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goldfades · 2 months ago

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Can I request a Melo fic where reader is the hornets media person and they both are oblivious to the fact that they have a crush on each other. But the team knows and are constantly teasing them on when they are gonna finally start dating! Love your writing btw and so glad your back❤️❤️

this was genuinely so fun to write, hope you enjoy, love!

The thing about working in sports media is that you learn how to move fast. Fast with a camera, fast with a quote, fast with a smile that makes a player actually want to answer your questions instead of brushing past you on their way to the tunnel. And you? You were good at moving fast.

Except when it came to LaMelo Ball.

Which, to be clear, wasn’t your fault. It was his. Because he was the one who moved too slow, always lingering when you held up your mic for a postgame interview, always finding a way to make his answers stretch just long enough to keep your attention. He’d lean in closer than necessary, grin like he knew something you didn’t, and then hit you with an extra “you feel me?” like he wasn’t about to jog straight into the locker room and get roasted by his teammates for the entire exchange.

Which, again, was not your fault.

And yet, somehow, it was your problem.

Because the team had started noticing.

Noticing the way you laughed a little too easily at his jokes. Noticing the way he only ever seemed to light up for your questions. Noticing the way the two of you existed in some kind of gravitational pull, both completely oblivious to the fact that the entire Hornets roster had already taken bets on when you’d finally figure it out.

Of course, you didn’t know that yet.

And neither did LaMelo.

Which made it all the more entertaining for everyone else.

It had started off small—just a few passing comments, a couple of knowing glances shared among the team whenever you and LaMelo interacted. At first, you hadn’t noticed, too focused on your job, too used to moving through the locker room and practice facility like it was just another workday. You were good at keeping things professional. It was part of the job, part of what made you valuable to the Hornets' media team. Players trusted you. Coaches respected you.

But then it started happening more.

Miles once whistled low when LaMelo lingered too long at the podium after a postgame win, answering one of your questions with his usual easy drawl, but this time making a show of leaning on the mic, chin resting in his palm, looking at you like you were the only person in the room. It was playful, casual. LaMelo didn’t even seem to realize how much of the space he took up when he looked at you like that.

“You tryna do a full sit-down or sum?” Miles had muttered just loud enough to be caught on the mic, earning a ripple of laughter from the reporters in the room.

LaMelo had barely acknowledged it, just tossed a half-hearted “shut up” over his shoulder. But the moment your eyes flickered to the rest of the players scattered near the back of the press conference setup, you caught a few grins, a couple of exchanged looks.

The next time it happened, you were recording some behind-the-scenes footage for the team’s social media. It was the usual—practice clips, a few interviews, some of the guys cutting up between drills. LaMelo was always easy content, naturally charismatic in a way that made him one of the easiest players to feature. You knew this. You knew that getting clips of him was practically a requirement at this point.

But that didn’t explain why he made you his primary audience every single time.

You’d be filming a quick segment on the sidelines, and instead of answering the question normally, LaMelo would find a way to direct his response to you—like the camera was just a middleman and you were the real person he was talking to.

Or, worse, he’d ask you something back, completely derailing the interview.

Like the time you’d asked him about his pregame playlist, and instead of listing off a few artists like a normal person, he’d just tilted his head and fired back, “Why? You tryna put me on to somethin’?”

And you—being the consummate professional that you were—had definitely not just stood there, suddenly hyperaware of how many people were around, how many pairs of eyes were watching the way you hesitated before laughing it off.

“Just tryna get some content, Ball,” you had said smoothly, but it didn’t matter.

Because PJ had been nearby, stretching out on the court, and you knew he heard.

“You tryna put him on?” PJ had echoed with a grin, already looking over at some of the other guys, as if waiting for them to jump in.

“On what?” Mark had asked, coming up behind him.

PJ hadn’t even answered. He’d just pointed at you and then at LaMelo, the silent implication loud.

And LaMelo, for all his easy confidence, had just smirked, shaking his head like this was just another round of nonsense from his teammates.

The moment passed quickly, the conversation shifting to something else, but it stayed with you longer than it should have.

It was stupid. You knew how locker rooms worked, how teams formed inside jokes and ran with them until they got old. You were just an easy target because you spent so much time around the team, because LaMelo had a habit of engaging with you more than the other media personnel.

That was all it was.

Right?

It wasn’t like you actually—

No.

You refused to even entertain the thought.

But the teasing didn’t stop.

If anything, it got worse.

A week later, you were sitting courtside before a home game, making sure all the pregame coverage was running smoothly. Your job was simple—get a few warm-up shots, check the mic levels for interviews, keep things moving. You were in the middle of reviewing some footage on your phone when a shadow passed over you.

LaMelo.

You didn’t even have to look up to know it was him. He had a way of making his presence known, of moving with a kind of slow, unbothered energy that stood out.

“Damn,” he said, plopping down on the open seat next to you like it was his media job to be there. “You always working?”

You glanced up, raising a brow. “Kinda the job description.”

He just hummed, resting his elbows on his knees, watching the rest of the team warm up. “You need to chill sometimes.”

You snorted. “Chill, huh? You do know this is an NBA game, right? This is literally my job.”

He grinned, turning to you like he was about to say something else—only to be interrupted by Terry jogging over, wiping sweat off his brow with the bottom of his jersey.

“Yo, Y/N,” Terry said, smirking. “We takin’ bets. Over-under on you and ‘Melo makin’ it official by All-Star break?”

Your brain stalled.

“What?”

“Over-under,” Terry repeated like it was obvious. “I say it happens after the new year. Mark thinks by Christmas.”

You just stared, trying to figure out if this was some elaborate prank. “You—”

Before you could even process a response, Gordon walked by, clapping LaMelo on the shoulder.

“You two are still pretending?” Gordon said, sighing like he was genuinely disappointed. “Just put us out of our misery already.”

“I—we—what are you—”

And then Miles walked by.

“Man, let them be oblivious,” Miles said with a laugh. “It’s more fun this way.”

LaMelo—who had been silent this whole time—just stretched his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying whatever this was. “Damn, y’all talk about me that much?”

That only made them laugh harder.

You, on the other hand, were still trying to breathe.

“Y’all are so ridiculous,” you finally muttered, shaking your head.

But the damage was done. The moment was already branded in your brain, refusing to leave.

And maybe—just maybe—you were finally starting to notice what they all saw.

The teasing didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse.

Over the next few weeks, it became a running joke—one that followed you through every press conference, every locker room interview, every shootaround where LaMelo so much as looked at you for longer than two seconds.

And the worst part? He never helped.

Not once did he shut it down. Not once did he tell his teammates to leave it alone. If anything, he egged it on, playing into it just enough to make you question if there was something you weren’t seeing.

Like the time he strolled into practice late, pulling his warmup hoodie over his head, and the first thing he did was find you.

“You miss me, ma?” he’d said, all casual, like he wasn’t dropping a bomb in the middle of your very professional, very platonic workday.

And then before you could even respond, PJ had cut in from across the gym—

“She definitely did, bro.”

The whole team had erupted into laughter, and you had been left standing there, heat creeping up your neck, trying to decide if quitting your job was a reasonable solution.

Then there was the time you were filming a TikTok with Mark—one of those quick “Who’s the funniest on the team?” videos for the Hornets’ socials—and LaMelo had walked right into the frame, standing next to you like he belonged there.

You didn’t think anything of it at first. He did this all the time—crashing interviews, throwing out random comments, messing with the camera guys. But then Mark had given his answer (not LaMelo, for the record), and instead of letting the video continue, LaMelo had turned to you, fully ignoring the camera.

“You think I’m funny?” he asked, looking at you like your answer actually mattered.

And you—like a complete idiot—had paused.

Which, apparently, was all the confirmation the rest of the team needed.

“Damn,” Miles had called out from behind the camera. “She really thinking about it.”

“I am funny,” LaMelo had said, still watching you like he was waiting for a real answer.

“You think you’re funny,” you had corrected, ignoring the way your pulse jumped.

He had just grinned, nudging your shoulder before walking off.

And the second he was out of earshot, Mark had turned to you with a knowing look. “Yeah. Y’all are gone.”

It was exhausting.

It was ridiculous.

It was—

“—happening whether you like it or not,” Terry said one day, leaning against the scorer’s table as you reviewed game footage.

You sighed, not even looking up. “We’re not happening, Terry.”

“Yet,” he said, because of course he did.

You exhaled through your nose, pressing your temples. “You guys are the worst.”

“Nah,” he said, grinning. “The worst would be if I didn’t let you know that dude is down bad.”

You rolled your eyes. “LaMelo is not down bad.”

Terry just whistled, shaking his head like you were the dumbest person alive. “Okay, sure. That’s why he only ever lets you interview him after games. That’s why he be lookin’ for you first every time he walk in the gym. That’s why—”

You groaned, smacking the table. “Terry.”

He held up his hands, backing off with a smirk. “Aight, aight. You’ll see.”

You didn’t see.

You refused to see.

Until the day LaMelo finally forced you to.

It was after a home game, the arena mostly empty except for a few staff members wrapping up their night. You had stayed behind to finish editing some clips, too caught up in your work to notice how much time had passed.

