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ghostking4m · 21 hours

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Rejection Is Just Redirection

Luke Hughes x reader

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Listen, you didn’t really need college. You broke into the entertainment industry at 16, so college was just a plan b you put on the back burner. Being one of the most famous names and faces in the entire world, you easily had enough money to afford college, so why not give it a shot? After all, your boyfriend went to college, though he did kind of drop out to play hockey.

Once you made up your mind that you’d be going back to school, your next step what choosing your major and what schools to apply to. You write songs and sometimes write poems and books, so maybe English or journalism? Maybe Communications would help you answer some of the dodgy questions the paparazzi ask you. Heck, even political science or economics or business would be a good idea. They would allow you to make a difference in the world. Business sounds like a safe choice. You could do a lot with a business degree. Now to apply to schools.

So here’s the thing, you’re finally in a real relationship that you really don’t want to mess up. Staying in LA would allow you to go to school and continue working, so you could still be in the limelight when you want to be. USC and UCLA would be great choices for that and they’re extremely accredited schools. However, maybe Rutgers is the school you should choose, since it’s close to Luke. NYU might even be an interesting choice since it wouldn’t raise too many questions if you’re going to school in the city because you want to or if it’s because you want to be closer to your boyfriend. It has always been your dream school when you were a kid. Well, it’s decided then!

You honestly weren’t expecting the application and admissions process to be so complicated and grueling. It’s like the education system is trying to torture kids to see who would come out on top as the victor. College really is like the Hunger Games, isn’t it? You hadn’t the slightest idea of how to fill out your major requirement classes or send your high school transcript to the admissions office and your essays were mid at best. You’re a celebrity, it’s not like you needed to try all that hard to graduate high school since you did homeschooling since you were 16. Though, you gotta admit that the feeling of finally being done with the application process was a relief. It’s just a waiting game now for admissions decisions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“T-minus 2 hours until decisions come out. You nervous?” Luke asked as you guys were laying on the couch before he had to go to practice.

“A little, but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t get in. I mean, i’ve already got my career, so why would I worry about getting in so that I could work more to get a degree that would allow me to work even more? Why did i do this again?” you questioned back, joking with him. “If I don’t get in, I’ll just grab my bag and go back to LA and star in the highest grossing movie of the decade… again”

Luke laughed at your comment, despite hearing the quiet hesitation in your voice. He didn’t realize how much you actually wanted to get in. He didn’t know how much you wanted to prove that you’re more than just some face in gossip magazines or the most talked about name in the headlines. You wanted to be seen and treated like a person, someone who people respected because you worked just as hard as they did to get to the same place as them. You always advocated for equality for everyone and yet people always worshipped you and put you on a pedestal.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he countered.

“I’m not sure yet. Part of me regrets applying, because I don’t want to get in for nepotism or for being famous, but I also want to get in, because I want to make everyone proud of me.” You replied.

It broke Luke’s heart a little to hear you talk about this in the way you are, because how could anyone not be proud of you and what you accomplished at such a young age? You had 6 Oscars, 4 Emmys, the most nominations at the Grammy’s this year, and you were named the most powerful person of the year by Time Magazine, Forbes Magazine, AND Vogue. You were a sensation that was still only just beginning. You had the entire world eating in the lam of your hand.

“Well, no matter what happens, I’m proud of you for trying. You don’t need college, but I applaud your efforts anyway. You could honestly be anything you want, be anyone you want, all you have to do is try and not everyone can do that.” He said, and his heart absolutely MELTED at the tiny smile you tried to hide by hiding your face further in his chest.

He heard you mumble the most adorable, embarrassed “Thanks” from his chest and he couldn’t help but giggle.

“Let’s not think about it for a while, please?” you asked, politely.

“Ok. We can just rewatch the movie where you play a real life version of one of the most famous dolls in the world.” He says, purposefully teasing you!!

“Oh God.” You laughed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You held your breath as you opened the email concealing your admissions decisions. It felt as if the world was telling everyone to be quiet and listen.

“I got it.” You whispered as quietly as possible.

“You got in?!” Luke shouted, jumping nearly 7 feet high as he got up to look at you.

“No. I got the email that says if I got in or not.” You answered.

“Oh. Sorry for freaking out.” He looks away, slightly embarrassed. You give him a small look and smile full of adoration before turning back to your phone.

“Here goes nothing.” You say as you click on the email. “What? I don’t get it? Oh! I have to log into the admissions portal in order to see the decision.”

You click on the portal login link and enter your login id username and password, fingers slightly trembling with anticipation. Hesitantly, you click on the link that states “An update has been made about your decision.”

Taking a deep breath, you read a letter that says:

“Dear Y/n, Thank you for applying to New York University. We are humbled by the overwhelming interest in attending NYU and the outstanding quality of the applications we received this year. After careful consideration and thorough examination, it is with regret we must inform you were are unable to offer you admission for the Fall 2024 semester.”

“I didn’t get in.” You confessed barely loud enough for a mouse to hear.

Instantly, Luke had his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, fiercely protective. You were so disappointed that you weren’t even crying, almost as if you were expecting to be rejected.

“Whatever. Fuck them anyway. They didn’t deserve you to begin with. You belong somewhere like UMich or in an Ivy League school. You’re too good for them.” He tries to reassure you. “Look at it this way, you can continue doing what you love most and stay here with me. In the end, you learned something.”

“And what’s that?” you questioned him.

“Rejection is just redirection, that’s all. College wasn’t in the cards for you and life thinks you’re better off in the spotlight, making more money in a single year than those lousy admissions officers make in their entire lives. You were meant to be somebody great. You ARE somebody great and you’re becoming somebody even more perfect than I ever thought possible.”

His words struck a chord in your heart so deeply that you couldn’t help but hold on to him for dear life. You felt your eyes begin to prick with tears. As the first one fell out of your right eye, you knew automatically that they were tears of joy. Your heart swelled with pride and love for Luke as you laughed into his chest.

“Yeah. Fuck them. I don’t need them. I’m a star! You’re all I need.” You teased back. Deep down, you were incredibly disappointed, but Luke’s words of affirmation and love meant more to you than the rejection letter did. Nothing could beat that.

“That’s right, baby.” He laughed as he tighten his grip over you. He gently kissed the top of your head and repeated quiet “I love you’s” for at least 10 minutes.

“What time is it?” You asked.

“It’s…5:30.” He responded gently leaning over to turn on his phone to check. “Oh Shit! I’m gonna be late!”

“Go! Go! Go!” You laughed at him.

God, this boy. You thought, shaking your head. That’s MY boy.

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kelpermoosee · 11 months

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“Man of mystery, they call me Mr. L(uigi)!!” 🎶

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varjopeura · 6 months

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#is it even possible to end a dnd campaign without crying???#like yes the story is coming to an end and i've known that for a long time. even informed my players about it in the summer #but now that the final boss territory is very close at hand i only have two modes:#a) crying about how happy i am to have had these wonderful players at the table. how lucky we've all been to experience this thing together #and b) crying about how terrifying moving on will be. will there be a new campaign after this? is anyone willing to continue #with me as their dm?#(one of the players is Very likely to drop off once the campaign ends. she moved to a different city during these years and #playing remotely has been really tough for all of us. having even one of the players Not There just makes things very hard)#(and because of that i'm worried about the other ones too. if the group is already losing an entire person who knows who'll stay after it)#i'm afraid to talk about The Future with them before the game actually ends #cause y'know. what if it turns out they'd rather not do this thing anymore after this one ends? would it make things weird until the end?#would *I* make things weird??#idk i'm just. tangled in my head. happy about this wonderful game and terrified of the social aspects of doing it with other people #is there like. a good guide book or something about gracefully ending a very long rpg campaign?#sussitalk

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 month

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DM Tip: Creating a Campaign Skeleton

Learning to be a better dungeonmaster was a protracted process. A younger me was often so stressed out by the desire to be a better artist that I'd have legitimately mauled a person if it would've revealed to me the wisdom I sought (with my hands or even an actual maul given the chance).

One of my biggest hurdles was the idea of a universal framework for d&d adventures, a guideline that would tell me if the things I was creating were on the right track. It was sorely needed, I loved the process of being creative but without an understanding of how my creative energy was best used I ended up sinking days, weeks, or even months worth of energy into projects that went nowhere. Worse yet, when I DID get a chance to put my ideas into practice at the table they'd frequently spiral out of control and crash, resulting in even more stress.

Over time I learned from these mistakes, I got better, and then I got good. I moved from conscious incompetence to competence, and I ended up having a run of absolutely stellar campaigns that were everything my younger self could have dreamed of: stable, enjoyable, meaningful, and most importantly an absolute delight to my players. Routinely I'd have people, including folks that'd only played with me a few times, mention that getting together to roll dice and listen to me babel on in silly voices was a highlight of their week.

It was as one of these campaigns began to wind down (three years! a satisfying conclusion on the horizon!) and I started looking for a followup scenario that I decided to study all my really successful campaigns and figure out what connected them. The end result was something I'd been looking for for nearly a decade, a reliable format that I could build campaigns around.

I want to preface this section with the understanding that while this information is laid out in a vaguely chronological fashion there's no guarantee that these ideas will occur to you in any particular order. Inspiration is a funny thing, and each idea flows into the others to make a cohesive whole. Due to foreshadowing and setup reasons you're also going to need a pretty solid idea about all of these when starting a campaign, though exact details will likely change/ can be vague up until the moment they're needed.

The Reason: Who are we and what are we doing?

Gives your players a solid background to build their characters around and give them a reason to travel together, rather than having to ad lib one on the spot. Likewise sets expectations of what the campaign is "about" that you can build on or subvert in time. The reason doesn't need to hold true for the entire game, just long enough to serve as a framing device. EG: The Witcher starts out as a "monster of the week" setup and then uses that framework to pivot into politics and prophecy once we've seen the premise play out.

The Pilot/Crashtest Adventure: What's first?

I’ve already written about these, but the general concept is to give your party a mostly contained first outing that doesn’t have any larger bearing on the plot so they can focus on learning how their characters play/building the party dynamic. By the time the party's finished this first adventure they'll have already started putting down roots in the world: they'll have in jokes, npcs they've started to care about, an understanding of what's on the horizon, and an idea of where they want to go next.

The Central Gameplay Pillar: How does this all work?

It's important to have an idea what your campaign is going to be about in a mechanical sense in addition to its plot and themes. There is a difference between an adventure that has the party delve a dungeon, and a dungeoncrawling focused campaign. I like to lead with these outright during the campaign pitch so that players can know what they're getting into. Your playgroup will likely have strong opinions about what they like and dislike, even if they don't have the words to describe it, so you might need to explain the ideas for them.

The Hub: Where are we?

I think every good campaign has a hub, some kind of settlement that the party returns to between adventures to offload loot, pick up supplies, and sift through the latest gossip to look for the next questhook. Letting the party return to the same place lets them build up a relationship with it, clarifying the picture in their mind as new details are added and they grow more and more attached. It's possible to have multiple hubs over the course of a campaign, but I'd advise really only having one per arc to best concentrate your efforts. Fill up your hub with distractions and side adventures, shorter stories that the party can get tangled up in while the larger adventure slowly reveals itself. Returning to the same hub also means returning to a familiar and expanding cast of NPCs, which helps your party become more and more invested in the setting

The Main Event: What's going to happen?

