#or was it just a detail they skimped on

[snackugaki]

The Rona couldn’t kill me and I will use this mistake to make it every turtle body’s problem

[moe-broey]

Fellas can you take this somewhere else. Maybe. Just not in the fucking halls. Thanks 🫡

I couldn't resist drawing out these tags I wrote on a dif post LMFAO

Moe just has...... SO many problems.......

Close-ups of my fave shots!

The elusive Líf...

[haberdashing]

things all y'all missed out on by not being in one particular discord server with me: me judging the hell out of the milwaukee art museum

[andi-o-geyser]

*slams hand down on table* WHERE IS ALL THE PERCY AND KEYLETH BEST FRIEND OPPOSITES ATTRACT PLATONIC SOULMATES MOTHER NATURE AND DADDY ELECTRIC CONTENT. HUH. WHERE THE FUCK IS IT

[v-0x0-v]

um pardon me sir

[mhaccunoval]

things have to get worse before they get better (<- gets splattered with more blood with every edit of the google doc)

[foxstens]

aria of sorrow is......... fine

[hotchner-edu]

Pandora's Box | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: During a girl's night with the BAU girlies, a game of truth or dare may just be the cause of Aaron's odd behavior.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of the devil's tango

The smell of freshly microwaved popcorn and cheeto puffs clung to the air of Penelope's apartment unit, the ringing of near-delirious laughter complementing the scent.

Emily is laying flat on the floor by Penelope's sofa, hair splayed out as she clutches her stomach. "Oh my god! You did not do that!" She laughs out, tears gathering in her eyes as JJ blushes a little and shrugs.

You four are gathered in the living room, fingers stained from snacking while playing the team's favorite party game— truth or dare. It was the night of the long-awaited girl's night, and you were all practically bouncing off the walls.

"It's not my fault! Anyway!" JJ chuckles and tries to change the topic, turning her head toward you, eyes glimmering in mischief. "Y/N, truth or dare?"

You groan and shovel some popcorn into your mouth. "Truth."

Penelope and Emily giggle in the background, knowing JJ always had some hard hitters when it came to truth or dare.

JJ grins widely and leans forward a bit. "Who in the team would you do seven minutes in heaven with?"

You let out an outraged gasp. "Jennifer Jareau! What are we? In high school?"

The blonde just laughs loudly and grins. "Oh come on! You only hate the question because you're the one that has to answer."

"Exactly." You deadpan jokingly and groan, preparing to answer when Emily interjects.

"And you can't say any of us!"

Frowning, you narrow your eyes at the woman. "Well, I was going to say you."

Emily smirks cheekily and slides her phone toward herself as she sits up, finally recovering from her laughing fit earlier. "I know, but that's cheating."

Huffing, you watch her throw her phone aside somewhere as they all stare at you eagerly. "Geez... okay, fine! Hotch! I'd do seven minutes in heaven with him." You practically shout in faux exasperation.

Penelope squeals and shakes your shoulders as JJ and Emily raise their eyebrows.

"Really?" Emily asks in shock, chuckling and leaning back on her arms.

"Well, yeah. I mean... hello. Are we all going to pretend he's not sexy?" You ask bluntly, inciting another round of squeals from Penelope as she gets ready to endlessly tease you about your admission.

JJ shrugs with a satisfied smile, pleased that you chose to answer so boldly. "Honestly, I thought you'd say Spence."

"Spencer is cute and I love him, but... c'mon. Like I have to restrain myself from slamming my head into my desk every time Hotch raises his voice at someone. And god! Don't get me started on his arms." You gush, playing up your lovestruck tone but being completely honest.

"Easy tiger." JJ mumbles under her breath with an amused smile.

Emily wiggles her eyebrows and grins. "Oh? Come on, don't skimp on the details."

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "You guys are vultures." You say jokingly and throw a piece of popcorn at her.

Penelope munches on a cheeto and shakes her head. "No, no! You never told us you felt this way for him, so we need answers!"

You concede, feeling tired of bottling up your crush anyway. "Alright, alright. Yes, I like him. I mean, it's hard not to." You explain sincerely before becoming playful again, "I think he covered me from an explosion once and I almost died feeling his hands on my waist. Like, how is it possible for someone to have such delicious arms."

"Delicious?" Emily echoes with an amused snort at your choice of adjective.

JJ snickers and nudges your foot with hers. "Careful, you're about to start drooling."

You nudge your foot back against hers and try to suppress the heat that's creeping up your neck. Unfortunately for you, Penelope is just getting warmed up.

"So, would you... y'know... do the devil's dance with him?" Penelope asks coyly, giving you a teasing smile.

"Hey, my turn is over now!" You say and chuckle, shaking your head at their antics.

Though, you should have known that they wouldn't let you get away that easily.

The three of them stare at you with puppy eyes, causing you to squirm on the spot. "Geez, yes, I would. I mean, he seems like he could use the stress relief." You joke before quickly adding, "And I'm only telling you guys because you guys look ridiculous with those expressions!"

"Ridiculous or not, it worked." Emily smirks victoriously.

Luckily, they seem to take pity on you after grilling you so hard, and they move on with the game.

The next morning, you're starting to regret having stayed up with the girls until three in the morning. Your eyes feel like they're being pressed down by bowling balls as you yawn for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Emily is in a similar state as you, head lazily propped on one hand as she sluggishly signs off on some reports in front of her.

“Let’s never do that again.” You grumble just loud enough for Emily to hear, rubbing your eyes.

She chuckles under her breath and nods a bit in agreement, eyebrows raising a bit. “Yeah, or let’s just get drunk and pass out like normal people.” She jokes.

You both snicker softly until you see JJ hurrying toward Hotch’s office with a stack of files in her arms. “Ah…” you say with a slow blink.

“3… 2… 1…” Emily counts down playfully, just as Aaron stands up and leaves his office.

“BAU team— conference room, now.” He calls out smoothly, his eyes catching yours for the briefest second before he’s practically marching off.

You stand up and stretch your arms, watching as your team starts heading over for a new case briefing.

Glancing back toward Emily, you frown tiredly. "How is JJ so peppy today?"

"Perks of motherhood?" Emily suggests and shrugs.

You and her slowly trudge toward the stairs, catching up with Derek who seemed a bit hungover.

The man pauses and glances between you and Emily, grinning playfully. “You both look like hell. Fun night?”

“Not as fun as yours, I’m sure.” Emily chuckles as the three of you walk into the conference room. You’re about to head to your usual chair when you see Aaron sitting in the chair next to it.

You pause in your step and look back at Emily. Of course, seats weren’t assigned, but there had always been an unspoken rhythm of the team occupying the same seats.

Tilting your head a little, you can see some of your team members momentarily questioning it, but shrug it off as they sit down.

“Huh…” Emily says under her breath and hides a smirk, tapping your lower back to usher you to sit down. Aaron had stolen her usual spot, but she didn’t seem all that perturbed by it.

You sink down into your chair, keenly aware of your proximity to his warm body as JJ hurries to the head of the table to turn on the monitor.

As she begins to summarize the details of the case and the descriptions of the victims, you’re only half listening. Aaron keeps subtly shifting in his spot, and his knee even bumps into yours a few times.

You would definitely need to reread the file on the jet.

Aaron speaks up as JJ concludes with the details, voice low and level. “The request is urgent, so wheels up in thirty.”

The team begins moving immediately, and as you’re closing the file in front of you, you feel Aaron’s hand land on the back of your chair as he gets up. You tense a little as you could feel how close his hand was to your shoulder, trying to suppress the heat crawling up your chest.

As everyone files out of the meeting room to go grab their go-bags, Emily is immediately joining your side as she speaks under her breath. "That was weird."

"It was nothing." You try to brush it off, ignoring Emily's uncertain look.

Well. Maybe it wasn't nothing.

The moment the team arrived at the New Haven precinct in Connecticut, the atmosphere was off, to say the least. Of course, it was never enjoyable to have to look at pictures of mutilated victims, or deal with officers acting independently, but the feeling you were getting was a bit ominous.

"Is it just me or does something feel different?" You whisper to JJ as she finishes up a phone call.

She looks at you and tilts her head a bit, eyes filled with concern. "Not really... why? Do you think something's off with the profile?"

You shake your head and look away sheepishly. "No, not with the case. Just... with the team?" Your words come out as more of a question as you try to articulate the emotions swirling inside of you.

"Oh. I haven't noticed anything, but we can talk when we get back to the hotel if you want?" She offers with a kind smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, Jaje..." You say softly and try to redirect your focus back onto the case.

Stepping back, you get ready to return back to discuss the unsub's possible hideout locations with Spencer.

Before you can get far, you hear JJ calling for you again. "Could you tell Hotch that the city's agreed to hold a press conference in two hours?" JJ speaks up, eyes telling you that she had a lot on her plate at the moment.

"No problem. I'll see you in a bit." You nod at her and smile before spinning on your heel to look around for Aaron.

You spot him almost immediately, hunched over a desk and flipping through some papers as the police chief hurries away from him, barking out orders to some of the officers scattered around their desks.

"Hotch. JJ said that a press conference will be held in two hours. Spencer and I have narrowed down some locations, so we'll need to work quick." You practically word vomit, trying to ignore your racing heart.

Aaron straightens up and turns to look at you. "Alright, good. Rossi and Prentiss are on their way back too." He says, reaching back to the desk for his cup of coffee, still steaming as he raises it up to his face.

Your eyebrows rise up a bit and you smile softly. "Another cup? That's like your fourth one today."

The man gives you a small smile and nods, letting himself relax a bit. "Yeah, just for some stress relief." Despite how casual his tone was, the inflection of his voice for the very last words has you freezing on the spot.