At least, until LaMelo strolled up next to you, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels like he had nowhere else to be.

“You stay late too much,” he said.

You glanced up. “You notice how late I stay?”

That made him grin, slow and easy. “I notice a lot of things.”

You blinked, heartbeat stuttering. “Like what?”

He tilted his head. “Like how you never actually answer when they ask about us.”

Your stomach flipped. “They’re your teammates. I just work here.”

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer. “So that’s the only reason you never shut it down?”

You hesitated.

And he saw it.

LaMelo took another step, dropping his voice. “You do like me.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You are—so—annoying.”

He just laughed, soft and knowing. “So that’s a yes?”

You covered your face, groaning. “Oh my God.”

He gently pried your hands away, waiting until you met his eyes again.

“I’m serious, though,” he said. “Let me take you out.”

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t a joke.

It wasn’t a bit.

It was real.

And maybe… maybe you had seen it the whole time.

You swallowed. “Like a date?”

He smiled. “Exactly like a date.”

Your heart pounded, but you managed to keep your voice steady. “You sure you can handle that?”

He leaned in, just enough to make your head spin.

“I been ready,” he murmured.

And, well—

So were you.

#lamelo ball #lamelo ball x reader #lamelo ball fic #lamelo ball imagine #nba x reader

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ozzgin · 10 months ago

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Yandere School Q&A

I've gotten some related asks and thought I'd put them in a cleaner format, so I don't spawn another round of screenshots from my inbox.

Ohhh how would yan school react if y/n got hurt somehow?? Also quick question is her parents also platonic yans for them? Thanks!! - Anonymous

It only makes sense that the staff of the school is yandere material, too. The students may rush to help and insist they've got it under control, but the school nurse will be quick to act. It's the chance of a lifetime, having you to himself, and for longer than the usual standard checkup. The curtains are pulled, and the "do not disturb" sign is flipped. Your injuries are not to be taken lightly. You'll need to spend all day under his supervision.

The parents and all relatives are indeed platonic yanderes! I thought it'd be a nice touch since I've never approached the trope before.

YAYAYAYYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAA MORE YANDERE SCHOOLLLLLL You’re amazing!!!!! (I had to ask to make sure I used the right your/you’re) also is the darling yandere gonna keep sabotaging y/n? - @femboybasil

The tying up incident was actually an exception to what I originally planned, haha. For most of the competitions, darling yandere will guide (Y/N) and aid them for a flawless win. That's the comedy of it: he's indirectly doing the yandere part while trying to be discreet enough as to not alert the other yanderes. Additionally, (Y/N) helps him with the darling tasks. Though that part is very much expected by everyone from school. The Daring Academy teachers are probably observing the activities, baffled. "Who the hell is that student? What skill...what obliviousness. They should've applied to us."

If you’re comfortable with this concept, (since it’s a school-based series I don’t know if the reader and yanderes are minors are not, if they are then you don’t have to write this.) but obviously the students of the Yandere Academy are going to need to learn how to tie up their darlings once they’ve been captured. Would you mind writing a little blurb about it since Reader is the unofficially assigned darling stand-in for their classes? - Anonymous

This is the ask I used for the tying up idea in Part 3! To answer your worries, all of my stories involve 18+ characters! Just wanted to clear it up for anyone in doubt. The school/academy setup is more of a college/university kind of institution. I do love a good high school setup, but not for self insert romance.

I’d imagine that there’s a drama class at the yandere school to help the students learn how to act and seem innocent. What if they put on a musical or something like Phantom of the Opera (because of course it would be that) and reader got the role of Christine or the equivalent. Imagine all the yanderes fighting for the role of their love interests to get the excuse to kiss them, and other yanderes trying to sabotage them as tactfully as possible to keep the show going, but replace the leads to be alongside reader. Think that may be something cool to add/write about? No pressure of course! - Anonymous

You know the whole thing is going to turn into a ninja survival shitshow. They had hoped to never cast (Y/N) in any role, for everyone's safety. And for the most part, (Y/N) thankfully never showed any interest in the drama club.

The supervising teacher held (Y/N)'s application form with trembling hands. It seems their little club had finally run out of luck.

Worst part: the school can't even rely on the teachers. They're just as desperate to see their cute little (Y/N) perform on stage. "Maybe this job is too overwhelming for one person, sensei..." they'll smugly tell the original supervisor. "We could divide some tasks. Someone else could train (Y/N), for example..."

ok here me out, what if there is like a field trip or sports festival kind of thing where the Yandere and Darling academy meet up. Basically where a Yandere and a darling are made to pair up to go through the numerous activities (maybe ones that test their yandere/darling skills) so reader decides to pair up with clumsy Yandere ( who is in Darling academy) much to the displeasure of Yandere classmate. Maybe like a battle of the the Yanderes? - Anonymous

This was a little trippy to read, because it came right after part 3, haha. Which I feel is basically the same plot. Though it would be interesting to see how it'd play out if the stranger was Reader's best friend instead.

Reader excitedly approaches Clumsy!Yandere and asks him to work together, to the dismay of all other students. They're enraged. You can see it plainly: their hands tremble, their jaws are clenched, their eyes have a psychotic glint. Poor Clumsy!Yandere is in constant shivers, unaware of the death stares. You're cheerfully guiding him around, his hand in yours, happy to see your friend again.

#yandere school #yandere x reader #yandere

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writing-wh0re · 1 year ago

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AAAAH, I just saw you posting your prompts and your requests are open. I don’t know if you write them together or individually, but if you can (or if you can’t but you can write for one of them), could you do Fred and George with a Smutty prompt #3?

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

George Weasley x Reader x Fred Weasley

Word Count: 6,167 - I had so much fun writing this

Warnings: Smut18+, Unprotected Vaginal Intercourse, Female Performing Oral, Daddy Kink, Slight Choking Kink, Slight Slapping Kink (if you squint), Praise Kink, Slight Degration, Slight Breeding Kink, Spanking Kink. Slight cum kink. Use of pet names.

Basically its a very kinky smut and there's actually plot - look at me go.

A/n: Sorry I have been inactive, life am I right? But I'm getting a desk setup completed so I will be more fequent! I hope. I apologise for this being long, but I truly had so much fun writing this request. My love for the twins is reigniting. I will be fixing up my taglist as well / making a library blog for posts. I have written this smut differently to how I have in the past, let me know if you'd like a part 2!

Merry Christmas x

| | | |

Hogwarts was quiet the closer it got to Christmas, snow was gently falling and the gusts of wind were freezing. Most students went home for Christmas but this year was different for you. Your parents had decided to take a trip to get away from the wizarding world for a few months with no real timeline of coming back, it was something that shocked you but also didn’t surprise you.

Fred and George had decided to not rush home right away, debating on whether or not to ask you to join them at the Weasley house for Christmas, not really sure of what your relationship was, if it was anything other than lust and desire.

“You can’t sit alone in the common room for weeks, it’s Christmas.” George grumbled slouching down on the couch beside you.

“I’ll be fine, honestly, I have so many books I can read.” You gestured to the pile of books on the table that you had acquired from the library. “You two should head home, I’m almost certain your mum has made your favourite foods.”

Fred smiles at the mention of his mum and her tradition of making something for everyone to enjoy.

“You can come with us, we have a spare room and I’m sure mum would be overjoyed to finally meet our best friend.”

Best friend

Although not untrue the word still seemed to pang your heart with disappointment. An on and off hook up to them doesn’t mean the same thing it does to you and that was something you were coming to terms with.

Fred and George sensed the hesitation on you after Fred had dropped the best friend title, it was something they were yet to discuss with you, were you just best friends who fooled around? Or were you also wanting something more that you could all figure out together over time.

“I don’t want to impose, you’ll have such a full house, isn’t Bill in the guest room this year?”

George smirks, you do listen to every word they say.

“What Freddie is saying is there will be a spare bed somewhere, we have two in our room and the couch downstairs, I’m sure something can be sorted.”

“Mum already thinks you’re coming so hurry up and pack your things.”

Your mouth falls open at Fred’s revelation, your eyes flick to George who smirks.

“Go on, we leave in fifteen minutes.”

“I feel like there wasn’t much of a choice in this matter.”

The twins chuckle as you pack your things up and run up to your dorm, searching your room for a bag to pack things into you.

You quickly rush out of your dorm, running into the twins as you look up at them. Their eyes wander your face, a blush creeping up your neck.

You look down at the floor, before George places his hand under your chin.

“Everything okay baby?”

Baby.

You weren't quite sure how a simple nickname could make your stomach flip and your body tingle, but it did, especially coming for George and Fred.

“Uh, um.” Your mind is foggy, unsure what you were originally rushing for. The twins smirk, sharing a quick look before your face lights up, having remembered what you wanted to ask.

“How long are we gone for?”

“We will be coming back the week before term starts.”

“But we can come back earlier if you’d like.”

“So three weeks?”

The twins nod as you spin and walk back into your dorm, them following behind you. You walk back and forth from your closet to your bed, where the twins have decided to lounge while you pack. Finding outfits is easy, finding lingerie works out to be a little harder under the gaze of the men on your bed.

