#i'll come back this evening to finish drafts later

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

[leilanihours]

34🗝️ with paige

# I CAN SEE YOU'RE LONELY DOWN THERE, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT I AM RIGHT HERE?

pairing: paige bueckers x best friend!reader

word count: 715

warnings: slight angst? maybe?

prompt: "will you stay the night?"

⭑ from lani: paige is such a shy cutie in this (a bold contrast to how i write her in smuts but here we go 😝)

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

THE WHOLE TEAM was down in the dumps. they barely spoke to anyone, and if they did it was only because they had to.

you had never seen the team so devastated before. they were always high-spirited, positive, and cheerful. but right now, they were the exact opposite.

being an intern on the coaching staff, you had tried your best to speak with all of the girls, see where their heads are at, and what you can do to help ease the pain.

but at the end of the day, you didn't want to overstep and push them to a place they weren't ready to be at, so after a couple days you eased up on them. gave them space.

they all seemed to be doing better as the days went on, especially nika and aaliyah who were preparing to go to the wnba draft. but there was one person who still struggled to even come out of their room: paige.

ever since you decided to give the team their space, you distanced yourself from everyone, including the blonde.

and you thought that's what they wanted, what paige wanted, but when she called you in the middle of the night, it was clear that she wanted something different.

"paige?" you grumble, rubbing your eyes as you sat up in bed, "what's up? are you okay?"

"um," she starts quietly, "i'm sorry for waking you up but uh...could you come over real quick?"

"yeah sure," you say with furrowed eyebrows, "i'll be there in five."

"thank you, y/n."

it sounded so sincere that it concerned you. your mind begins racing, coming up with the worst possible situations. but as you take the elevator up to paige's floor, you try to calm your nerves and put up a calm front for the girl.

after shooting a text to paige announcing that you were at her door, not ten seconds later she was taking your hand and gently pulling you into her dim-lit bedroom.

"is something wrong, paige? it's almost three in the morning," you ask softly, not wanting to seem annoyed that she woke you up. because the truth is that you would run miles to get to her if she asked you to.

"uh, kinda?" she says, not meeting your eyes as she sits down at the foot of her bed, "what have you been up to this past week?"

you pause for a second but decide not to question it as you answer, "i mean, nothing much. just a little bit of finishing final assignments and helping the coaches with schedules for summer...why?"

there's a beat of silence.

"i missed you," she whispers inaudibly.

"what was that?" you ask, taking a step closer to her.

she runs a hand through her blonde hair, "i missed you," she repeats slightly louder. this time you hear it clear as day.

"oh," you whisper, taking a seat next to her, "well i'm right here."

"i'm glad you are," she mutters as she rests her head on your shoulder, her hands drifting to your torso as she plays with the hem of your shirt.

"did you wanna talk about something?"

"not really, not right now," she replies, "just wanna hold you."

you're taken aback by her answer, not expecting for her to say something so intimate. but you weren't complaining..

"okay, sure," you nod, "just let me know when you want me to go back to my dorm, yeah?"

"actually, could you, uh..." she pauses as if she's nervous, "could you stay the night?"

now it's your turn to pause. your best friend, the girl you've developed feelings for, is asking you to sleepover. you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

"of course, paige," you agree after a minute.

"you're not gonna leave before i wake up, right?" she mumbles into your shirt.

"no, i won't, i promise," you say, placing a kiss on her head, "i'll be here."

and for the rest of the night, paige was snuggled into your embrace as you two slept tangled under the covers. it was comforting, safe, secure. it was something you wish you could experience for the rest of your life.

but, of course, it would only be so healing if you experienced it with paige.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[fernandopiastri28]

high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow. 

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received. 

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.  

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex. 

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making. 

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by. 

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down. 

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in. 

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white. 

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in. 

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down. 

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth. 

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything. 

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up. 

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,” 

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose. 

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much. 

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth. 

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered. 

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle. 

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her. 

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now. 

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw. 

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat. 

 He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him. 

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard. 

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it. 

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire. 

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world. 

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine. 

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down. 

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this. 

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him. 

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length. 

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive. 

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows. 

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her. 

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home. 

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time. 

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose. 

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit. 

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear. 

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing. 

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

[anticanonsposts]

Hii

I have an idea and it's kind of silly but I'll ask anyway because I love your writing

But you could do a Konig domestic where he passes out for some reason (not a battle wound or anything) and reader take care of him and then he's SO clingy afterwards

Tks 🤍

omg tysm!!! also i appreciate the requests so please keep making them!!! (i live off of the validation i get on here)

also i have some more stuff in the drafts that i wanna write, and i love the trend thats been going around about nerd!konig and i rly want to contribute so stay tuned!!!

cw: none

König had such a big day. His girlfriend y/n had been working tirelessly for the past couple weeks at her new job. She was definitely more stressed out than normal and König felt so bad. So he decided to run multiple errands that day (Friday) before she got home for the weekend. First he went grocery shopping, a smaller store and Costco to get some essentials. Then he came home and cleaned their apartment from top to bottom, because he knew it wasn’t her favorite and it would be so nice for her to come home after a long week. When he was at the store he also made sure to pick up her favorite snacks, drinks, and ingredients for dinner. By the time he was all done he fell onto the couch exhausted. Flicking his wrist up he saw that it was 4:30 which meant that in a couple hours y/n would be home. He felt pretty satisfied with himself, but also very tired. As he was thinking about getting up to shower and wait for her to get home, the grips of sleep clasped over his eyes and he fell asleep :/.

Some time later, y/n opens the front door to her and König’s shared apartment and walks in, ready to just relax this weekend. Immediately she notices how clean everything is. After putting her bag down she goes over to the refrigerator, knowing there wouldn't be much in it since they needed to go grocery shopping. To her lovely surprise whens he swung open the door she saw all of her favorites. This makes her connect the dots in her mind, König must have done all of this while she was at work today, how sweet. 

“He’ll be getting something nice later” she mutters to herself, smiling as she walks away toward the bedroom. But she quickly stops when she looks over to see Konig, absolutely passed out on the couch. 

Carefully pitter pattering over to him, she pauses and lovingly gazes down at him. His mouth slightly agape, a small snore coming from him. Although he looks precious sleeping on the couch, she knew that if he stayed like that, he would wake up with the worst back pain ever. So gently she started to sit him up, and led him half asleep to their bedroom. König would have absolutely no recollection of this when he woke up, thinking he had either moved himself to the bed or that he had fallen asleep on the bed by accident. 

Once in bed, y/n gently arranged pillows and squishmallows (shameless self insert <3) around König’s body to make him as cozy as possible. Once satisfied she started to strip so that she could go shower. 

About ten minutes later, König gently woke up to a slight steam in the room, and the smell of strawberry and rose from y/n’s soaps. He stirred more, bringing his hands to his eyes to rub them awake. Then, with a sudden jolt, he sat up, feeling panicked. 

How could he let himself fall asleep?? He was supposed to finish setting up the perfect, relaxing evening for y/n. But no, his sleepy ass just had to ‘rest his eyes’ for a second.

But before his thoughts could spiral too much, he hears the shower being turned off. So, quietly he meanders to the bathroom door, slipping off his shirt, hoping to join her in the shower. Giving the door a few soft taps so as not to spook y/n. He’s met with the door swinging open and a beaming (naked) y/n, her body freshly moisturized, hair tied up since she washed it the day before, and in the middle of her skin care routine. 

“Hey baby! I noticed everything in the kitchen, and I really appreciate it.” she says, eyes shining with nothing but love. It is returned by König’s eyes, practically with hearts in them. Nothing made him happier than doing things for her, other than being with her. 

Wordlessly, he steps closer to her, pulling her body close to him by the small of her back and shoulder. He knows from past experience to not touch her face while she is doing her skin care, (he has been reprimanded before). Bending over slightly, he presses his lips to hers taking a breath in as he does so. Pulling away, he sits himself on the closed lid of their toilet that of course has a fuzzy pink cover on it. 

Now taking a moment to scan his eyes over her body. Not quite in a hungry way, but more so admirable. Taking a few moments to appreciate every plush curve, every supple, plump part of her body. She was too perfect, she looked like a renaissance painting, something that an artist created when they were tasked with painting beauty itself. 

Broken out of his haze, y/n says, “Can I do your skincare?” 

“Yes of course.” he responds, giddy inside. Whenever she offered to use her products on him, he was always super happy. It meant that she would be looking at his face, and giving him small, gentle touches. He had never been with someone like this. His past was mostly hook ups, a couple ‘relationships’ here and there but nothing this intimate. Having someone’s gentle hands glide over your face over and over again as truly more intimate and sensual than any sex he had ever had. Now, he had no idea what products she was using on him, she could be painting his face purple for all he knew, if it weren’t for the mirror. But this was part of the trust he liked about this activity. Knowing that she was sharing her products that she spent her money on, that were clearly good enough for her beautiful skin, and she was sharing them for his scarred, damaged skin. 

Once she started putting eye cream on him, König took his large arms and wrapped them around her body, pressing his bare chest to her naked body. Minutes passed as she finished the routine, and all König could focus on were how pretty her eyes looked when she focused on something. As well as how their bodies moved opposite each other with their breaths. 

Y/n, smoothing out the last moisturizer onto her boyfriend’s face, letting each of her hands rest on either side of his face, palms pressed against his cheeks, fingertips gently clasping onto his face. His face has its share of scares, but is warmer and plumper now that he has been out of the military for a while. She appreciates everything about this man, his tenderness, his patience, and of course how obsessed with her he is. Then breaking her own rules after skin care, she starts pressing soft kisses along his cheeks and jaw, then resting her forehead against his when she was done. 

This man’s eyes welled up with tears. He loved how soft she was with him, how kindly she treated him. His mind started to wonder as he started giving her small half blinks, completely enamored with his girlfriend. 

“König?” y/n says softly, it was about the third time she called his name. Bringing him out of his stupor. “I’m gonna fix my hair really quick then we can cuddle ok?” she says raising her eye brows slightly. Earning a small nod from König, she figured he would leave and go wait for her on their bed. But instead, he slightly loosens his grip and allows her to stand up. Facing the mirror again, y/n starts to fix her hair from the various clips she used to clip up her curls for her shower. König, still in the bathroom, chose to stand right behind y/n. Completely behind her, pressing his front against her back, bracing his arms on either side of her body. 

He can be pretty clingy sometimes, but this was surprising, even for him. Nonetheless, y/n doesn’t mind and finishes with her hair before turning her body. Signaling to König that she was leaving. He holds onto her left hand as she basically leads him to the bed. Quickly breaking from his grasp, she goes to her closet and puts on one of König’s shirts, and a pair of undies before climbing onto the bed and pulling König along with her. 

He grabs the tv remote and switches it on, telling her to put on whatever she wants. Then he settles himself in between her legs, now that she’s lying on her back. And nuzzles his face into her chest, wrapping his big ass arms around her middle and sighs contently. She reciprocates by running her fingers through his hair which just brings him past cloud nine. 

Y/n switches on some tv show that she has been binging recently and König soon falls asleep against her chest, feeling completely at peace. 

notes:

I know this isn’t exactly what the prompt says?? I rly just wanted to write sm where König does a bunch of little things for the reader 

[yourmcu]

Ace

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Gamer!Stark!Reader, Avengers x Reader

Summary:

Your girlfriend, your dad, along with the rest of the Avengers, support you during a VALORANT tournament.