You choke on your spit a bit, and he keeps his eyes on you. "Are you alright?" He draws out, mouth twisted in concern, but his eyes swirling with a bit of humor.

"Perfect." You wheeze out a bit and give him a strained smile before hurrying away.

Fortunately, you're not forced to overthink his words and the flashbacks of your girl's night confession to go with it, as the unsub makes a critical slip-up after JJ's press conference is broadcasted.

It's only after the unsub is being transported away for booking that you're able to come back down from the adrenaline. You're sitting beside Emily on the curb stretching your tired legs as she scrolls through her phone.

"So he really hasn't called you back? What an asshole." You mumble with a frown as she updates you about the guy she's been going on dates with for the past month.

"Back to the drawing board, I guess." She sighs with a noncommittal smile. Suddenly, you see her tense up, face drawn into a disbelieving gape as she pauses in her scrolling. "Oh my god."

"What? What's wrong?" You ask and turn to face her in worry.

"I called Hotch." She says blankly, slowly looking up at you with shell-shocked eyes.

"Okay...?" You trail off in confusion, eyebrows knit together.

"On Sunday. It says here that I called Hotch." She shows you her phone screen and there at the third slot of the call log is Aaron's contact. It wouldn't have been alarming to you had you and the girls not been together for the entirety of Sunday, but you all were, plus the call history was timed to have occurred at eleven pm.

"No way... check how long the call was." You whisper hurriedly, watching as she hurries to press the information button, nearly calling Aaron on accident in the process.

"Three minutes..." She breathes out in shock.

"No way..." You lean back and slap a hand over your mouth. "I think he heard my confession about him."

"What?" Emily hisses at you in panic, looking around at your teammates who were scattered around the sea of haphazardly parked Buicks.

You nod and rub your temples. "Earlier at the station, he made a comment about needing a stress relief."

"Okay, but that could mean nothing." Emily tries to reassure you, sputtering a little as she tries to come up with alternative explanations.

"I don't think so, Em." You groan and lean your head against her shoulder. "We've both noticed he's been acting different."

"Oh gosh... Did I butt-dial him?" She asks in shock to no one in particularly, laying her head against yours.

Chuckling dryly, you suddenly remember how she had been tossing her phone around during the game. "Yeah... I think it's even worse because I was sober when I said it."

"If it makes you feel better, I've done far more embarrassing things while sober." She says, staring off into the distance.

"I believe that." A small huff leaves you, tone subdued as a small smile of acceptance takes shape on your face. "Oh, and Em?"

"Hm?"

Your eyes flicker to Hotch's figure in the distance as he chats with Derek, arms crossed across his chest. "If I give you my resignation letter, will you give it to Hotch for me? I think I'm going to flee the country."

Much to your chagrin, Emily bands together with Spencer to convince you to not resign, having the younger agent ramble on about the adjustment process of finding a new job and the statistics of people who struggle with getting acclimated to a new work environment.

So rather than slipping your neatly packaged resignation letter onto Hotch's desk, you've taken to hiding out in Penelope's lair while you finish up your paperwork for the case.

Luckily, your bright-eyed friend allows you to pull up a chair at her desk, not even making a peep when you accidentally knock over one of her figurines.

You're hunched over as you write hurriedly, posture taking on a form that would make shrimps envious. As you're finishing up the last few pages of the report, a knock on Penelope's ajar office door draws both of your attention.

Standing with a hand on the door handle, Aaron is gazing at you with his eyes squinted a little due to the dimness of the room. "Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment, please?"

His voice is calm, giving no hints as to what he's feeling as he cracks open the door a bit more. Penelope gives you a side glance before slowly swiveling her chair back around to pretend to work.

"Sure." You say almost inaudibly, awkwardly making your way out of the door as his eyes follow you.

Once you're both out in the hallway, he shuts the door and nods for you to walk a few paces forward to minimize the chances of your lovable tech genius eavesdropping.

"I'm almost finished with my report, sir." You say softly, stopping when you both arrive at the end of the corridor.

Aaron lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes his head. "That's not what I'm here to talk to you about."

Mutely nodding, you wait for him to continue as your eyes move down to stare at the glossy floor.

"I'm sure you know by now, but Prentiss accidentally called me this weekend while you guys were talking." He says softly, beginning to look a bit shy. "And I just wanted to ask if you had meant what you said that night."

Your face is blistering with warmth as you try to deduce the best course of action. "I... yes. I'm sorry. I know that it must have been weird to hear, especially because I'm your coworker. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Aaron rests a hand on your arm to stop you before you can offer to resign out of shame, a warm smile painting his face. "It's okay. It wasn't weird for me... I just wish I didn't have to find out from a butt-dial." He chuckles and rests his hand on your arm.

You practically melt at the touch and you blink in shock. "Oh..."

"Honestly, I'm a bit out of practice when it comes to this kind of thing, but I was wondering if I could take you to dinner this Saturday." He asks softly, looking shyer than you've ever seen him before.

"I would like that." You respond breathlessly, not sure if you were dreaming.

Aaron grins and looks down at his shoes for a second as he tries to compose himself. "I'll pick you up around seven, if that works for you?"

"Yeah, that's perfect." Whatever future plans you had for Saturday were automatically being scrapped anyway.

"Great." He nods and gazes at you, his hand moving from your arm to your hand. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he steps back and allows you to get back to work in Penelope's lair.

As you're trekking down the hall with a giddy smile, you hear him calling your name. You turn around and see him smirking at you a bit.

"And just so you know, I like having my arms around you too."

[artsekey]

I keep seeing AI shit in student work. I can't take it, sarge. Can't take it.

Why. Are you. Pursuing higher education in visual art. If you're just going to throw AI at your assignments.

It's not hard to tell. You know why it's not hard to tell? Because I've been studying this for almost a decade now. Yeah, the image looks 'complete', but it's not informed. There're weird artifacts that aren't from the creative process. Small details a real artist pays attention to, or overworks, or underworks? They're absent.

If it doesn't look bad to you, it's because you don't have enough knowledge about art to see that it's bad, which means that you REALLY should not be skimping on your assignments.

[strwberri-milk]

Can I please have the LaDS boys reacting to the reader speaking in another language (I won't choose a specific language) with a male friend and the boys are jealous because what do you mean he can understand you and I can't 🙄

hrmm i guess sylus is included now LMAO

Zayne isn't going to be too immature about it. He knows that you're not monolingual and it's not like it bothers him or anything. He just wants to feel included so he'll probably slowly learn the language on the downtime so he doesn't have to bother you for a translation.

Xavier will just quietly stand menacingly behind you. He puts his chin on your shoulder, trying to see if he can decipher any sort of meaning from the words you're saying and if he can't figure it out he'll ask you to translate right there. He doesn't care if it disrupts the flow of the conversation - he just wants you to tell him what's happening so he doesn't feel left out.

Rafayel, resident polyglot, gets upset when he realises you're speaking a language he doesn't. It's even worse if it's not a part of any language families that he does know because he can't even try to figure out what you're saying. He'll simmer quietly, glaring daggers at you. Once your conversation is done he'll ask for an intensive play by play, refusing to let you skimp out on any detail.

Sylus also seems like he could be a polyglot. If he doesn't understand the language he'll let you converse as much as you like, discreetly keeping his eye on you as he waits for you to finish. He doesn't say anything to you about the fact that you dared to speak without him being able to understand but you get the sense that the next time your friend comes over you're going to just use a communal language.

[alicenpai]

the shadow and her living doll 🌹🌼 print for montreal otakuthon! come see me at next week from aug 11-13 ✌

you can grab it as a print here if you so wish ! WIPs & other thoughts under the cut

shadows house is such a fantastic series & i wholeheartedly recommend it... the story delves into super dark horror elements but doesn't present itself as a story with no hope. hope must be found and then tenaciously gripped with all one's heart, much like pandora's box. it tickles the victorian gothic part of my brain forever imprinted on me since i was 14 haha...

in the first draft i had marionette strings hanging above the characters (kinda reminds me of Erased.. since I just finished rewatching that ahaha...) & shadow puppet hands on the sides, almost as if gripping each character. i decided against it in the end, to let the characters shine in the spotlight (literally).

i also wanted a more active or lively pose, but kept in line with the stiff victorian portrait style, caused by long camera exposure times. i'm not sure if that worked out better bc i'm unsure if this drawing is interesting to people wahahaha.

initially i also wanted more of a dollhouse theme, but each draft got more and more muddy, so i decided to save it for another day (i'm around ch 90 in the manga, so probably a good call to save a more complex idea until i'm all caught up)

^ quick 5 min style test i posted recently! in that post i stated that i wanted to streamline and simplify my art style more, especially after the recent bunch of illustrations i did in the past winter that took way too long to complete, at the sake of my health.

im continually looking for areas to simplify more in my art, but one of the areas i will NOT skimp on is depicting fabric!!!!!

what also helped was working on my sense of structure in my spare time, so that i could be better at depicting form without relying so much on shading to show 3d forms. i love colouring, but i need to be working smarter, not harder from now on. using 100000 shades and highlights is just not feasible anymore wahaha.

in this drawing i loosened up with the bg and kept it rough, inspired by the wonderful xeroxed bgs of 101 dalmatians, and only implied details, rather than actually rendering all of them.

the tldr is that i draw too slowly i just would like to be able to make more drawings more often!!