You quickly open your dresser draw, looking over the various colours of lace and matching sets. Quickly you grab a hand full and shove it into your bag, closing your dresser and zipping the bag closed.

“Darling, you dropped something.” George whispers, moving past you and bending down to pick up your dark red G-string, blush creeps up your face, your stomach filling with butterflies as George passes the material to Fred who simply places it in your bag and rezips it.

Your mind continues to rush, a million thoughts racing through your brain as the twins share a smirk before grabbing your bag from the bed.

“C’mon love.” Fred holds your bag as he walks out of your dorm, George follows closely behind his eyes looking you up and down, sending a swift wink your way before holding his hand out, an invitation to take his. Which you do, almost embarrassingly fast.

George squeezes your hand and pulls you along with him to follow Fred.

| | | |

After a few days at the Weasley home, you started to feel settled and a part of the family. Harry had joined the household on the same day as you, making you feel not so alone in the imposing feeling. No one was surprised to see you, they were excited to have another friend along for the celebration. Molly had made you feel so at home, hugging you when you first arrived, a feeling of warmth and comfort washing over you within her embrace.

Over the past few days, Molly had shown you how to bake a few of her signature recipes, she had even gone as far as asking what your favourite food was, setting herself a goal of creating it for you come Christmas Eve.

Being one day out from Christmas, Molly didn’t want to be disturbed in the kitchen, she needed her space and stated that everyone should go outside to play a friendly game of Quidditch, she emphasised the word ‘friendly’ mainly at the twins.

So you sat on your broom beside Harry, waiting for everyone who was playing to fly into the air.

“Have you played before?” Harry asks curiously, not knowing much about you, himself being two years younger.

“Yeah, but I'm definitely not a pro.” You laugh as Harry smiles, looking out at the Weasley family.

“I think they’re going to kick our ass.”

“Oh without a doubt.”

You and Harry share a smile, your eyes wandering to the golden ball, clearly not the shiny golden snitch but definitely close. The quaffle and bludgers fly through the air with a woosh sound, everyone going into game mode. You and Harry nod at each other, both taking the role of seekers before rushing into the air in search of the ‘snitch’.

Within a matter of seconds the twins are behind you, chasing after you. You fly past the duo, diving down behind Harry who seems to have his eye on the golden ball. You quickly look over your shoulder, the twins hot on your ass. You notice the golden ball dancing between the twins. A smirk dances across your lips as you fly up higher just outside of the quidditch pitch, pulling up on your broom as the twins fly past you. They stop and look back at you as you flash them your bare tits. Both of them go wide eyed as you hold the golden ball between your hands, pulling your sweater back down.

“Later losers”

You turn your broom around, wiggling your ass as you dive down to the grass.

“We won!” You scream, Ginny, Bill and Ron rush down to you, pulling you into a hug and cheering for your team as the rest of the players come to the ground.

You make brief eye contact with the twins, a darkness in their eyes but clapping for your victory nonetheless.

“Lunch is ready! C’mon darlings before the storm comes.” Molly gestures for everyone to come inside as you opt to help clean the game up, the twins staying behind with you.

You bend down to pick up the spare brooms, your ass brushing against George’s crotch, your eyes locking onto Fred and sending him a wink.

Fred stands in front of you, shielding you from the view of the house, George holding your hips, pulling you against his chest. Fred caresses your cheek, his head shaking.

“Do that one more time and we’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone.”

Your breathing hitches, your eyes never leaving Fred as he hooks one finger into the collar of your sweater, looking down at your bare tits. George slips one hand up into your sweater, groping your boob as you whimper, a shiver runs over your body at his cold finger tips. The fear of getting caught creeps up, a slight wetness running to your core. Fred tilts your head to look up at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly.

The twins smirk pulling away from you like nothing happened and begin grabbing the game equipment.

They walk towards the home, not once turning back to look at you. Thunder rumbles through the sky as you quickly rush inside, not wanting to be left out in the oncoming storm.

“There you are sweet girl, would you prefer peach or lemon tea?” Molly asks sweetly, smiling at you before worry washes over her. Molly places her hands on your cheeks and a slight frown on her face.

“Y/n, honey you look flushed, are you okay?”

You heart hammers in your chest, those fucking twins.

“I’m okay Molly, the wind just gets to me sometimes.” You smile, reassuring her as she pulls you into a warm embrace. You make eye contact with the twins, smug smirks on their face.

“You tell me if you need anything, now, lemon or peach?”

You nod at Molly, deciding on lemon tea before squeezing in between Fred and George at the table, conveniently the only spot left. You spin the pasta around the fork, thankful for a warm meal. Your body tenses slightly, feeling both Fred and George place a hand on your thighs. Both of them grab and squeeze the flesh, involuntarily rocking your hips at their touch. You quickly catch yourself, continuing to eat while the twins trace shapes and grip your skin.

| | | |

Not much continued to happen yesterday and today had mainly been taken up by Ginny and Molly asking for help with wrapping gifts, a cheeky idea coming into your mind as you pocketed a bit of red ribbon.

Tonight was the big Christmas Eve feast, Mr Weasley had finished work early and everyone was told, multiple times, that dinner would be served at 7pm, not a minute over. Molly hadn’t made lunch today, wanting everyone to wait with anticipation for her multitude of amazing dishes, a favourite created for everyone in the home, including yourself and Harry. You had simply asked for baked honey carrots, which judging by the smell of honey filling the home, Molly had delivered.

“Thank you girls, go get comfy while I finish up dinner.” Molly smiled, kissing Ginny’s head before ushering us away from the table so she could set it accordingly.

“I’m going for a quick shower.” Ginny states rushing up the stairs in front of you. You duck into the twins room, looking over George’s messy bed and Fred’s mattress on the floor, thankful that you could share a room with them but lucky enough to score Fred’s bed.

“Mum loves you.” I jump slightly at George's words not noticing him behind me. I smile, falling backwards on Fred’s bed.

“I love her, she feels like home when she hugs you.” I whisper as George hums in agreement.

Fred walks into the room, his hair dripping and a towel around his waist. I sit up slightly, resting on my elbows, my eyes shamelessly dragging over his toned body.

“My eyes are here baby.”

That fucking nickname.

“Oh I’m well aware.” I whisper, looking over at George quickly. “Remind me, do you look like that?”

George smirks, pulling his shirt over his head, his body just as toned as Fred’s.

I bite my lip, looking between the two shirtless twins.

“Noted.”

Fred locks the door behind him, resting against it. George stands from his bed, nodding at his brother before pulling me closer to the edge by my ankles.

“We’re sick of this game love.”

“We know you want us.”

“Fuck, we want you.”

“That shit you pulled during the game.”

“Dangerous.”

“Slutty.”

“Showing off what’s ours to the whole family.”

My breath hitches at their words, looking up at both of them towering over me on the bed.

“I’m yours?”

The twins smirk, George leans down, his thumb brushing against my lip.

“Should we remind you?”

“It’s been a long time, baby.”

“We forget what you feel like.”

“Sound like.”

They emphasise their words by groping at your body. Your body tingles, wetness pooling between your thighs.

Fred feels your pocket, pulling out the red ribbon with a smile. George smirks, tilting his head at me.

“Are you our Christmas gift?”

You open and close your mouth, simply nodding as they chuckle.

“Don’t be shy, baby.”

“Yes.” You whisper, watching their every move.

George smiles, leaning down and pulling you up from the bed, your chest against his, your back against Fred’s.

“How lucky are we Freddie.”

“Extremely.” Fred whispers, his hands gripping your ass.

George leans down to your lips, his lips hovering over mine, your breath mixing as my eyes flick from his to his lips.

“Please.” You whimper.

George closes the distance between you, your lips moulding against each other. Fred kisses along your neck and shoulder, sucking on your weak spot as you moan into George’s mouth, allowing for his tongue to twirl with yours.

“Be quiet baby.” George whispers as Fred captures your lips, his kiss just as soft as George, savouring every swipe of your tongue against each other. George’s hands slip under your sweater, a groan falling from his lips at your lack of bra, twisting your nipples.

“Fuck daddy.” You whisper, both of the twins stopping briefly, as George grabs your hair pulling your face to him.

“Say that again.”

“Daddy.” You whimper, your lips pouting, Fred moans, his hands spanking your ass.

“We’re going to ruin you.”

Before anything more can happen you hear Molly shout up the stairs, letting you know dinner is served.

“Fuck.” The three of you say in unison, the boys pull away from your body. Fred rushes around the room for clothing as George puts his sweater back on.

George smirks at you, tapping your ass and nodding towards your hair.

“Might want to fix that baby.”

“Don’t want everyone to know you’re our little slut.” Fred winks, both of them slipping out of the room, their footsteps bouncing down the stairs.

Your fingers brush against your lips, a slight tingle against the flesh from their kisses. A smirk forming on your face, thankful for the last few minutes, a step in the direction you crave.

After you fix your hair,you quickly bounce down the stairs, thankful you're not the last one as Harry and Ron rush in behind you.