Word count: 4.6k+

Warnings: too much VALORANT descriptions, you can google stuff about it if you want to get a good visual of this story, basically an avengers fic as a whole but i love supportive gf nat >:(

A/n: one of the drafts I left a long time ago! I miss writing for the avengers, so I decided to finish this one.

(completely italic dialogues - casters commentating)

All the hollering from the lounge died down when Natasha practically shoved both Sam and Bucky off the couch, stealing the TV remote in the process. Their basketball game can wait, her girlfriend’s tournament is more important.

“Oh, shoot. Y/N/N's tournament is today?” Sam suddenly remembered and Bucky made a quick detour out of the lounge to fetch Steve and possibly the others. They kind of promised you they'd support your game this time around, with the knowledge that they had free time on the dates of your tournament. Sam snapped his fingers, “Snacks. I'll be right back.”

No, you weren’t a professional athlete; if anything, you’re the opposite. Your wrists move more than your whole body most of the time, you only stay an hour or less in the gym, and you prioritize getting better in Aim Lab than a shooting range.

Ever since women playing in VALORANT E-Sports were normalized, you were one of the anticipated gamers to compete, of course you were on board and signed on to an esports organization and team roster. You’ve made a name for yourself in the gaming industry because of your high IQ and big brain plays. You used your head in every match, every round unlike the majority of the players mindlessly aiming and not landing shots. Because of your career, you’re known for something else and not just Iron Man’s daughter.

Natasha didn’t like the fact that you were glued to your computer most of the time at first. She thought Tony spoiled you too much even as an adult, but she later on realized that you graduated with a degree before settling into gaming. You worked for the Avengers, sometimes as an IT for a big company which paid more than you needed. You were basically set. All of this while you were still pretty young, a little younger than Natasha.

It’s safe to say all of Natasha’s doubts went away. She felt rather impressed and took a liking to you, which developed into something more over time.

From her phone, you chuckled when you heard Sam and Bucky’s shuffling. “We’re not up for another thirty minutes, babe.” On your end, you and your team were with the event's coordinators backstage of the actual place the tourney was held. Natasha always called you before and after your events, just because she was the best supportive girlfriend ever.

“I know, I wanted to set everything up before anything else,” Natasha put you on speaker while she dealt with the TV’s settings. You smiled to yourself, absolutely adoring your girlfriend even more when she was eager and supporting your games. “Are you guys still at the hotel?”

You had to travel out of the country for the tournament. As much as Natasha wanted to go with you (Clint wanted to go too because he ‘needed a break’, you just rolled your eyes at him and laughed), being a full time hero and an Avenger doesn’t mean you get to travel 24/7. She has to be with the team in case something terribly wrong happens, which doesn’t come with a warning. “Backstage, actually. Cloud9 and Misfits are wrapping up their last match right now,” You replied. “I've already warmed up at the hotel earlier. It's crazy how our room fits all of our PCs.”

“Ah, c'mon, you don't need no warm-ups!” Sam teased, hearing you on speaker as he walked back with refreshments and an assortment of chip bags.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at the Falcon’s words. “Stop it, Sam. You know me; I always get tilted when I play too much before the actual competition.”

Sometimes you get anxious and it affects your performance, same goes for when you warm-up too much; you lose focus the more games you play, leaving nothing for the tournament.

Despite Natasha's excitement to watch your team play, she’s not too vocal about it. She wouldn’t squeal when it starts or bombard you with loud encouragement through the call, because one, she doesn’t want to be the embarrassing girlfriend, and two, she’s the Black Widow. She’s naturally subtle about everything. You knew her more than anyone else though, so even if that was the case, you still felt her support.

Thirty minutes went by quicker than you’d hope, you were so caught up in watching the game of the other rivaling teams and commenting on everything that happened whilst still in the call with Natasha. You also answered Bucky’s queries when he came back; he’s only ever heard of e-sports since you started competing in it. He couldn’t imagine how hard switching point of views and the player’s face cameras must be. Bucky has only watched, what, actual live game tournaments, basketball or chess or whatever. It was confusing to him at times, but you told him he’d get used to it eventually just by taking note of the red and blue colors.

You were cut off by one of your teammates placing a hand on your shoulder, signaling you that it was time to go. “Alright. Nat, I have to go, I’ll call you when I get back?”

The two men were the first ones you heard react, Sam shifted in his seat excitedly while Bucky wondered out loud if he should call Tony, Peter, and Bruce, who were all unnecessarily working overtime at the lab.

You felt yourself smile again when she spoke. “Okay,” Natasha bit her lip, feeling anxious about the tournament, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Good luck!” Sam shouted before you hung up.

Natasha almost snorted when she heard loud footsteps coming towards the lounge entrance. Her sister had the worst timings ever.

“Someone decided to take a long shit while we were heading back. Has Y/N’s game started yet?” Yelena walked in as fast as she could with Fanny, looking at Natasha expectantly as she shrugged off her thick coat and got out of her boots. Fanny ran to where the couches were as soon as Yelena removed her leash, wagging her tail happily without a clue in the world.

“About to, but you did miss her on the phone.”

“Ah, fuck.”

Soon, Bruce, Tony, Peter, Wanda and Vision came down to watch as well. Your tournaments were one of the occasions the team had the chance to bond and get together in one room, it definitely helped with the morale as Steve would think, and they have you to thank for that.

Everyone was just in time to see you walk out to the stage with your team and the opposing one. You were in your team jersey and arm sleeves with your teammates behind you in a straight line.

Tony woot-ed, plopping down next to Natasha. “Heard Y/N/N's team is going up against a brand new team roster. This should be a piece of cake for her, eh?”

Peter sat down beside him, looking at the said rival team with yours, all lined up on stage. “I don't know about that, Mr. Stark. One of them recently went viral after getting five aces on a ranked game. She's radiant, too.”

Admittedly, he also played VALORANT with you and Ned, but often miscalculates his strength as he frequently breaks his keyboard or mouse because of freaking out whenever he sees an enemy. His reflexes and fighting skills were better off used in real time.

“And Y/N/N's been on the top ten leaderboard for, what, six months?” Tony challenged, evidently confident in your skills.

The chatter on who's better than who died down when both teams sat down on their respective computers. Though it wasn’t that noticeable to most people, Natasha noticed it right away: you were wearing the necklace she gave you. You considered it your lucky charm.

After both teams chose the maps they wanted to ban and maps they wanted to play, the game started.

You mostly play the character - or agent - Killjoy. The agent reminded you so much of yourself from her overall vibe and game mechanic: she had utility to aid the whole team, from turrets to alarm bots, and an ultimate that conducts lockdowns on any part of the map. You were so used to that character that you even played her on maps she’s not very helpful at because you mastered everything about her, which made you stand out from other players as no one would dare use characters on maps they weren't good in. Gears were practically turning in your head as the game loaded.

Then, the first game commenced.

The Avengers always made noise whenever you got a kill, or whenever the casters praised you for outsmarting the opposing team, which Steve and Bucky appreciated because it was hard for them to distinguish whether or not you did something good.

Your team easily won the first game. The Avengers were now watching your tournament on the flat screen TV like a bunch of teenagers watching a romcom, all giddy and filled with anticipation.

“Look at that, 13-1? She’s insane." Bruce shook his head. A team needed to win at least 13 rounds to win, if it's neck and neck, 14, or they may choose to go into overtime.

“I’ve never seen Y/N play with that kind of aggression before; they don’t stand a chance.” Wanda pointed out. She liked to spectate from the side whenever you played at the compound, whenever she could.

Natasha’s lips turned upright when they replayed your team’s best moments. One included your one versus three clutch, in which you threw a taunting, questioning look at the opposing roster across the stage after you effortlessly took out three enemies on your own. It was like their heads weren’t in the game at all.

The team laughed when they showed the exact clip of your face camera mocking the other team across the room. Natasha liked that about you; sure you were reserved and shy in general, but she loved it when all your confidence just comes out while you’re out there.

Another clip was when you had a problem with communication, so you weren’t aware that there were enemies around. Your character didn’t stop running because of that and you were exposed to two enemies. You reacted fast and jumped, pulled out your vandal to shoot both of them in the face.

Tony clapped his hands together at that moment. “Let’s go. Let’s fucking go, Y/N/N.”

Natasha, not all that phased on your brilliant play, could still not contain the smile on her face as she plopped back down on the couch.

“What? Wait, hold on, how did she even-” Sam looked back at everyone while they reacted to the highlight. He didn’t exactly process what happened because you moved too fast.

“God reflexes,” Yelena shrugs, not looking away from the screen. Wanda laughs in agreement.

After a bit of commentary and commercials, it was on to the next match on a new map.

Now, Natasha did not know the difference between the multiple maps at all, but she did remember you mentioning that your weakest one had to do with ice.

The next match was on a map called Icebox.

So, she watched intently as your team took a little while during the agent selection. But in the end, you decided to go for Killjoy again. Natasha could only guess what you had in mind to pull off another win.

“This is highly unusual for [Team Name] Y/N, isn’t it? Right now she’s watching the flanks when we usually expect her to be out there with a duelist to try and take picks!” The caster exclaimed, looking at their partner caster. “She’s one of the strong sentinels who you would trust to be by your side - and look at that, she takes out two already, they did not expect anyone to be holding the flank!”

“But she's using Killjoy again - couldn't she have gone for Cypher or Sage? Then again, they already have Skye on their team.”

Even though you were trying to play smart in this map, you still hated it, it was your weakest one. Still good, but not all that great. The opposing team seemed to know the typical Killjoy strategy on the Icebox map. You got sniped every round and your setups were way too predictable to the opposing team.

Soon, the score was 4-10. It was definitely not good to be on the end of only winning four rounds. Your team had to win the remaining rounds or hope for the best and go to overtime, or you lose this game and go onto the third one which would be way nerve racking and increase the odds of losing.

“Intense match so far we've got here. With [Team Name] Y/N at the bottom of the leaderboard this just has to be a miracle for [Team Name] to get a second win and move on to the next round.”

“There's also a bit of a setback with her shots in the last few rounds. I guess this is when we get to see if she's learned a thing or two from her girlfriend, right?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “They honestly did not have to bring that up.”

The other commentator expressed confusion at their partner's comment.

“The Black Widow! [Team Name] Y/N's been dating her for the last couple years. Honestly, where have you been?”

Everyone groaned as they started bringing your dating life to the conversation when they should be sticking to the game. Tony chose to laugh it off to and ignore the annoyance, whereas Yelena mumbled, “Did they just turn into a morning show now?”

After everyone in your team died, you all decided to ask for a timeout to talk things out. While that was going on, the Avengers had their own timeout and were trying to talk about the game, or at least what they thought was happening.

“Okay, assuming we've all seen how this Killjoy character works, her character would make most sense if her utility was in Site A." Bruce said, in thought.

Vision, one of the smartest of the bunch, had not grasped the game mechanics that well over the hour and half of the tournament. "But why is that, Dr. Banner?"

“Site A is pretty cramped, while site B has a lot of space. Of course the opposing team would always go to B since Y/N’s character's utility can't place utilities in both sites, they only have limited range," Peter points to the map as soon as it's shown up close, the casters having their own separate conversation about it.