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 5

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Wanda receives a gift and finishes her final exams, then decides to go out drinking to celebrate with her friends and accidentally makes a very awkward phone call.

content warnings: drinking, vision being a fucking creep, throwing up

word count: 4.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The door squeaks as Wanda fumbles with her keys, stepping into her apartment and hoping that Kate wasn’t home. She can feel her face burning, her thoughts having been filled with the enigmatic woman that was Natasha Romanoff on the drive home. Her hands, so close to her waist yet not touching her. Her hair, falling over her shoulder as she leaned in to speak. Her lips, so soft and kissable and right fucking there. Her cinnamon perfume wafting over Wanda and making her dizzy with need-

“Hey, you’re home!” Kate calls out, and Wanda groans internally. “Tell me all about the date, don’t skimp on any details.”

Walking around the corner, Wanda sets her bag down as her eyes find Kate grinning at her from the couch. The brunette pats the spot beside her, her eyes lighting up as she takes in Wanda’s flushed face. 

“Okay, fine…” Wanda starts with an air of faux reluctance as she sinks into the couch. She grins, and Kate giggles as she tells the story of her first date with Natasha Romanoff.

—

“Oh my god, Wanda. She totally wanted to kiss you.”

Wanda smiles, ducking her head. Her fingers trace a nonsensical pattern against the blanket thrown over both her and Kate’s lap. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just hoping she wants to and making things up in my head.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate surges forward and grabs Wanda by the shoulders. 

“Of course she wants to kiss you, you dumb lesbian! Literally everything she’s been doing and saying has been to show you that she is interested in you, oh my god.” Her words are emphasized by the small shakes she delivers, Wanda’s body rocking back and forth from the force of it.  

“Okay, fine,” Wanda says, a smile breaking across her face as she lets Kate’s words sink in. 

“She likes you. She asked you out on a date and reassured you that it was an actual date multiple times. Also, she was totally going to kiss you. Natasha Romanoff wants you, I swear on my life.” Kate says, her voice serious. 

Heat spreads across Wanda’s face, and she just smiles as she ducks her head. Kate doesn’t like her lack of response, and Wanda startles when she shakes her by the shoulders again, this time a bit more forcefully. 

“You are quite literally the most beautiful woman I know, Wanda. Don’t roll your eyes at me, you’re the total package. Hot and cute at the same time, smooth skin that I would literally die for, and you’re really fucking nice. Like, I don’t think it’s even possible for you to ever be mean to somebody.” Kate rambles, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do not argue with me on this.”

“Fine,” Wanda chuckles, pushing away the thoughts of self-doubt that begin creeping into her mind. “She’s kind of out of my league though.”

“What, because of how much money she has?” Kate asks, scoffing. Wanda nods her head. Yes, exactly. Natasha Romanoff is powerful and rich and more gorgeous than a 22-year-old about to graduate college could ever hope to be. 

“She’s richer than, like, 90 percent of America. That’s not something I’d compare, Wanda.”

“She’s-”

Kate doesn’t let Wanda finish her sentence, instead shoving her computer towards her. The screen glows brightly, a new email having recently popped up from Vision. Kate clicks on it, burrowing into Wanda’s side as they take in the edited photos from the photoshoot earlier that day. 

God. Wanda didn’t need the reminder that Ms. Romanoff was practically a goddess among mortals. Her striking features stand out on the screen, her eyes piercing yet somehow warm, even through the lens of a camera. Or, maybe Wanda was just going insane and imagining things as her mind attempted to comprehend the photos. 

Her features are perfect. Too perfect. Wanda finds herself flushing, her brain searing Ms. Romanoff’s face into her memory. 

Why would someone that perfect go through the trouble of getting to know Wanda? Ms. Romanoff probably had hundreds of women waiting for a crumb of her attention, what made Wanda so special?

Nothing. She’d just made the unfortunate yet memorable first impression of tripping through a doorway. 

That night, Wanda dreams of cold, green eyes that find her lacking. 

—

“Wanda, there’s a package for you,” Kate calls out, her voice tired. 

Closing her laptop, Wanda rolls her neck, feeling her tight muscles as she does so. She’s almost finished with finals, her last paper in the final stages of edits. Kate was grabbing her keys, uncaring of how she looked in sweatpants and a hoodie as she headed over to campus to take her last exam. 

“I’ll grab it in a minute, thank you,” Wanda shouts, hearing the door close after Kate yells a quick goodbye. Standing, she stretches as she walks towards the front door, her eyes bleary and mind focused on the numerous edits she needed to finish. 

A brown Amazon box waits for her on the counter, the packing slip offering no return address. Wanda blinks, her eyebrows furrowing. Interesting, considering she couldn’t remember ordering anything. 

The kitchen scissors easily cut through the tape, and Wanda considers putting on the kettle as she notices the new box of green tea Kate had picked up earlier. She could definitely use some caffeine. Her eyes return to the box, catching a glimpse of what seemed to be a book. 

Suddenly wide awake, Wanda hurriedly opened the box, her eyes widening as she took in the contents. 

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson lays innocently inside the box, the ornate cover catching Wanda’s eye as she sinks into a chair. Gingerly picking it up, Wanda flips it open slightly, the smell of old paper hitting her nose as she softly thumbs through the pages. 

There, a publication date. The numbers stare up at her, and Wanda resists the urge to scream as she realizes that this book is a first edition. A genuine, authentic first edition. 

Only one person could have sent this, and Wanda gently sets the book on the counter while she digs through the box until she finds a note. The neat handwriting mocks her, the only thing written on the card is the flowing script of Natasha Romanoff’s name. 

Goddammit.

She can’t accept the book. Google tells her how much a first edition is worth, the number sending Wanda’s head reeling as she throws a glance towards the book innocently lying on her kitchen counter. She’s never even possessed that much money in her life, and now a book worth literally thousands is in her apartment. As a fucking gift. 

Wanda needs a drink. A strong one. 

—

Glasses clink as Wanda takes a large swig of her dirty Shirley. As much as Kate makes fun of her, she truly hasn’t found another drink that she likes quite as much. Something about the sweet flavor and distinctive red coloring with a cherry on top just brings her indescribable joy. She hasn’t found another drink that meets her expectations, and she grimaces as Kate chugs a beer while cheers ring out around her. 

“I can’t believe the semester is finally over, we’re officially real adults!” Kate exclaims, her words only slightly slurred as she gestures widely with her arms. A cheer sounds out again, the bar packed with graduating seniors celebrating the end of their college careers. 

Wanda smiles, drinking slightly faster. She hadn’t partied in a while, the stress of finals having consumed her for the past few months. Now that her final grades were in and she would be walking the stage next weekend, she let herself drink and relax. She deserved it. 

“To the end of exams and homework,” Wanda says, holding her glass out. 

Laughing, Kate echoes her words and clinks her glass against Wanda’s. Paul clinks his glass of Diet Dr. Pepper against hers and claps Vision on the shoulder when the blonde sways in his seat as he cheers. 

Vision doesn’t graduate for another year, but having Paul as a roommate meant going out with him whenever he asked. Wanda didn’t mind too much, since having another person in their group meant less money she had to pay when the bill came around. Besides, even though Vision had an obvious crush on her, he hadn’t yet found the courage to ask her out. Wanda hoped he never found the courage. 

“I’m going to smoke,” Wanda yells, her voice barely carrying over the loud music. Kate nods at her, spilling some of her beer on the table as she attempts to gesture with her hands. A goofy smile spreads across her face, and Wanda chuckles at the sight of her roommate attempting to clean her mess with the paper-thin napkins the local dive bar provides. 

Walking towards the exit, Wanda focuses on not stumbling as she pulls her pack of cigarettes from her pocket, fumbling with the lighter as she steps out into the small patio the bar offers. A few other smokers are out, one girl slumped over the bush as her friend holds her hair back and rubs her back. 

Lighting her cigarette, Wanda takes a deep breath and sighs contentedly as the smoke hits the back of her throat. Leaning back against the brick wall, she looks up at the night sky with bleary eyes. 

Pulling out her phone, Wanda glances at the numbers. Her thumb scrolls, the names in her contact list blending together as she takes in another breath full of smoke. Ah, there. She stops scrolling, her thumb hovering over a new contact. 

Natasha Romanoff. 

Fuck it. Wanda’s thumb presses on the number next to her name, the action barely registering in her mind as she leans harder against the side of the building. Her fingers loosely hold her cigarette as she flicks some ash onto the ground. 

She answers on the second ring. 

“Wanda?” Her voice has a hint of surprise, and Wanda giggles. Honestly, she’s surprised that she had the guts to call, but she wasn’t much in control of her own actions after a few drinks. Then, a thought hits her. How does Ms. Romanoff know it’s her?

“Why did you send me the book,” Wanda says, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. She brings the cigarette to her mouth, listening for a response as she takes a deep breath.

“Wanda, are you alright? You sound different.” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is laced with concern, and Wanda just raises an eyebrow. Not that the other woman can see it. 

“I’m not different,” Wanda retorts, her mouth spewing words before she can think about them. “You’re the one who’s different. All mysterious and reclusive, ooooh.”

There’s silence for a beat, and Wanda takes another drag of her cigarette. One of the other smokers drops his used cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his heel before pulling out another one. Wanda does the same, fumbling in her pockets for another. Then, Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds out through the speaker, firmer this time. 

“Have you been drinking, Wanda?”

“Maybe, why do you care?”

“I’m just curious,” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda hears fumbling on the other side of the line. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a bar, it’s not suitable for you.”

“Not suitable?” Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds slightly strained. “Which bar, Wanda.”

“A college bar.”

The woman changes tactics, and Wanda hears more fumbling through the phone. It sounds like the woman is getting dressed, and she’s immediately greeted with thoughts of what Ms. Romanoff might wear in bed. Hopefully nothing. 