Here we get to the meat of the issue, the big story you want to be telling using this campaign. To pull off the sick narrative kickflip you wish to perform, you're going to need to lay a lot of groundwork, seeding in details left and right as well as giving the party a chance to stumble across evidence of your schemes without ever realizing the whole thing. To do this, you're going to work in the building blocks of your big reveal/twist/pending disaster into the setting along with those side adventures from the hub. This will give your party an idea that something is going on, but with more pressing matters to take care of they're going to be distracted up until the moment you decide to pull the trigger.

The Setting: What's over there?

While things like genre and tone are definitely things you should have a handle on from the outset, I personally feel like the details of a setting are best constructed on an ad hoc basis, either in a direct response to something required by part of the narrative (be it side story or main event), or pencilled in at the margins as the party explores the world.. That said, creation of the hub and setting often go hand in hand because it's important to match the settlement to the environment and then shape the environment to the quests inside the settlement. As for what's beyond your hub, I happen to have just written something about building out settings.

Now, this next option is one that I recommend you start thinking about only once your campaign is fully underway, so it doesn't clog up your creative process by focusing on something that you might not even get to

The Change: What the fuck?

A little while after the main event has kicked off and your party is off on the quest that will turn them from mere adventurers into heroes, they start to hear rumours of strange happenings. It's certainly not related to the present scenario, it may even be an unexpected windfall, but it's not something they have time to look into. Time ticks on, the land is saved, and the party is able to enjoy their victory lap as well as some dearly needed time off. Before they can get comfortable however they're slammed by some strange occurrence that they could have never predicted that changes the state of the world. A neighbouring kingdom invades, an important ally is murdered and they're blamed for it, a dragon starts rampaging through the realm. Its important that this event is outside the party's skillset, not necessarily diametrically opposed, but counter to what they were planning

artsource

#dm tip #dm advice #writing #dm tips #writing advice #campaign skeleton

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 3 months

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bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

tuesday, zhang hao— string ensemble

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here. ⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ tuesday summary: happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl. can you manage to get out unscathed?

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. dub-con. bullying. stuck up, tattletale hao. this is a doozy. you'll be glad we took it easy monday. smut in gn and fem versions are substantially different due to logistics/circumstance. also i clearly know nothing about playing the violin so just 🤓☝️ pipe down over there, k? ily. actually would love to hear real violinists thoughts on this so hmu. ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3.5)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: foreign object and finger insertion (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), dub-con: hao doesn't have consent before sexually touching reader but reader is turned on by it, cum play, bullying.

DO NOT PUT ROSIN UP YOUR HOO HA YA DINGUS!! purely for entertainment purposes, this fic exists in a world where there aren't consequences for that okay? DON'T. I REPEAT DON'T. DO THIS IRL. okay thank you, love you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.

had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black music chair, smoothing your skirt so that it doesn’t ride up while you play. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides her lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?

and why did it still feel so good?

professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition.

you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.

“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happened during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?

rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.

after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon.

as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.

weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”

it must be some weird power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.

“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.

“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”

“sure,” you agree, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... i think you could use some rosin.”

“what do you—” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and a sudden draft hits your heat as your panties are shoved to the side beneath your skirt. the air leaves your lungs as long, thin fingers dip through your folds and squeeze something cold and smooth inside of you.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “i think that might help your tone.”

“y-you... did you...” you stammer as you gawk at the boy in front of you. your cheeks are beet red at the violation of your sex. you’re in such shock that all you can whisper is, “you can’t put that in... there.”

“an instrument should be well cared for,” he challenges, sinking to his knees and running his hands up and down your bare thighs. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved a foreign object up you without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he backs you against the wall of storage units exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. you step out of them without a word. he lifts your right leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt closer to his face as he holds your hips steady.

he licks a stripe starting just above your opening to your clit as if he wants to taste every inch of you. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his fingers grip into your hips. “definitely needs more rosin.”

he dives back in, lapping at your cunt— tongue flicking your bundle of nerves as your arousal builds. you must’ve fallen into an alternate dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips but all of your worries aren’t eased just yet.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, starting to feel a bit dizzy. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects in between sloppy traces of his tongue. “the average internal temperature of a vagina is 37.5 degrees.”

“but—”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao ridicules, biting gently at your clit. you throw your head back at the sensation as he increases the pressure of his tongue against you. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

“hao,” you beg, his slander just adding to the pleasure you’re feeling as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. he parts your entrance with his fingers, the cake of rosin slipping out into his palm with a crude, wet smack. you both stare at the golden brown block, still perfectly intact but now dripping in your arousal. he drags it down the inside of your thighs, mesmerized by the trail of glistening honey it leaves on your skin. “mm, coated perfectly now.”

he drops the rosin on the floor next to you, replacing the empty space in your pussy with his ring and middle fingers. you gasp at the stretch, clenching involuntarily around him.

“i think you’re ready to play,” hao decides, curling his fingers up inside of you against your front wall and pressing on your clit with his thumb. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

you do as he says, moaning as the pads of his fingers press into your sweet spot again. with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking at your sensitive bud with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of his finger-fucking. it’s all too much for you to handle, your walls spasming around him uncontrollably.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

you can barely hold yourself up, clinging to the shelves on either side of you as hao works you through your high. your breathing returning to normal, he looks up at you as he pulls his fingers out of your pussy— lips pink and glistening with your juices.

he removes your right leg from around his shoulder, eyes locked with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: hand/oral (reader receiving), throat fucking with fingers (reader receiving), dubcon: hao does not have consent before inserting fingers into reader's mouth, reader is turned on by this, cum play, bullying.

IF YOU WANT TO COVER YOUR ROSIN IN CUM, YOU CAN I'M NOT THE BOSS OF YOU but from everything i've read in research for this fic, it will ruin it so maybe don't. up to you tho, babe. love you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black chair, propping your sheet music booklet up onto your music stand. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides your lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

and why did it still feel so good?

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happens during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

it must be some weird, new power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“sure,” you agree with a sigh, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... maybe your bow needs some rosin.”

“you already know it does! what are you even talking—,” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and two long, thin fingers are pushed inside of your mouth.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “a thorough coat to get that perfect sound.”

he cups your jaw with his free hand as he shoves his fingers further into your mouth. you gag slightly as he approaches the back of your throat, your cheeks turning beet red at the violation of your body.

“an instrument should be well cared for,” hao says as he removes his fingers from your lips, unbuttoning your jeans as he guides you to sit down in a black music chair. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved his fingers down your throat without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he sinks down between your legs exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, tugging at them until you finally lift your hips up wordlessly. he discards your underwear next, chuckling sardonically at your continued state of silence.

his lubricated fingers ghost over you, leaving a trail of your own saliva up and down your sex. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his free hand grips your thigh— fingers digging into the soft flesh. “definitely needs more rosin.”

hao pulls your hips closer to him, taking you into his mouth— swirling and sucking at your heat with his tongue. you must’ve fallen into another dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips.

“hao,” you beg, pleasure building as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. “maybe you can even learn something from how i’m playing you. everyone would appreciate that, huh?”

the patronizing insult makes you throb, another whimper falling out of you. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to you, sucking at your most sensitive part with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of hand. it’s all too much for you to handle, your core beginning to spasm.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

hao pulls out the cake of rosin from his back pocket as he works you through your high, bringing it between your legs and covering it in your release. your breathing slowly returning to normal,he runs the sticky rosin down each of your inner thighs.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, both hypnotized and concerned. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects as he coats the rosin in more of your fluids. “your body temperature is 37 degrees.”

“but—.”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao baits, licking up the last remnants of your orgasm for himself. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

his eyes lock with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare up at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

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odinsonslut · 1 year

Text

Young

⊹ genre: Fluff mostly, minimal angst

⊹ pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin female reader

⊹ themes: Friends to lovers

⊹ summary: Fred rejected your advances, claiming you’re too young. You set out to seduce him, which backfires. Unwarranted comments were made in your presence, and George attempted to comfort you, finally explaining his fears and feelings in the process.

⊹ warnings: Swearing, third-party slut-shaming of the reader, mentions of an emotionally toxic relationship, very brief mention of drugs.

⊹ word count: 1.7k

⊹ a/n: I don’t know why I’ve chosen to base this whole fic off of rejection yet again, but It’s completely different to the last, trust. A cute Fred one today because I’ve had a recent fixation on the twins and can’t seem to write for anyone else atm.

Confidence has come naturally to you since the first day you walked through the castle doors. Many would wager that’s why you ended up in Slytherin over Hufflepuff. You’d never had issues letting people know how you felt about them; rejection had never been a concern or a fear simply because your self-assurance wasn’t so easily deteriorated.

This wasn’t ever in question until two weeks ago. You hadn’t thought twice about approaching Fred after months of mutual teasing, or so you thought it was. You went to his spot on Gryffindor’s table in the morning, greeting him with a single pumpkin pasty. You waited till he took a bite out of it before making some quip that you couldn’t seem to, or rather didn’t want to remember, about owing you a kiss and maybe something more in return for it, to which he painfully, tragically mustered a chuckle past his lips, probably the most awkward position I’ve seen him in, before finally finding the words to let you down easily.

“You know I love you endlessly, but we’re friends” He could’ve just as easily stopped there, but he continued.

“You’re just a little too young for me.”

Young

He briefly dated Amelia Farrow last spring, and she’s four months younger than you, so obviously, it wasn’t an age issue. He saw you as immature, a kid. He couldn’t even begin to picture you as attractive in any form. Actually, feeling affected as a result of rejection was unfamiliar; it was scary. How had you allowed yourself to feel enough for a man that your own stability suffered? As a result, you didn’t just feel hurt, you felt inferior, and that was harrowing enough in itself.

You were just beginning to fall into another rant directing every expressional detail from the twitch of his bottom lip to the scrunch in his left brow when you were interrupted by a loud sigh.

“Babe, I couldn’t live a day without you, but swooning over a blood-traitor Weasley is way more than I can handle for the 7th time this morning”, Pansy quipped after a supportive kiss on my cheek.

“Give me a solution then”, you pleaded, faux pouting while hugging her thighs desperately.

“Seduce him, love; you’ve got the best ass on anyone in this entire school. Malfoy tells me he’s got a preference for it, says he lets a lot slip when they’re off smoking muggle grass.”

“Teach me how. You’re probably the only girl in our year every Slytherin male wants to shag a second time.”

It was the first quidditch match of the year, so naturally, you put on your uniform from 3rd year to cheer the team on. Malfoy found your overreaction to rejection amusing, like a fish out of water, to use his words, so he didn’t mind playing the role of the pawn in your game. You spent all game cheering Draco on, making sure you were just enthusiastic enough to attract Fred’s attention.

The game finally came to an end. Gryffindor just barely scraped by, with Harry catching the snitch. I could already see Oliver Wood pushing Fred about, demanding a valid reason for his poor performance during the game. He pushed Wood off of him and stormed off with an exasperated look on his face.

I caught up to him a few feet away, deciding to skip past the jokes, figuring he wasn’t quite in the mood.

“Hey, you okay?” I timidly asked, reaching out to stroke his hand

“You sure move on quick, don’t you?” He spoke harshly, ignoring my question completely

“Are you serious? You reject me, then get mad at my attempts to move past that?” I shoved his shoulder, feigning annoyance. I knew exactly what I was doing, trying to prompt a reaction out of him.