“Sit, sit dear.” Molly gestures to the space across from the twins, next to Ginny and Harry. You quickly sit as Molly places the last dish on the table. The house smells amazing, a mix of spices and hints of firewood from the stove.

“Merry Christmas, I love all of you.” Molly smiles, kissing Arthur. “Including you two.” Molly gestures to Harry and yourself as you knock his shoulder, smiling at him. “Please, eat.”

No one waits for Molly to say it twice, everyone serving themselves. George serves you a pile of honey carrots and Fred places a few roasted potatoes on your plate before continuing to serve themselves. A soft smile falls on your lips, the simple domestic gesture filling your heart, maybe this could work.

Everyone is quiet while enjoying Molly’s food, the sound of knives and forks clicking together. You catch Molly’s eye as she enjoys watching her family sharing dinner together, only having this occur a few times within the year. Molly catches your eye and winks at you, scrunching her nose and smiling at you before taking a sip out of her wine glass. You smile back at Molly, a warmth washing over you at the small interaction. Your eyes flick to the twins in front of you, both of them almost finished with their meal. A cheeky thought pops into your mind as you shuffle on your seat slightly, dragging your foot up George’s leg. His eyes lock onto yours, he nudges Fred inconspicuously to get his attention before sitting back in his chair, his legs spreading wider as his older brother looks down at the chair quickly. You press your foot into George’s crotch softly noticing his body tense as Fred shakes his head, grabbing his cup and tipping the liquid into his mouth. You drop your foot from George and move it to Fred, not wanting him to feel left out. Fred grabs his napkin, wiping his mouth as he looks over at George and nods. A wordless conversation shared between the two as George smirks.

“So Y/n and Harry, what subjects are you looking forward to most next year?” Molly asks, butterflies flip in your stomach, feeling like Molly caught you. You quickly drop your foot from Fred causing him to chuckle slightly, George takes a sip from his glass hiding his smirk at your reaction.

“Defence against the dark arts, I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.” Harry states, causing a small chuckle to fill the air.

“And Y/n?” Molly smiles.

“Potions, I’m excited to create a few remedies for different conditions but also to help these two-” You quickly gesture to Fred and George who go wide eyed, you know Molly and Arthur don’t know about their ‘jokes’ yet but why not keep them on their toes. “With passing the subject. You know they don’t stir their cauldrons, they just expect it to work when you throw things into it.”

Molly and Arthur chuckle, a smug smirk on your face at the panic you just gave the twins.

“Oh that explains why their grades for positions are so high, we have you to thank.” Arthur chuckles as you nod, smiling at him. Little does he know, you have them to thank for your grades.

You pick up your glass, taking a sip of the cinnamon eggnog, freshly made as Molly questions her kids about what they’re most looking forward to. You only half listen, your mind occupied by the pair of redheads in front of you, your mind filled with ideas on what you want to do to them and them to you. Thankfully for such a great break.

| | | |

The night flew by, Molly handed out one gift to her kids, including yourself and Harry. Molly stated it was something to wear for Christmas day breakfast and to not fuss over opening one present early. She asked everyone to open them at the sametime, to which you did and found yourself with a handmade sweater with your first initial on the front, everyone had one. You held the fabric close to yourself, knowing you would hold onto this for the rest of your life.

Fred and George hadn’t spoken to you since dinner, opting to hangout with their brothers and Harry while you and Ginny gossiped on the couch. Ginny was confiding in you about her crush on Harry and how Dean had been sending her letters since he left for break. You hadn’t noticed when the room dwindled down to just yourself, Ginny and Harry. Upon noticing and remembering what Ginny had said, you excused yourself, leaving the two of them alone which caused Ginny’s cheeks to heat with a rosy blush.

You quickly went up the staircase, noticing how much quieter the house was the further you climbed. You slip into the twins room, hearing soft snores, noticing Fred’s asleep on the spare mattress on the floor. You look to George’s bed and see it's empty. You can hear the faint running of water, a small idea popping into your head. You walk over to the bathroom, your hand resting on the handle, hoping to god it’s George. You contemplate this gamble for a few seconds, bouncing on your heels slightly before the devil on your shoulder simply says ‘fuck it’ and you turn the handle to the bathroom.

“Hey, knock-” George pulls the shower curtain across, cutting himself off when he sees you leaning against the now closed bathroom door. A smirk forms on his face as pulls the shower curtain open a little for you, simply waiting. The steam flows outside of the curtain, the mirror foggy and walls wet. You quickly slip out of your clothes, untying your hair and letting it fall. A shiver runs over your body in the damp air and you hurry into the shower, wanting the warm water to cascade over your body.

George has his head tipped under the shower, leaving his body open to your eyes. You drink in his figure, his toned chest and arms, his semi hard cock and strong legs. The water streams down his skin, small sprinkles covering your body. Wetness slips past your folds, your heart beat picking up, this almost feels wrong without his counterpart. But you know they will talk and you know Fred will be jealous.

George faces you, dragging his hand down his face to wipe away the water, his eyes linger on your body, his tongue dragging along his bottom lip.

“What’s Freddie going to say?”

The mention of his name has butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Why don’t you tell him and find out.”

George smirks at your response, stepping closer to you and pushing you against the side shower wall, the cold tiles resting against your skin as a hiss leaves your lips.

“You’re a cock hungry whore, aren’t you baby?”

Your lips part at his words, simply nodding and leaning up to capture his lips. George pulls away from you tutting as he holds your chin between his fingers.

“You answer daddy when he asks a question.”

“Only for you daddy.”

George chuckles, tilting your face up to his. Small droplets of water fall from his hair and onto your skin.

“Liar.” He whispers, licking along your bottom lip and taking it between his teeth and pulling the flesh. “You’re a slut for Freddie, and fuck it makes me hard, but tonight you’re mine.”

You nod your head, a whispered ‘Yes Daddy’ slipping from your lips, your eyes staring into his. His lips lock with yours, his wet hand moving from your chin and tangling in your hair, pulling on the strands. A moan falls into your kiss, your tongues swirling against each other, his free hand holding your hip, pulling your dry body against his.

“You’ve gotta be quiet baby.” George whispers, his lips kissing down your neck, tongue tracing a line to your boobs. You softly whimper as he takes your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing against the hardened bud. He pulls from your breast with a pop, alternating to the other side, your fingers tracing through his hair, pulling when he bites your nipple. The warm shower water sprinkling your body, the steam filling your lungs as your gasp.

“You’re so beautiful and these tits.” George whispers, grabbing your boobs in his large hands and jiggling the flesh. He sucks on the skin of your cleavage, leaving a red and purple hickey on each one, definitely something to rile up Fred.

George presses against you, your boobs slip against his wet chest. His lips brush against your ear as you feel his hard cock against you skin.

“This is all for you.”

Your moan in response, causing George to place a hand over your mouth. Tutting at you as he shakes his head. He drags his fingertips up and down your thighs, softly tapping against your folds before slipping one finger past. He sucks in a breath at your wetness, pressing his fingers against your clit and looking into your eyes.

“You’re so good for me, so wet and warm.”

You nod against his hand that’s still pressed against your lips. His finger starts to swirl around your clit in small circles. Your eyes roll back, a moan vibrating against his hand.

“I’ve missed this pussy baby.”

He picks up the pace of his finger on your clit, your legs tense at the feeling of pleasure flowing through you at his actions. George pulls his finger from your clit, placing the digit against his tongue and rubbing it side to side, before his lips encase it.

“So sweet.”

If he wasn’t covering your mouth, it would be open in shock.

“Please.” You beg, whispering against his hand, it is barely audible, he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t feel your lips move against his skin.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you against the wall baby?”

His words cause more wetness to flow between your legs. He moves his hand from your lips allowing for you to answer.

“Please daddy, I’ve missed your cock.”

George smirks, placing his hand under your right knee and lifting your leg up, his other hand resting under your left arm.

“I bet you’d say the same fucking thing to Freddie.”

It’s your time to smirk at his words, nodding softly before you reach down and wrap your hand around his hard cock, tip red and beading with precum.

“I would, because I’m a whore for you and a slut for him.” You whisper, slowly pumping your hand up and down his dick. George bites his lip, looking down at your hand. You place his cock against your folds, the tip brushes your wet clit causing him to hiss at the contact. You guide him lower to your entrance, angling your hips to allow for him to slide into your velvet walls.

Both of you sigh in unison at the contact. George keeps his hips still, his lips capturing yours, savouring in the feeling of your walls around his cock. You rock your hips up slightly, a silent beg for movement as he smiles against your lips, pulling his cock from your pussy before plunging deep inside of you. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he finds his rhythm, his cock slips in and out of you, your wetness growing the deeper he thrusts inside of you. His lips are resting against your ear, his low whispered moans and groans echoing in your head.

“So tight and wet for me.”

“Such a good girl for daddy.”

Hearing him refer to himself as Daddy has your pussy tightening around him, his praise sending tingles through your body.

The water of the shower continues to run, it ever so slightly sprinkling you both with droplets. The steam continues to fill the room, the water pressure dropping from being on for so long.