“How are you getting home?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda can hear her words slurring. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m only going to ask this one more time, Wanda. Which bar are you at?”

Sighing, Wanda lights her second cigarette. Letting the silence drag on for a moment, she smiles at the huff of breath she hears through her speaker. “Why did you send me the book, Natasha?”

“Wanda, tell me where you are. Now.”

Giggling, Wanda remembers how much of a control freak Ms. Romanoff is. The image of the woman wearing a latex bodysuit with a corset and a riding crop flashes through her mind, and Wanda can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. 

“God, you’re so… dominant.”

“I swear to God,” Ms. Romanoff trails off, and Wanda smiles at the exasperation in her voice. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, Ms. Romanoff. So naughty, using bad words like that.” Wanda feels her head dropping as she says the words, the contents of her last drink finally working their way into her system. Fuck, she’s lost her cigarette somehow. Her fingers fumble around in her pocket, drawing another one from the pack and lighting it. 

“Wanda, so help me-”

“Goodnight!” Wanda calls out, sucking in a large breath and admiring the smoke that she exhales into the cool night air as she hangs up the phone. Then, she frowns. She never got an answer about the book. Oh well, the only objective she had tonight was to get drunk… and she had successfully accomplished that mission. Her vision swam, and Wanda took the last few puffs of her cigarette before crushing it on the ground. 

Fuck. Did she really just call Natasha Romanoff? Who does that?

The phone rings, and Wanda answers it without looking at the caller ID. Only one person would be calling her right now, and she hates the way her voice sounds as she utters a meek ‘hello’.

“I’m on my way, don’t leave the bar.” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda feels herself blushing at the commanding tone as the woman hangs up.

Wait. 

An ice-cold awareness makes its way through Wanda’s veins. She feels herself sobering up, and blinks blearily as she remembers the phone call. Fuck, is Ms. Romanoff actually on her way? Did she really just talk back to the woman over the phone? 

It was the alcohol, Wanda decides. All the blame is on the alcohol… and now that she’s sobering up, she should definitely take another shot. She walks back into the bar, ordering a shot of fireball and telling herself that it’s not because the smell and taste remind her of Ms. Romanoff’s cinnamon perfume. 

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Kate says, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulder when she returns to the table. “Where were you?”

“I was smoking,” Wanda says, and her roommate doesn’t argue, instead cheering when Wanda knocks back the fireball in one smooth motion. 

“So what now?” Paul asks, his cheeks flushed from the humid air of the bar. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and Wanda is suddenly acutely aware of just how stifling the air is. She can feel her shirt sticking to her skin, and suddenly feels as though the room is too small for her. 

Wanda manages to mutter something about fresh air before she pushes herself onto unsteady feet and makes her way towards the exit. She can feel the beat of the music thumping through the floor, and breathes a sigh of relief as the heavy door closes behind her, muffling the sound slightly. 

The parking lot is blurry, and no matter how many times Wanda blinks, she can’t seem to focus her eyes. The ground seems unsteady, and she leans against the wall as she gratefully sucks in the cool night air. 

“Hey.”

Fuck.

Wanda turns, a half-smile plastered on her face as she takes in the figure of Vision next to her. She can feel it turning into a grimace, and decides to look down at the moving concrete instead of his face. Ah, bad choice. Now she’s nauseous. 

“Are you alright?”

“I just think I’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Wanda says, her smile dropping further when Vision steps closer to lean against the wall next to her. 

“So have I,” Vision says, and Wanda gets the sense that he meant for the words to sound suave, but instead they’re slightly slurred and his eyes are glazed and his hair is all mussed and out of place and all Wanda can see is his stupid face leaning closer and closer and-

Ducking her head to avoid his lips, Wanda pushes him away firmly, her palm connecting solidly with his chest. “I’m okay, Vision. I just needed some space and fresh air.”

“Wanda,” he says, leaning closer and placing his hands on either side of her head, his body almost pressed against hers. “Please.”

“I’m a lesbian,” Wanda hates how soft her voice is and how weak her hands are as she tries to push him off her. “I’m sorry Vision, but I don’t like you that way.”

“I like you so much,” he says, and Wanda wants to bleach her nostrils as she catches a whiff of his cologne. 

Her hands are more forceful now, pushing against his chest as he stumbles back slightly. It has barely any effect, his wide blue eyes locked on hers. Wanda tries again, her voice panicked as he leans in again. “Vision, no. Stop it.” 

Wanda closes her eyes, feeling Vision's body press against her as he ducks his head. She can feel his boner pressing against her pelvis, and feels bile rise when he sloppily trails his lips against her jaw. Everything feels wrong, and Wanda’s head is spinning and she feels like she’s suffocating and drowning in cheap cologne as her brain goes into overdrive, her body freezing as Vision’s hands start running over her shoulders and down towards her-

Cold air hits her face, and Wanda sucks in a deep breath of fresh air as Vision’s presence is ripped away from her. Her eyes fly open, meeting furious dark green irises for a moment before Ms. Romanoff starts backing Vision up against the wall. 

“She said no.”

Holy fuck. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is ice cold, and Vision’s eyes go wide as he begins to stutter and attempt to explain. The woman is having none of it, and silently points towards the door of the bar, her face stony and posture tense. Taking the hint, Vision quickly mutters an apology in Wanda’s direction before scurrying back inside. 

“Holy shit.”

“Language,” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes softening as she slowly walks towards Wanda. She makes it three steps before Wanda’s stomach decides it’s had enough excitement for the night. 

Her throat burns as bile rises. Wanda turns towards the bushes, expelling the contents of her stomach as she feels a firm hand pull her hair away from her face while Ms. Romanoff gently rubs her upper back. She doesn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed, and decides to never drink again. Her body heaves one last time, before Wanda sucks in a breath and coughs, her throat feeling scratchy. 

“Would you like some gum?” 

“Please,” Wanda says, pushing away her embarrassment as she accepts. She pops the gum in her mouth, snorting at the cinnamon taste. Of course Ms. Romanoff would chew cinnamon gum, it seemed to be her signature thing. 

Leaning her forehead against the cool stone of the wall, Wanda feels her stomach settle slightly as her mind clears momentarily. Panic worms its way into her chest. What was Ms. Romanoff doing here? At this bar? Actually…

“How did you know I was here?”

“I tracked your phone.” There isn’t a trace of humor in Ms. Romanoff’s voice, and Wanda just accepts the answer. Of course a multi-millionaire would have the capabilities to track phones. Glancing over, Wanda takes in the strong silhouette of the woman. It’s intimidating, but leaves a certain warmth coiling in Wanda’s stomach. 

“Ah, well. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Standing up fully, Wanda lets her eyes roam over Ms. Romanoff’s figure. She blinks, taking in the soft fabric of an expensive-looking hoodie. The woman must have been relaxing at home, before receiving a phone call from a very drunk college student. 

“For the phone call and the…” Wanda gestures towards the bushes, and is rewarded with an amused smirk. 

“It happens.” Ms. Romanoff seems to brush off the apology, her eyes intense as they lock on Wanda’s. “It’s all about knowing your limits, dear. And as much as I enjoy pushing limits, it’s quite dangerous to go too far with drinking, do you understand?”

A tendril of irritation rises within Wanda, but then she hiccups and remembers how much of a drunk fool she’d just made of herself. The reprimand was well deserved, but that didn’t mean Wanda had to like it. Some part of her was vehemently against being told what to do, or being spoken to like a child. 

“I don’t drink like this often, but we’re celebrating our graduation.” Wanda can’t help the edge in her voice, and judging by Ms. Romanoff’s single, raised eyebrow, the woman doesn’t approve. 

Scowling slightly, Wanda attempts to push off the wall with the intention of escaping the weighted look the older woman is pinning her with. She still doesn’t understand why Ms. Romanoff cares, or why she drove to a bar late at night. Her head spins, and Wanda stumbles right into the CEO’s arms as her vision goes slightly fuzzy. 

The warmth of Ms. Romanoff’s body pressed against hers and the weight of her arms around Wanda’s shoulders is only making her more dizzy. 

“I’m taking you home,” she says, with an air of finality.

Wanda just nods, her head beginning to pound as her stomach twists. Her thoughts seem scrambled, the main thing on the forefront of her mind was how good Ms. Romanoff smelled, and how much she liked the closeness of the woman, and how soft her hair was-

“I need to tell Kate.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re here and that I-” Wanda hiccups again, and pretends not to notice the small, endearing smile that graces Ms. Romanoff’s lips. “I’m going home. She’ll worry if I leave without saying anything.”

“My sister is already inside,” Ms. Romanoff says, her voice gentle. 

“What?”

“My sister, Yelena,” she explains, her voice low and words clear. Wanda would pout about the tone, but her head is far too scrambled to care. “She’s inside speaking with your roommate. She was with me when you called.”

Pushing away the embarrassment that rises at the thought of Ms. Romanoff’s sister hearing her drunken phone call, Wanda manages to look the woman in the eye. She feels the tips of her ears burning as she flushes under the intense look she receives, but manages to speak, her words only slightly slurred.

“I want to tell her myself, she’ll worry otherwise.”

“Fine, do you need help?”

Wanda wants to say no. But, she can barely see straight, let alone walk. So, she nods and allows Ms. Romanoff’s arm to wrap around her waist. It’s not that bad, the woman’s muscles flexing against her as she holds her up, her fingers digging slightly into Wanda’s hip. It makes Wanda want more of her touch, and she immediately shakes her head to clear it of those thoughts. 

Horny thoughts and a drunk brain never mix well. 