“And what the hell are you wearing? Damn near sent Adrian Pucey spiralling into the benches with your ass out like that.”

“So I had both team’s beaters distracted, huh?”

“I wasn’t distracted so much as horrified.” He immediately followed

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up, weasel. You’re literally still staring at my tits.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t put that outfit on for me to stare at?” He whispered as we came to a halt just outside the quidditch changing rooms

To my dismay, I couldn’t think of anything to do or say but scoff at him, to which his grin grew even bigger.

He turned to leave, my brain regaining activity without the pressure of his eyes in contact with mine.

“I put it on so you’d have a clearer image to jack off to tonight.”

I headed back to my dorm before he could get another word in.

I approached the great hall hand in hand with Daphne Greengrass, completely satisfied with the way I left things with Fred yesterday, convinced I’d won. The smile on my face immediately dropped as I heard the conversation taking place at the Gryffindor table.

“- he’s even got a Slytherin girl in his pocket, dressing up like a little slut just for him.”

“Tell me, Weasley, does she like it rough?”

“Seems like the kind of girl that’d take it in the back.”

Your heart dropped as you heard comments from miscellaneous men in the house, jeering over each other, collectively patting an angry-looking Fred on his back and shoulders in a congratulatory manner.

We made eye contact. Before the men at his table sensed my presence, too, I broke away from Daphne and sprinted out of the Hall. I sank by a tree in front of the lake as I took shallow breaths.

What hurts is that every assumption they made about my character felt deserving. When did I become the girl so desperate for one man’s attention that I so pathetically made myself more sexually desirable in his eyes? So that his lust would cloud his judgement and throw me lay at the very least? I hadn’t even realised how delirious I was acting and how painfully obvious it was to everyone but me just how much more I clung to the idea of him. It was like a montage of clarity was playing in my brain, of the way I continued running up to the Gryffindor common room every morning, taking every opportunity to make what I thought was subtle physical contact with him. God.

I let out a little yelp when I finally opened my eyes. Fred sat right next to me, leaning his head against the tree the same way I was.

“God, you scared me half to death! fucking cunt” I muttered the last part, allowing my anger to peak through

“I had Malfoy help me make sure those guys’ mouths stay shut. I’m sorry you had to hear that, and I’m sorry they were able to say more than two words without me hexing them and their mothers, to begin with. None of what any of them said is worth your care. They heard us talking outside the changing rooms yesterday. They’re all jealous little virgins that have-

“They were things I needed to hear” I cut him off before he fell into a rant that honestly wouldn’t have made a difference to the way I felt.

He looked at me incredulously, struggling to find the words to respond.

“I was seeking your attention so incredibly desperately. It embarrasses me to think about it. You said no; I should’ve respected that and left it as it was. I took your reasoning personally, and for the way I’ve acted since that day, I apologise, truly,” I continued.

He sighed. “I only said what I said out of fear. I’m sure you remember I briefly dated a Hufflepuff girl in your year, Amelia. I made a mistake getting involved with her. She didn’t know how to separate love from attachment, and it got to a point her dependence on me started affecting her mental well-being, along with mine. Nobody saw much of me during the time we were dating because I was just so caught up with making sure she was okay since she relied on me completely. I didn’t realise I was even allowed to have boundaries at all in a relationship. She constantly made me feel selfish and uncaring for wanting space or even just time with my family. When you told me how you felt about me, I had recovered from the relationship, but I hadn’t yet allowed myself to consider a future relationship with another person. I said what I thought I needed to say to avoid our relationship turning into the one I had with Amelia. But ever since you told me how you felt about me, it made me realise nothing about us has ever been platonic to me. I have never thought of you that way, and even when I tried to, I didn’t know how to look at you in any other way than lovingly. I feel so much for you. I could see myself loving you so easily. I’m just really afraid. I don’t know if I’m ready to navigate that all over again.”

It took me a while to respond, taking in everything he said in a state of such vulnerability. I noticed a stray tear on my skirt; it was his. I immediately reached out to hold his hands in comfort. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off yet again.

“I will never allow anyone to say a word against you ever again, love.” He added

“I care a lot about you, Fred. I reacted the way I did, with such force and conviction, because it’s unfamiliar to me too, feeling so deeply for someone. Whatever you want to come from this, we can do. I want to learn to keep my independence through my feelings for you. I don’t think declaring something more than friendship will change things between us overnight, and I think all we need to do is keep being us.”

“Okay”, he responded timidly but surely.

He could’ve just stopped there, but I’d come to learn that’s never something to expect from him.

“I absolutely did jack off to you last night, though.”

I kicked him in the shin as we walked back to the castle, hand in hand.

End

✩ I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE ANY OF MY WRITING POSTED ON ANY EXTERNAL WEBSITES ✩

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dawnbreakersgaze · 24 days

Text

NOPE

NO THANK YOU

I don't like the way those are lining up AT ALL.

"Broken free of the shackles of natural law"

We've heard/seen Zayne be referenced as "shackled" at least 3 times before at this point. By Raymond, by the 'Narrator' ("remains shackled to time"), and in reference to the Foreseer myth. This makes the 4th. I genuinely hurt every single time the story so heavy handidly reminds me that Zayne really is a dog on a chain. The Foreseer robes even have a LITERAL collar of thorns over the neck of it ffs. It's painful to watch at this point and it breaks my heart.

"Why persuade Zayne? What he really needs is a pair of hands. Ones that can carry out God's mission and allow for God's descent."

Between this, and the one below of-

"At least he has another option. His last one"

I'm torn on which one is referencing Astra. On one hand, Astra really could be a modern made "God". An elevated man of great power, someone Zayne turned to in his 11th hour to try and save MC (though we all know how that turned out, unfortunately). It would seem that Xander Sciences is playing at God, and if we know anything about the sci-fi scene, it's that human experimentation ALWAYS ends up going ~soooo well~ and nothing ever goes wrong there 👀

On the other hand, the "last option" really gets my gut feeling going. My theorist brain is telling me Zayne is gonna go full Warlock pact and make a deal with an entity in exchange for MC's life. Only it's gonna go tits up and be a Fey pact, and because we all know how MC and he end up, clearly Zayne did NOT read the fine print (or more likely, Zayne thought he could out maneuver the rules). Ever since I read the Mt Eternal anecdote and realized the Tower and Mt Eternal are in the same location, I could not shake the feeling that Zayne already has made contact with whatever "Astra" is. Be it a very powerful person, an actual God, or someone else entirely different (like another time traveler, such as Xavier and the backtrackers). We know he's traveling back there multiple times by himself, conducting research of an unknown variety, that only he and Dr. Noah are privy to. I'm just saying if ever there was a cover up for having contact with a supernatural being/aliens/a God, that's a really fucking good one.

Whatever it is, this new lore drop has really really spelled out in big bold letters, that Zayne is thought of as a tool by a LOT of people. Xander Sciences, Astra, even the Dean of the medical academy had a moment there. My poor man even thinks of himself as a tool, one that is meant to save MC (from himself he even says at one point 😭😭😭 like oh my God Zayne stoppppp). He literally considers himself expendable so long as he saves her. Once he's done his job and secured her future, even if that means passing on the ability to save her to someone else, he's fine laying down his life for that.

And that's seriously the saddest part of this whole fucking game imo.

#lnds #love and deepspace #zayne #lads #l&ds #love & deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lore and theories #i'll revisit this tomorrow but it's 4 am and my brain is buzzing with way too much information #i need to re-read everything 10× to make sure im understanding it all ACK

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gunnerfc · 2 months

Text

Needy | Cloé Lacasse x CanWNT!Reader

Summary: the time you spend away from your girlfriend during the season has you feeling needy during the international break {reader plays in Australia}

Warning: suggestive throughout and implied smut at the end!

WC: 2.3K

AN: in honor of Arsenal’s cunty cup win even tho she wasn’t there lmao 😭 & to the anon that requested, I hope you enjoy!

You sighed as your back hit the soft hotel mattress, exhausted from the long flight from Australia. You were grateful the staff had given you your own room for this camp since you were going to be arriving much later than the rest of your teammates. The one downside to arriving at camp much later was that by the time you arrived at the hotel, all of your teammates were in bed asleep. Which meant you would have to wait till breakfast in the morning to see Cloé.

Playing for different clubs did have its downsides, especially when it came to being intimate with your girlfriend. While you were excited to be back with the team and to play for your country, the main thing you were looking forward to this camp was finally being able to see Cloé. The entire week leading up to camp the blonde took it upon herself to tease you about how needy you were, knowing it was going to make you need her more.

You quickly got up from the bed to do everything you needed before bed, you were determined to get as much sleep as possible so you could wake up a bit early so you had time to see your girlfriend before breakfast. You set your alarm as you got comfortable in bed, your excitement about seeing the blonde in a few short hours was rising with each second.

You groaned at the annoyingly loud sound blaring from your phone, the sun’s bright light shining through the curtains. You opened your eyes slightly to turn your alarm off, stretching your arms as you sat up in the hotel bed. Taking a deep, relaxed breath you moved to get out of bed to get ready, you needed to see Cloé as soon as possible. After getting dressed and doing everything you needed, you were out the door and down the hall toward your girlfriend’s room.

You knew which room she was in since Quinn had texted you while you were on the flight that they were rooming with the blonde. You stopped outside the door, lightly knocking just in case both players were still asleep. A minute passed before Quinn opened the door.

“Morning, y/n/n. You just missed her,” the midfielder spoke as they leaned against the doorframe.

You furrowed your eyes in confusion, your girlfriend hated getting up earlier than she needed and you both had agreed to meet before breakfast. You huffed as you told Quinn you were sorry if you had woken them up before you headed towards the large conference room at the end of the hall.

You should have known this was a part of Cloé’s teasing, she was trying to make you desperate for her. Which was working. It had been so long since you simply felt her touch or even kissed her and it was starting to get to you. As you entered the large room, a few of your teammates were already eating and talking about the upcoming games against The United States.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for the blonde but you rolled your eyes when you didn’t see her. Knowing Cloé you knew she would wait till the last minute to show up and eat, which wouldn’t give you any time to actually talk to her. The rest of your teammates slowly started filling the room, the table you were sitting at now full, and still no sign of the winger.

You ate in silence, tuning out your teammates as they spoke around you. As you finished your food, Cloé strolled into the room, a smirk gracing her features as her eyes immediately found you and she saw your expression. You were right in thinking she was doing this on purpose, the blonde loved to tease you and she knew this would drive you crazy. Cloé took her seat at a different table, her eyes drifting your way as she waited for you to notice she was there.

As you listened to Jessie and Jordyn talk about how they are now rivals in the NWSL, you looked around the room hoping to see your girlfriend. Your eyes locked with hers quickly given that she was already looking at you and you felt your breathing pick up a bit. You tried to show you were upset with her but when a smirk appeared and she sent you a wink, you had to look away from her.

She didn’t speak to you at all on the walk towards the bus after breakfast and made an effort to avoid you the entire time. To anyone else, it would look like the two of you were fighting and avoiding each other, but you knew this was a game to her. She wanted you to be desperate and begging for her later and if things stayed the way they were, thats what was going to happen.