“Touch your clit for me baby, I’m close and want you to cum first.”

You slip your hand between your bodies, a moan falling from your lips as you circle your clit, the wetness causing it to slip against your finger. You add another, two now circling your clit and fast to help you reach your high.

“Look at you, such a whore.”

You whimper at his words, your pussy tightening causing George to hiss, tilting his head back, his wet hair sticking to his skin as he continues to rock in and out of you.

“D-don’t stop.”

Your legs tense, your fingers rubbing your clit faster and George’s lips fall to your neck, kissing the skin and whispering for you to cum.

“Cover my cock baby.”

Your heart beat picks up, your breath hitching and your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Your legs tingle and untense; George’s cock continues to slide in and out of you, his pace picking up as he moans in your ear. His mouth falls to your shoulder and bits skin to muffle his moan as his cum spurts, warmth pooling inside of you.

George pulls away from you, watching his cock pull in and out, covered in a mix of cum. He gently places your leg down, slipping out of your pussy with a hiss.

“C’mere.” George whispers, pulling you to his chest and kissing your hair. He spins you around, softly placing the warm running water against your cold back, his fingers tracing in your hair. He places a kiss on your forehead, his hands now holding your hips.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.”

| | | |

You wake up in the morning, a dull ache in your legs from last night. The memory of last night floods your mind, you lift your shirt looking at your boobs beautifully covered in hickeys.

“I hear you had fun last night.”

You look over at Fred leaning against the doorway. Your face fills with blush, your eyes quickly flicking to George’s bed as you hear Fred chuckle.

“George is out with everyone else, mum insisted they hand deliver Christmas cards to the neighbours.” Fred states, closing the door and moving closer to the bed. “And I insisted on letting you rest because you were up late last night and had to make sure you didn’t wake up alone.”

“Freddie.”

“Nuh-uh, what’s my name baby girl.”

Your stomach fills with butterflies, watching the eldest twin sit on the bed beside you, his fingers caressing your face.

“Daddy.”

Fred nods, his hand tilting your chin up, before settling around your throat. Bending down to your lips and whispering against them.

“That’s better, I bet you called George daddy and I bet you fucking loved it.”

“I did.”

You want Fred to be rough, you want him to compete against his brother, you want to be filled with his cum.

“I hear you’re a slut for me, is that correct?”

His hand tightens around your throat before releasing softly, dragging his hand down your body and resting it on your boob.

“Yes daddy, whatever you want me to be.”

Fred smirks, chuckling at your response.

“So submissive for me, you wanted to make me jealous didn't you baby?”

He grips your breast, pinching your nipple and dragging his hand down your body, cupping your pussy through your thin pyjama pants.

“You want me to fuck you better than George.”

“Please.” You whimper, your hips rocking up against his hand.

Fred slaps your pussy through your pants as your hips stop.

“He was right, you’re a slut for me.”

You simply nod in response. Fred leans down, his lips ghosting yours.

“Get on your knees and show me what you want.”

Within a second he’s pulled away for you, leaning back on the bed and resting against his elbows. You scramble off the bed, falling to your knees in front of him, the wooden floor hard and cold.

You loop your fingers into Fred’s pants, tugging them down his body along with his underwear. His cock springs free, hitting against his lower stomach. Your mind floods with comparison to George, the thickness and length comparable, a vein running from the base to the tip. You run your tongue along the vein, flattening your tongue against the head of his cock before slipping it past your lips.

“Fuck.” Fred moans, falling back on the bed, his hands dragging down his face.

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick, meeting your lips half way, your tongue flicking side to side around his cock. Fred’s fingers lace in your hair, assisting you with bobbing your head up and down, his hips thrusting into your throat. Your eyes water, a few gags filling the air and drool leaking from your mouth.

“Such a messy baby.”

Your eyes roll back, moaning around his cock.

“You didn’t- fuck- suck George’s dick, did you baby.” You shake your head, popping his cock from your lips.

“Just for you daddy.”

“Mm, just what I wanted to hear.” Fred grabs your face between his hands, kissing your lips sloppily, his tongue rubbing against yours. Your lips are puffy and glistening with spit, his teeth pull at your bottom lip pulling away from you.

“On the bed baby, ass up for daddy.”

Within an instant you’re standing in front of him, stripping your clothes. Fred stops you before you can lay across the bed, noticing the hickies covering your boobs.

“Cocky fucker.” Fred groans, spanking your ass in encouragement to get on the bed.

You lay with your ass in the air, feeling Fred kiss down your back. He reaches your ass, spanking the plump skin, soothing it with a soft kiss to your cheek. His teeth graze the skin, biting and sucking, leaving his mark on your ass. You squeak as he spanks you, his cock dragging up and down your slit, bumping against your clit, your moans filling the air.

“No one’s home baby, be loud for me.”

Fred slides deep inside of you, the angle allows for him to brush against your g-spot a moan pulling from your throat.

“Fuck, I should just stay inside of you, that would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it baby?”

“Yes daddy, please fuck me.”

“Mm, what would George say?”

“Fuck, please, fuck me.”

You push your hips back against his cock, a low groan falling from his lips.

“Fuck yourself on my cock baby.” Fred encourages, your hips rock back and forth on his cock, wiggling them against him. You pull forward just far enough to leave the tip inside of you before pushing back allowing for him to slip deep inside of you. This causes Fred to grip your hips, starting his own rhythm and thrusting in and out of you.

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it baby?”

You nod against the comforter, your hands gripping the material.

Fred spanks your ass, his fingers looping your hair around his palm and pulling you up.

“Answer me.”

“Yes daddy, wanted you to fuck me.”

“Wanted me to fuck you better than George.”

You moan at his words, his pace picking up. Both of your moans and heavy breathing fill the air, his grip still tight on your hair. Fred uses his grip to pull you up against his chest, his arm wrapping across your boobs as he bounces you on his cock.

His lips fall to your ear, using his free hand to rub your clit.

“Fuck, Freddie.”

Fred chuckles against your ear, his warm breath fanning your neck.

“Scream my name louder baby, I want George to hear.” He pinches your clit, your body jumping in response before he rubs fast circles around the bundle of nerves. You rest your head against his shoulder, lips parted with moans pouring from them. Your pussy tightens around his cock as his dick twitches.

“You can cum for me baby, I’ve got you.”

Fred’s grip on your body tightens, his hips rocking into you faster.

“Daddy, so good.”

He kisses the side of your head, his pace picking up on your clit. He feels you clamp around his cock and your body tense. Your toes curl and your body shivers, cumming around Fred.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” Fred whispers, the sound of your wetness filling the air as he continues to pound into you. He pushes your torso back onto the bed, holding your ass in his hands and chasing his high. Fred curses and you feel his load shoot inside of you, a few more thrusts and Fred gingerly pulls out of you.

“Look at you baby.” He whispers, softly caressing your skin.

You gently roll over onto your back, attempting to catch your breath as Fred rushes around for clothing before disappearing. You hear the front door to the Weasley’s home open close and a chatter fill the air. You heart rate picks up slightly, your body aching and mind blissed out to cover yourself.

Fred reappears in the bedroom with a warm towel between his hands. Within a moment later George is sliding through the door. His eyes darkening when they land on you, legs spread and pussy dripping with his brother's cum. The twins share a look as Fred throws the towel to George who stalks over to you.

“Such a pretty baby, our little cum slut.” George whispers, his eyes fixated on your pussy. A gasp falls from your lips at the feeling of George slipping his fingers inside of you. George pulls his fingers from you, a mix of cum sticking to his flesh. You grab George’s wrist, pulling his hand to your mouth, dragging your tongue up his fingers, sucking the mix of cum, your moan vibrating around his fingers. Your eyes lock with the younger twin, a smile present on both of their faces.

“We’re so lucky Freddie.”

| | | |

Let me know if you'd like a part 2 with both of them.

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willowsnook · 2 months ago

Text

the lion and the golden retriever snippet

would you maybe be willing to write a lance stroll x fem! reader where she’s a driver and at some gala everyone is all dressed up and they’re like “how did he pull????” but they’re just so in love he doesn’t care! ty! never requested anything before lol!

Lance stroll x driver!reader

a/n: as i was writing this i fell in love w the concept so I’m going to be writing a longer imagine for this AU

—-----------------------------------------

The relationship between you and Lance was something that a lot of people just couldn’t understand. Lance was chill, not one to stir the pot, usually keeping to himself. You were loud, always in the media chirping another driver, always wearing something borderline inappropriate when the paparazzi caught you on a night out. You should have been with someone like Lando, someone who matched your energy but the second you made the jump to F1 and met Lance, you decided that you had to have him.

He was quiet around you at first, always letting you do the talking and wondering why you wouldn't leave him alone. It took Fernando finally taking pity and enlightening him on the fact that you were definitely into him. The next time he saw you, he mentioned maybe grabbing something to eat, and the rest was history. He was your polar opposite in every single way, but it worked - he balanced you out perfectly.

Tonight was the F1 75 launch event and you were dressed in a floor length navy dress posing next to Lance on the red carpet. The dress was definitely cut too low and the slit too high up your leg, but the way Lance’s eyes darkened when he saw you made it worth it.