Bucky turned to a confused Steve and Sam, “I have no idea what they're talking about.”

“Where else would she put her chicken gun on site B, then?” Tony joined the conversation, talking about your character's utility placement.

“It’s,” Natasha sighed. “It’s not a chicken gun...”

“Well, that chicken gun slows down enemies, right? It would make sense if Y/N places those bomb thingies to instantly kill them.” Yelena said.

“Lena, I think Y/N is fairly capable of playing the game right,” Wanda chuckled.

“Then she should be winning.” Yelena said jokingly, chugging on her drink.

It was astonishing how a group of heroes are knowledgeable about a video game, just so they could follow what you enjoy doing. That's how much they adored you.

Clint entered the room and looked at the source of ruckus, absolutely sick of the discourse. He was aware of your tournament and has been probably spectating on different means. “They still get another match if they lose this one. It’s the best out of three.”

“I’m starting to think someone’s cheating, has anyone noticed that some of the opponent team instantly kill them with only one bullet?” Steve squinted.

Tony scoffed. “That’s ridiculous, it’s a tournament.”

“It’s because they hit them precisely on the head, Steve. Who wouldn’t die if they got shot in the head?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Me,” that came from Vision.

“You don’t count.”

They all turned back to the screen once the timeout timer ran out. Natasha could sense the tension in your team, just from the way you glanced across the stage… she could tell you were gonna have a different way of playing the remaining rounds. The screen turned to you stretching your neck from both sides, seriousness evident in your face as you clutched your mouse, ready for the game to resume.

“And we're back, and it seems that [Team Name] had enough time to come up with a different game plan. We've got one duelist camping B, one on mid, and look at [Team Name] Y/N's utility. She's got her alarm bot and nano-swarms over on A, but her turret is on B as she's over by tunnel to keep it active.”

“Again, I have no idea what he's talking about.” Bucky shrugged, crossed his arms and kept his eyes on the screen.

After fixing your team's strategy, all that was left was to deliver with accurate shots and stay alive as much as possible. By the end of a few rounds, with your team’s communication and teamwork flawless than ever, the score was 12-11. Your team only had to win one more time to officially win.

At this point, Yelena and Wanda were loudly reacting to the gameplay, Sam and Tony were howling, rooting for you. Clint ended up setting himself on one of the sofa's arms, invested in the match.

Natasha was on the edge of her seat, clutching the couch cushions. She couldn’t help but chuckle when they showed your reaction momentarily, clearly breathless and eyes wide, fist bumping your teammates seated beside you.

“Oh, what a comeback! The most intense so far, am I right?” The caster exclaimed.

“[Team Name] only has to win one more round before moving on to the next part of this tournament!”

The last round wasn’t exactly in your team’s favor in the half. Three of your team got killed already, only two of you remaining and the five of the enemy team. The rival team obviously did not want to hand over the win that easily.

After the call of another successful kill by the opposing team, you were the last one standing against a full set of players. You would either have to clutch up the round or go into overtime.

Clint perked up, pulling out his wallet. “Alright, who wants to get the bets started?” He asked, placing down a crisp fifty dollar bill on the coffee table. “Y/N wins the game.”

They all stopped to look at him as if he was a madman.

“C’mon, Barton, it’s one versus five.” Sam pointed out.

“So what? Am I the only one who believes in Y/N here? Oh, Nat, you better start placing fifties.”

Natasha merely rolled her eyes, not once wanting to bet on or against her girl. Her eyes glued to the screen in which your character is cautiously checking if the area is clear to plant the bomb.

But Tony pulled out the same type of bill from his wallet, placing it on top of the archer's money.

“Mr. Stark, you do realize you're betting against-” Peter started.

“Hush, spiderling. Watch the game.” Tony brushed him off and watched the screen intently.

Tony was proud of you, truly. But it would also be funny to tease you lovingly when you go home as a loser.

You set up your utility, kind of surprised the whole enemy team went to the other site in which they thought you were heading. They did not leave anyone behind to make sure, as per your cautious scan of the area before settling. After checking all angles again, with thirty seconds to spare, you planted the spike.

“This is a dangerous game to play. She has to hold a lot of angles by herself, they could come in from anywhere.”

The spike continued to beep, which added a lot more tension among the Avengers. Natasha alternated from looking at the actual game to your face camera, of which was the only one left colored. You kept pacing at one of the hiding places, waiting for the slightest noise or actions from the other team.

You decided to peek at one of the entrances to the site once, the Jett with an operator narrowly missed your head so you took the opportunity to blast her head off. Afterwards, your alarm bot from the other side of your hiding place went off, so you went and peeked quickly, managing to pick off another player from the opposite team. Two down, three to go.

The Avengers erupted in noise. Sam and Peter were losing their minds, Bucky and Steve had amazed grins on their faces, and Natasha was clinging on to Yelena and Fanny like a fangirl trying to contain herself.

“What was that?!”

“She's a god!”

“My god, this is way too intense for me.”

Both commentators erupted in surprised glee as well. “A double kill from [Team Name] Y/N! The others are slowly making their way into the site, what will she do?!”

A Sova fired a dart to hopefully reveal your location on the map, but you were too quick to shoot it down to cancel it. But, the Sova spotted you anyway, and was able to shoot you until you were at only 50 HP.

You hid again and recalled your turret, placing it on top of the wall in front of you before sneaking your way to the opposite side. It could watch your back while you attempt to peek on the other side to surprise your enemies.

That move managed to catch one of the other players trying to sneak in as well, and you killed them off with ease. Three down, two to go.

“Down goes [Player Name]! Sova and Yoru are still on the lookout, it's like an intense version of hide & seek up in here!”

Barely anyone was talking now, all eyes on the enormous screen.

“Y/N has her ult!” Peter pointed out.

That you did, as your third kill managed to unlock enough points for it. Aware of its availability, you hurried off to the perfect spot to plant it to cover almost the entire site, still hidden from your enemies. Killjoy's voice rang through the game, saying 'Initiated!', when you planted her ultimate.

“What's that? What's happening?” Steve asked.

“Well, it's called 'lockdown', so I'm assuming it's locking off the area within its perimeter... trapping everyone inside...” Bruce said, lost in thought because of the game.

The Yoru activated their ultimate in time with yours, and you were now twice as cautious, looking around for blue swirls of the duelist to avoid getting sniped easily. He tried to blind you, but you were quick to move your view away from the flash to avoid it. Stupidly, the Yoru's ultimate ran out while trying to destroy your lockdown, so you killed them without hesitation. Four down, one to go.

Clint cackled at the turn of events while the others continued to freak out, teasing Tony, a billionaire, on losing a fifty-dollar bet. “What did I tell you, Stark?! What did I tell you?!”

The spike's beeps started getting faster and you could finally see the finish line. But, you were still cautious as they still had more than enough time to defuse if they managed to kill you.

“You know, [Team Name] Y/N could just leave the site at this point. It's game over for [Rival Team Name].”

“Ah, don't speak too soon there! [Team Name] Y/N's now inspecting the outer corners of the site, unaware of [Rival Team Name] [Player]'s sneaky entrance - and she's placed a smoke down, ready to defuse!”

Of course you were unaware of the opponent's whereabouts. But, you did hear the defuse sound go off for a second. With that, you head back, holding a grenade to throw near the area of the spike.

“She's got this in the bag.” Sam said in content.

After a few seconds, the defusing sound started up again, but you were certain that the grenade you set off did some damage to your opponent on top of the information you got from your teammates before they died.

You started to jiggle-peek from your spot, clearly visible from your opponent's perspective, so they had no choice but to stop defusing the spike to try and shoot you.

Unfortunately, they did a number on you, so you decided to go around. Once the cooldown reset on your turret, you placed it down on one side for intel. With only 20 HP left, you snuck up to the other side of the obstacle to hopefully pull off a knife kill for the finale.

“This game is way more intense than I thought.” Bucky spoke thoughtfully amidst the suspense-filled silence.

“Shhhh!”

“Oh my god, she's got her knife out.” Natasha said in disbelief, watching your character sneak up behind your opponent whose back is facing you.

“So?”

“Just wait for it.” Natasha bit her lip, knowing fully well how you always prefer a devastating way to end a match.

The commentators were freaking out, a combination of “no's”, “don't do this”, and “not like this” rang through the Avengers' speakers. It was considered devastating in the VALORANT community to be killed in game with a knife instead of a gun or anything else. The opponent is oblivious, having already defused half of the spike, but they didn't know what would soon come.

You strike your knife at their head, killing them instantly, the spike left undefused. The game graphics became slow motion while the screen flashed green with 'VICTORY' in the middle of it all. You stood up almost immediately, proud of your savage last kill, fist-bumping all your teammates.

“AN ACE FROM [Team Name] Y/N! [Team Name] IS GOING TO THE MASTERS!”

You hugged your team as well before turning to the camera nearest to you, blowing hot air onto the lens, and tracing a heart followed by a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Yup, she's a Stark alright!”

Roars and cheers emitted from the commentators, the present audience, and the Avengers. Sam yelled and everyone followed, but the loudest one was Clint, who then swooped down to collect his cash prize for winning the bet. Tony didn't care at all, laughing along with the others; he had something new to brag about his kid. Natasha's cheeks flushed, as they always did when it came to you.

“SHE WON!”

“I'll get the booze!”

“In your face, Stark!”

“Cap, you stepped on my foot!”

Natasha unlocked her phone to take a quick picture of the livestream of the heart you drew on the camera, as well as of the stage displaying all of your team's headshots with an abundance of confetti almost covering it. All she wanted now was to call you, but she knew you probably had interviews and post-game rituals with your team, and she had champagne to drink with her own team in celebration of you.

The next morning, on a quick flight back home, the first thing that caught your attention was Natasha's Instagram story of the tournament. Your family supported and watched the tourney for you, as the following slides of her story consisted of the team chugging on champagne, Clint showing off an apparent bet that he won, and Peter and Sam posing in front of the TV when your face camera was shown up close.

Smiling, you liked her stories and replied with 'Thank you for supporting me, my love. I'll see you all soon'.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

BIG OL HECKIN EDIT:

I am a dum dum who forgot how to spell @sassenach-on-the-rocks amid my existential terror and dread of the deleted-draft incident mentioned below, and then did a Dum Dum no Double-Down by forgetting to update until now. This headcanon is their brainchild and they deserve all the credit for it.

You may now continue with your previously intended brainrot viewing.

I'm VERY INCREDIBLY MIFFED, MY GUYS.

I had this entire post finished and almost completely formatted and saved it as a draft to finish formatting it on my computer

And it DIDN'T SAVE. And I nearly SCREEEEEMED.

It was for an ask request and I also can't seem to tag the person that sent the ask.

I am A N G E R Y

But after several deep breaths and reminding myself that violence is not the answer, here we are.

At any rate. The ask request was for headcanons involving One Piece boyos taking reader to a Masquerade ball.

To the asker, should you still be around to see it, I really really loved this and thank you so, so much for it ❤️❤️ I really enjoyed finding masks to match their aesthetics.

Only deviation I made was Zoro; you meet him there rather than going with him. It just felt right that way for some reason.