You took your seat near the back of the bus, waiting for the blonde to sit down next to you. No matter what, Cloé always sat next to you on the bus and you didn’t think this was going to change. Yet, as you watched her take a seat next to Sabs, you were proven wrong. You huffed as you sat back against the seat and turned to look out the window. You needed training to go by quickly so you could get back to the hotel and so Cloé could finally do all the things she said she would over text.

You watched the scenery pass by as the bus headed towards the stadium and your attention was pulled away from the city when you felt your phone vibrate against your lap.

cloé <3: you look cute when your pissed, baby

You rolled your eyes at her text, you couldn’t see her face right now but you didn’t need to know she had a teasing grin on her face.

you: I wouldn’t be so pissed if you would stop ignoring me

Cloé was only a few seats in front of you and with the bus quieter than normal, you could hear the blonde laugh lightly. Another piece of evidence that she was enjoying how she messing with you.

cloé <3: where’s the fun in that baby

You rolled your eyes at her response, opting to not respond to her because you knew she would just continue to tease you and you weren’t sure you could handle that. A few minutes later the bus pulled into the stadium and the team was heading toward the locker room to get ready. This would be the first time you would be close to the blonde given your numbers were next to each other and you smiled to yourself that she couldn’t avoid you fully.

Cloé was already in her cubby when you entered the room and you quickly joined her. She was in a deep conversation with Dri when you sat down, her back turned toward you as she ignored that you had sat down. You shook your head slightly as you changed your shirt, completely missed when Cloé turned to watch you as you changed. Her eyes scanned your partially bare torso as you changed before quickly turning her head when you were done.

She might be the one teasing you because she enjoyed how easy it was to make you beg, but not touching you or talking to you, was driving her crazy. Cloé debated with herself as everyone finished up, her need to kiss you won out. Your teammates started filtering out of the locker room and before you could stand, Cloé’s hand moved your thigh as she forced you back to your seat.

The simple touch from the blonde had your skin heating up and your breathing once again picked up at the feeling of her hands on you for the first time in months. As the last few teammates left the room, Cloé stood from the cubby, pulling you with her. When you were face to face for the first time today, the blonde pulled you into a deep kiss. Your hands moved to rest against the sides of her neck as hers held tightly to your waist. You moaned at the feeling of her lips against yours and the winger pulled you tighter against her.

You both pulled away when air became a problem, both of you breathing heavily. “Sorry for avoiding you, baby,” the blonde smirked as she gave you a quick peck.

“No, you aren’t,” you huffed, still trying to control your breathing. The blonde laughed at your words before she pulled away from you. She grabbed your hand as she pulled you out the door and towards the pitch.

You ignored the whistles from a few of your teammates, you didn’t care about their teasing after you finally got to kiss your girlfriend. Having Cloé’s hands on you for a short moment wasn’t enough, you needed more but you knew nothing would happen until you got back to the hotel.

During each piece of training, Cloé made sure to stand furthest away from you and avoided you whenever you were given a break. Each time you caught her eye, she would either smirk or wink at you to mess with you. Each time you felt your skin heat up and you knew had to quickly look away from her.

It wasn’t until you were running through corner attempts that she touched you again. As you stood near the penalty spot, waiting for the ball to be delivered into the box, you felt a pair of hands rest on your hips. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was Cloé and you could feel just how close she was to you.

“Hi, baby,” the blonde whispered into your ear as you watched Jessie raise her hand to signal the ball was coming. Cloé held on to your practice top, keeping you almost flushed against her as you tried to move into a free area to attempt a header. You watched as the ball sailed over your head toward the back post before it was headed over the crossbar.

You turned to glare at the blonde but were met with a teasing grin and your glare was long gone. Cloé winked at you before turning to walk away from you. You shook your head to clear your thoughts, your head filled with inappropriate images of you and the blonde that certainly weren’t helping. Training dragged on for much longer than you would have liked and you groaned as you sat back down in the locker room.

You quickly changed your shirt and shoes, opting to take a shower back at the hotel once you got back. You ignored your girlfriend next to you, knowing that if she simply spoke to you, you would most likely start begging for her to touch you differently than how she did earlier.

You were one of the first ones back on the bus, taking the same seat as the first time. You weren’t expecting Cloé to sit next to you this time, but you knew it was a part of her plan. You stared at the back of the seat that was in front of you, but you could tell Cloé was staring at you.

Once the bus took off, Cloé’s hand was back on your thigh as she squeezed your thigh lightly to get your attention. You swallowed lightly before turning to look at your girlfriend, an annoying attractive smirk once again gracing her features. There was no one across the aisle so the blonde took it upon herself to pull you into a kiss. You had to control your moans, not wanting anyone to hear you.

Your lips fought for dominance, roughly moving against each other before Cloé pulled back. Your hand shot up to your mouth before a whine escaped your lips and you kept it there as Cloé’s lips found the side of your neck. Your eyes rolled back as the blonde sucked dark marks along your skin as a way to claim what was hers.

You had to force down the moans that were threatening to leave your mouth and you were thankful that the bus had reached the hotel. When Cloé pulled back from your neck, she moved your hand from your move before giving you a quick kiss. She made sure the two of you were the last two off the bus, hoping to give all your teammates and staff enough time to empty the lobby.

The two of you waited by yourselves for an elevator, your breathing hadn’t slowed since Cloé kissed you on the bus and the excitement that filled your body was driving you crazy. If you didn’t have your girlfriend’s hands on (in) you soon, you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. You were grateful when the elevator came back down and you two were still the only ones waiting.

Being alone in an elevator with Cloé was not helping you, but you were so close to getting what you wanted. You could feel how wet you were already and you were sure that Cloé had an idea as well. When the elevator doors opened, you all but dragged the blonde toward your room and quickly unlocked the door before pulling both of you inside.

Before you could process it, your back was flush with the door and Cloé’s lips were back on yours. The winger’s hands moved to lift your shirt and bra from your body as her hands roamed your naked torso.

“Please,” you whined as you pulled back from her, your girlfriend’s hands on you were driving you crazy but you needed more from her.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Cloé smirked as her lips met yours in another deep kiss. The blonde guided you deeper into your hotel room before your back met the soft hotel mattress, Cloé’s lips never leaving yours.

While you hated being away from the blonde for long periods, the time you had together after being apart was very exciting and you would never complain about her teasing if it meant having her make up for it giving you multiple orgasms, which she did that night.

#woso x reader #awfc x reader #canwnt x reader #cloé lacasse x reader #cloé lacasse #arsenal wfc x reader

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so-so-woso · 6 months

Text

i wanna be the one | part 3

Summary: Your first season at Arsenal as told by the highlights of your relationship with Leah Williamson. I don’t know how to write summaries, but this one is mostly angst tbh.

Disclaimer: Artistic liberties were taken in regards to Leah’s thoughts, feelings, and opinions as described in the fourth section. I am not/was not trying to extrapolate any of her actual thoughts, feelings, or opinions about anything mentioned in that section.

Word Count: 3,668

The next couple of months went by pretty quickly, all things considered. There were ups, there were downs, you got your first minutes against Brighton that was a bit of both. It was exciting and you were glad you finally got to play, but you let in a second-half goal that tied the match. A draw was a draw, and not a loss, and it was just one goal, and no one else seemed particularly upset with you specifically, but you certainly were. You imagined it was obvious that goalkeepers don’t like giving up goals, but logically you knew they would happen. It just sucked that you felt like you let the team down in your first real chance to play. After the game, you had gone home and immediately threw up, then lay on your living room floor for a couple hours before going to bed at 7 pm. You had always been someone who took things hard, even as a kid, but this one seemed to hit a little bit harder, presumably because you had already been feeling like you didn’t deserve to be here. But then again, you had pretty much always felt like that too, even as a kid. The worse part, probably, was that it also always made you feel stupid – because on the good days, you felt like you knew the truth, how everyone else saw it, how it was. But on the bad days, you couldn’t see anything but how horrible you were at everything you tried to do. That day was a bad day. Luckily, the next few were pretty good.

Before you knew it, it was March, and you were at Leah’s house celebrating her birthday with the team. You had all gone out to dinner, and then back to hers for cake and drinks. You weren’t really sure if presents were part of the deal, so you had made sure to wear a jacket with a big enough pocket to keep yours in, in case they weren’t part of the deal. You supposed you could’ve asked someone, but you were pretty sure some of the others were starting to pick up on the fact that your flirting with Leah wasn’t entirely a joke. Beth and McCabe had both straight out asked you about it once, and both had also quietly informed you that she didn’t date teammates. Katie had actually said that she didn’t date teammates anymore, but wouldn’t say anything else about it and you didn’t want to press, despite being curious. But none of that seemed to dissuade Leah from letting you flirt with her, or flirting with you back. It was still really confusing, but if it was all she would give you, then you would take it. You would also realize of course that this wasn’t entirely healthy, but there were worse vices to have.

So there you were, sitting crowded on a couch in Leah’s living room with your teammates, laughing at Kim and Beth sing karaoke – or try to sing karaoke anyway. You felt like you could say that since you had already embarrassed yourself twice doing the same thing. You had retired from your karaoke career and squeezed onto the couch next to Viv to enjoy the rest of the evening. It was honestly a really good time, and probably one you preferred to the nights you would all go out somewhere. They were fun in a different way, you supposed, but they did usually always end up just reminding you that you really were an introvert no matter how much you would pretend otherwise.

You had caught Leah’s eye a few times throughout the evening, but hadn’t managed to really get in a conversation with her yet, so you ended up spacing out on the couch trying to think of excuses you could make to get her alone. Everything you ended up thinking of would definitely be more obvious than you wanted, though, so ultimately you just stayed awkwardly on the couch for a couple more hours. Eventually people started filtering out, and as much as you wanted to linger, you knew that not only would that be obvious, but with the way Beth was going, she was going to be here for quite a while longer, or until Viv managed to drag her out.

You decided to say your goodbyes and throw one last quip at Katie over your shoulder, who threw a pillow back at you. You laughed and bent down to pick it up and throw it back, but Leah beat you to the punch.

“Don’t throw shit in my house, McCabe,” she called as she tossed it back across the room. Looking up at you then, she said quietly, “I’ll walk you out,” and you felt her hand on the back of your arm as she led you towards the door.

You became uniquely aware of both the soft pressure of her hand and the hard shape of the gift hidden in your pocket pressing against your stomach. You had somehow managed to ignore it all night, but now with her touching you, even as innocently as she had, it was like your senses had shot through the roof. You felt your nerves just begin to buzz as you reached the door and she pulled her hand away, which almost made you more nervous somehow.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, the consummate host.

You smiled and nodded, and said of course, your hand snaking into your pocket to retrieve the gift you’d stored there. You had apparently hesitated long enough that she knew you had something else to say. She looked at you expectantly and you felt that familiar surge of anxiety twist deep in your gut. Suddenly, all of this felt really, really stupid, and you could feel the burning start across your cheeks. You knew Leah could see it, too, from the look of slow growing concern on her face. You mumbled something incoherent and shook your head, pulling your hand from your pocket – empty – and reaching instead for the door. You opened it too quickly and too forcefully, and Leah was still looking at you like she wanted to ask what was wrong, but wasn’t sure if she should, and having her eyes on you made it all so much worse.