"You're going to kill me in that dress," Lance whispered against your ear as you posed for another photo, his hand resting possessively on your lower back.

The room sparkled with crystal chandeliers, the elite of Formula 1 mingling in designer suits and gowns.

You caught the stares immediately—the raised eyebrows, the whispers behind champagne flutes. Lance Stroll, heir to billions, with the paddock's wild child. Fernando winked at you from across the room while Charles and Pierre exchanged glances that screamed "how did that happen?"

"They're all looking at us," Lance murmured, his lips close to your ear.

"Let them look," you replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to him. "I like being the most interesting thing in the room."

Lance chuckled, that private laugh that only you could pull from him as he gazed down adoringly at you. You saw your teammate, Yuki, wave at you so you turned to Lance, promising him to be right back.

Lance watched as you walked away, barely noticing as Lando came up to him.

“To this day, I still don’t know how you bagged her,” Lando teased, shaking his head. Lance laughed, tearing his gaze away from you.

“You and me both man,” he answered honestly.

As you chatted with Yuki about setup changes for the upcoming season, you felt Lance's eyes on you from across the room. You caught his gaze and gave him a little wink, causing him to blush slightly. That shy reaction, even after months together, still made your heart skip.

"You two are disgusting," Yuki said, rolling his eyes but smiling. "Like, actually sickening."

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you," you teased, bumping his shoulder playfully.

Max sauntered over, champagne in hand. "The paddock's princess and the billionaire's son. You have to admit it's like something out of a Netflix series."

"Maybe they'll give us our own show," you quipped.

Lance and Lando made there way towards your little group and you instantly moved into his side, leaning your head slightly into his chest. By now he was used to your insistent PDA, even though he personally didn’t care for it.

“Did you know I asked y/n at least five times before you guys started dating?” Lando asked Lance, causing you to roll your eyes. Lance gave you an amused look, not taking Lando’s bait to get jealous.

“I’m not surprised,” he said, tracing his finger along your waist. “She is the most beautiful driver by far.”

“I think Charles might have me beat,” you said with a snort. “You’re too crazy Norris, it never would have worked.”

“I’m too crazy?” He said, shocked. “There are literally pictures of you skinny dipping last week in the press right now.”

You shrugged, “Exactly. We would have caused the end of the world.” You looked back at Lance, your gaze softening. “I wanted calm.”

Lance smiled, pulling you a little closer. “And I wanted chaos,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Guess we even each other out.”

Lando groaned, dramatically throwing his head back. “This is unbearable. I need another drink.”

Max smirked. “I think it’s sweet. Weird, but sweet.”

Yuki rolled his eyes. “It’s terrifying. Like watching a lion fall in love with a golden retriever.”

You laughed, leaning fully into Lance’s embrace. “If anything, he’s the golden retriever.”

Lance just shrugged, unconcerned with the commentary from your friends. “Doesn’t really matter what any of you think,” he said simply, his hand smoothing over the fabric of your dress. “She’s mine.”

The conversation stilled for a second, Lando pretending to gag while Max smirked in amusement, but you just tilted your chin up at Lance, a teasing smile on your lips. “That I am.”

For all the questioning glances, the whispered how did he pull that? remarks, Lance never wavered. He never let it get to him because at the end of the day, he was the one taking you home. And no amount of curiosity or speculation would change the fact that you were his, just as much as he was yours.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine

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comicaurora · 1 year ago

Note

Hey Red, sorry if this was asked already, but do you have any advice on writing a trickster hero? And do you have any favorites yourself?

Huh! This is something I've never really thought too hard about before, but I do have some loose and unformed thoughts!

So the trickster archetype is, broadly, a character who wins by being cunning and tricking the people around them. Typically this is because they are an underdog facing a powerful opponent, and if they face that opponent on the terms that opponent defines, they'll lose. For instance, a physically strong opponent might want to make everything into a contest of raw force; a politically powerful opponent might want to make things a legal battle; a commander of a large army might want to battle on a flat terrain-less battlefield and overpower the smaller enemy force through raw numbers; etc etc.

A trickster doesn't have the raw power to make a scenario happen. Instead, they achieve that scenario by making other characters make it happen, usually by misleading them into thinking it'll have some other outcome they want.

A classic example of this is found in a Brer Rabbit story where Brer Rabbit has been snatched by Brer Fox, and Brer Rabbit begs and pleads with him to not throw him into that briar patch, oh the torment he would experience in that briar patch would be unimaginable, drowning or burning would be bad but still better than that briar patch. Brer Fox naturally throws him into the briar patch, at which point Brer Rabbit vanishes into the underbrush and helpfully clarifies that he was born and bred in a briar patch. He was unable to escape through his own power, so instead he convinced Brer Fox that yeeting him into the briar patch would give Brer Fox something he wanted (Brer Rabbit's unimaginable torment) when in actuality it gave Brer Rabbit exactly the cover he needed to escape. It only worked because Brer Rabbit understood that Brer Fox was fundamentally not just hungry, he was cruel.

Tricksters usually achieve victory through lying, stealing, sneaking around and generally being dishonest. These are usually not seen as heroic traits, but the trickster hero is an archetype of character who is broadly heroic - and uses trickster tactics to win. It's an interesting suite of character traits to balance. In order to make a trickster heroic, them being the underdog usually needs to be played up. It's not really easy to root for someone with power to manipulate people for their own ends, but it's easy to root for someone scrappy and underleveled to manage to gumption their way to a victory over a broadly superior opponent.

A sympathetic trickster usually isn't someone who picks fights. Trouble comes to them, and then they need to find a way to escape or stop it. This is the paradigm that makes Bugs Bunny work as a trickster hero - he starts off basically every adventure minding his own business, and when someone comes around with a blunderbuss and a hankering for rabbit stew, their actions are what prompts him to unleash absolute hell on them by using toon physics and trapping them in ironclad social conventions to completely unbalance them until they're eventually defeated.

If we see a big, loud, powerful jerk try to stomp on someone small and innocuous, we're inclined to root for the small and innocuous person. This setup makes us very eager to see the small and innocuous person use tricks and shenanigans to make a fool of the powerful jerk, and it automatically makes us more okay with the sympathetic character doing on-paper unheroic things like lies and manipulation as long as they're doing them to someone we're primed to dislike.

So trickster heroes are usually fundamentally reactive characters. Something bad happens and they respond by unleashing hell. Another easy way to make a character instantly more heroic is to give them an even weaker, even more sympathetic character to protect or assist. Thus, many trickster heroes have a suite of supporting characters they're protecting who are not tricksters by nature, and are instead just there to be endangered or bullied by Nasty Mean Powerful People. Our trickster heroes stepping in to aid and protect other people thus gives their actions an even more heroic cast, because not only are they reactive to an outside threat, they're selflessly reactive.

This is the framing that's used in Leverage, where every episode has a victim of the week being cruelly taken advantage of by a jerkass of the week, at which point our team of liars, grifters and thieves roll up to ply their trade on the jerkass and award the spoils of war to the victim of the week. Because the person they're tricking is proven unequivocally to be truly awful and completely insulated from legal consequence a solid 98% of the time, we don't feel particularly bad seeing our team of heroes manipulate, gaslight and eventually absolutely destroy them over the course of a crisp 40 minutes. The vileness of the villain combos with the innocent powerlessness of the person they're advocating for, and thus their assorted unheroic qualities become reframed as absolutely heroic due to the circumstances under which they use them.

Crucial to the formula is the horrendous nastiness of the villain of the week, because if we were even kind of sympathetic to them, the schemes of the protagonists would be kinda scary. They are very good at quickly getting the bad guy to trust them and then taking apart everything they've built, and that's only fun to watch if the audience is 100% sure the villain deserves it and is not going to spend too much time thinking "wow, it would be terrifying if that happened to me." The fact that our heroes almost always take them down simply by leveraging (heh) the bad guy's badness is a big part of what makes the formula work. Almost every episode is functionally similar to a Briar Patch scenario - "oh gosh I sure hope no SOULLESS CAPITALIST VAMPIRES take advantage of how MANIPULABLE I am to try and get my MONEY and/or VALUABLES", and then the villain's own established cruelty cascades into their downfall when it runs into the dominos our heroes have set up to expose them. And that does a lot to make the audience sympathize with a crew of four self-admitted terrible people (and Hardison, who's an angel and we're delighted to have him)

Another way to get the audience to root for a potentially nonstandard protagonist is to set them up against a villain who is smug. Smugness is a very dangerous trait for any character to have, because it primes the audience to want to see them break. A villain who thinks they are too powerful or too strong or too smart to be defeated has the audience immediately rooting for them to be proven wrong just so they can watch the expression on their face. This is the strat they use in Columbo.