The humid, stale air of the bar hits her as Ms. Romanoff opens the door. Wanda immediately wants to go back outside, into the fresh air and the tension and the comfort of the other woman’s presence. Instead, she walks on unsteady legs with the sexiest woman alive holding up half her weight. 

“Kate!”

“Oh my god, Wanda are you okay?”

Sitting down, Wanda leans in towards her roommate’s ear, ignoring the wide-eyed look the brunette is giving Ms. Romanoff. Her eyes are glancing between the CEO and the muscular blonde woman, who Wanda assumes is Yelena, as they speak to each other quickly in Russian. 

Vision is nowhere to be found, and Wanda smiles. 

“Uh, ‘m gonna… gonna go. Home! Going home, with a hot woman,” Wanda says, breaking out into giggles. Kate smiles at her, putting an arm around her shoulder as she attempts to focus. After all, Kate was almost as equally fucked up and wasted as Wanda was at this point in the night, it was her graduation too. 

“I think I’m gonna go home with her sister, have you seen her muscles?”

“You know I… only have uh, only have eyes for,” Wanda hiccups again. “Only for Ms. Romanoff.”

“Aww, you useless lesbian.” 

Wanda lightly shoves her, reminding Kate to check the Life360 in the morning to make sure she isn’t in a ditch somewhere before she stands. Ah, wrong move. 

Swaying, Wanda reaches out her hands in the general direction of Ms. Romanoff. Strong hands catch her by the shoulders, the scent of cinnamon wafting over her and wrapping her in a tight embrace. Wanda catches a glimpse of red hair, and feels a water bottle pressed into her hands with the stern command to sip slowly. She barely registers the walk outside, pausing to light a cigarette as she leans against a large car. 

“Is this a bad habit of yours?”

“Only when I’m drunk,” Wanda responds, her mind hazy and eyes blurry. The smoke hits the back of her throat, and she closes her eyes as the world spins. The rumble of an engine reaches her ears, and she feels herself leaning forward. 

And then she doesn’t stop. She just keeps falling and falling and there are strong arms and a soft voice and the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen and a long road and bright lights and soft blankets and gentle hands wiping off her makeup and and and-

“Goodnight, Wanda.”

Next Chapter

---

Dm or comment to be added!

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[alexanderwales]

One of the software concepts that I found useful to bring over to writing is the concept of technical debt.

Technical debt is the additional work that gets created when you choose a fast option over a good option. It's "debt" because there's a very good chance that at some point you're going to have to repay it: you hardcode in some variables, deciding that you'll figure out the proper way to do it later, and eventually, surprise! It's later. You have to implement the solution you were putting off. And because you've been using the kludge for so long, sometimes that kludge has become load-bearing, and you have to spend quite a bit of time unraveling and refactoring. One of the reasons it's called debt because you have to pay interest on it.

And the thing is, it's not always wrong to accrue technical debt. Sometimes it helps you get to working on the important thing, and can clarify design details or implementation concerns, and sometimes you can just ship without ever having to do it the "right" way. Sometimes you can wriggle out from under that debt and never suffer any consequences from it, even if there were theoretical consequences when you made the decision to do it the fast way.

The way that this applies to writing is mostly in terms of worldbuilding, character building, and plotting. You can sit down and map a whole novel out without writing a single word, whipping up character bibles and setting details and everything that you might possibly need, all before you write a single word.

... or you can accrue some debt and just gun it, writing as you go, making things up, adding them to some kind of tracking document or just not even doing that.

And as with code, there will come times you have to pay that debt back with interest.

Sometimes you skimp on a character's backstory, and then a few chapters down the road you need to make a decision about it, and suddenly there's a bunch of editorial work as you have to make sure that everything you just decided on matches up with what you've already written. A more extreme example would be writing a mystery novel where you haven't decided on what the answer to the mystery will be until very very late: it would either produce a bad mystery or require tons of rewriting.

As with code, the difficulty is knowing when you're incurring technical debt for a good reason and when you're shooting your future self in the foot.

Here are my rules of thumb for writing, in terms of what's acceptable technical debt:

Plot stuff should not wait. You should have a resolution for your story within the first few chapters of writing that story, and ideally, before you even start.

Everyone (and everything) gets a name the first time it appears. You cannot say "the gardener" a dozen times because you don't want to think of a name for the gardener.

All magic systems and superpowers and whatnot should be rigidly defined before they come onscreen. This doesn't need to be known to the characters, and "soft" magic has less of a requirement, but having rules be thought up midway through a fight scene is essentially the definition of generating technical debt.

Descriptions take little effort to bring into alignment, so can be skipped on first draft, so long as there is a description there. Having descriptions written afterward can help to understand mood and requirements of the scene.

Backstory is really variable, depending on how relevant to the plot it is. If it's going to be driving conflict, it needs to be worked out ahead of time. If it's flavor, it can be winged.

I am, of course, not the best follower of my own advice, and sometimes for very long webfic it's impossible to plan that much in advance. And of course I never go into every work having had every idea I'm going to have, and some of those ideas are good enough to include even if they disrupt a plan and require some refactoring.

[hd-junglebook]

Little Dove

Quinn Hughes x Reader

masterlist link

a:n This is part 1 and officially my first ever Quinn Hughes fic, this series will be pretty long since I want to get into the details and emotions. There will be no skimping on details. Not round here partner.

also he looks so good in this gif good god!

summary: Sometimes Y/N's effort just isn't enough; every attempt seems to be futile and disregarded. The people she calls mom and dad do nothing but disappoint her, brushing her off as an ungrateful child. It seems the only person who can truly see her is Quinn.

Word Count - 4140

...

The sun had barely begun to peek through the towering skyscrapers of the bustling city as Y/N stepped out of her sleek, black car. Her red bottom heels clicked against the pavement with each confident stride, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air. She adjusted her perfectly tailored skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles that may have formed during her commute.

As she approached the imposing glass doors of her parents' company headquarters, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease.

Despite the success and prestige that came with working for her family's business, Y/N knew deep down that this wasn't her true calling. Nevertheless, she put on a brave face and pushed through the doors, ready to tackle another day.

The security guard, a friendly older gentleman named Frank, greeted her with a warm smile. "Good morning, Miss Y/N," he said, tipping his hat in her direction.

Y/N returned the smile, her red lipstick a striking contrast against her porcelain skin. "Good morning, Frank. I hope you had a lovely weekend," she replied, her voice smooth and polished, befitting her corporate persona.

As she made her way through the spacious lobby, her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, announcing her presence to the few early risers already at their desks. She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, where her office was located.

Stepping out into the hallway, Y/N was greeted by the sight of her office, its glass walls doing little to provide privacy. The modern, minimalist design was a reflection of her parents' tastes rather than her own. She sighed.

With a deep breath, Y/N pushed open the glass door and entered her office, ready to start another day in a job that left her feeling unfulfilled, yearning for something more.

Y/N settled into her plush, ergonomic chair, the leather cool against her skin. She reached forward and pressed the power button on her sleek, silver computer, watching as the screen flickered to life. The familiar logo of her parents' company appeared, a constant reminder of her obligations and the path she felt pressured to follow.

The computer hummed quietly, Y/N began to sort through the stack of paperwork on her desk. She picked up a folder, her perfectly manicured nails a stark contrast against the crisp, white paper. Just as she was about to open the file, a buzzing sound emanated from her designer purse.

Curiosity piqued, Y/N reached into her bag and retrieved her phone. The screen displayed a new text message, and her heart skipped a beat as she read the name: Quinn. she opened the message.

"Hey princess," the text read, the words both endearing and frustrating.

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair as she contemplated her response. Quinn had a way of blurring the lines between playful banter and genuine affection, leaving her constantly questioning the nature of their relationship. His messages were often short and casual, but the term of endearment he used never failed to send a flutter through her chest.

Despite his repeated claims that he wasn't looking for anything serious, Quinn seemed to take pleasure in pushing the boundaries, leaving Y/N in a state of confusion and longing.

She knew she shouldn't let herself get too attached, but there was something about him that drew her in, making it difficult to maintain the emotional distance she knew was necessary.

With another sigh, Y/N set her phone back down on the desk, trying to focus on the task at hand. She knew she needed to establish clearer boundaries with Quinn, but the thought of pushing him away completely left an ache in her heart.

Y/n shook her head, attempting to clear her mind and concentrate on the paperwork before her, even as thoughts of Quinn lingered in the back of her mind.

…

Y/N's attention was drawn away from her mother's presentation as her phone buzzed once more. She discreetly glanced at the screen under the table, her heart racing as she saw Quinn's name appear again. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and guilt as she read his messages.

"I miss you," the first text read, causing a warmth to spread through her chest. Before she could fully process the implications of his words, another message followed: "Are we still good for tmrw?"

Y/N's mind raced as she contemplated her response. She had agreed to go out with Quinn for dinner tomorrow, a decision she had made in a moment of weakness, longing for the thrill of his company.

Now, sitting in the business room with her parents, the reality of her situation came crashing down upon her.

She glanced up, her eyes meeting her father's stern gaze from across the table. He sat in his imposing grey chair, his posture straight and attentive as he listened to Dedra's presentation.

Y/N knew that her parents had high expectations for her, and the thought of disappointing them weighed heavily on her conscience.

As Dedra continued to explain the new company policy, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to focus. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Quinn, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the effortless charm he exuded. She yearned to respond to his messages, to confirm their plans and lose herself in the excitement of their secret rendezvous.

Y/N's heart raced as she quickly typed out her response to Quinn, her fingers flying across the screen. She glanced up every few seconds, ensuring that her parents were still engaged in the presentation. With a final look of determination, she pressed send, a small thrill running through her body.