You took one step outside and hesitated – a small step for man and a giant leap for cowardice, it felt. You suddenly hated yourself again. Everything was always so easy when it didn’t mean anything, but the second something mattered all you could ever think about was how badly you would fuck it up. But you’ve made it this far into the evening, it would be stupider to just leave, right?...right?

You spun on your heel, and Leah was leaning against the doorframe staring at you. You hated it when she stared at you, almost as much as you loved it. You swallowed hard, and shoved your hand back in your pocket, this time quickly removing the red-wrapped rectangle before your brain had time to consider otherwise.

“Here,” you said. How polite.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at yourself.

“S-sorry, I—I didn’t know what you would want, so I just…it’s my favorite book. You don’t have to—it’s stupid, you don’t have to read it,” you rambled, and she let you, before she reached out to take it from you and held it against her chest as you watched you.

“Thank you,” was all she said. You sighed again and turned away, but your feet wouldn’t move away and your mind wouldn’t either, so you turned back to her.

“It meant a lot to me, when I was kid, after my parents…and, um, then I read it again as an adult and it’s like…it meant more, I guess.”

“…I don’t think that’s stupid.”

You could only hum in response, eyes dropping again for a long moment as you returned to choking down the embarrassment that had started swelling back up in your throat. Then finally, graciously, a firmness settled in your spine and you met her gaze again. God, you really liked looking at her.

“Happy birthday, Williamson.”

A beautiful grin spread across her face in response.

“There she is,” she said, and you knew exactly what she meant. Fear and Doubt and Bad Days made you someone else, and you knew you would have to explain it to her and the rest of the team at some point. Tonight had probably sped up that process quite a bit, but you didn’t think you can handle it right now, and you knew she wouldn’t make you. But she had smiled at you, and that made you smile back, and you felt Good again.

“Good night.”

“…good night, Y/N.”

Yeah, you thought, maybe it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leah tore her ACL in April. That sucked, for a multitude of reasons – mostly for her, obviously, but it still made you feel sick too. You, and pretty much everyone else remotely invested in English football, hated that she’d miss the World Cup. This was supposed to be England’s year, and it could still be, but it wouldn’t be the same without Leah. It wasn’t really comparable, but you’d broken your collarbone once in college and missed most of the season, and you knew how badly that made you feel, even when the team did well without you. Especially when they did well without you. You knew she’d pretend it was okay because things like this happen, but you also knew she probably wasn’t really okay.

You had called her the evening it happened and left a voicemail: “Hey, it’s Y/N. Um, I know you’ve probably got like a thousand people trying to talk to you, so no worries but I just…I don’t know, I just…I wanted you to know I was thinking about you, and if you needed anything or wanted anything or literally anything, just, um…just let me know. Okay, um, bye.” Super smooth. When you woke up the next morning, you saw that she had texted you back ‘thanks’ at some point during the night. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that was all she had said, but you knew she would probably have a rough time for a while and that she had plenty of people supporting her, so like with everything else, you would take whatever she’d let you have.

The next few weeks saw you surviving on similar crumbs. You had gone to see her a few times with the team, and you’d text back and forth occasionally, but you really wished you could just go talk to her by yourself. You knew, of course, you didn’t really have a good reason to, though. You were friends, you guessed, and that was probably reason enough, but you wanted to see her and help her and take care of her, and that wasn’t your place however badly you wanted it to be. So, like everything else, you sucked it up and swallowed it down and did everything you could to pretend it didn’t bother you.

And then after her surgery she texted you again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

leah: i read your book

leah: it was good

leah: it made me cry

y/n: that wasn’t the intention

leah: no but in a good way

leah: i get why you like it

leah: it reminded me a lot of you

y/n: in a good way?

leah: yeah mostly

y/n: mostly?

leah: yeah

leah: it was sweet and funny

leah: but also sad

y/n: you think i’m sad?

leah: i think you are sometimes

leah: sorry

leah: was that too much?

y/n: no you’re right

y/n: it’s just a whole thing

leah: do you want to talk about it?

y/n: yeah

y/n: but not like this

leah: do you want to come over?

y/n: like right now?

leah: whenever

y/n: okay

y/n: is monday okay?

leah: yeah if that’s what you want

y/n: yeah

y/n: okay

y/n: cool

y/n: i can bring dinner

y/n: i know you can’t cook on your best days

leah: fuck off

leah: but yeah bring dinner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was the first time the two of you had really hung out totally alone, which you thought you had wanted but now that you’re actually here, sitting in Leah’s kitchen, you felt kind of stupid again. You poked around at the food you had brought, taking small slow bites here and there, while the two of you talked. It was, honestly, pretty awkward. You started with small talk, then talked about Leah’s injury and her surgery and her rehab, and the upcoming end of Arsenal’s season, the upcoming World Cup, pretty much everything but what you probably should’ve talked about. Eventually you finished dinner, and Leah offered another glass of wine and suggested you move to the living room. At that your throat dried up faster than the conversation had. You hesitated for a moment, but after about two seconds of watching her hobble around you took to your feet and began clearing the table. She told you not to, but that didn’t stop you, and she didn’t try any harder to stop you either. She lingered for awhile, though, in the kitchen, watching you, before moving over to the living room herself and settling on the couch. You brought the glasses and the wine, and made a point to sit on the opposite side of the sofa.

The silence continued for a few more moments before Leah finally broke it.

“So…did you want to talk?”

“Right, I tell you my trauma, you tell me yours?”

“I don’t think I have any trauma.”

“…are you sure?”

“…no.”

Her reply was quiet and she shifted in her seat as she took a long drink from her glass. You did the same, and let the silence settle again. This time it did so softly, and despite the fact that the conversation was about to turn more serious, you were lacking your earlier awkwardness. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just the time spent, but this for some reason felt more comfortable – the two of you sitting in the dim light of Leah’s living room, speaking with quiet words and loud stares. You basked in the silence for several moments, both of you musing over your own aforementioned traumas-or-perceived-lack-thereof, while you let the little bit of alcohol you’d consumed solidify your spine. Eventually, you drew in a depth breath and began.

“So, the beginning, then?”

And you talked. About your childhood, your parents, and the car accident. About moving to Texas, your grandmother, and how much she tried for you. About how sick and sad and unhappy you had felt all the time. About how playing football was one of the only times you felt okay. About playing in college, and how you got drafted to Seattle, and about how you came to Arsenal, and how much you loved it. About how good and fortunate and lucky you knew you were to be able to play professional football. About how you still felt sick and sad and unhappy all the time. About how it always lingered, no matter what you did or where you were. About how stupid it made you feel, to both know your worth and think you’re worthless. About how no one really knew any of that, because you had gotten really good at lying.

You cried a little bit. So did she. And then she talked. About how she didn’t date teammates, and about how much the last time had hurt. About how she wasn’t the one who had ended it, but she was the one who had made it bad, and about how she’d never admitted as much out loud before. About the constant pressure she was under, and how she tried so hard to use it instead of being crushed but sometimes it felt too heavy to lift. About how much she loved football, and how much she hated the attention she was getting because of it. About how much she really did try to use that attention to refocus on more important things, and how exhausting it could all get. About how devastated she was to miss the World Cup, and how some small part of her was glad for the excuse. About how no one really knew any of that, because she had gotten really good at lying.

And there you sat, two liars being honest with each other. It wasn’t long before the silence wrapped warmly around you again, this time both of you content to linger in it as long as you could – but if you were being honest, you guessed there was something else you should probably add.

“…do you want to know another secret?” you said quietly, unable to keep the corner of your lip from twitching though able to bite back the smile. She huffed a breathless laugh, and gave a small yeah as she wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt.

“It’s my birthday.”

Her face fell suddenly, confused, and her brow furrowed – which funnily enough you realized just then was a look that you had sorely missed.

“What? When?”

“Now. Today.”

“Today's your birthday?”

You didn’t bother fighting the small smile that pulled at your face then, and you nodded. Leah twisted around then, quicker than you’d seen her move all evening, and with her good leg kicked you in the calf, twice.

“What the fuck – why the fuck didn’t you say something!?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really – I don’t really celebrate stuff,” you said, pulling your leg away and feigning a few slaps towards her foot. “I just – I wanted to hang out with you.”

She huffed then, crossing her arms across her chest, visibly annoyed that you kept this secret for last. You sighed and pulled your legs further away, then decided to retreat entirely, standing up to gather both your glasses and the wine bottle.

“…is that why you picked today? To come see me?”

Her voice was softer, more akin to your earlier conversation and absent any tone of irritation. You turned to look down at her, and saw that her face was absent irritation as well, the brow-furrow gone and the look in her eyes asking all the questions her mouth wouldn’t.

You straightened up, the quiet confirmation leaving your lips before you even thought the word yes. You hesitated as you heard yourself, then turned and continued into the kitchen. You heard the couch shifting behind you and by the time you had finished cleaning up she had joined you, leaning against the kitchen table.

“You like me,” she said, lilting, and it was your turn to huff then.

“Yeah, I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, but…you like me.”

You rolled your eyes at her slow tone shift, having now morphed pretty fully into teasing. You dropped the kitchen towel you’d been absently folding on to the countertop and took a single step towards her, closing the gap between you save for a few inches.

“Yeah, I do. Should I be more obvious?” you mocked back.

“I don’t think you could be more obvious. Neon sign, maybe.”

“I could get one, I know a guy.”

“You know a neon sign guy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been in London for like four months and you have a neon sign guy?”

“Maybe I have a lot of neon needs.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea, I don’t even know.”

You were practically talking on top of each other, and you only realized you were also practically standing on top of each other when you felt Leah’s knuckles brush against your stomach. You cut yourself off and looked down at her hand, clutching the front of your shirt. When had she grabbed you? You didn’t know, and looking back up at her face, she didn’t know either, but you were both suddenly very aware of it. Her hand fell free and she took a step back, as did you, turning back to the counter and again absently reaching out to straighten the towel you’d dropped moments before.

“I should go,” you said, turning then towards the door instead of her. “Practice in the morning—”

“—yeah, of course,” she interjected, moving to meet you at the door. You both reached it at about the same time, and both tried to pull it open. You backed off, then she did, and then you did again, this time with a gesture for her to move in. She did, and the door opened, and you stepped outside with an apology.

“Sorry,” you said, finally turning back around and looking at her, chewing on the inside of her own cheek as she leaned against the door.

“No, it’s – um, I had a nice time.”

“Yeah!” you returned, a hair too excitedly. “Uh, yeah, it was…it was really nice to see you. Like away from everybody else. Not that everybody else isn’t cool, too, it’s just…yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you repeated. She laughed softly at that, and so did you, and you both mumbled quiet good nights but neither of you moved. You just stood there on her doorstep with your hands in your pockets, and she stood leaning against the door, biting her own lip. And then suddenly something in the moment bent around you. It didn’t quite break, it just urged you slightly forward, where you pressed your lips against her cheekbone.

When you moved to pull away she turned her head and there were her lips, a mere inch from yours. You both froze, still as stone, daring the other to move. But for however long you stood there, she didn’t, and you didn’t either, and then you turned and walked away. Whatever had its hooks in you couldn’t quite break just yet.

But you could wait, you thought again. You would wait.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenal x reader

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alexiethymia · 3 months

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I have a lot of thoughts.