Every Columbo villain is rich and powerful and very insulated from legal consequences, and we start every episode seeing them arrange and execute an attempt at a perfect murder. We know from the start how they did it and usually why, and because they are smug - they are almost never regretful or reluctant - we become invested in seeing how Columbo figures out what they did, how they did it, and how he can prove it and get them arrested. Columbo is a nonstandard kind of trickster hero, because he is deeply and fundamentally a Lawful Good archetype, but he is also a very casual liar. The only time the audience sees Columbo almost certainly telling the truth is when he's dealing with background characters, his fellow policemen or his dog, or when he's by himself silently putting the pieces together; at all other points in the episode he will typically conceal how much he knows, how he knows what he knows and why he's asking specific probing questions. The audience has a tremendous amount of dramatic irony in terms of information about the perfect murder Columbo has to disassemble; we'll see Columbo zero in on exactly the one small detail that pokes a hole in the supposed airtight alibi, but instead of saying "I think you killed them and I am determined to prove it" he'll dance around why he's focusing on those details - just curiosity, just a desire for completeness, his superiors told him to continue the case and he doesn't know why, his wife is just such a big fan of their work, etc etc.

As a rule, the first time in any given episode that Columbo admits he's suspicious of the villain is the beginning of the last scene of the episode when he proves that they did it and they subsequently surrender. When Columbo is dealing with the villain, absolutely nothing he says can be trusted until that final scene - and it's a rare treat to get a glimpse of Columbo showing an honest emotion, especially something like genuine fury. Most of the time he maintains a very harmless and affable attitude, but sometimes when the villains are very smug and they know he's suspicious of them but can't prove anything yet, his righteous anger peeks through and we see why he does this.

He's a trickster hero because he can't unravel the case, the villain's motivation and the shape of the crime if the villain knows everything he knows and can correspondingly keep up with him. But he is 100% committed to exposing the truth of the situation and making the murderer face justice. Their perfect alibi is supposed to protect them from everything, but it's their confidence and certainty that they could never be caught that Columbo leverages to win. They never know entirely what to make of him, and he's never wholly honest with them - and with the audience - until the very end of the episode. It's good, cathartic payoff to an episode's worth of lies and manipulation from both main players, and it's always fun to see the non-smug party on the side of justice come out on top.

Some trickster heroes are more like standard heroes with trickster tendencies that occasionally surface. These guys are usually pretty straightforward, but in a pinch they can bust out a surprisingly cunning scheme or two - one such moment hits at the climax of Across the Spider-Verse, and it's a great moment of characterization for Miles, who has thus far been a pretty typically heroic guy who has unfortunately spent the entire movie thus far being lied to by people he trusted. It kicks off an enormously long and complicated chase sequence that takes the entire spider-community out of the home base chasing him through an absolutely massive complex and eventually onto a space elevator. It's such a fluid scene, you kind of just accept that it's a desperate chase sequence - Miles is just running. It doesn't occur to the other spider-people that Miles might have a plan beyond running until he basically tells Miguel that, hey, he did just get every other spider-person out of the facility that has the portal to get him home. He wasn't just running away, he was luring everybody away so he can leave.

And this moment is fantastic on a meta-level, because Spider-Man is traditionally a bit of a trickster hero. Most of his enemies are able to physically outpace him, and he needs to use mobility and strategy to take them down, often luring them into environments that work against them - like a fun moment in Spectacular Spider-Man where Spidey defeats the Rhino by luring him into a steam tunnel and basically giving him heatstroke through his armor plating. But because the entire core theme of this movie is "Miles isn't a real Spider-Man," it literally doesn't seem to occur to the other spider-people that Miles's seemingly panicked running might be him pulling a Spider-Man on them. We're so used to being in Miles's head and knowing when he's got a plan or a ploy that this is a very fun moment to watch. He's successfully deceived an entire army of spider-people, and the audience is just as blindsided as Miguel - and a little less electrocuted, so it's a lot more fun for us.

So yea, trickster heroes are a fun little space of character, but you gotta be careful to put them in the right kind of situation, lest their fundamental dishonesty come across as alarming rather than extremely rad.

#I also have a reboot example but I shan't inflict that on you guys without due cause #asks #writing stuff #not aurora

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monayen · 6 months ago

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awawawa tysm! (*/∀＼*) then i'll req smth for 17 yo randal w a fem reader! like he's been ignoring reader because he's too busy playing lol or being an asshole on reddit so reader tries to get his attention in other ways--- ( ￣▽￣)

x_thedarkprince_x | Randal Ivory (17ndal)

➷ Paring - Randal Ivory (17ndal) x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - oral (m. receiving) / blowjobs, pet play, he stink *_*

a/n - i forgot how much i love this freak... i was gonna write him stinkier but im sick with an eye infection and im 90% sure me writing him infected me somehow. also i have never played league but i do watch arcane and play val so i think that's good enough. 'pologies if i got anything wrong in that aspect (not really) also header is @/tapi_taro_ on twt !!

A rhythmic clicking echoed against the dark walls of Randal’s room. It was late — far too late for him to be hunched over his computer, his eyes fixed on the flickering characters on the screen.

He knew it too. Luther had made it clear he wasn’t supposed to be playing this late, even threatening to confiscate his expensive setup if he caught him awake again. Yet here he was, ignoring every warning.

Your legs dangled off the side of the coffin he should've been in hours ago with you, tired eyes flickering at the blue light of the screen. Or more importantly, Randal.

His long orange hair was disheveled, sticking up in all directions, unbrushed and greasy. A string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth as he muttered curses under his breath, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the glow of the monitor. Far too engrossed to even blink.

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. It had been days since Randal had given you more than a passing glance. A new season of LoL had started, and you were pretty sure his ass was permanently welded to his chair. The only times he left it were to use the bathroom or grab more soda. Has he even eaten?

Sleep was impossible with the constant noise. The rapid clack of his fingers on the keys, the drag of his mouse across the desk — it all kept you on edge. Even when you managed to drift off, there was always a sharp bang against the side of the table or a shout of some obscene curse, loud enough to snap you awake. And then, you’d have to fight to fall asleep all over again.

You huff in frustration, sitting up from where you’ve been laying against the coffin. “Randal?”

He doesn’t even flinch, his eyes fixed on the screen. For a moment, you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you, but the garbled voices from the game blasting through his headset make it clear that he just can't hear.

You repeat yourself louder, and only then does he push one of his headphones aside, “What?”

You make a face at his almost exasperated tone, his eyes still not moving towards you, “It's really late.”

He shrugs, lips pressing into a thin line as he shakes his head, barely glancing your way. “Yeah, well, I can’t pause. I’ll be there in a bit, sweetieee.” He drags out the last word with a teasing giggle before adjusting his headphones and continuing playing.

You stand up from the coffin, stretching your arms above your head. Your joints pop and crack, and you wince at the sudden movement. It's been a long day, and you're exhausted. But sleep isn’t going to happen unless he gets off the game.

You take a step towards him, your bare feet padding softly on the carpet. He's so focused on the game that he doesn't even notice you approaching. You lean over his shoulder, peering at the screen.

He's losing, the game isn't even close. The string of chat logs of him and his teammates arguing in the corner catch your eye. You watch as Randal scowls, quickly typing something in chat. An IP address, but you’re pretty sure it's actually just a random string of numbers.

Tilting your head, you ask, “Won't you get banned for that?”

Randal doesn't respond, too focused in the game to acknowledge you. You sigh again, a reaction would at least be nice. You're tired of being ignored, desperately wanting some type of attention, affection, anything to make you feel wanted. You're also just tired in general…

You place your hands on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. He tenses slightly at your touch, but doesn't pull away. You start to massage his shoulders, working out the knots that have formed from his terrible posture.

"Randal," you say softly, leaning down to whisper against his neck, even though he can't hear you, "You can play with something else…”

He shivers at your breath on his skin, but still doesn't turn to you. You huff, frustrated.

You drop to your knees, crawling under the desk. You can see his feet, clad in mismatched socks, tapping impatiently on the floor. You reach up, running your hands up his calves, his thighs, until you reach his crotch.

Taking a deep breath, you began to graze his crotch, him immediately shaking above you, "What are you – hey!" Randal finally noticed your actions, but he made no move to stop you as you continued to rub the fabric of his sweatpants.

He lowers his headset, leaving them around his neck as he hunches over. “Bad girl! I’m literally about to derank!”

You feel him stiffen under your touch. "Randal," you murmur again, your hand stroking him slowly. "I want to make you feel good."

Randal let out a shaky breath, his hips twitching forward. "I'm busy," he grumbled, but there was a note of desire behind his pitchy voice.

He makes a strangled noise when you squeeze, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen. He looks down at you, his black eyes lidded. “Fuck… my elo." he breathes, his hips bucking into your palm.

You smile, satisfied that you finally have some of his attention. You tug down his bottoms, freeing his cock. It's hard and hot in your hand, pulsing with need. You swiftly wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently.

Randal groans, his fingers tightening on the mouse. He's still playing, well… attempting to at least. His eyes keep darting back down to you, hands shaking against his keyboard and mouse.

His thighs tremble more once you begin sucking on the sensitive tip harder, his focus faltering to groan, “C’mon – you can go deeper than that pet,” One of his hands leaves the desk, moving to grip the back of your head.