And awaaaaaaaay we go~

The Masquerade

Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

SFW Headcanons

This was really so fun and cute and I thank Asker so so much for this.

♫♬Little By Little — The Fratellis♬♫

You wear your mask, I'll wear mine, they don't come cheap but they fit just fine

You can be her and I can be him, and we can both sink while the rest all swim

Sanji

He heard about it when you made port, and there's no way he's not taking you.

He's been looking for an opportunity to take you on the perfect first date, and this is it.

Perfect opportunity for the two of you to get away from the crew for and have a little alone time.

A little dancing, a little wine, a little champagne—it's perfect.

Makes sure not to tell anyone else, if Luffy hears there's free food he'll insist on going and the whole thing will no doubt end in chaos.

He doesn't even tell you—all he tells you, after presenting you with a brand new dress and jewelry (which most likely cost him every last berry in his wallet), is that he would like to take you out for the evening.

And how could you turn him down?

"Come on, love. I promise it will be the best evening you've ever had."

The effort he's already put in, those puppy-dog eyes....

You spend the evening dancing, talking, enjoying the free food, every ounce of his attention on you the entire time as he ensures that you feel like a princess.

Making sure that everyone has their eyes on the pair of you on the dance floor, that they know you're there with him.

Somehow ending up chit-chatting with the catering staff toward the end of the night and being invited to their far less formal after-party.

Stumbling back to the Merry hours later together, half-drunk and giggling and positive that it's the best night you've ever had.

Zoro

"What the hell...?"

He got lost and wandered in.

No idea what's going on, why are all these people wearing masks and dancing?? What exactly is going on this is weird as—

Oh hey there's an open bar, cool.

You recognize him from his bounty poster fairly quickly. There are a lot of marines here, and he really isn’t causing any problems, but he's getting a lot of strange looks...so you decide to do the guy a favor and shove a mask in his hands.

He looks at you like you're speaking another language as you explain where he is and convince him to just put on the damned mask already.

"A ball? I thought this was some kind of weird cult or something."

You just stare at him in disbelief—he thought it was a cult and he's just standing around enjoying the free drinks. 

What.

You brush it off and tell him if he wants to fit in, then dancing is probably a good idea.

He's frowning at you again.

"Yeah, I don't really...do that."

You roll your eyes—there are still people eyeing him suspiciously, you have to do something, so when he finishes his next drink you just grab him by the wrist and drag him out to the dance floor.

Cue impromptu ballroom dancing lessons. He keeps stepping on your feet and mumbling apologies, but it's kind of cute how hard he's trying.

You really can't help but giggle at his explanation that he just got lost and wandered in here.

But you're glad he did—you doubt you would have had nearly as much fun otherwise.

Shanks

Heard about the whole shin-dig while in port.

"Hey that sounds like fun, we should crash it."

You try to be stern, but he pulls out the puppy dog eyes.

"Oh come on please?"

God dammit....

And maybe an hour later you're both making masks.

There's glitter and glue and feathers all over the captain's cabin and you're already dreading cleaning it up.

His has a giant gaudy pirate hat. Because of course it has a giant gaudy pirate hat. He's so proud of it, grinning like a little kid in an arts and crafts class when he holds it up to show you, that you can't even bring yourself to admonish him for it.

And of course the whole thing is invitation-only, and of course he manages to sweet-talk his way in anyway.

Just having such a good time, really doesn't care if anyone recognizes him.

Really doesn't care, just drinking and making small talk and joking with several lower-ranking Marines in attendance who are clearly very nervous.

Within an hour, while you're in the middle of dancing and deciding that maybe this wasn't *such* a bad idea, an announcement is made for everyone to leave immediately.

Judging by the sheer number of Marines outside there's no doubt as to why.

He just gives you a guilty grin before picking you up over his shoulder and bolting back to the ship.

Mihawk

Actually received an invitation, just rolled his eyes and tossed it in the trash.

You dig it out and pout about it until he rolls his eyes and gives in.

"Fine. No more than an hour."

At lease there will be free wine.

Unsurprisingly spends a great deal of time standing in a corner and sipping said wine while staring around haughtily at the other partygoers.

Would much rather be drinking wine back in his secluded castle and not having to deal with other humans.

Spends the vast majority of the evening standing in a corner and nursing a glass of wine while glaring around haughtily at the other guests, daring them to even think of attempting to make small-talk with him.

Doesn't move from his designated corner until he sees other guests daring to flirt with you, at which point he promptly saunters over to pull you to the dance floor and ensure everyone is well aware that you're there with him.

Lightens up a little after that (which may or may not have something to do with the several glasses of wine he's already consumed), but absolutely will not admit that it actually turned out to be a rather nice evening.

He will, however, hold this over your head and remind you that you owe him.

But you know the truth, considering he's a little more willing to attend such events with you after this.

Buggy

Oh what now? An excuse to be absolutely flamboyant and unhinged in public?

You're going. Period. There will no arguments.

He's already got a collection of masks and costumes anyway, this is going to be a blast.

You lose track of him shortly after you get there. You're pretty sure that the explosion that went off toward the back corner of the dance floor had something to do with him.

He finds you while you're sipping a glass of champagne in downright annoyance and proudly informs you that he's made bank going through pockets at the coat check while everyone was distracted by his little diversion.

"Ah, don't worry, babe, they won't notice. They're too busy schmoozing and kissing ass."

Standing around making small-talk with other guests in the most ridiculous put-on aristocratic accent he can possibly muster, introducing you variably as some foreign dignitary or princess from a far off land.

Literally can't take this idiot anywhere.

[chemococktailonthehouse]

Nightly Ritual (Lucifer x F!Reader)

Description: Lucifer tended to stay up far later than he should, and he certainly wasn't easy to convince to come to bed. You, however, had a few tricks up your sleeve.

Warnings: Fluff (that's it. that's the whole post), sleepy sleepy reader, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

Author's Note: This one has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute now. I've got another one I'm working on and may not finish that has similar vibes with a touch of angst (what can I say, I know what I like). I'm not sure how much Hazbin I'll write for, as I'm not super involved with the fandom at this point. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Word Count: 897

This has been cross-posted on my AO3 account which you can find here.

______________________________________________________________

Lucifer spent many a night in his workshop working and you spent many a night trying to pull him away from said work and into bed. Besides, what was the point of a king-sized bed if there wasn’t a king to share it with? At some point you realized that if you could get him to enter the bedroom the battle was practically won. But how could you consistently make that happen? The answer fell into your lap one night when you dozed off watching him work. He gazed at you fondly for a moment before finally scooping you up and carrying you off to bed. As soon as he deposited you beneath the sheets you pulled him along with you as he let out a surprised umph. And so this dance of yours began. You would fall asleep in his office and he would carry you to bed. It didn’t take him long for him to catch on to your little game, but he couldn’t help but play along.

Most nights you’d pull up a chair to his desk, your head moving from resting in your palm to laying across your arm as you began to drift off. Other time’s you’d sit next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he tinkered away. Once or twice you even sat in his lap with your head buried in the crook of his neck as he hummed softly in your ear. Tonight though, you unintentionally mixed things up.

Luci heard the door creak open not too long after supper as you padded into the room. He was a bit surprised. Usually you wouldn’t start this song and dance until much later in the evening. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder as you peered at his current project. Maybe you were just here to watch tonight.

“Whatcha working on?” Though, to be honest, you already knew the answer.

“Oh, just the usual.”

You fell into a comfortable silence. Every now and again you’d ask a question about what he was doing or what tool he was using, to which he would happily answer. After one particularly in depth question he turned to you, “so, you trying to pick up the tools of the trade?”

“How do you know I’m not already an expert?”

“Oh ho ho, I think we both remember what happened last time.”

You swatted at his shoulder playfully, “oh hush you.”

“I’m not the one who almost set the office ablaze,” he raised his eyebrows as he challenged you to retort.

”Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You should be thankful I took such a tremendous responsibility off your hands.”

“Mhmm,” you could feel his quiet laughter reverberate in his chest. He continued working, humming contently whenever you’d pepper kisses on his cheek. Eventually the frequency of your musings began to slow as he noted your breathing deepening, “you sure you don’t want to come sit in my lap?” While he didn’t want you toppling over, he was reveling in the close contact and would be damned if it ended any time soon.

“Can see what you’re doing better from up here,” the way you mumbled made it evident that sleep was soon to follow.

“You sure you’re not gonna fall asleep back there?”

“Mhmm. ‘m not even that tired.”

He turned and placed a kiss on your cheek, “whatever you say, dear.”

You did, in fact, fall asleep back there. Just as the first soft snore left your lips he felt you begin to slide to the side. He unfurled his wings, keeping you upright until he could turn around and lift you into his arms, “alright missy, let’s get you to bed.” You stirred slightly, lazily reaching an arm over his shoulder to stroke the feathers at the base of his wings as he carried you down the hall. The only clue that he had finally made it to the room was the soft click of the door before he laid you down on the bed. Before you had the chance to pull him down with you he had stepped out of your grasp. You turned to face him, worried that your plan had been unsuccessful this evening, “stay, please.”

“I’ll be right there, just need to slip into something more comfortable.” A few minutes later he climbed under the covers and pulled you to him, the warmth of bare chest pulling you in like a duckling to its mother.

You looped an arm around him once more, tracing your fingers across his back in search of those oh-so-soft wings. You huffed, disappointed to find he had tucked them away, “Luci?”

“Yes dear?”

You rubbed small circles until he finally got the hint. “Ohhh, someone sure is needy tonight, hmm?” His tone was playful, though it could be argued that he found much more satisfaction from wrapping you up in his wings than you did. And you loved when he wrapped you up. You began combing your fingers through his feathers again as he practically purred, “you know if you keep that up I may just have to start coming to bed earlier.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” there was that mumbling again as you began to drift off.

He chuckled, a soft, deep tone, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[love-hatred-stuff]

》 hey, hi~ here's a draft that I wrote instead of continuing other fics that I wanted to write, lmao I hate myself :')

》 Eddie Brock(Venom) x (f)Reader

⚠ a little warning; age gap (10y), daddy issues here we goooo, just a tiny bit spice and some sprinkle de dinkle ★angst★

♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤

Eddie hadn't had sex in what felt like centuries. Actually just one or two years but who's counting when all he can do is use his hand and Venom mostly doesn't even let him finish. That monster doesn't give shit about it, he claims that Eddie wouldn't need it. He needs food and water but not a jerk off.

Well if he knew why he'd been going on it so much lately, maybe Venom would let him, but he's not ready to give that up yet. It's probably the only thing about Eddie, Venom hasn't completely figured out yet.

It was you. You were the reason he was slowly but surely losing the mind he shared with the compatible slimy alien inside of him.

•••

"Eddie thanks for checking, but I can manage." You told him on the other line of the phone.

Eddie just wanted to help you pack and carry your things since you were moving to another apartment. You've been able to get promoted again and now you were at the very top of the not even so small company you've been working at for about five years now. You could say you were pretty good at your job.

"I habe plenty of strong people here, helping me out. I don't even have to carry anything, I just decide were the furniture and boxes are getting placed. You don't need to worry, darling."

Eddie had a smirk dancing on his lips. You knew he could do everything they were doing, at least twice as fast.

"I should come over later then. I'll bring dinner." He suggested.

