. His arms wrap around your waist and lift you on top of the dusty plastic table. It'd do, at least until you got out of the game.

A small, dark storage closet wasn't the most romantic spot, but he had grabbed your hand after the tenth round was over and guided you to the furthest away room he could find.

It's been a few long hours, and with the remaining contestants all having another person they could trust, the game had proven hard to break. He'd just have to break you, in the meantime.

His hands fly to your shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping and throwing them away in a blink of your eyes. Your hands fly to his pants, but you're considerably slower than usual, your mind still wrapped around the details of the game, the players, the rules, how to—

"Don't think." He stops you with a call of your name. "Let me worry about that. For now, I want your attention on me." He slips off his pants himself with that awfully sexy smirk. Oh.

You give him an uncertain, anxious smile, and you cup his face and lean in to get lost on his lips. He's a great kisser. An amazing kisser. And as his tongue sneaks into your mouth you forget everything about the game.

He doesn't let you dwell on anything for too long. He's already pushing into you, unzipping your skimpy shorts and pushing your panties to the side, while your tongue remains wrapped around his. You're so used to his cock it feels like getting home whenever he pushes inside of you.

The moans you produce are swallowed by him until you weakly push him away, gulping in a breath and throwing your head back. He lets his head get pushed back, though he doesn't pull his strong grip of your hips away, pushing slowly to help you get used to his cock. He isn't the girthiest, but he's long.

"I'll have to make this quick, won't I?" You're too busy getting dicked down by him to actually reply, but you mentally answer, your thoughts trying to pull you away from him. He pulls you back to him when he sheathes inside of you and his tip grazes the spongy spot inside of you.

"Chishiya!" You yell, completely out of your control, and he covers your mouth as you dig your nails in the back of his jacket just lightly, in warning of what's to come.

"We can't have you screaming out for everyone to know what we're up to. Remember the couple just before the game?" He whispers, right in your ear, causing you to shiver. Of course you remember, Chishiya had pointed them out to you, and it made your cheeks flush red even if it wasn't your moans that were ringing through the cells. They definitely are now, though.

The words (that he definitely purred out like a cat) make you bend into his body, hide your face in his shoulder and replace his hand on your mouth with his neck. He hasn't even started thrusting yet and he has you at his mercy.

"Are you hiding from me?" He laughs, so unbelievably irritating, especially when he has you in this position. You open your mouth to retort, but he grabs your hips and pulls out only to thrust back in.

"Chishiya!" It's halfway between a word and a moan, but he doesn't really mind how loud it is, lifting your knees up to the height of his shoulders, only to fasten the rhythm until it causes you to slump on top of him.

"You're not going to talk back to me?" He hums, and swallows a groan that you definitely noticed from resting your head so close to his neck.

"I—" You muffle another moan on the softness of his white jacket. "Stop teasing." You demand, as if it would change his incorregible behavior.

"But I love how flustered you get." He laughs, a small noise on the back of his throat, and you can feel the vibration as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in order to muffle an impending moan.

"Stay quiet." He reminds, but he doesn't stop his thrusts or his soft breaths on your neck, doesn't offer a hand on covering your mouth again since muffling your moans on his shoulder doesn't seem to work.

"C-Can't." You admit, through bitten back moans and soft whines that had the potential to be screams.

"You can." He pushes. He always adores pushing your limits, seeing how many you can take of his fingers, or how many orgasms until you beg him to stop, or in this case, how long until you are forced to scream out from the pleasure.

You kick at him from your very limited position he holds you up in. His hands under your knees, bringing them up to your chest to really be able to break you in half. He doesn't stop his thrusts, though, laughing lowly through your kicks and squirms and muffled whines.

It's not long until you feel that familiar feeling in the bottom of your tummy, a warmth that threatens to make you scream so loud that everyone in the building will know what you're up to (if they didn't, already). Chishiya can feel how you're tightening up around him, unfortunately, and he will never miss the chance to make you flustered.

"Are you close?" He whispers, and if you were able to look at his face you'd witness his signature smirk on his face.

"No." You reply, maybe a beat too fast, but you forget how well he knows you, how well he has studied your body, how well he has memorized the pulses of your pussy and the twitches of your stomach. He doesn't reply, he lets you think he believed your lie, only adjusting your body slightly in reply.

You keep muffling your sounds and digging your nails on his back for the next minute, though it feels like a long, agonizing hour has passed when he finally gets rougher, quicker, even if only by a split second. It's just what you need to get over the edge.