He groans, hips bucking into your mouth as he pushes your head down, "You're gonna make me lose." It's almost a whine, like it's a genuine bother for you to be down on your knees for him. But he doesn't stop you. If anything, he's pushing you down further, encouraging you with soft, desperate sounds. You take him deeper, tongue swirling around the length of his cock.

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his shaft. He gasps, fingers tangling in your hair.

"Shit, shit, fuck," he chants, voice rising in pitch. His thighs tremble, muscles tensing under your hands.

His free hand still clicks around on the keyboard, your eyes narrowing at the not-surprising ridiculousness of Randal still trying to play the game despite his dick being down your throat.

You pull off his length with a pop, tilting your head sweetly, "Come on, Randal," you tease, stroking him slowly. "Is the game really that important?"

Randal whines, head thudding back against the chair. With a giggle, he nudges your head back down onto his erection, "I just told these virgins I’m getting my dick sucked, kekeke.”

You bob your head, taking him deep, swallowing around him. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling sharply. “Hah, keep going pet.” he groans rocking his hips, fucking your face with shallow, needy thrusts. You double your efforts, sucking harder and taking him deeper in your mouth.

"Fuck, fuck, swallow it–" he cuts off with a strangled cry, hips stuttering. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, his body tensing. A quick pulse follows before he's flooding your throat. Quickly, you gulp, swallowing his cum down and not letting it leak out your mouth.

He pants, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He looks down at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy, slumping down slightly on the chair.

Randal moves his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek, his sharp teeth biting his lip, “Goooood pet.”

Blushing at the praise, you finally crawl up when he moves his chair back, giving you space to get out from under the desk. “Are you sleepy now?” You ask, a cheeky smile on your face as you lean in closer to him.

Randal lets out another strange giggle before leaning in to plant a quick, wet kiss on your lips.

“Gah, I can taste myself,” he grimaces, pulling back slightly. “Did I burn a hole in your stomach?”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head. “Randal.”

He catches the hint in your voice, finally giving in. With a dramatic sigh, he tucks his soft dick in and pushes up from his chair. “Turn off the monitor then, pretty please?”

You nod, watching as he scratches his ass before collapsing onto his coffin, immediately drifting off to sleep.

Turning to the monitor, you notice a bright red DEFEAT screen glaring back at you. Glancing at the chat, you see the last message a teammate sent before the game ended —

‘GGS report x_thedarkprince_x for throwing’

#ranfren x reader #ranfren #randals friends #randal ivory x reader #randal ivory #17ndal #ranfren smut

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tossawary · 1 year ago

Text

A quote and thoughts regarding Shen Yuan's opinions on Liu Mingyan and the "sexiness" of the Liu Mingyan versus Sha Hualing setup. He knows what he should be feeling in this situation as a "normal straight guy", but I don't think he's actually feeling it.

"Shen Qingqiu was very fond of this female lead, and it wasn't only because Liu Mingya's beauty points were the highest. It was also because she had great poise. She always understood the big picture and grasped the general situation, and her conduct was fair and honest. Even in Luo Binghe's gigantic harem, a wife with both intelligence and moral character was rare.

There was one more appeal factor. Liu Mingyan was the only female character for whom Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn't write detailed sex scenes. Many readers had been highly dissatisfied with this arrangement, to the point that they spammed the comments with their ranting, but this had given Liu Mingyan something no other female lead had: an image as clear as ice and pure as jade!

Can't be helped, the unobtainable ones are always the best.

[Sweatdropping shrug kaomoji that I can't type out.]

This was what made the second match worth watching. An evil demoness naturally demanded a righteous saintess as a rival. Every man dreamed of being caught between an angel and a devil. To watch them jealously vie with each other over him one moment, then risk life and limb for his sake in the next - that was the highest, most sacred, perverted fantasy of every male organism. He could drunk off the wild, untamed charm of the wicked seductress, and at the same time his heart would ache for the austere taste of the pure saintess who kept pulling him closer only to push him away!

One had to admit, "Great Master" Airplane was genuinely good at nailing what people found satisfying. Shen Qingqiu couldn't help giving Luo Binghe another glance.

Luo Binghe found it very hard to not care about that gaze. Why exactly did Shen Qingqiu keep looking at him? Was it possible that Shizun... really had an interest in him?"

Volume 1, Chapter 2, pages 111-112.

I'm not sure where to start with this! It's a lot! I'll just work backwards: it is very funny to have Shen Qingqiu repeatedly looking towards Luo Binghe, trying to see Binghe's reactions to Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan, and Binghe's just like, "Shizun is looking at me???" I think "interest" in this case just means interest in Binghe as a disciple with potential, rather than anything else. Binghe is not paying any real attention to Sha Hualing or Liu Mingyan's attractiveness.

Oh! A rare compliment towards "Great Master" Airplane! Shen Yuan, don't strain those rarely used muscles!

I do find it amusing that Shen Yuan refers to Liu Mingyan as "moral" and "righteous" and "pure" here. The vibe I got with Liu Mingyan is that she sided with Luo Binghe to take down her brother's murderer, which I would agree is righteous and abides by a set of morals. But the first few pages of SVSSS inform us that PIDW Luo Binghe viciously destroyed the great cultivation sects, which means that PIDW wife Liu Mingyan either helped or stepped aside when a whole bunch of murder happened.

And the "my favorite wife is the one with no (or limited) sex scenes" is a classic Shen Yuan moment and one of the reasons he reads as being strongly on the asexuality spectrum to me. The way that he talks about heterosexual "male" desire gives me the same vibe. Like he's separated from it. Like he knows this is what he's "supposed" to feel and he just... doesn't... and it's possibly hard for him to recognize what sexual desire feels like (as opposed to, say, general sexual arousal that doesn't necessarily have a target) if he's never actually experienced it himself. He knows what he should be feeling if he was the "every man" reader of PIDW.

Even when he talks about Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan's appeal, he says "wild, untamed charm" and "pulling him closer only to push him away" as the key components of the fantasy. Like, "being flirted with" and "being fought over and fought for" and "appreciating a distant beauty" are more important than "having sex". "The most appealing thing about Liu Mingyan is that she wouldn't actually go through with trying to have sex with me," says Shen Yuan.

He's like, "Oh, I can recognize that Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing are physically attractive, that probably means I'm an Ordinary Straight Man." Even though the way that he talked about Liu Qingge's looks in the Ling Xi Caves was... not very heterosexual... and here, he mostly seems excited just to see one of his favorite characters.

Admittedly, Sha Hualing appears 15-16 here and I think Liu Mingyan is around the same age (she doesn't have her spiritual sword yet), so Shen Yuan is probably also not attracted to them just because they're teenagers. (I do not interpret him as sexually or romantically interested in Binghe at all at this point in time.) I headcanon Shen Yuan being 20-ish at this point in time, so he's probably not that much older than SHL or LMY, but they're probably around his younger sister's age (Shen Yuan's younger sister was old enough to be reading non-con, gay, BDSM erotica.) Sha Hualing shows up half-naked and Shen Yuan is just like, "Where are your shoes? Did you walk here like this? Wasn't that painful?"

In my opinion, Shen Yuan seems a little... relieved... to think that no one could be sexually or romantically interested in the scum villain. He does lament that it's hard to get a girlfriend like this, sure. He does think that he's going to die and that he'd eventually lose any woman to Binghe, so there's no point in trying. But he really, really does not try. "Oh, I can't pursue anyone because they'd never be interested in me! How frustrating! ...Anyway! Moving on to enjoy the many other little pleasures of life! Like food and monsters!" I think the closest he comes to flirting with anyone is when speaking to Liu Qingge in the Ling Xi Caves, while Liu Qingge is coughing up blood, and that did not seem intentional.

I think if he had transmigrated into any other character, who wasn't an "unappealing" villain, Shen Yuan still wouldn't pursue women. I think he'd be like, "Well, I want a beautiful woman, because I have standards! But all beautiful women belong to the protagonist, and no one is better than Binghe, there's no way I'd win that competition, so there's no point in trying!" At which point, it's just like, "Shen Yuan, anyone becomes beautiful when you love or like them; I don't think you actually want to fuck women."

I think if Shen Yuan had transmigrated in as Luo Binghe, he still wouldn't try to pursue women. He'd be like, "I'm just raising my standards for the harem! Some of those wives were not very intelligent or in possession of good moral character! Nearly three-digits is disrespectful to the better wives! I'm only interested in especially beautiful and skilled women, like Liu Mingyan, who's perfect! (And also won't try to have sex with me.)"

Like, I am not against a bisexual Shen Yuan. I am willing to be persuaded to go along with many different interpretations! But he does read to me generally as a gay asexual / demisexual who hasn't yet realized that a desire to be fawned over and an ability to recognize beauty is not necessarily the same thing as sexual attraction. (I do think he is attracted to Binghe after Binghe gets back from the Endless Abyss, but his feelings there are tied up in his very real, reasonable fear of murder and mutilation.)

#tossawary svsss #tossawary rereads svsss #sha hualing #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #liu mingyan #luo binghe #bingqiu #liu qingge #spoilers #shen yuan versus asexuality fic

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