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed with Quinn's reply. "Wear that red dress I bought you."

Y/N's eyebrows raised in surprise, a smirk playing on her lips as she typed back, "The v neck dress?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I will ;), I have to go back to work, I'll text you later." Y/N sent the message, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside her chest. However, her momentary happiness was short-lived as she felt a sharp kick under the table. Her eyes snapped up to meet her father's disapproving gaze, his brow furrowed in irritation.

the meeting concluded around her, Y/N's coworkers filed out of the room, muttering their polite goodbyes. Soon, only Y/N and her parents remained, the tension in the air palpable. Her mother fixed her with a stern look, her voice laced with disappointment.

"Y/N, you're not taking this as seriously as you need to be. This will be you one day." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Who were you talking to?"

Y/N's heart sank, knowing that lying to her parents would only make matters worse. She opened her mouth to respond, but her father cut her off.

"Was it that hockey guy?" He scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "He sucks, he'll never be good enough. I should've paid him off four months ago if I knew he'd be such a distraction."

Y/N's cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and anger. She hated the way her parents spoke about Quinn, as if he were nothing more than a nuisance to be dealt with. She knew they would never approve of their relationship but hearing them talk about him so callously only strengthened her resolve.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N met her parents' gazes, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "Quinn, and he's not a distraction.” Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line, disapproval etched into every line of her face.

Y/N's parents exchanged a knowing glance, their eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and condescension. Her mother, Dedra, was a striking woman in her mid-50s, with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and a designer suit that hugged her slender frame.

Her father, Derek, was a tall, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetual scowl that seemed etched into his chiseled features.

Dedra leaned forward, her elbows resting on the polished mahogany table. "Y/N, darling," she began, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "you know we only want what's best for you. This... Quinn," she said his name as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth, "he's not good for you. He's a distraction, a phase. You'll see that soon enough."

Y/N felt her stomach twist, the all-too-familiar sensation of her parents' manipulation taking hold. She opened her mouth to protest, but Derek cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Enough, Y/N," he growled, his deep voice reverberating through the empty conference room. "You're not a child anymore. It's time you started acting like the adult you claim to be. This company, this life we've built for you - it's all we've ever wanted for you. And you're throwing it away for some lowlife hockey player who barely even made it to the big leagues."

Y/N's cheeks burned with anger and humiliation. She hated the way her parents made her feel, as if her thoughts and feelings were invalid, as if she were nothing more than a pawn in their grand scheme.

Dedra reached across the table, her perfectly manicured hand grasping Y/N's wrist. "Sweetheart," she said, her tone softening, "we love you. We just don't want to see you get hurt. Men like Quinn... they're not in it for the long haul. They'll use you, break your heart, and move on to the next pretty face. You deserve so much more than that."

Y/N felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let her parents see her weakness. She knew they were wrong about Quinn, but their words still cut deep, playing on her insecurities and fears.

Derek stood up, his tall frame looming over her. "This discussion is over, Y/N. You'll end things with this Quinn character, and you'll focus on your work. Your future. Do I make myself clear?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She wanted to scream, to tell her parents that they had no right to control her life, but she knew it would be futile. With a curt nod, she pushed back from the table and stood up, her legs shaking beneath her.

"I have work to do," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you'll excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, Y/N turned on her heel and strode out of the conference room, her heart hammering in her chest.

…

The clock on the wall seemed to move at an agonizingly slow pace, each tick echoing through the cramped office space. Y/N leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking beneath her weight as she stared blankly at the computer screen.

The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on her features, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her jaw.

Around her, the office hummed with activity, the sound of ringing phones and the gentle whir of computers filling the air. Y/N felt suffocated by the monotony of it all, the endless hours spent hunched over her desk, pouring over spreadsheets and reports.

As the clock finally struck three, Y/N let out a sigh of relief, the thought of going home filling her with a sense of euphoria. She could almost feel the soft embrace of her couch, the warmth of a glass of wine in her hand as she left the stresses of the day behind.

Just as she was about to log off her computer, a sharp knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Alexandra, the secretary, peeked her head in, her perfectly styled hair and immaculate makeup a stark contrast to Y/N's tired appearance.

"I sent some of the paperwork to your email," Alexandra said, her voice saccharine sweet. "If you could just finish those up before you leave, that'd help a lot."

Y/N felt a surge of anger course through her veins, her patience wearing thin. She fixed Alexandra with a cold stare, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's three. I get to go home now, you know, like a normal person."

Alexandra's eyes narrowed, her lips pursing in disapproval. Y/N knew that the secretary had always treated her like nothing more than a privileged nepo baby, completely disregarding the fact that Y/N had never used her family's influence to step on any toes or make people do her bidding.

Y/N stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse and jacket from the back of her seat. She could feel Alexandra's eyes boring into her back as she made her way towards the door, but she refused to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her frustration.

"I'll take care of it in the morning," Y/N said, her hand on the doorknob. "Have a good night, Alexandra."

Without waiting for a response, Y/N stepped out of her office, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor as she made her way towards the elevators.

She could feel the weight of the day lifting from her shoulders with each step, the promise of freedom and the warmth of her bath calling to her like a siren song.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Y/N let out a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back against the cool metal wall. She knew that the road ahead would be filled with obstacles, but for now, all she wanted was to lose herself in the comfort of Quinn's arms and forget about the expectations and pressures that threatened to suffocate her.

…

The faucet let out a high-pitched squeak as Y/N twisted the gleaming chrome knob, the sound echoing off the tiled walls of the dimly lit bathroom. The flow of water slowed to a trickle before stopping completely, leaving behind a tub filled with steaming, inviting water.

Tendrils of steam rose from the water, carrying with them the intoxicating aroma.

With a fluid motion, Y/N untied the sash of her plush, white bathrobe, the soft fabric slipping off her shoulders and pooling at her feet. The cool air kissed her bare skin, sending a slight shiver down her spine as she stepped closer to the tub.

Tentatively, she dipped a toe into the water, testing the temperature. The heat was intense, but not unbearable, and Y/N slowly lowered herself into the bath, letting out a contented sigh as the warm water enveloped her body.

The water lapped at her shoulders, the heat penetrating her tired muscles and easing away the knots and tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

Y/N sank deeper into the rose petal-filled bathwater, the sweet, floral aroma wafting through the steamy air. The soft, delicate petals brushed against her skin, their velvety touch a gentle caress. She inhaled deeply, the scent of roses mingling with the subtle vanilla notes of her favorite candle, creating a soothing, intimate atmosphere.

As she leaned back, her hair cascaded over the edge of the tub, the ends dipping into the water and creating gentle ripples on the surface. Her eyes fluttered closed, lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks, a result of the bath's intense heat.

The tranquil moment was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone, its vibration echoing through the bathroom. Y/N's eyes snapped open, a curious expression on her face as she reached for the device.

Quinn's name flashed across the screen, his photo – a candid shot of him grinning widely, his dark hair tousled by the wind – accompanying the incoming call.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she lifted herself from the bath, water droplets cascading down her smooth, sun-kissed skin. She grabbed the phone, tapping the screen to answer the call and putting it on speaker.

"Hi, hottie," Y/N greeted, her voice playful and warm.

Quinn's nerdy, endearing voice filled the bathroom, a chuckle evident in his tone. "Hey there, beautiful. How's my favorite girl doing tonight?"

Y/N reached for her glass of wine, the deep, rich red liquid swirling in the crystal glass. She took a sip, savoring the bold, fruity flavors on her tongue before responding. "Oh, you know, just unwinding after a long day at the office. How about you, handsome?"

"Counting down the minutes until I get to see you tomorrow," Quinn replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I can't stop thinking about how stunning you'll look in that red dress."

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. She set the wine glass down, running her fingers through her damp hair, pushing it away from her face. "Mmm, you sure know how to make a girl feel special," she purred, her tone flirtatious.

"That's because you are special, Y/N," Quinn said, his voice softening. "I can't wait to have you all to myself tomorrow. No work, no distractions, just you and me."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, a giddy feeling spreading through her chest. She bit her lower lip, a coy smile playing on her features. "I like the sound of that," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. "You better be prepared to sweep me off my feet, mister."

Quinn's laughter filled the bathroom, warm and infectious. "Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve, don't you worry."

As they continued their playful banter, Y/N sank back into the bath, the warm water enveloping her once more. She closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she listened to Quinn's voice, the sound soothing her soul and filling her with anticipation for the day to come.

…

As the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the bedroom, Y/N's phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand. The vibrations seemed to echo through the tranquil space, a jarring contrast to the peaceful atmosphere.

Beyond the window, the vibrant green of the trees and grass was visible, a testament to the beauty of the early morning.

The bedroom was a serene oasis, with its pristine white decor creating a sense of calm and comfort. The plush, white comforter enveloped Y/N, its softness lulling her into a state of drowsy contentment.

Y/N stirred, mumbling incoherently as she slowly turned over, her eyelids fluttering open. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight that flooded the room. As she reached for her phone, the alarm blared to life, the glowing digits on the nightstand displaying a crisp 7:00 AM.

With a groan, Y/N sat up, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone. As she unlocked the device, she was greeted by a string of texts from her mother, Dedra. The messages, even in their digital form, seemed to drip with condescension.

"Y/N, don't forget about the family brunch today. Your father and I expect you to be there, and please, try to look presentable. We have important guests attending, and we can't have you embarrassing us like last time. And do try to be on time, darling. Punctuality is a virtue, after all."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N tossed her phone aside and begrudgingly dragged herself out of bed. She went about her morning routine, selecting a chic and appropriate outfit for the brunch and work before making her way to the kitchen.