That is, until Chishiya lets go of your left knee, running his hand down your stomach and your heat until his finger grazes your soft, aching clit.

Just the soft touch makes your hips fly from the table to his, moaning with disinterest over who hears. He laughs, low and teasing, and pushes your head into the nape of his neck, but you can't hear anything over the blood rushing to your ears and your heavy pants as you reach your climax and cover his dick in slick white.

He doesn't stop the thrusts into you, and his breaths turn labored and heavy. He's close, you know by the way he seems tempted to bury his face on your neck too, by the way he almost curls into you, by the way that he has stopped laughing and resorted to panting into your ear.

"Are you close?" You bite back, now your turn to pull him close to you by wrapping your legs around his waist. He grunts back, so low you barely hear it.

It's not every day Chishiya seems so fixated on your body, almost like he also has something in his mind he wants to lose inside of you, so you know you'll take full advantage of it. You cup his face with one hand, bringing him close to you as you face his ear.

A breathy, pornographic moan of his name next to his ear is all he needs, and with no warning, he cums deep inside of you, staying still with a final thrust of his hips.

He stays inside of you for a couple of seconds, wrapping his arms around you. Only after both of your breaths have evened out and you stop shivering he cuts through the silence. "You know you have nothing to be scared of, right? Not while I'm here. I'll find the Jack."

"Mhm." He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his eyebrows level, but the corner of his lip twitches up just barely, you're sure you caught it.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi Katrin,

How are you feeling? I miss your posts every day!

I have a purely theoretical question about ATLWETD. I just can't help imagining stuff - the crazy relationship dynamic between Tom and Harry in your fic just makes my imagination run wild.

In the latest chapters we can see Tom actively probing Harry's boundaries encroaching on his personal space, eating his food, touching his stuff, touching HARRY. It appears Tom is acting possessive on one side, while on the other side he's trying to learn new ways to manipulate Harry, to entice new reactions and to deepen their bond (please correct me if I'm wrong).

Do you think it's possible for Harry to try doing the same ar this stage? Like, he already (unknowingly) had done this, by hugging Tom to distract him - and it actually worked. Harry already knows Tom is a sucker for attention and control. Can Harry hug Tom again to derail him before the later starts feeling murderous towards, let's say, Alphard, after Harry got hurt during the duel because of him? I imagine Harry hugging Tom and quietly (wild dying from embarrassment on the inside) thanking Tom for helping him there - would that actually work??

Asking purely out of interest - it's not like I want Harry to start hugging Tom or reciprocating Tom's games at emotional manipulation, right? RIGHT!?

I know I would learn the answer in the following chapters, but I'm so impatient lately haha I'm simply dying. But, of course, you don't have to answer my question if it contains spoilers or you simply don't feel like responding.

Sending you lots of love and support, I'm looking forward to the new posts just about anything - your metas, thoughts, snippets, life updates. Your fans are always here, waiting for you! 🙏🏽

Hello! Thank you so much for your lovely words, you made me so happy <3 And thanks for such a great question!

You are absolutely right about Tom's motivation. On the one hand, his possessiveness is growing daily: he considers Harry his, and he's determined to integrate himself into every little part of him. On the other hand, this is a whole new tool of manipulation, so Tom is eager to try it out and see where it can lead him.

Tom being murderous toward Alphard will be such a big thing :D Just in general, not just related to that duel. Oh, I really can't wait to get to it. Some of the tags actually apply to this part of the plot.

Now, as for Harry - yes, I think it would be very possible for him to engage in the same emotional manipulation. He usually never knows how he's going to respond to Tom until he's doing it, following raw intuition more than logic, so he could just step closer and touch his hand, or hug him, or smile and say something atypically sweet.

The way it would affect Tom… I think he would be taken aback for sure. At first, he'd be wary, confused, and a little uncomfortable because like you said, he thrives on control. Initiating something is fine with him, but getting Harry to be all physically affectionate back? That would push him out of the familiar zone right away.

Soon enough, I think his confusion would turn into acceptance and then a desire to be the recipient of Harry's tactility. Particularly as Harry wouldn't be doing it constantly - it would happen on occasion only, and Tom would come to anticipate and crave it. His physical attraction to Harry would also likely grow by a lot at this point, so they'd both find themselves entering a new kind of relationship they aren't fully ready for.

How it will actually go in the story - you know, I have no idea! Maybe Harry will be doing this emotional-physical manipulation trick, maybe not - I'll have to see what he says later on :D