"Great idea. But don't let Venom choose take out again, please Eddie." Ugh the way you were saying his name made his brain go blank and suddenly Venom was hyperaware of what was going on.

"Promise. See ya." He immediately ended the call, leaving you a little confused. Ed could sense what Venom felt, just beneath the surface.

"Holy Shit!!!" Venom growled.

"You kidding me? She's the reason you've been going to the gym and eating healthy now? Why you've been completely desperate to stroke your dumbass dick?" Then he laughed. Finding it hilarious that Eddie was in love again. After his last woman, Anne, he'd been taking a while to open up again. Actually he didn't talk to any other woman besides you.

The thing was just, that you were ten years younger than him and he'd practically seen you grow up. Of course he never saw you the way he does now, back then. But it was quite bad how hard he had fallen for you in the last few months.

"I KNOW! She's too young for me. I'll keep my distance, okay? It wasn’t my intention to develop feelings." He tried defending himself.

"As if I cared, you nasty human. Get you dick wet if that's what you need." The symbiot snarled.

Eddie was surprised, to say the least.

"You're not gonna disturb us?" He asked in suspicion.

"Thought you wanted to keep your distance? Not anymore? Kidding. Do what you gotta do. Since you're my host I gotta let you have at least one thing."

"That'd be great." He smiled to himself.

"Now get your ass up at get her something nice, if you wanna get inside her pants."

"I don't wanna get inside her pants! Well- maybe a little, but I care about her more than that."

Eddie sensed, by Venom's silence, that he doesn't wanna get involved in his love life any further. Although he couldn't blame Eddie, you were gorgeous little human. A young one at that.

So he showered and grabbed his keys, so he could get dinner and some flowers. He was a little nervous buying these, because he knew that would be the first romantic move he's ever made on you. You probably only saw him as like an uncle or something, nothing more. Knowing his luck, he didn't even expect you to like him back.

He would know soon.

•••

Well, but who knew, he's gonna find himself underneath you instead?

Eddie was sitting on the couch, the only thing that wasn't completely packed with stuff and boxes. You were straddling him, taking his breath away with the way you moved your skilled tounge against his. He was a little hesitant though, barely touching your hips with his hands because he didn't know were to put them. He wanted so badly to grip your sides tight and push you closer against his crotch.

But he was unsure. Even though you clearly gave him all the signs that you wanted this, he felt like he was using you. Venom's earlier words spiralling in his mind; '-if you wanna get inside her pants.' No! He didn't! He wanted so much more than that. So it felt wrong to just jump you the moment you said you liked him back- well you didn't really say anything, you just smiled to yourself as you accepted his flowers and began to stalk towards him, until this moment, where you plastered him with marks and kisses.

Despite all those doubts, he felt heavenly, holding most of his sounds back, almost impossible. You were a woman with so many strengths, kissing and grinding being apparently one of them. Glad, he found out.

He only realised seconds later that you'd stopped and were looking straight at him.

"What's wrong?" Your worried look scratched at his heart instantly.

"Nothing." He lied.

He was a good liar. But you weren't buying it, you knew him well enough.

"You don't want this? You should've said so, Brock."

Ugh, another pang shooting through him stronger than he'd expected. The usage of his last name? Nah. You only did that when you were seconds away from switching your emotions. You were gonna tell him to piss off and stay away from you, until you forgave him, unless he would tell you the truth right f*cking now. He knew because he'd disappointed you once before. That was a complete different scenario, and now you felt personally attacked. He could feel it, even Venom could.

"No! I really really want this! Or else I wouldn't have told you what I did earlier. It's just, that it feels wrong touching you, with my hands."

Oh. No.

He just made it worse, didn't he? Judging by the way your face went blank, his speech definitely went sideways.

"Get lost." You were pointing to your door with your finger, giving him a stern look.

He felt like a little scared kid again, being scolded by his mom. Only ten times worse.

"What? No! I'm saying this because I'm so much older than you, y/n! I swear on my mother and the symbiot living inside of me that I've been craving you for the longest time now. I love you, god damn it! But I shouldn't and I know that, alright? But I can't help it. I'm sorry if I send you the wrong signals. I'm just worried that people will take you away from me, because of that." Eddie stood up and slowly walked towards you, trying to not make you even more uncomfortable than he already had.

You looked a little more relaxed now though.

"So you denied me because you feel a little perverted? God, Eddie you're not a grandpa and I'm a grown woman with a good life ahead of her. Do you think I would throw that away for a forbidden romance? You and I are perfectly okay to be with each other. Nothing's gonna happen, it's only ten years, Brock." Eddie flinched again at the end. Seemed like he had to soothe you a little more.

"Could you please stop addressing me with my last name, it scares me a little. I get it now. I'm sorry for worrying so much, sweetness." Eddie gently touched your cheek, caressing it and putting a strand of hair behind you ear.

"You have a lot of making up to do, you grandpa." You glanced up at him, allowing a tiny smile to dance on your cherry lips.

-----

To be continued...?

Love, love, love

~ love-hatred-stuff ♡

[aventurinespuppy]

failed mission - 'father' reader x lyney

CW: gn reader, dom reader, reader is referred to as 'father', manipulation, power play, dacryphilia, hair-pulling, begging, oral sex (reader receiving), denial, SPOILERS for Inazuma archon quest and spoilers for Fontaine archon quest, smut

WC: ~1.1k

AN: this has been sitting in my drafts forever and i finally got motivated to finish it (im heavily procrastinating) its my first time writing smut so feedback would be appreciated :')

You had caught wind that the traveler had arrived in Fontaine. Although ranked higher than Signora, her defeat caused concern among the Harbingers. Even Tartaglia, the battle-crazed freak, sung their praises. Not one for being underprepared, you assigned your most trusted children, Lyney and Lynette, to keep a close eye on them. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say.

You had nothing to worry about, after all, your dear children had never failed you. You never imagined that the twins would be put on trial for murder, during which their identities were revealed to the traveler.

Safe to say, the mission ended in failure, and as the leader of the operation, Lyney should take responsibility for their failure, right?

The two were currently standing in your office, avoiding your eyes, deeming the ground far more interesting. They had given you a report, if their excuses could even be called that, on the results from their assigned mission.

You knit your eyebrows together in slight frustration and look at the pitiful sight in front of you. You had given them weeks to gather intel, and they come back to you practically empty-handed? You loved your children dearly and wished not to scold them, but you couldn't let this slide.

Lyney cleared his throat awkwardly and looked up to address you, squirming uncomfortably when he was met with your intense gaze. His voice wavered as he spoke.

"I'll take whatever punishment you see fit. It was my fault the operation failed, so please extend your benevolence to Lynette, Father."

They both watched you nervously and after giving it some thought, you decided to dismiss Lynette. She bowed and made her way to the doors without another word. She would make sure to thank her brother later.

As the heavy doors creaked shut, you sighed and readjusted your position, leaning back into your chair and crossing your legs. You instructed Lyney to come closer and he audibly gulped. Knowing better than to test your patience, he obeyed. Fiddling with his gloves, he waited anxiously for your next words.

"Why do you think I assigned you to this mission, Lyney? You're always so eager to prove yourself, and I provided you the perfect way to showcase your abilities, but you let me down."

Trembling, he opened his mouth to apologise, but you silenced him, covering his lips with a finger. He looked at you, a little confused, and you shook your head at him.

"I don't want to hear anymore excuses. I thought I taught you better than this."

He nods and awaits your next words with bated breath.

"A pretty mouth like yours should be put to better use, don't you agree Lyney?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it again, remembering your previous words. He nods at you and you smile.

"Good boy." you purr. You uncross your legs and look at him expectantly. He scrambles to his knees in front of you, eager to please. His eyes light up at your approving expression.

"W-What do you want me to do, Father?" He looks up at you with wide, puppy-like eyes and you can't help but savour the sight in front of you.

"Start by taking my pants off for me."

He nods and reaches to unzip them, but you swat his hands away.

"Don't use your hands."

He nods and puts his hands behind his back. Blushing, he leans forward to bite your zipper and pulls it down. You help him take off your pants by lifting your hips. You take your underwear off and throw it somewhere on your desk.

Lyney looks off to the side, embarrassed to be face to face with your sex. You smirk at his bashfulness and call his name, to which he looks at you immediately.

"I need you to pleasure me. Think you can do that for me?"

He nods eagerly and you spread your legs wider for him. Wasting no time, he gives you an experimental lick before indulging more. You groan in response and reach down tangle your hand in his hair, keeping him close to you.

"If I knew you were this good with your tongue, I would've let you do this sooner.."

He hums, the vibrations making you feel even better as you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back. You open one eye to look down at him and you're met with his intense gaze, not looking away from you for one second. Although this was meant to be his punishment, he seemed to be enjoying this too much.

You decide to tease him and let your shoe slide off, bringing your foot to rub his clothed cock. He falters and removes himself from you, groaning at the sensation.

"F-Father.."

"Did I say you could stop?"

He shakes his head and gets back to pleasuring you. With the added teasing from you, it seems his mind can't focus as he clumsily sucks you off, you don't mind too much though, finding it adorable how much he's affected by your touch.

"Who knew you were such a slut, Lyney? Getting off to my foot? Such a dirty little thing you are."

Letting out a muffled whimper, he bucks his hips upwards to get more stimulation from you but you take your foot away. He whimpers at the loss.

"Whyy.." His speech comes out muffled.

"Behave yourself. Don't forget that this is your punishment."

Tears prick in his eyes but he nods. You bring your foot back before stepping down on his cock and he sobs.

He focuses on pleasing you in hopes that you'll have mercy on him if he makes you cum. Smiling, you watch him, pleased that he's trying so hard for you.

"This is all you're good for, isn't it? Being a cumslut suits you much better than being a Fatuus does."

He whines 'No, no!', but his desperate rutting tells a different story.

Before long, he brings you to your high and you cum on his tongue, making him look like more of a mess than he already was. He tries to lick you clean but you pull him away by his hair and he sobs at the pain.

"Enough."

You attempt to take your foot away from him but he latches on and wails.

"Wait, please! L-Let me cum as well.. Don't I deserve it..?"

He cries and sniffles, still pathetically holding onto your leg. You kick him away and scowl.

"If you want to cum, then do so by yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an important meeting to attend. Clean yourself up and get out of my office."

You hear him cry to himself as you redress and fix your appearance. You turn the handle of your office doors and leave him with a final piece of advice..

"Don't fail me again."

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

[trensu]

Have a snippet from that one holy warrior au. thanks to @ent-is-indecisive for helping me come up with a title for this fic. i'll be tagging it as stasis in darkness for easy tracking. this is part of a rough draft so it probably will be modified by the time i finish the damn thing and make it ao3 ready. but my brain's kind of stuck and needs a kickstart to get it going again, so i thought i'd share it and hopefully get motivated again

It happened again.

–

The fourth night:

“Isn't it true the King of Darkness–”

“Lord of Night.”

“Yeah, him. He controls all the monsters in the dark and sets them on innocent people for fun. Don’t see why you’d want to throw your lot in with a god like that.”

“Because he doesn’t. He takes care of nighttime animals. Bats, coyotes, owls…”

“The scary ones, you mean.”

“No! Besides, he takes care of cats, too. Cats aren’t scary. They’re, you know, cute.”