As she entered the heart of her home, Y/N couldn't help but smile. The space was everything she had ever dreamed of – a perfect blend of modern elegance and cozy charm. She moved towards the kitchen island, her bare feet padding softly against the cool, hardwood floors.

While her coffee brewed, filling the air with its rich, invigorating aroma, Y/N leaned back against the island, her eyes drifting to the television mounted on the wall. The familiar characters of The 100, flashed across the screen.

She sipped her coffee, savoring the warmth and comfort it provided, as she lost herself in the post-apocalyptic world unfolding before her.

Y/N glanced at her watch, the sleek hands pointing to 8:30, a frustrated huff escaped her lips. She quickly shut off the television and grabbed her essentials, making her way out of the apartment and towards her car.

The drive to the office was usually a time for Y/N to unwind and mentally prepare for the day ahead, with her favorite podcast playing through the speakers.

However, today's episode left her feeling unsettled. The young creator, barely 18 years old, was excitedly announcing her pregnancy. The way she spoke about it, as if it were some sort of miraculous blessing, made Y/N's stomach churn. With a quick tap, she muted the podcast, silence filling the car as she navigated the familiar streets.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the imposing office building, Y/N's eyes immediately landed on Alexandra, who was just a few spots down from her. A wave of dread washed over her, and she quickly locked her car, determined to beat her colleague to the elevator.

Y/N's heels clicked against the pavement as she hurried towards the entrance, her breath coming in short, anxious bursts. She could hear Alexandra's footsteps echoing behind her.

Just as Y/N stepped into the elevator, her manicured finger jabbing the button for the 4th floor, she caught a glimpse of Alexandra rushing towards her. With a sly grin, Y/N pressed the close button, feigning interest in her perfectly polished nails as the doors began to slide shut.

Alexandra stumbled, her hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to stop the elevator, but it was too late. As the doors closed, Y/N looked up, meeting her colleague's gaze with a sad, insincere smile. The look of frustration and annoyance on Alexandra's face was a small victory for Y/N, a momentary triumph in the never-ending battle of office politics.

The elevator began its ascent, Y/N leaned back against the cool metal wall, her eyes closing for a brief moment. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heart and push away the lingering unease from the podcast. The day had barely begun, and already she felt drained.

It dinged, signaling her arrival on the 4th floor, Y/N straightened her shoulders and put on a brave face. She stepped out into the hallway.

…

The constant cacophony of rings and beeps filled Y/N's ears for the next three hours, the incessant noise drilling into her skull. The cramped office space felt more like a chicken coop than a professional workspace, and Y/N could feel her sanity slowly slipping away with each passing minute.

Just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Dedra peeked her head into the office, her critical gaze sweeping over the room before she entered. With a sense of entitlement, she perched herself on the edge of Y/N's desk, her perfectly manicured fingers toying with a strand of Y/N's hair.

"You know, you look stressed, Y/N," Dedra remarked, her tone laced with false concern. Her eyes then traveled down to Y/N's attire, and her face contorted into a look of disgust. "Is that what you're wearing to brunch?" she asked, her voice dripping with disapproval. "I guess it will do."

Before Y/N could respond, Dedra abruptly stood up and headed towards the door, gesturing for her daughter to follow. Y/N huffed in frustration, the weight of her mother's judgment pressing down on her. She quickly logged off her computer and gathered her belongings, trailing behind Dedra as they made their way through the office.

As they walked, Y/N could feel the eyes of her coworkers following them, their gazes a mix of curiosity and envy. She held her head high, refusing to let their attention faze her. Dedra, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the attention, her stride confident and purposeful as she led the way.

When they reached the front of the building, a sleek black limo slowly approached, its polished exterior gleaming in the sunlight. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at the ostentatious display.

"Why do we need a limo for brunch?" she asked, exasperation evident in her voice. "Could you guys be any more extra?"

Dedra shot her a sharp look, her lips pursed in disapproval. "Appearances matter, Y/N," she said, her tone clipped. "We have a reputation to uphold, and arriving in style is part of that."

Y/N bit back a retort, knowing that arguing with her mother was a futile endeavor. As the limo pulled up to the curb, the driver promptly exited the vehicle, opening the door for them with a practiced bow.

Dedra climbed in first, her movements graceful and refined. Y/N followed suit, sinking into the plush leather seats with a sigh.

The vehicle pulled away from the curb, and Y/N watched as the office building grew smaller in the distance. She knew that the brunch would be just another performance, a carefully orchestrated display of wealth and status that she was expected to participate in.

…

message me to be added to the tag list. hope you enjoyed it. please lmk how you liked it.

(also I just made this idea today and I can't believe I already wrote chapter 1)

[sapphicdealer]

Consumed By Two Things

Warnings: x fem!reader(afab), smut, tribbing,  scissoring, praise kink if you squint, oral sex (r! receiving), fingering, slight nipple play, edging (kinda)

✁Summary: Ada's love language is gift-giving.

You’ve always known Ada to be big on gifting. Before she commenced on her missions, she’d take the time to write you letters and leave small notes scattered around, each marked with her lipstick on the bottom right corner and signed with her name. She was always thoughtful, making sure to leave something special behind to remind you that she was still thinking of you.

In her eyes, leaving these letters is her way of expressing her love for you and bidding you farewell in the most romantic way possible, in case anything were to happen on her missions.

Other times she’d purposely send you an influx of gifts; some are sentimental, others are miscellaneous, whether it be a dress to match hers or a necklace engraved with her name.

Though other times these gifts would be more intimate, Ada loves the way certain clothing items look on you; most often it would be lingerie that she found, so it didn’t surprise you when you received a gift from her in the mail that contained a red and black laced lingerie. You took the garments out of their packaging and into your hands. You peeked over in the box and saw a small note.

‘When thinking about something to gift you, my thoughts were consumed by two things: the colour red, which holds a special place in our closet, and the sight of you in the hue I cherish.’

-Ada

As you ran your fingers over the delicate red lace of the lingerie, you gazed upon its intricate floral pattern. Ada was not one to skimp on the quality of her gifts; she’d always made sure that you had the best quality. It was an average lingerie set; it was accompanied with a bra, suspender belt, and of course, the thong. The lace felt soft between your fingertips. You took the garments, placed them on the side, and drew off the clothes you were wearing previously. 

In contrast to the warmth of your flesh, the lace on the garment was smooth and glacial against your skin. You looked in the mirror at yourself, inspecting the delicates against your body in the mirror's reflection. As you gazed in the mirror, you felt a surge of confidence wash over you. 

You were entranced by the way it looked on your body. “It looks wonderful on you, darling.” The voice surprised you, but you recognised who it was. Your head turned towards your door seeing Ada standing.

“Ada, I didn’t notice you come in, you’re back from your mission already?” You missed Ada dearly, she was only gone for a couple of days yet to you it felt like months. She let out a soft hum in response. Ada approached you with a warm smile on her face, finding a place behind you to admire your look in the mirror, she placed her chin on your shoulder and hooked her fingers in the garter of your lingerie.

“I just couldn’t wait to see you in this.” She glided her fingers up toward your waist, kissing you lightly on the cheek. 

A warm glow suffused your cheeks, Ada looked up in the mirror you faced, her mind clouded with multitudinous fantasies she had at this moment, she wanted to touch you, but not like this, you’d look gorgeous, intoxicating. It was important for her to savour this moment before she indulged in her fantasies.

Ada turned you around to face her, drawing you closer by the waist. She raised her hand to your lips and traced her thumb along your bottom lip. You look up at Ada, dazed; there is something about her that makes you completely melt under her touch. She pressed her lips against yours, closing the gap between you. You missed the intimate and soft moments you both shared together. Ada’s fingertips were caressing your soft skin trailing around the details of the lingerie you pulled away slightly for a moment to look at her, “God, you’re so pretty…”. You hummed against her lips. You felt yourself getting lost in the moment—her soft lips against yours, her arms around your waist. She let out a soft moan against your lips, kissing you back feverishly.

She couldn’t resist the taste of your lips, the taste of you. You let out a soft whimper as Ada briefly withdrew and muttered in your ear, "The things you do to me…" She took a step back and drew off her red turtleneck dress.

Your eyes dart to her now-exposed skin, your eyes traced down to the curves on her body. She sat down on the bed and motioned for you to sit on her lap. You sat on her lap and Ada’s hands found their place just at your hips, she looked up in your eyes and muttered, “You’re okay with this, right?”

“Yes, I am.” With that said, Ada guided you onto her thigh, “I want you to ride my thigh, can you do that for me?” You nodded in response and started to remove your thong before Ada stopped you. 

“Don’t take it off, I want it on” You listened to her and started to get comfortable so you wrapped your arms around Ada and found yourself in a suitable position before you proceeded to grind your cunt against her thigh. Her thigh mixed with the fabric barrier combined was a bit frustrating, it didn’t provide you the stimulation you were looking for, it only sufficed you with an agonising feeling which made you want more, your eyebrows furrowed as you adjusted yourself against her thigh. Ada noticed the look on your face and angled her thigh upwards and used her hands to guide your hips. You found the momentum you were looking for, the stimulation you needed. “You’re doing so good for me…” She whispered in your ear.

As your hips rutted against Ada's thigh, you let out a low moan as you brought your head towards her neck. Ada kept guiding your hips and bringing you closer. You felt her breast pressing against your chest and your breath quickening. You wanted so badly to take off your lingerie, wanting to feel your clit against her flesh. 