Ok so I loved it. It was cheesy but I do love the entire hotel’s dynamic. They’re such a messed up found family. It was sweet as hell (pun intended) that they all stayed for Charlie and their home (gosh darn it, the hotel’s become home for them)!

The duet between Chaggie was adorable.

BUT BUT the last two episodes only cemented my intrigue with Charlastor. I do love fanon Charlastor.

But their canon dynamic on its own is so interesting. Like it doesn’t have to be romantic.

It’s in the way he didn’t immediately deal for her soul and yet we just know the deal is going to be heartbreaking.

It’s in the way despite his touch-aversion he is STILL so touchy with her. Like I always thought that it was power play, and to some extent it still is. But he already got the deal he wanted from her, and yet he still caresses her hair, pinches her cheeks, loops her arm around his in some parody of a gentleman’s hold?? (So so touchy, and it even seems different in the past that it seems almost friendly. It was weirdly adorable how proud he was in showing off Cannibal Town to Charlie). Sure it may be manufactured, but part of me thinks that part of it is unconscious because he displays a level of comfort with her similar to what he displays with Rosie, with his friends in other words. He’s called her ‘charming’ twice now!

It’s in the way that despite that Charlie has always been the underdog and mocked, in his own sadistic way, he HAS always believed in her (even as he still thinks it’s all for his own amusement). Even if he’s only using her there’s something to be said that he’s always believed her side was the winning side. He parallels Vaggie in that way I think. He seems proud of her (like seriously I wouldn’t expect him to actually smile sincerely with Charlie’s heartfelt declaration of love for all of them - him of all sinners!) AND here’s the thing, I could easily believe he thinks he will leave everyone high and dry if it’s a choice between him or them. He’s in it for himself after all. But when he sings about seeing and polishing Charlie’s potential, yeah it’s definitely villainous, but it’s striking that whatever mysterious endgame he has in the future still seems to include her.

And the most striking thing for me! We now know that his staff is his weakness, possibly a large source of his power. AND what this heartless sinner who trusts no one hands it over to Charlie?? Twice? He literally puts his weakness in her hands? It shows that (despite not admitting to it) he trusts in Charlie’s inherent goodness that she won’t take advantage of his vulnerability, because for some reason I don’t see him doing that with anyone else.

Charlie and Alastor are foils. Their dynamic forms a crucial part of the show. Absolute goodness versus absolute evil is boring. Alastor’s villainous breakdown is prepping the audience for a heartbreaking betrayal. But again it would be a boring development to watch if Alastor was his usual smug and evil self through it all. For it to have weight, Alastor also has to go through inner turmoil as well. Corrupt the cutie is a favorite trope for a reason. But who’s corrupting who? From Alastor’s breakdown, it’s clear he’s not as in control of everything anymore. I love love Alastor’s unwilling, conflicting, growing attachment to the hotel (which is best shown through his relationship with Charlie, though I would hope he develops his relationships with the other hotel residents too).

And it would be so interesting (and satisfying! and heartbreaking) if Charlie ends up playing Alastor at his own game. If Charlie is the one factor that Alastor doesn’t see coming because he (shock!) actually DOES trust her. In other words, in the same way Charlie (and the hotel) is influencing Alastor to become softer (and in his view, weak), what if Charlie does end up being influenced enough by Alastor’s mentoring that she ends up becoming all the more ruthless. Because I can see a scenario where Charlie ends up ‘betraying’ Alastor for what she deems a justified reason. Alastor’s ruthlessness with the self-righteousness of an angel? Whoo boy. There would be so many layers of dramatic irony there that Alastor’s plan of corrupting Charlie ends up working so well but it ends up hurting him because she’s the chink that manages to get past that smiling armor.

And compounding this inevitable tragedy is the knowledge that this could have all been avoided. Alastor trusts her, but it seems like it’s not enough or his urge for control still wins out in the end. Because for me there was no need to go through a deal. If it’s Charlie, she wouldn’t abandon Alastor and she’d do everything to help free him if that’s what the deal was for because that’s the only deal I can think of that wouldn’t require Charlie to hurt anyone.

Unless the deal isn’t about that. Unless typical power-hungry Alastor’s goal really is to depose Lucifer and to rule Hell. Because Charlie definitely wouldn’t help in that (unless she was forced to through their deal) but perhaps there’s something only she can do that ends up handing power over to Alastor.

That is to say Chaggie fulfills that itch for stability and a happy ending. Charlastor fulfills that itch for angst and push-and-pull. From the beginning, it’s been a tug of war and a battle of wills between Charlie and Alastor and I’m glad to see that theme has remained in the show. Alastor will be the truest test of Charlie’s belief in redemption. It’s exciting to see who’ll win out. Will Alastor corrupt her first or will Charlie redeem him first?

Like I thought I’d only see this is in fic, but heck I didn’t think we would actually get a group hug with Alastor but wow omg I can’t believe we actually got it in the show proper!

That is to say this long spiel is just to say that the show ended up turning me into a multishipper haha.

#hazbin hotel #charlastor #alastor #charlie morningstar #chaggie #don’t come @me pls #like I said I don’t need it to be romantic #but ever since the pilot I’ve been excited for the canon charlastor dynamic #and the show sure didn’t disappoint!#everything that intrigued me about it at first was still there #and got better!#vaggie #to think even vaggie would be smiling that alastor came back?? wow

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jpitha · 6 months

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Used to Humans

Lots of "HFY" and "Deathworlders" and "Humans are $Adjective" stories understandably talk about early days with humans in the galaxy. It's fun to think about how humans could be different from other sapient species and how the things that we do that are normal to us could be seen by others. Eventually though, everything gets explained and the galaxy moves on, right? What does it look like when everyone already knows about the wild things humans do.

****

Vic burst through the door into the lounge. "I've got it! If we can route the neutrino stream away fro-"

Resimar and Pel'im didn't look up from their card game. Many of the games humans brought into space are popular, but almost all pale in comparison to the humble deck of cards. The idea of pieces of laminated paper with numbers and symbols on them to play hundreds of different games was appealing across all sapient species in the galaxy. Resi and Pel were currently deep into a Pinochle tournament.

Without looking up at him, Pel'im says, "Nice work Vic, I'm sure it'll work great." He sighs and flicks his eyes up to Resi. "twenty five points." Resi makes a face, but flicks her ears, indicating agreement.

Vic looks at both of them, incredulous. "You don't want to know what I figured out?"

Resi puts down four cards. "Kings around."

Pel snorts. He takes a moment to move the cards in his hand to a slightly different orientation. He doesn't look up at Vic. "Vic. How long as humanity been in the Galaxy?"

"Uh, more than one hundred Earth years now?"

Pel nods. "Right. And in that time, how many planets did you destroy?"

Vic thinks for a moment and looks down at his pad. "On purpose, or by accident?"

"That's entirely his point, Vic!" Resi looks up at Vic while Pel fusses at his cards. "For the last hundred and something years, when something wild has happened in the galaxy, you go to the center and you find one or more humans, either cackling with laughter or covered in soot going 'I had no idea that was going to happen!' We're just used to it now." She frowns at the cards in her hand. "You usually clean up any messes you make, so go nuts, have fun. Tell us when it's over. Is this going to be like the 'Apple Pie' incident again?"

"Double Pinchole!" Pel throws down both jacks of diamonds and both queens of spades, triumphant "That's thirty points, and my win for this round.

Vic crosses his arms. "No, it won't be another Apple Pie. For one, I know more about your physiology, for two, HR has forbid me from the kitchen, and for three the captain says that it wasn't that big of a deal actually, and nobody was seriously hurt in the end."

Resi sighs and scoops up the cards, carefully arranging them and with her smaller than human hands very carefully shuffles them. Pel leans back and takes a sip of his tea, satisfied.

Vic stares at them, deflated. "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll let you get back to your game. Who is winning?"

Resi snorts. "Pel currently, but the tournament is not over yet."

Pel leans back and makes a gesture like rolling their eyes. "It basically is."

Later that day, when the bulkhead doors slammed shut to prevent all the atmosphere from venting from the ten meter hole that appeared in the hull near Vic's workstation, Resimar wondered if she should have expressed more interest in what Vic was working on.

#writing #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space capybaras #jpitha #humans and aliens #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians

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bu-blegh-ost · 5 months

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Let's analyze Captain Rose's final message (ep. 113 spoilers!!!)

I have transcribed the entire thing into my notes, and there are few parts that I believe give us some subtle hints to important lore bits. So let's take a look at these fragments, shall we?

"Even with the Emperor’s gracious accommodations, I can never feel at ease unless I’m sleeping on the sea. Tomorrow, we depart this beautiful country for one last ride."

Nothing that crazy here, but now we have a better grasp at the timeline. So this confirms, that the last place Black Rose Pirates have been to, before they departed for the final adventure led by Hendrix's map was Onowa Country, and judging by what comes next, the chest was also created and left there during that last stay.

"But…if you’re hearing this, it means we all died."

If you recall, Drey mentioned few episodes back, that thier final excursion was of little significance, barely worth remebering. But here Rose is, about to embark on it, his last adventure before he retires, and he believes that he's going to die. That they all are. Rose must have hidden the true importance of this adventure from the rest of his crew. He KNEW that it's very likely they are not coming back from it, he KNEW he is not actually retiring. So, the question is, did Rose truly meant to leave life at sea for his wife and children, or did he chose to retire cause he knew he was about to die and he needed an excuse, to tie all the loose ends before he goes without alarming anyone?

"Even so, freedom can look so different for the individual. Not every pirate’s gonna play fair. I’ve been prepping for this moment a long time. The day I’d be outmaneuvered."

Something happened to Rose before that. If you ask me, something must have been put on Rose. A spell? A deal perhaps? Something must have happened between Rose and Hendrix (I can't be sure it was him ofc, but I feel like it is pretty obvious at this point). The map he gave him was a final retirement gift. Whatever happened, Hendrix surely did or offered something that made Rose unable to refuse the last adventure. Rose was forced to open the Hole in the Sea. He was forced to attempt to free the Nameless Prince, and he knew, he is bringing his crew to possible death. He knew they may not make it out of the sea in time, before whatever he had to do takes effects, before the sea turns black. I don't believe he would do this if he could find another way. This line makes me feel like he was tricked, finally cornered by Hendrix. It would also make sense why Rose never listened to Finn's warnings when he told him abt Hendrix hiding his true arcane ability. It's possible he knew already. It's possible he was already chained by it.

"Now I fear, we’ll be remembered for something we didn’t do."

The hole in the sea. The one thing people always mention when Black Rose pirates are concerned. He was right. But it only proves, that Rose in this entire game was a tool. Just a person forced to do another's bidding, to be at the right place, at the right time. A sacrifice, but not a player. Niklaus told Chip it was Rose who opened the Hole in the Sea. And he was right, kinda. TECHNICALLY it was Rose. But he was not acting of his free will. He was forced to do it. And who made him? Well, probably the one person who knows that it was him.

"Anyways, I think I should have cared about how my friends would remember me. My family…"

A beautiful comparison between Chip and Rose. Rose sought fullfillment, legacy, Chip sought to recreate his childhood, but they both realised that what they always wanted in the end was family. Rose realized it too late, Chip did so on time. And he did manage to create a family he can feel content about, be proud of. Rose's story is a reminder for him, of how things could have ended.