“Hmm. If you say so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You got something against cats?”

“Of course not!" The man said, sounding mildly offended. Steve opened his mouth to go on about the Lord of Night's chosen creatures but the man interrupted with, "Well, look at the time! Later, gator.”

The man ran off with a grin not sparing him a second glance. Steve stared after him, baffled.

“What the fuck’s a gator?”

–

The fifth night:

“Don't you know your King, excuse me, Lord of Darkness–”

“Night. Lord of Night.”

“Same thing. He helps criminals evade justice. Pretty sure that one’s true.” The man lounged lazily on a nearby boulder as he asked. Kind of like a cat, Steve noticed with a trace of amusement that was easily smothered by annoyance at the man's…everything else.

“He helps people who travel by night. Most of the time they’re just night workers or people with nowhere to go. The ones that are shunned for being different or the ones too poor to afford safe shelter.”

“Huh. Alright, explain the horse thief thing, then, if he’s so good and noble.”

“...fine, he’s got a soft spot for horse thieves but thievery isn’t that bad of a crime in the grand scheme of things.”

“Ha! Sure,” the man conceded. “But! You can’t deny that this Lord of Night cursed people with terrible nightmares that left them sleepless and suffering for days. To the brink of lunacy, some say.”

The man said it with triumph, as if with this he’d finally break Steve’s faith. Steve shrugged. 

“All gods get angry.”

“And that’s okay? You’re fine with him inflicting mind torture on some poor mortal just because he threw a tantrum?”

“First off, he wouldn’t just throw a tantrum," Steve said with exasperation. He might end up throwing a tantrum if this guy persisted. "I don’t think he’s the kind to get angry easily. And second, the people he cursed before always deserved it. Besides, he helps with good dreams, too. It’s not all bad.”

“Uh-huh, I totally believe you," the man said, heavy with mockery.

“Look man, if you’re so against the Lord of Night, why are you still here? Why do you keep coming back and bothering me?”

“...curiosity?”

“Well, be curious quietly. I need to pray.”

“...he probably doesn’t even have prayers.”

“I said shut up, man. I need to concentrate.”

The man leaves without any more fuss. 

–

The sixth night:

“You have a lot of faith in a god who lost his own name. Does he even have any holy texts left?”

“Dustin could only find one, but that was enough.”

“Really? Other gods have entire libraries of stories and whole tomes of holy words. They have temples and monasteries all across the land of mortals.” The man motioned derisively at the crumbling statue. "This thing here is barely a shrine!"

“Hey, I'm working on that, alright? It's going to look great when I'm done with it," Steve protested. "And so what if he doesn't have more? Robin says quantity’s got nothing to do with quality.”

“Yeah, but the other gods are remembered for a reason. That counts for something,” the man's voice lost some of that smug edge. He fiddled with the hem of his fraying shirt as he spoke. 

Steve refused to rise to the bait. He responded calmly, but firmly.

“I don’t need libraries to know I want to carry his symbol. From what Robin and Dustin found, he represents all the things my friends taught me were important.” Steve pauses. "I’m not a good reader anyway so less books are better for me.” 

"Oh, so that's why you picked him! Very convenient," The man sounded very amused. Steve ignored him until he heard the man wander away for the night. He sighed in relief.

With a surge of restless energy leftover from being very good and calm about that nuisance of a man, Steve approached the statue elevated on its crumbling plinth. He reached up towards its open hand held at its side, barely within reach, and brushed his fingers along the worn knuckles. 

"That guy's wrong about you, I know he is,” Steve whispered, fervently. “You deserve a temple. A hundred of them, all for your own."

Steve thought, for a moment, he heard a sharp intake of breath, but when he looked there was no one but him around. 

“I’ll make sure you get a great temple."

He waited, strained his ears for even a single word from his god. He tried not to be disappointed when he heard nothing. Again.

–

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you’d like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[tkwrites]

First Fight - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Title: First Fight

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Original female character 

Warnings: Angst, history of a bad relationship 

Summary: Quinn and Sarah have their first fight - we learn more about Quinn’s previous relationship

Word count: 3000

Comments: Angst isn’t something I feel I write very well, so if you have any ideas of how to make this better, I would welcome any and all constructive feedback. 

First Fight

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Hey, I met someone. I want you to meet her when you’re in town. 

Sending this text was like setting off a bomb in his life. Not because Quinn thought it would destroy things, but it would open up this fated little world to outside forces, something he’d protected against so far.  

He wanted Brady and Emma’s opinion first before he started introducing the idea of Sarah into the rest of his relationships. They had been the only ones brave enough to tell him they didn’t like June. Everyone else in his life told him they felt the same only after he’d called it off completely. His own family hadn’t even told him. 

Everything with Sarah felt different than it had with June. He didn’t expect the same outcome, but he wanted to be sure. June taught him he couldn’t always trust his own judgment. 

Things with June were always complicated. In so many ways, their relationship had been easy. She entertained herself for the most part, looked good on his arm, and the sex wasn’t bad, but it never went beyond that. Quinn used to think their relationship could lead to marriage, but she never gave them that chance. 

Looking back, he wasn’t sure if she ever actually liked him. She liked the lifestyle he offered, and liked being seen with him at events and after games. She would often flirt with other people, even after they decided to be exclusive and was happy to tell him how there were taller, more handsome, better dressed men she could get with when they fought. A few days later, she would always come back apologizing, telling him she loved him and that she wanted to be with him. 

At one point, Brady had told him he didn’t want to hear about their relationship drama anymore. “You don’t even like her, Q,” he’d said, exasperated, “like, not just her body, but her.” 

Eventually, Quinn had been forced to admit he was right. 

They’d been on and off for more than a year, and it never went anywhere other than around in circles. They had the same fights about how long he was gone, how she wanted him to dress better, and that she was flirting with other guys all the time. It was exhausting, and not in a way that made it worthwhile.

You met someone? Brady responded. Who? When? 

Her name is Sarah. We met two months ago. We've been dating since then. 

It wasn't totally unlike Quinn to keep something so private, but the fact that it had been two months and he'd kept it all to himself made Brady wonder. 

Do you think Emma could come out? 

If he was asking for Emma's opinion, this was serious. Quinn trusted her judgment. 

I'll ask her. 

As soon as Emma’s flight was confirmed, Quinn brought it up while Sarah was at his house. 

When he'd asked her to come over earlier in the day, she had initially turned him down, explaining that she had a deadline to meet. 

“I just want to see you,” he said. “You could do your homework here.”

“I don't know if that would work…” 

She wanted to see him, too, especially knowing he was headed out of town again too soon for her liking, but finals and year end deadlines were coming up swiftly. She didn’t have the time, especially now that she was spending so much time with Quinn, to put things off. 

“Could we just give it a try? I'll leave you alone until you're finished, I swear. And then we can spend some time together.”

She'd agreed, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he kept every word of his promise. 

By the time her first draft of the research publication she was writing was done, Sarah had been at Quinn's table for more than two hours. True to his word, he left her alone other than to bring her a plate of cut vegetables and kiss her forehead around the one hour mark.  

Now, she wandered through the penthouse, looking for him. 

“Quinn?” she finally asked when she didn’t find him downstairs. 

“I'm up here.”

She climbed the stairs and found him in the gaming room. It was where he had all of his video game equipment set up, along with squishy arm chairs, couches and bean bags. He had enough controllers, he could probably host the entire team. 

Glancing away from the screen, he asked, “you're done already?”

She shrugged, “I write fast.”

She did. He was impressed. “I’m almost done with this level, and I'll be done.”

“No rush.” 

She wandered down the hall to one of the guest bathrooms. When she got back, he'd tossed his headset and controller away from him and was standing. 

The hug he wrapped her in was warm and comforting. She snuck her hands under his shirt just so she could feel his warm skin.

They kissed for a long time, standing in that gaming room. 

As they walked down the stairs hand in hand, he broached the subject, “my best friend, Brady is going to be in town on a road trip from Ottawa Thursday. I hoped we could all go to dinner together.”

“Oh.” 

“What?” 

“I have a cohort review on Thursday night.”

“So? Can't you just move it?”

“No, I can't. It took us a week just to find a time that worked for everyone, and I already told them I would be there.”

Quinn pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, thinking. “Just - he's only in town Thursday and Friday, and they leave Friday night. His wife Emma is coming in.” 

“I'm sorry, Quinn, I wish you had given me more advanced notice.” 

“Can’t you meet with your cohort after class or something?” he asked, “you all live here.” 

Sarah bristled, feeling more and more disrespected as this conversation went on. “Quinn,” her tone was a bit sharper than she intended and she tried to bite it back, “it’s not my fault you didn’t tell me about this until two days beforehand. I can’t just move my schedule around because you forgot.” 

“I didn’t forget,” he said indignantly. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“We just made the plan!”

“You can’t just make plans without consulting me! I have a life and responsibilities outside of you.” 

He blew a breath through his nose, “I know that.”

“Do you? Because it seems like you're expecting me to just drop everything for your schedule.” 

He groaned. “That’s not what I mean. Brady and Emma will only be in town for a day and a half. They live on the other side of the country, and I want them to meet you, and you to meet them, and you’re saying you can’t because of some school thing with people who live here and could reschedule.” 

Sarah pursed her lips. “So it’s up to me to reschedule.” 

“They’re going back home on Friday after the game!” 

“Could we not have lunch on Friday or get together before the game?” 

Quinn paused. It wasn’t ideal, but he supposed it could work. “I mean, I guess so.” 

She nodded. “So when I said I have plans, your first call is to ask me to cancel them, rather than seeing if there’s something that will work for everyone.”

“Jesus, Sarah. I just want you to meet my friends, and dinner would give us more time.” 

“I get that, I really do, but this review is really important, and I’d just…” traitorous tears rose to her eyes. They always did when she was frustrated. “I’d just like you to respect that I have important stuff going on that I can’t cancel.” 

Shit. Now she was crying. Over something he did. Fuck. 

They were real tears, too - frustrated ones she was trying to sniffle back - not like the over dramatic tears June would dredge up in a fight. 

“I know you’re used to being single, but you need to respect my time, too. You’re not the only one working around a demanding schedule.”

The truth of it socked him in the stomach. June worked as an influencer. Other than modeling gigs, which weren't that often, she could change her schedule at the drop of a hat, and often did. She liked the spontaneity of it. He had rarely planned ahead with her.

His shoulders sagged, “I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you. It’s just, I already move so much stuff around because of your hockey schedule.”

That made him stop short. “You do?” 

“Yes! I have to move my work and my research so we can spend time together while you’re in town. Last week, I canceled this same review group so I could come over here before you went off to the midwest, and I can’t cancel it again.” 

“I didn't know that. I can't know stuff you don't tell me, Sarah.”

“It’s not really even about the review, it’s about -” he scoffed and she stopped talking, pursing her lips together.

Quinn crossed his arms over his chest. How could he have known she changed this meeting before? How could she possibly be mad at him for something he didn’t know?

They stood that way, at the bottom of his fancy, metal and glass stairs, each staring at the other for a long while. The longer they were there, the longer Quinn stayed silent, the more frustrated Sarah became. Didn’t he understand she was upset about the lack of respect in this conversation?