“Ada… Please, can I take it off?” You felt yourself getting closer, yet you couldn’t reach there yet. You felt Ada's lips attach themselves on your neck. “Not yet, will you be a good girl for me and hold on for a bit longer?” She cooed against your ear, and you muttered a soft ‘yes’ and nodded. Then, using what little strength you had, you pressed against Ada's thigh while leaning in such a way to maximise pleasure for your clit. As you worked your way up to your peak, your body shook as you felt the release you wanted build up.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Ada felt her thigh pool with your wetness. She smirked and whispered in your ear, “That’s it, keep going”. You repeatedly thrust your hips against her thigh. Ada pressed you down against her thigh, motioning you back and forth, guiding you to reach your high you let out a loud cry as you came. Ada held you as you shuddered against her. She looked down at her thigh, seeing your wetness. She brought your hand up to caress your cheek, her fingers traced down to your neck, chest to your thighs, before pushing the lingerie to the side to access your cunt, gathering your cum, bringing her fingers to taste you, moaning at the taste. Ada made you lay on the bed, parting your thighs as she found a place between them and asked, “Do you think you have another one in you?”

You nodded frantically, “I need words”, Ada teased, you mustered out a desperate “Yes.” which made her smile in response.

She brought up her fingers to your mouth and asked, “Could you get them wet for me?” Without hesitation, your lips came into contact with her mouth. She pushed them in slightly, and Ada was able to feel how hot your tongue was. Feeling how it swirled around her digits, she couldn’t help but bite her lip, enjoying the feeling. “Just like that…” Ada slowly slid her fingers out of your mouth, letting out a pop sound. “Good girl.” she brought her fingers down to your clit, lightly circling it. She kept circling agonisingly; she was teasing you. It took a couple of pleas before she withdrew and replaced her fingers with her tongue, licking your slick, before she nipped at your clit “You taste so good.” her fingers sank into your sex, her tongue attaching to your clit. You threw your head back; your breath hitched, and Ada felt you squeezing her fingers, sucking them in. Ada heard your whimpers and couldn’t help but groan in response, “God, you're sucking in me so well…” She cooed, just her voice alone causing you to clench around her.

“Fuck… Ada…” You blurted between gasps as the woman at your slit found your sweet spot and began to repeatedly abuse that spot while sucking on your sensitive clit, causing you to jolt in response, moans becoming more high-pitched and pornographic, and your whining causing Ada wanting to give you more. Her fingers kept at that place, repeatedly hitting that one spot where you’d whine. She lapped your wetness, your mind going hazy as you started to feel overstimulated by the pleasure. Was it too much, no? But did it cause you to bite your lip and muffle your moans, yes. Ada noticed you were about to come, but your moans were practically silenced in her ears, which she didn’t like, so she withdrew her fingers and tongue away from your cunt, which left you whimpering and confused. “Ada- Why’d you stop…?” you questioned.

“Do a favour for me and don’t silence yourself.” She brought herself up to your face, placing her soft lips against your lips, making you taste yourself. Ada pulled away from your lips, and you sat up, wanting to feel her lips against yours. “Do I have to restrain you?” you shook your head, “So be a good girl for me, okay?” She cupped your cheeks in her hands, placing down another kiss. You responded, “I’ll be good!” You wanted to feel that pleasure again; you wanted to feel Ada. Being denied an orgasm only made you frustrated and needy for contact. To relieve some of that frustration, Ada finally decided to fully take off your lingerie—painfully slow.

“Ada, please-” you whined, as Ada kissed your lips as she pulled off your lingerie, pulling off the thin piece of fabric finally relieving your body, and what was barricading you. Her hands trailed down to your breast. Feeling her fingers circle your nipples, you let out a soft gasp and arched your back, wanting more. Ada's fingers teased you as she lightly pinched your nipples. “Ada I want to feel you.” She removes herself from your lips “You want to feel me?” She questions, looking down at you. Her fingers traced down your stomach and she proceeded to softly toy with your clit, was it intentional, yes. Ada wanted to hear what you wanted specifically. She looks up at you, “Like this? Or do you want something else?”

“No, fuck… I want to feel your pussy against mine.” You looked up at her with a pleading look. Ada smirked, hearing you say what you wanted between your lips. She lifted herself up and placed her leg over yours. She adjusted herself above you for a few moments, trying to find which angle had the best friction, it didn’t take her long as she found both you and herself jolt. She rubbed her clit against yours, her cunt felt soft, and warm, and her hips grinded down causing her clit to bump against yours, you felt sensitive, so hot, your hips moving against hers. The obscene sounds of your wet cunts rubbing against each other filled the room. The rhythm was perfect, Ada threw her head back in ecstasy, mewling as she held your leg down starting to feel sensitive from the pleasure being created. “You’re so perfect…” she murmured.  

Your mind was fuzzy, your mind only focusing on Ada and how she was making you feel, she moved her hands away from your legs and gripped onto your hips, pushing you down on the bed. You both moaned in pleasure, the pleasure only increasing as Ada moved her hips in a circular motion, sending you over the edge. You felt yourself get even hotter, feeling a familiar build-up in your stomach as Ada's touch sending you into a frenzy of pleasure through your body. Both of your movements became sloppy as you heard Ada moaning a mixture of your name and ‘fuck’ as she became closer to her peak You maintained the rhythm of your hips, maximising the pleasure between you two, you let out an audible gasp as Ada's lips grazed your neck, her head burying in your neck, your hand found their seat as they situated in her hair. Both of you trembled against each other Ada's breathing became ragged and rapid as both of you were close to climax. You felt her grip tighten around you and you knew she was close. Your hips motioned upwards as you both reached your peak at the same time and cried out in pleasure.

In a dazed state, and out of breath you had Ada lying against your chest. Your mind clouded with bliss. You took a moment to snap out of your haze. Ada looked at you with her soft gaze, noticing you were slightly out of it, she brought you back to reality by placing soft kisses on your neck.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ada said in a loving tone You nodded, muttering out a soft ‘yes’ escaped between your lips feeling your heart flutter in your chest. You pulled Ada closer as she held you close, taking her hand in yours.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: The Gleebringer Battalions

Gallard Gleebringer only ever wanted to make people happy. By using his skills as a toymaker and inventor he sought to fill the world with devices that would bring wonder, and save people from the drugery of labor to give them more time for play.

Seeking to save his neighbours from the horrors of war, and under the patronage of the battlehungry local margrave, Gallard has a constructed an autonomous army of toy soldiers that in some weeks time will go berserk and begin rampaging across the land, playing out an inexplicable war-game that will leave villages sacked and the entire region destabilized.

It’s up to the party to notice the looming crisis and do something about it before the toys begin their march, As the powers that be are not only blind to the looming crisis but actively dismissive of any

Adventure Hooks:

Scraping together enough coin to fund a construct army has left the margrave’s treasury more than a little tight pursed, leading them to skimp on things like repairing infrastructure, public festivals, and resupplying their garrisons. There’s plenty of opportunities for adventurers as bandits and monsters propagate through the wilderness, and the lesser nobles rely on mercenaries to guard their holdings. Its only so long before the cracks begin to show however, as roads wash out and the realms defenders turn to brigandry. 

The party end up in a tavern drinking with an old military officer previously employed by the margrave. She’s iresome and illtempered, but she’ll crawl out of her cups long enough to tell the tale of how after twenty years of loyal service she was let go for protesting when some of the troops under her command were killed in a training exercise.  If the party press a little she might just let it slip that it wasn’t training so much as a field test of Gleebringer’s machines, which her boss insisted be against real troops. Later on, they’ll find an official bounty posted for the woman, who’s rallied some of her fellow discontented soldiers and started on a campaign of sabotage. 

For his part Gleebringer is quite blind to the looming threat, having been carried by his ever shifting attention to yet another new project once the design and manufacture of the armies were complete. The party might get a chance to talk to him however if they manage to sneak into the excursive exposition he's hosting in the province's capital, either by riding in on the coattails of a wealthy patron, or by sneaking in among the serving staff. Actually getting an audience with the toymaker will be even more difficult as the margrave has set his agents to watch and protect Gleebringer, and it's only so long before they notice the uninvited guest have crashed the private function.

Setup: While many gnomes dabble in artifice, it was early in his apprenticeship with the village toymaker that a young Gallard discovered both his love and prodigious talent for the technical arts. It wasn't just a magical knack, it was an eye for detail that had people saying that the gnome's creations seemed to be alive long before he figured out how to make them move on their own.

Soon Gleebringer toys were in demand across kingdoms, and Gallard found himself not only patronized by innumerable wealthy merchants and nobles but sought out by engineers and craftsfolk of all kinds who realized the genius packed away in his creations.

Gallard didn't let the fame or the fortune go to his head, instead using his growing connections and commission budget to experiment with even more complex designs. For example: scaling up from music boxes to clockwork bands, and eventually an automated opera house.

As a man who dreamed all his life of building a flying town, it was safe to assume that Gallard had his head in the clouds. He hated to see people suffer but seldom thought through the implications of his inventions, Such as when an automated lumber mill intended to supply materials for his projects put an entire town of foresters out of work. This penchant for distraction was only encouraged by the margrave, who saw the military applications of Gleebringer's gifts from the moment a clockwork dragon bought for one of his children ended up badly maiming one of the servants who saught to tidy up the toyblock castle it had been charged with guarding.

Over the past ten years, the Margrave has become Gallard's most generous patron, supplying him with workshops ( staffed by apprentaces who's loyalty can be counted on) and an endless series of new projects ( which always end up increasing the margrave's power and standing at the cost of the common good).

Art 1

Art 2