"If my wife is still alive, tell her, tell our child, her child, I’m sorry."

Rose left Onowa knowing he will not retire. He knew he lied to his wife when he told her that he'll raise their child with her. Did he ever mean it? Did he know that he is doomed from the start, or was there a true intention of going back to her, before Hendrix came and his fate was sealed? Also, that makes me think that Reuben is not Rose's biological son. "OUR child" refers to the kid they had together, "HER child" might refer only to his wife's son, to Reuben. Still, he must have cared for him enough to decide that he also deserved apology.

"Thanks for coming to look for us. I knew you would.

Take care, Chip. "

I wonder if he actually knew. Could Hendrix promise him that Chip would be saved? He didn't seem to expect anyone else to make it, so it's possible that either Chip was supposed to play a special role in some way, or maybe he already did, or he was guaranteed to make it out alive regardless of the circumstances to make the journey he is on now. That could mean that Riptide Pirates were truly always destined to meet.

Okay, that will be most of my thoughts! Feel free to share yours!

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #chip jrwi #jrwi spoilers #captain rose #jrwi captain rose #analysis #ep 113 spoilers #spoilers

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the0maski · 5 months

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Fear headcanon’s I have, but can’t explain, about the Link’s and some endings of their adventures.

Sky: has a massive fear that people are just using him. I think I picked it up from some dialogue in the game, where Zelda apologized for using him??? It’s been ages since I played SS, so my mind could have had made this one up, but something like that stuck to me. His "laziness" is just his way of protecting himself. If someone asked him for something, and will just send him and come with him, he is getting suspicious of that person. Even if it was to go get some books for class.

Time: He was lying about regretting being forgotten as a hero. He was extremely happy being back in time and having an actual chance of changing things. He never overcame his abandonment issues and the need to be enough, that’s why he helped Twilight. Also I have a strong feeling that his spirit never moved on, because he never felt he belonged anywhere. Where does a rejected soul go?

Wind: Massive fear of people drowning and people getting kidnapped. The crew has to stop him from jumping into the water to save someone, or kill someone. (He killed Ganondorf, he will do it again) He is acting on instinct on those moments, so as much as Tetra likes him as her right hand man, she can’t take him everywhere.

Legend: What I thought was that Koholint Island, wasn’t completely a dream. The island actually existed somewhere else. Dreams are made from things we see in real life sometimes, so the Wind Fish had passed that island at some point. But by falling asleep she doomed the acutely island to falls asleep with her. Legend was sent to wake up the Wind Fish, because there was a Koholint Island somewhere, where people are about to die because they can wake up. Legend never found that out…and has a hard time seeing himself as a hero for along while. What hero has blood on his hand?

Warriors: Scared of woman. And man. And probably everything that can betray him. He doesn’t get help unfortunately, since his paranoia had helped them extremely at war and some battle plans. He is one of the Links I see that will also never have a happy ending…

Wild: Extremely clingy, his issues are just as skyrocketing like Time’s, but the difference is Wild is extroverted. People notice that something is going on, but since Wild is a stranger to most at the beginning of his adventure, no one knows how to help. After Zelda comes back, she immediately notices that Wild needs help, and those a lot of research to help him. Wild gets better with time, yet he still clings to some people a lot.

I don’t have one for Hyrule sorry, boy has already everything, distrust, low self esteem and so on, from what I see in the fandom. Once I get to play his game or watch a play through I will understand him better.

Same goes for Four, all I could say, that he is probably afraid of getting falsely accused. (Red in the Manga). Splitting into four isn’t painful for him, if he does it for drama.

Twilight is a good boy, with a loving family and village that acutely cares about him, so all he has was a very strong broken heart. This man falls in love and HE FALLS IN LOVE! So leave him alone, he has done nothing wrong in his entire life. Yes he is afraid of rejection but he gets support. I love him to much to hurt him.

#I really want one stable Link but the goddesses said no #my mind goes into really dark places with Warriors and Time #they are just like me for real #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu thoughts #lu chain #lu time #lu wild #lu legend #lu sky #lu wind #lu four #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu hyrule #lu headcanons

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embersofhope-if · 1 year

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"On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it."

Twenty-five years have passed since the rebellion, yet the price is still being paid by the Districts. Even though most people alive today had no part in the fight, they suffer the consequences of the Capitol's anger. The harsh reality of the Capitol's cruelty is revealed every year on July 4th, Reaping Day. On this day, two children from each of the 12 districts are randomly chosen to fight to the death in an arena until only a lone victor remains. Parents hold their children close and hope it isn't their child who will be ripped away from them, knowing that there is nothing they can do to stop it.

However, this year is different. This year marks the very first Quarter Quell, and parents don't have to worry about whether their children might be taken away because, for this once-in-a-lifetime event, they get to choose who goes into the arena. But there's no doubt in anyone's mind who's going in when the mayor has a child of his own - me.

Now it's my turn to play a true game of life or death. May the odds be ever in my favor

Demo ☆ Playlist ☆ Pinterest

Customize your appearance (hair type and color, complexion, height, build, clothing)

Choose how you interact with the Capitol and those of your District

Form new relationships and change the ones you already have

Train in the weapon of your choice yes including a bow

Try not to die<3

17+. Content warnings for graphic violence, child death, child abuse/neglect, starvation, murder

Creon Levesque ♤ The Mentor ♤ RO ♤ 19

A special friend in very special places. I met Creon when you were 12 years old at a dinner party my Uncle Keyon had brought me to in the Capitol. Maybe it was the fact that I was very obviously District or maybe it was something else entirely, but from that night forward, Creon and I have had an intense and strange relationship. And now they stand before me assuring me that with them as a mentor, everything will be alright. How they managed to get themselves as a mentor they won't tell me, but honestly, in the end, does it matter?

♤Creon is gender selectable by the player♤

Romance Route: Red flag of all red flags, forbidden love, different worlds, insta love (at least on Creons part)

Aurelius/Aurelia Weaver ♧ The District Partner ♧ RO ♧ 18

My district partner. I don't know them that well, especially after they dropped out of school at 16 to work full-time in the factories. I'm not entirely sure what I did to them to warrant the looks of pure disgust and anger they throw my way after that, but now things have changed. They asked to be the other tribute for District 8, and now standing in front of them and looking into their eyes, all I can see is a predator looking at its prey. They are going to kill me, and they're going to enjoy it.

♧ Aurel is always the opposite gender of Mc ♧

Romance Route: Enemies to Lovers, Doomed Love, potential unrequited love, perhaps unrequited but actually requited love😏

Asher "Ash" Fairchild ♡ The Childhood Bestfriend ♡ 16

Ash was the first and only real friend I've had my entire life. They were practically the embodiment of everything good in the world. Everyone loved Ash, and when they had their name called for the 23rd reaping the shock and sorrow was felt throughout the entire District. Even walking up to the stage, they moved like a petal dancing through the wind. Their memory has haunted me every day for the past two years, and now I get to experience the same terror they felt in their final moments.

♡ There will be an option to be in a relationship with Ash before their games. Ash is also gender selectable by the player ♡

Romance Route: First love, childhood friends to lovers, soulmates

Soren Vesper ◇ The Mayor ◇ 46

The mayor of District 8, and my Father. A very stern man who prefers things to be done his way. I've never seen his mask of the harsh mayor who does everything the Capitol request ever break, that is until the announcement of the Quarter Quell. The change happened so fast that it scared me. A once mighty man who didn't care about the people of his district now begging them to choose anyone but his child to go into the games. At least I get to know my Father does care for me before I die.

Tribute and Other Profiles TBA

☆This is my second IF my main one is @shadowsofthegun-if if anyone is interested in being a goofy little cowboy and i have another IF @dustandshadows-if set in the world of the shadowhunter chronicles if anyone is interested in that as well. @konosadmaru is also my main if anyone wants to follow me on there☆

#embersofhope-if #soh-if #the hunger games #the hunger games if #choose your own adventure #cyoa #interactive games #survival game #text based game #if wip #wip #if game #twine game #twine #twine interactive fiction #promo post

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bluerthanvelvet444 · 5 days

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ᯓ★⋆˚𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)

tags: sfw and nsfw.

warnings: none.

character count: 7k.

this was a request!

ᯓ★⋆𝚂𝙵𝚆⋆｡⁀➷

He LOVES playing games with you.

Peter was often bored, being locked in his mother’s basement led to doing the same things over and over again. This is why he loved playing games with you, no matter if they were board games or card ones, he was utterly fond of the idea of games ending in many different ways and sometimes taking different turns, never knowing if a game could last minutes or hours. He would throw game nights with candies and junk food. He really liked playing Cluedo, especially roleplaying the whole thing, he would get SO into the character, many times taking it personally when he was accused of being the murderer, always doing accents and creating a whole backstory (even if not needed). He believed it was “funnier” this way…but really, he was just a dork by nature. He enjoyed Monopoly too, although getting into the character in this game would often lead to him getting SO mad when things started to go bad for him. He claimed he was “the best gamer of all times” but in reality was actually pretty bad, especially with strategy games since he tended to act impulsively without logic. Many times you had to let him win to avoid cocky tantrums and just getting his ego hurt.

He is constantly spoiling you with gifts.

His main goal in life was owning the "Twinkie" company being the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. So whatever you desired, he gave you.

“Look how cute this is Pet-” You started while pointing at the picture of what you wanted, and before you knew it, Peter left your room at the highest of speeds just to come back in the blink of an eye with the thing you were just talking about in his hands.

“Gotcha.” He winked with a cute smirk.

“Peter! You didn’t have to. You probably spent so much for this…” You said, feeling guilty.

“Who said I paid for it?”

He takes you anywhere you want.

You mentioned wanting to go to the beach? He took you there in no time, not even letting you put your swimsuit on.

You dreamed of going to Paris? Sweep. Two seconds and you were taking a picture under the Tour Eiffel while he was holding a baguette and had a fake mustache on.

In the little time you started dating him, you already visited more places than you did in your entire life, and your bedroom was full of polaroids of you two around the world. This counts for concerts and other things too. He’s basically a free VIP pass.

He always matches your mood.

If you wanted to go to the cinema and watch a movie, he would sneak you two in the theater, stealing popcorn and all types of soda.

If you wanted to party hard and just forget about everything for a night, he would throw the BIGGEST party in the x-men’s mansion, just for you.

If you wanted to stay home and relax, he would grab a comfy blanket and a few snacks, cuddling up against you. Either spooning you or being spooned.

He hypes you up no matter what, he’s your biggest fan.

You were out shopping with Peter, so you took the chance to try some dresses on. You were in the changing room, looking at your body in the mirror. Many thoughts were flowing in your head, you didn’t know if you liked or hated it. Peter slightly peeked from the curtain.

“Babe are ya don- HOLY SHIT!” His eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Do you like it?” You asked while still looking in the mirror.

“Like it? Ya asking me if I- if I like it?! Are ya out of yer mind?! I dont like it! I love it!” He opened wide the whole curtain.

“Mh…I don’t know if this really fits m-” You were cut off by Peter suddenly grabbing your shoulders.

“Fits you?! FITS YA?! Babe.Ya need to get this right now. It was made for you- Holy shit! It looks like it was tailored to you!” He grinned widely.