“Maybe I should go,” she said. Not because she didn’t want to talk things over, or figure them out, but because she knew herself well enough to know that with his silence and her frustration dipping into anger, she would say something she didn’t really mean if she didn't step away. 

Great. This is just great, Quinn thought. If she wanted to leave, fine. He wouldn’t stop her. 

It was only after she’d left with a sad, emotionless smile, and he’d torn the cap off of a beer from the fridge that the reality of what happened came crashing in on him. 

He let her walk away. Over a dinner - over wanting to be right about a dinner. He was such a fucking idiot. 

In the midst of his realization, his mind grasped hold of something his Grandpa had told him when he had asked for relationship advice the summer before. “Quinn,” he’d said, “I like to ask myself, is this my pride fighting? And is it worth whatever the outcome will be?”

With June, that line was always a little blurred. Right now, though, he could see he’d clearly crossed it. And being right wasn’t worth the outcome this had caused. She’d been gone for 15 minutes, and was likely already on a train home. If he left now, he might make it there when she did.

He grabbed his keys and ran out of the house. 

Once he’d followed another resident into the building and ran up to her apartment, he knocked, frantically. 

Eunice opened the door. 

“Hey, Quinn…” she said, slowly. 

“Is Sarah not here yet?” he asked. 

“No. I thought she was going to be at your place tonight.” 

“She was. I mean, she was there, but -” he didn’t want to get into this with Eunice. 

“Did you fight?” she asked, cocking her head to one side, and looking at him like he’d just proved her wrong in all the ways she’d been hoping he wouldn’t. 

“We argued, and I came to apologize. Do you mind if I wait for her?” 

“I mean, sure,” she said, opening the door further, “but you could just call her, you know?” 

In his haste, he hadn’t even considered it. Would she even answer if he did? Reaching into his pocket he found he’d left his phone at home. 

Sarah walked from the train station, feeling lead-footed. This was a horrible day. Failed experiments all day at work, and the time actually spent with Quinn was spent arguing. Maybe she had been too harsh on him. She hadn’t told him about moving her plans last week, and that was on her. She’d jumped on the defensive too quickly.

She paused before going into the lobby of her building, digging her phone out of her bag. She didn't want to make this call with Eunice in the house. It rang seven times before the generic voicemail picked up. 

“Damnit,” she swore as she pulled her keys from her jacket pocket to buzz into the lobby. 

Eunice greeted her nearly as soon as she walked in. “Hey, Quinn is here,” she said, quietly, catching the door before it could shut. “He said you argued. He’s waiting in your room, but if you don’t want to see him, go in my room and I’ll get rid of him.” 

Tears pooled in her eyes as much for Eunice’s care and concern as for Quinn showing up. “He’s here?” 

She nodded.

Pushing past Eunice, Sarah ran down the hall to her bedroom. 

He jumped to his feet as soon as the door opened. 

“Quinn, I’m sorry,” she said at the same time he was saying, “I’m such an idiot.”

She let out a watery little laugh, and he went to her, wrapping her in his arms, backpack and all. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. “I never want you to feel like your time isn’t important.” 

She pulled out of his embrace to look into his eyes. He looked a little like a lost puppy. Her heart twisted. “I’m sorry I got so defensive.”

Quinn shook his head, “You had every right to be defensive. I shouldn't have expected you to just change your plans like that. That wasn’t fair.” 

She gave a hearty sniff and tucked her face into his shoulder. 

They stood there for a while, swaying gently. 

“Does this mean I'm forgiven?” Quinn asked after a few moments of silence.

As she pulled back to look into his face, she said, “yes.”

He pulled her against him. “I'm sorry,” he said again. “I’ll call Brady tomorrow and figure something out that works for all of us.”

Her grip tightened around his waist. “Thank you.” 

They stood in that little bubble for a long while. Soaking in each other and letting the bad day roll off. 

Feeling settled, he couldn't hold back his question any longer, “do you golf?”

She stepped out of his embrace and finally took off her backpack, “what?”

“You have clubs,” he gestured to her door, where a purple bag of golf clubs was tucked behind it. He hadn't noticed it until today, when he'd been alone in her room, distracting himself by looking around at everything Sarah held in high enough esteem to keep in her space. 

“Oh, yeah. My dad taught me. We used to golf every Sunday as a family. I was on my high-school golf team and walked on in undergrad. I got a scholarship my senior year.”

“Really?” he said, beaming like a little kid. 

“Yeah. I don't have much time to go these days, but I'm pretty decent.” 

Quinn knew enough about her to know that if she said she was decent, she was much better than she was letting on. She often downplayed her talents and accomplishments.

“Why?”

“I love golf,” he confessed. “Want to go together when I get back next week? I could get us an evening tee time.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said, smiling as she leaned up to kiss him. 

They broke apart at a wrenching sound from the hallway. 

“You guys are so disgustingly cute,” Eunice said. She was smiling as she said it, though, obviously happy things had worked out. “I'm making Mac and cheese if you want to stay,” she said with a nod at Quinn. 

He glanced at Sarah. 

“Stay,” she urged. “I make a mean turkey sandwich, and believe me, you don't want to miss out on Eunice’s mac and cheese.” 

Even though he had practice in the morning, and knew all the carbs and dairy would make him sluggish, he agreed. 

“Where did you even park?”

“On Nelson, across from the courts.”

“There’s no parking there, you’ll get towed.”

“I just found a free curb and ran up,” he confessed. 

Shoving his shoulder playfully, she said, “let’s go move your car.” 

They did, and the rest of what she said was true - Sarah did make a mean turkey sandwich, and Eunice’s mac and cheese wasn’t something to be missed. He had fun getting to know her roommates, and catching Sarah’s looks when Eunice said something unhinged. It felt like they were starting to create their own private language, and he was ecstatic over it.

It was also true that the carbs and dairy from the night before did make Quinn sluggish at practice in the morning. 

“What’s up with you today?”

He shrugged off the question, “just an off morning. I’ll be fine by tonight.”

By the time the game had ended - vs the Jets, lost, in a three round shoot out - and he’d finished his media duties, Sarah had called him twice.

He called her back on the way home. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked when she answered. 

“Bryan’s sister went into labor, so he has to go home,” she said. 

Quinn had no idea who Bryan was. “Okay?”

“So we had our cohort review tonight before he left for Calgary. I had to miss your game, sorry.” 

If it was between her watching a game and getting dinner with his friends, he'd rather she missed the game. 

“So you can do dinner tomorrow?” he asked, relieved, and also angry with himself. If he’d just let it lie, it would have worked out for the best anyway. 

“Yep. Do you think Brady is still free?” 

“I’m sure, but I’ll call him and ask.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[huggybearluvr]

If I Could Fly || J.D

!! A Part of the 30 days of music series !!

Series Masterlist

Synopsis: After Jamie got drafted to the Flyers you were both missing the other more than ever. You would have left with him if it weren't for your classes. However, after a late night phone call with Jamie, you drop everything and go to him without a second thought.

The song links:

Apple music || Spotify || Youtube

Jamie had been gone for nearly three weeks now. You couldn't help but feel lonely as you sat in the once shared apartment.

It was nearing 9 in California, so you knew calling Jamie was not an option. It was almost midnight on the east coast.

You sat on the couch watching one of your favorite movies to hopefully distract yourself.

About thirty minutes later a familiar ringtone buzzed from you phone. you were quick to pick it up answering the call.

"Jamie? everything okay?" you asked into the phone.

"Not really," He said trailing off.

"Baby, what's wrong?" You asked now sitting up.

"I just miss you so much, I can't sleep at all," He said softly.

"I know baby, I miss you too," You spoke truthfully, "I wish I could be there."

"I do too," He said.

"Its late baby, go to bed, you have a big game tomorrow against the red wings."

"Alright, I love you," Jamie said smiling into the phone.

"I love you too."

"I'm missing half of me when we're apart"

After the call ended you couldn't help but think about going to Jamie. At around 11 you decided you couldn't just sit here.

You practically sprinted to your room. Grabbing your laptop and emailing your academic advisor, letting them know you would be needing to transfer schools and would like to finish this semester online.

Once your emails were sent you booked a flight to Phili.

You packed up as much as you could in two suit cases and texted Trevor to come over.

As you sat in the living room bags packed you felt more relaxed then you ever have before.

You knew you would be coming back during the summer to finish your moving but for now these two suitcases would be more than enough.

You heard a knock at the door and quickly got up to answer it. As you pulled the door open you saw a half awake Trevor standing there.

"y/n it's midnight, what was so important I had to come over?" He said rubbing at his eyes.

"I need a ride to the airport, and here is the keys your gonna have to check in here once a week til im back to move everything," You spoke quickly.

"Wait what where are you even going?" Trevor said taking the key from you.

"Im moving to Phili."

Trevor couldn't help but smile. He was happy his best friend had someone like you in his life.

"Let's go then," Trevor spoke picking up one of your bags and following you out to his car.

-

You landed in Phili calling an uber to take you to Jamie's apartment. You texted his neighbor carter letting him know you would be at the stadium within the hour.

Carter, Jamies Goalie and Neighbor had agreed to leave a key to his place outside the door so you could leave your stuff there to make it to the game on time. He also agreed to get you a media pass so you would be able to surprise Jamie.

After you dropped your stuff off you headed straight to the Arena. You got in through the back and quickly made your way to your seat. You opted for a pretty bad seat but you didn't want Jamie to see you.

-

The Flyers had won the game against the wings and you were more than ready to run down and see your boyfriend.

You quickly made your way to the ice, walking to the locker rooms. You stood outside of the locker room.

Many teammates walked by giving you an odd look as they had no idea who you were.

Carter came out and sent a smile your way, as you handed him the key to his apartment," Thank you so much for helping me."

"I did this for the kid but, your welcome," He said with a laugh," I'll see you both later."

You stood a little longer, Jamie was the last one out.

He walked out of the locker room, with wet hair and you swear he's never looked so good. His eyes were stuck on his phone.

You picked up your phone calling him. He answered.

"Look up, idiot," You said before hanging up.

Jamies eyes met yours, you both felt butterflies as the world around you froze. You practically ran to Jamie engulfing him in a much needed hug.

"I can feel your heart inside of mine"

"Is this real? how are you here?" He said pulling away to look at you.

"I'm moving here," You smiled leaning up to kiss him.

"baby, you have school," He said, once he pulled away hesitantly.

"I'm transferring, I couldn't be away from you any more," You spoke softly," I already talked to my advisor, Trev's gonna keep an eye on my place til we can move the rest, and for now my suitcases are at Carters."

"I love you so much," Jamie said as he awed at not only your physical beauty but how perfect you were for him. He truly thought that he wouldn't see you for months but now here you are in his arms, and he is never letting you go again.

[zilodak]

sorry if this is kind of a dumb question, but what do you think is a good way to develop the actual plot of a story you have a loose idea of? i've basically had a bunch of characters, themes, concepts and pivotal moments held together with bubblegum and tape in my head for almost a year now, and i am really passionate about these characters and ideas, but have like a mental blockage when it comes to actually arranging them together and coming up with an actual narrative to put them in. it's weird bc i really wanna do something with them, but it's like my brain is scared of comitting to an idea that might not hold up to the maybe overly-grand expectations i've built up over this time for an actual story

I think that first of all, you need to come to terms that the finished product will most likely not be what you planned. And that's okay! You'll realize when you start to put pieces together that sometimes the themes you thought of and the scenes you're fond of, may not make it to the final story. Your readers will not know that unless you make your thought process public so don't beat yourself over the head. Your script and story changing is a natural part of the process, you just need to know when to stop picking on it and let it be.

I start by putting my ADHD daydreams onto paper. Everything I think of ends up in a folder, no matter how stupid or incomprehensible the idea might be. Put a pin in that, I'll come back to it later.

I'm sure you've seen this diagram or something similar before.

Almost all stories have a conflict and climax, yes even those you think are boring and slow. I'll start by mapping out the conflict of the entire story first. What are my protagonists struggles? Who are they struggling against? Once I have that figured out, I'll think of the resolution. What happens in the end? Is it happy? Sad? Bittersweet? Will they succeed in overcoming this conflict? Partially? Not at all? Talking about overcoming the conflict, what happend at the height of the story? Is it a big action scene? An epiphany? An argument between characters? Once we have that settled, what can lead up to that climax? Now this is the fun part. Remember that folder with all the possible daydreams? Let's lay them out there and put a question mark on them. You can narrow them down as you start thinking about what makes sense in context of your climax and what doesn't. Finally, the beginning of your story (and the inciting incident). How does it start? What makes sense in this context? In the middle of the story? At the very beginning? What triggers the conflict? What will you be exploring? What will keep the audience on their toes?

Once I have that figured out, I'll start to individually brainstorming possible chapter scenarios. I'll plan out a plot structure for the chapters, etc etc. Rinse and repeat.

Tadaaaa ~ before you know it you have the first draft of a book! Now you can narrow it down even more, and pick on what does or doesn't fit! Enjoy!

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 6

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: Producer!Reader made a little something

Warning: Swearing, Suggestive Content, MENTION OF PAST SH!!!!!

AN: I have been swamped, again. Apologies for the delay :( For some reason my ADHD brain have decided to start two new works before I finished this draft >_< Anyhoo thank you for tuning in again ^_^

Previous | Next

You nodded approvingly at the screen as you downloaded your audio files. Finally inspired, you coursed through songs like a mad man.

Y/N: I am DONE 🤭

Latrice: FINALLY

Latrice: i’m coming over

Y/N: Are you sure

Y/N: It’s like

Y/N: 2 in the morning

Latrice: bitch have I ever missed a single song drop

Y/N: No 🙆🏻‍♀️ You’re the best

Latrice: duh

Latrice: since I’m the best

Latrice: 👀

Latrice: can I-

Latrice: 👉🏾👈🏾

Y/N: Hold the fuck up ☝🏾

Latrice: c’mon shes driving me

Y/N: 🙄

Y/N: Only if she stays outside

Y/N: And I don’t want to hear about it 🙉

Latrice: about what

Y/N: 🙉

Latrice: ???

Latrice: about what bitch??

You ignored Latrice’s text and focused on finishing the task at hand, casting a brief glance at the recording pen in the corner of your desk. A sly grin spread across your lips as mischievous ideas glistened in your eyes.

You were just putting the finishing touches on your trance beat when Latrice knocked on your door.

“Just a second!” You quickly downloaded the file and sent it off before opening the door for Latrice, followed by a platinum blonde. Rolling your eyes at the unwelcome guest, you let out a sigh and before giving your friend a brief side hug. “I thought I said she stays in the car?”

Latrice handed you a few containers of food, and you happily accepted the edible bribery. 

You shot one last glare at the sheepishly smiling Mannequeen member and then turned to face the speaker. 'If she snitches, I'll shave her bald,' you muttered to Latrice, who rolled her eyes at your empty threat.

“Stop being a cunt,” your friend jabbed you on the side, “she’s an angel when the cameras aren’t pointing at her.”

You hummed and nodded with a hint of disbelief before turning on the tunes, devouring the boxes of food while the duo jammed to your new track. 

Two boxes of fried rice and half a serve of fried chicken later, the fifth song wrapped up and you look up at them. “How was it?”

“I. Love. It.” Latrice squeaked and squeezed you into a hug.

“I don’t know, you say that every time so I don’t think you’re a reliable narrator,” Latrice has always been your biggest supporter, even when your family wasn’t there for you. 

You turned around to Redlic reluctantly, desperate for some unbiased opinions. “You, what do you think?”

The girl nodded, a big smile across her face as you finally acknowledged her existence. “It’s really good, I like how the first song really sets the tone, but the rest of them are strong even as stand alone releases.”

You groaned, annoyed that the usually bitchy dancer is actually capable of being insightful.

“I told you she’s a sweetheart, you are just being mean for no good reason at this point.” Latrice doted, tending to her beau. You cringed at their exchanging of pecks. 

“Wait-” she skipped the tracks back one by one, counting on her fingers. “Where’s the sixth one?”

She knows you too well, even your little habit of making songs in two sets of trio, six tracks every time. 

Nervously, your eyes glanced past her, avoiding her accusatory gaze. “I didn’t make one this time.”

Latrice squinted at you, “you fucking liar. Did your mom call you again?”

You shook your head as you took another bite of the fried chicken, “nah it’s not that. I’m fine, really.”

With an air of suspicion, Latrice flicked on the light, causing you to squint. You hadn't seen bright light in a couple of days.

“Let me see your wrist,” Latrice demanded. 

You grinned smugly at the brunette, brandishing both arms. “Four years clean bitch. As I said, I’m fine.”

Latrice sighed with relief, although she still felt unsettled by the absence of that one missing track.

She was about to turn off the lights before noticing something on your neck. Then your collarbone. Then your thighs. It was barely noticeable under all those tattoos, and most would’ve missed it in your dim studio. But not Latrice, not when she was there for most of the inks you’ve tattooed on yourself. 

“Y/N!” She exclaimed, realization settling in. “ARE THOSE FUCKING HICKEYS?” 

Busted, you tried to shrug it off. “I told you I don't want to hear about it,” you tried to play it cool and nonchalant, which is surprisingly easy when you naturally have an unreadable expression. 

The excited buzz had drawn Redlic closer too, inspecting the marks littering your skin. “Holy shit were you attacked by a horde of leeches?” Her eyes widened in surprise, and frankly, incredibly impressed by whoever was able to brand the ice queen.

“Nothing?” Latrice scoffed, “you haven’t been out of this room in two days and you still looked like this, who the FUCK did this?”

Redlic’s eyes widen in realization, as she had the least to drink that night before their little scheme to break you and Latrice apart. “No she didn’t,” a hand clasped onto her mouth, “I’ve never even seen Redy looking this bad.”

Latrice snapped her head around, “Redy?” She turned back to you, mouth agape. “BADA?!”

Still trying to evade Latrice’s penetrating gaze, you nervously tugged a loose strand of hair behind your flushed ear.

“Are you BLUSHING?!” Latrice’s eyes bulged out of her face. The last time she’s seen you like this would be the first time you watched a Beyoncé and Nicki Minaj performance. “Who are you?!”

Though the cat is now out of the bag, you’re secretly glad that Latrice’s attention had been drawn away from the mysterious sixth song you intended to save for yourself (and a certain someone). 

“We were drunk,” you sheepishly explained, writing off that night as a mere escapade. 

Latrice tutted and took a step closer, “it’s been what, twice since you’ve met her and you’ve already pounced on her like a cougar in heat-”

You raised a pointer finger at her accusation, “technically I’m younger.”

“Technically you’re a whore,” Latrice rolled her eyes at your pathetic defense, “oh god - if you look like this, how the hell is she supposed to be camera ready for the Battle Performance?”

“She’s fine,” you reassured your friend, “I have self control.”

Latrice queried an eyebrow as she scanned over your shoulders, “right, self control. After meeting the girl only twice-”

“Thrice”

“Babe,” Redlic broke the bickering between you two, pointing at the corner to an oddly memorable black and white jacket. 

“Not now,” Latrice tried to wave off the sidetracking before her gaze flickered to what Redlic was pointing, jaw dropping in recognition. “You even took her jacket? Oh god what have you done to that poor girl.”

Your buzzing phone saved you from the interrogation. You flicked the duo a bird before walking out to the balcony to take the call. “Hey lovely, miss me already?”

There was a long silence before Bada managed to choke out a few words.

“Was that us?”

You chuckled at the obvious, nodding before realizing that she can’t see you, letting out a hum. “Told you I’m making a track for you.”

Bada screamed into her pillow when she heard the intro. She knew she consented to this, but actually hearing it turned her knees to jelly and her brain to mush.

The intro to the soft R&B track had a soft breathing layered on top, to which Bada immediately recognised as her own. The low trance coupled with your own whimpering set as ad-lib was almost too much to handle, and she barely made it to the chorus. 

“Is it too much?” Noticing her silence, you tentatively checked in on her. 

“N-no,” she quickly interjected, embarrassed by how breathless she sounded. She took a moment composing herself, “can we finish listening to the song together? At mine?”

“I’m on my way.”

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf @rubywonu @wiselight

[sweetfire01]

I wear glasses 24/7 and I can't see very well without them unless something is super up close to my face. Would any of the yandere daddies take advantage of that? I'm just curious 🤔

Found all these "I'll continue writing them later" draft, I hope I can finish them soon FOR REALLY this time.

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I think Asmo is the only one who would let you keep the glasses without problems. What if you bump into something while crawling? Imagine the bruise that would form! Or while coloring with your fingers you miss the paper and paint your clothes! What a nightmare! Plus, the glasses are so stylish and he will let you try all kinds of them.

Also Levi would leave them on you, otherwise how are you going to see all these anime? Or to play video games? Sure, he likes to win, but then it gets all too easy when you can't finish a single lap on Devil Kart: you can't even distinguish your own character on screen! And he can't risk you accidentally destroying some of his action figures...

Perhaps he and Satan will be more likely to give you glasses with a lower prescription. Levi loves helping you and guiding your hands on the joystick, as if you are too little to understand what you need to do, and the fourth born loves hearing you stumble when he point at a word and ask you to read it. You just look like a child learning! That's why you still need him to read a book to you.

But the others, ooh, they will really use it to their advantage. If you're with Belphie you have to sleep, so it only makes sense that you take them off anyway, right? It's not like you have to do something.

Beel loves how you don't notice the spoon while he feed you until it's already near your mouth. If you don't open it in time you end up making a mess and he has to clean it up with his bib. You threw a tantrum when he tied it around you, but now aren't you glad Daddy knew better? C'mon, say "AAH". Here comes the plane… We know how Mammon will never admit how much he adores you, so he uses the "theycan't see well, I'm just helping them out" excuse to be with you. He's also the only one who, if you cry enough and give him those puppy ​​eyes, he'll give you your glasses back. But just to watch cartoons, okay? And you have to cuddle with him in the meantime! Lucifer and Diavolo would tease you all the time, buying you one of those playmats with the games hanging on the strings. At least now you can see and play with them while lying on your back. Aren't you happy? And to think you throw so many tantrums about not being a baby... Simeon would do the same, but without the teasing. He's just serious. Human babies have bad eyesight, so you are no exception. And so it only makes sense that he would buy you those things, right? Oh, but he will make sure to be with you the whole time: you can't see him, but you can hear his voice as he reads and sings to you or feel the warmth of his skin as he nurses and cuddles you.