“i don’t kno-Peter!” You exclaimed as he picked you up in his arms.

“YER STUNNING. Gorgeous! Breathtaking! Damn! Yer really my girl? I’m the luckiest bastard in the world!” He carried you in his arms out of the changing room.

“SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND! HEY YOU! YES! SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND! I’M THE LUCKIEST BASTARD IN THE WORLD! WHOOOOO!” He shouted excitedly to the whole store while you covered your burning cheeks and begged him to stop.

He likes watching you put on your makeup, occasionally attempting to put it on you, too.

His tongue poked out of his mouth as he tried to blend the foundation on your skin.

“Why’s this taking so long?!” He huffed.

“Peter, that’s an eyeshadow brush.”

“Oh.”

ᯓ★⋆˚𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

He’s horny 24/7.

Because of his speedster genes everything his body did was faster than normal. It was sooo easy to get him hard. You could’ve been either provoking him or doing nothing.

You were laying on the bed, your boyfriend spooning you from behind. You pressed your back against him, earning a groan from him. Thinking you accidentally hurt him, you turned to face him, just to find a visible grown bulge in his pants.

“I barely touched you…” You teased.

“S’the speedster genes…” He whined.

He’s such a switch.

You were sitting between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. His fingers slipping in and out of your entrance with unholy sounds.

“Mh…Just like that, babe…takin’ it so well…” He purred in your ear, causing loud moans to slip out of you. He kept speeding his fingers more and more, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Not wanting to finish alone, you suddenly changed positions, straddling him and stroking his length from his pants.

“A-ah…please babe…” He was already a subby mess under you, whining and begging you for more.

He’s open to all types of sex with you.

Fast? His name is quickie for a reason, his body will be blurred by how fast he will be.

Slow? Mhh…It will be torture for him but, sure, anything to pleasure you.

Loving? He could be hugging you from behind, gently thrusting in you and whispering sweet words and moans in your ear.

Rough? Absolutely. He’ll have you screaming his name as loud as possible. Oh, and prepare for a loooong night, the speedster genes help a lot with his sex drive.

No toys!

One thing he will never accept is you using sex toys. Why on earth would you use a miserable piece of plastic to please yourself when you have him?

He can be a vibrator, a dildo…everything! And a good one too. Whenever you need to feel good, just give him a call! He will drop everything just to have fun with you. Don’t tell Professor X that.

Quickies in public are more common than you think.

With him being always horny, he often found himself staring at you for longer than usual, which sent heat waves straight to his core, even in public.

“Babe…” He started with whispering your name in your ear, his body pressing against yours from behind.

“I need you…” He whined, subtly rubbing his hard-on against your ass. You questioned him, reminding him that you were in public.

He quickly brought you inside a public bathroom. His hands desperately grabbing your body.

“Please…I’ll be quick…” He groaned against your neck, sucking the skin gently. As soon as you agreed, you found yourself pressed up against a wall and his clothes immediately coming off.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @dangeroustaintedflawed @yandereunsolved @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind

a/n: hiiii!!! my first headcanonssss...tried to put more dorky canon peter. hope you like them!!🩶🩶

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #x men #x men apocalypse #quicksilver #evan peters #american horror story #tate langdon #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #kyle spencer #violet harmon #james patrick march #kai anderson #taissa farmiga #ahs hotel #ahs asylum #ahs coven

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baeddel · 9 months

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long post abt accessability in games, DMC3, DS1, and control schemes

games like God of War or Devil May Cry can be inaccessible because they have inputs which require button mashing, which is difficult for someone with arhritis or other problems that affect their hands and wrists. but these inputs are generally not required to beat the game; you have a lot of options, so you can just avoid using any move that's too difficult. the main issue is that these games become more demanding the further into the game you want to go; keeping a combo going in DMC requires a very high apm and use of the entire controller, so a person with a motor disability will hit a wall eventually.

this is a design problem which i think is difficult to analyze. DMC starts from a very unique design—it has a huge number of moves, almost all of which are accessible out of neutral rather than hidden at the end of an attack string—which it has to pay for by using a large number of unique inputs (forward + attack, back + attack, forward then back + attack, hold shoot to charge, hold devil trigger to charge [charges can be buffered]). it introduces a lot of complexity, but it's actually less complexity right away than other action games; instead of having to memorize a long list of complicated strings (cf. Bayonetta's Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, pause, Kick, which is different from Punch, Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, pause, Punch [click]—have fun with those!), you can learn attack, shoot, devil trigger, then forward attack, hold shoot... etc., one at a time, and mix them into your play and find out when they're good. its combo system is not just complex but also discoverable; players can try out how its different pieces fit together without opening the movelist.

but once a player already knows all the moves, the game starts to ask more and more out of them. not only do you want to use all of the inputs one after the other very fast (try jump cancelling Beowulf's Killer Bee into another Killer Bee for the first time—pretty tough, right? and all you're pressing there is X and △! the inputs get harder!), but since your charge moves can be buffered, you also want to hold O and L1 to charge your shot and devil trigger for when you might need them, and you might also want to lock-on by holding R1. when watching a really good player playing with an input viewer it's not uncommon to see every single button on the controller light up at the same time. doing that stuff is really fucking hard.

so far we don't have any problems; it's a picture perfect picture of a system that's 'easy to use, hard to master,' right? but because the thing thats hard to do in this case is input a lot of buttons at once on a physical controller, we've just frozen out any players with hand/wrist problems or motor issues from high level play, at least without adapting the game somehow. this is a problem that's difficult to predict, difficult to foresee, and difficult to design around; i don't see how you could fix it without making DMC a completely different game than what it is.

so if you started from the premise of designing a game that was accesisble to people with hand/wrist and motor issues (including suckers like me who played a bunch of high apm games like DMC and Runescape and fucked up their wrist), you'd have to come up with something pretty different at a very fundamental level.

this is why Dark Souls is, in a lot of ways, a VERY ACCESSABLE action game. what do i mean? its control scheme is extremely simple. once you press every button on the controller you've learned everything you're going to learn about it (apart from one very non-obvious hard-coded universal cancel, but don't worry about it). all you have to do is dodge or block the other's guys attack and then hit him with yours.

there's a lot of ways that DeS/DS1 approached the action genre differnetly to other games, but right now i'm only going to highlight one: the kind of 'questions' DS is asking its player. if you think about DMC, what is DMC trying to get the player to do? while you can beat the game with one or two simple combos, the system is obviously made in a way that encourages freedom and flexibility, and the game has systems to reward long, varied combos (the 'style' rating). and that's all it wants you to do (apart from in a couple of levels where they want you to do platforming—ugh!). to accomplish this, they lock you in a room with some enemies and only let you out when you beat them all.

in Demon's Souls the main thing they want you to do is navigate complicated dungeons that are full of traps; some levels have mazes in them, and lots of traps kill you instantly. it's similar to Kings Field, which its a spiritual successor to, but it's also similar to other early 3d RPGs: Deathtrap Dungeon, Die by the Sword, Dungeon Lords... (in one interview Miyazaki said part of his job was to play a bunch of 'open world RPGs' for research, and i imagine that included some of these old, weird games; the first dungeon in Dungeon Lords has a rafter-walking section with projectile-shooting enemies, chain-pulley mechanical elevators and highly damage-resistant slimes). they also want you to kill enemies. but the game never forces you to kill these enemies; you're never locked in a room until you kill all the enemies, and enemies never have items that are necessary to progress in the level. enemies are just one obstacle among others. consequently, enemy encounters are designed in a certain way that makes avoiding them difficult and approaching them complex. an enemy that throws firebombs will stand at the top of a long, narrow staircase, forcing you to dodge them on the way up; two enemies will stand behind a doorway and, if you run in blindly, will both attack you from behind. things like that. it was hard to avoid enemy encounters in Demon's Souls because the levels involved suffocatingly narrow corridors and the enemies followed you forever. but it was possible and sometimes desirable. in DS1 running by enemies is often preferable and, with foreknowledge of the level, always possible. it's also a lot easier as enemies don't follow you very far anymore (this change was patched into the game after release).

running and jumping both consume stamina, as do dodging, blocking, and attacking. getting hit costs hitpoints, and falling off a ledge costs all your hitpoints. both aspects of the game (navigation and combat) use all of the same resources, and engaging in combat is generally one of a few options the player has to navigate an area. it is, a lot of the time, by far the easiest option, but most players will find a few areas that they hate enough to always run through. one of the messages players can leave to each other is 'try dashing through.' the game rewards you for killing enemies by giving you souls and loot drops, but it also punishes you for making mistakes by leaving you down on resources—less health, fewer estus, and fewer spellcasts—so the best thing to do at any given time is difficult to analyze.

the questions DS is asking its players, therefore, is to familiarize themselves with the level, come up with a plan, conserve their own resources and make it out with the loot. at lower levels of play the game is mostly about succeeding at lots of combats and navigating lots of traps over a long distance without making too many small mistakes. then, at high levels of play, the gameplay is mostly about movement, exploiting the game's verticality and taking advantage of holes in the enemy placement. but the change from low to high levels of play mostly takes place in the mind of the player, not their hands; they understand the levels better, they are better able to respond to things which were previously unpredictable to them, and they have more confidence in their ability to do what is needed of them.

so our game not only starts off very accessible to players with hand/wrist or motor problems, but it finishes there too. although, i've gone a little too far: the player's hands will change a bit as they improve at the game. like Monster Hunter, the best way to play Dark Souls is to have a claw grip in both hands; the thumbs should operate the analogue sticks, the index finger should operate the d-pad (for toggle escales, the universal cancel i mentioned, as well as changing spells) and the face buttons (for rolling, using items, interacting with doors and items), and the remaining digits manipulating the shoulders/triggers (for attacks, blocks and parries). while running, you want to hold L1 (block) so you can roll (circle) out of a run without jumping. this might be hard for you depending on your condition, but i don't think it's that much worse than holding a controller the regular way.

anyway, the point is this: you might want to think about making your game accessible not just to the general player with disabilities, but to the 'hardcore' player with disabilities. do you want disabled people to not only beat your game, but be really good at it? how would you design systems to accomodate that? i've talked about hand/wrist and motor issues here because it's what i was thinking about (and some games, like Runescape, aren't really accessible to me anymore thanks to my wrists, at least in the way i used to play them), but there are other disabilities you could probably design around. imagine a player who has CFS or ADHD in a way that keeps them from practicing consistently; could you make a game that is rewarding for such a player to try and get really good at nonetheless? Runescape (conceived of competitively, ie. racing to the leaderboard &c) was good for players with certain kinds of disabilities and neurotypes since it required a huge amount of time and dedication, it really rewarded being unemployed, LOL. but what if there was a game that somehow rewarded inconsistency? who knows...

anyway, i'm saying how i tend to think about it as a rebuttal to the way i see most people talk about accessibility in games, which is merely playing games. thus Dark Souls can be criticized for being difficult for a new player to complete, for example. but this always struck me as a bewildering way to talk about games. plenty of disabled people don't just want to complete games, they want to be good at them. and disabled people can and do become good at games and compete and win at them. so the question for me is not so much 'how do i make a game someone with this disability could play?' but 'how do i make a game someone with this disability would want to master?'—a game which doesn't create headaches for them, which works with rather than against them, and which they actually enjoy at all levels of play.

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