#my tags only make sense if u see my drafts

[ulteri0rm0tives]

You know that fact that Johnny would use sex as a way to keep the band together or 'boost morale'? Yeah.. just makes me think about his potential abandonment issues 💀

[odysseys-blood]

no actually it is kind of a wonder to me how pb is operating with whb like it is bc. arent yall also hosted (i believe anyways im not sure if their partnership w/ erolabs goes beyond that) by another company w/ SEVERAL gachas under its belt. so whats goin on here. nobody taking notes? are we doing market research? is anyone even play testing. hello. its so dark in here

[mscherub]

Emotional Support Shrimp

A/N: cutely drops in this fic I’ve had in my drafts for months…I’m still working on the Idia request. AND FOR THE OTHER PPL WHO REQUESTED STUFF I SEE U, I’m just unmotivated…Writers block is kicking my ass 😞

Tags: A little dark, supposed to be funny, fluff, Floyd being a menace…

Warnings:

Floyd leech causes harm (when doesn’t he?)

Violence

mentions of injuries (random student, referee)

suggestive towards the end

Swearing

Honestly, when is money not always a huge feat for you? The day you finally get your allowance from Crowley, it’s gone within a minute from being spent on only a portion of needed items. Last week you ended up running out of tuna for Grim, and for the love of the seven you don’t wanna go through that again. Everyone knew of your situation, wasn’t very hard to see, but you weren’t the type to latch on to others and use them like a pay pig, but many offered which is a little concerning, anyways, to each their own, you suppose. You had your own values to follow, but you did appreciate what they were willing to do.

Azul knew quite fondly of your situation, using you as a “backup” employee for when one of the servers or dishwasher at the lounge decided to call off, and you usually accepted because, hey, money! He didn’t exactly trust you in the kitchen, mainly based off of the liabilities he could face since you didn’t even have birth records or anything that he could “ok” for you to work within that vicinity, but everything else was a great option.

The laborious shifts were no stranger to you after having taken up a position there so many times, you could say you were used to it by this point, and an even bigger achievement, used to the ways of the tweels, specifically Floyd. Yes they were unpredictable, yes they were scary when they wanted to be, yes they gave off mafia vibes, but they somehow “accepted” you, accepted, of course, being a very vague term to describe it. Maybe tolerate is a bit better. They didn’t seem to wish to cause harm or other masses of stress like they would just for funsies with other guys around campus, but if push comes to shove, you bet they’d have no doubt and chuck you under the bus in mere seconds, hence why you try and stay on their good side.

Technically they all owe you one in a way, especially Azul with his little overblot, but that’s something in the past for you at least.

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

Incident One: Ice Bath

“Prefect, go reason with him!” Azul barks out the command. You sigh and turn around from his office and go to find Floyd. A cycle that repeats itself. Free Therapist for Floyd is a good title…no, wait no. Doesn’t make sense. Plaything would be more appropriate. The thought makes you shudder and shake your head.

The click of the dress shoes on the ground, the clamor of people in the lounge, drowns out as your thoughts officially take over.

This time Floyd messed around more than he should have with people on Azul’s black list, and he may or may not have gotten carried away. So now you’re back on the hunt to find him after getting an earful from the boss himself, and hearing him and the troublemaker bicker in his office. Fun times here at Mostro Lounge. Why’d you choose to work here. Should have asked Mr. Sam if he needed any help…

The door to the pool is stuck wide open and once you peer your head inside you see Floyd swimming in circles angrily, the water rippling swiftly around his body.

“Floyd.” You call out. It’s almost akin to a gentle coo. Where did that gentleness come from? Whatever…

“Wanna swim, Shrimpy? I’ll promise not to drown you.” He stops and smirks. Ok. Stay away from the water. “Or if you came here to chat…we can see if I’ve got the patience for that right now.” He sighs.

“Azul—“

“I don’t wanna hear it. Quit your yapping and go swim around somewhere else.” His eyes narrow and his fins tense.

“Look. If you just got back to work then—“ you’re cut off again.

“Work is the last thing I wanna do right now.” He glares at you, but then eerily a smirk forms once he beckons you over. “You can cheer me up if you swim with me.”

“I have to get back to working too— and ok, never mind…”

He hoists himself up onto the tiled floor, half of his tail still swaying in the water. And then he pouts at you. It shouldn’t do anything to sway your determination to get him on track again, but it crumbles down those walls and you find yourself walking towards him.

“Yay! You do like me a little at least then, Shrimpy.” He giggles, and before you know it he grabs your wrist and slips back into the water, pulling you in with him.

It’s cold. OH IT’S SUPER COLD!

Thrashing your arms in the water you bob back up to the surface, your uniform hat drifting away to the other side of this might-as-well-be ice bath. This was a lot colder than you remember when you went down to the sea the one time…

“Hah! Cold? Humans are just so weak…” Floyd’s voice rumbles from behind you and his slick, slimy arms wrap around your soaked clothes that act as a second skin, yet barely do anything to keep the bite of the cold away.

“But you’re my Shrimpy so I’ll keep ya safe.”

His warmth is shared with yours now, but it’s not enough, unfortunately.

“Floyd…lemme outta here. It so fucking cold holy shit.”

He giggles at your misfortune and spins around a few times with you in his arms slowly.

His chin rests on your shoulder and a silence falls over you two. It’s not uncomfortable. But it’s short lived.

“Hold your breath!”

“Floyd, wait— No!!”

Bubbles spew out of your nose and you force your eyes open only to see mismatched ones gleaming with amusement.

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

“I can’t believe you two…the time spent, rather wasted, will be taken out of both of your checks. This is just unbelievable…” Azul groans. His hand runs down his face before he sets his elbows down on the desk and rubs his temples.

“Out of my office.”

The silence is loud as you two walk out, a towel wrapped around you and a sloppily dressed Floyd who was just earlier grumbling about having to drink that transformation potion.

“Do something like that again and…ugh…”

“Eh? I thought it was fun, Shrimpy! We’ll swim again soon for sure.”

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

Incident Two: Plucked Petals

“Drag him back to work…” Again?

You heed Azul’s orders and you turn out of his office yet again, pushing open the door and heading on your way to search for the one and only…

He left midway through his shift. It had only been like 3 hours…and he already got “bored.” You’re just fed up with his excuses, and then you end up getting yelled at as well if you take too long. You need to get back on the clock, too, “be lucky I’m even paying you to go get him,” Azul says, “be lucky I even pay you in the first place,” Azul says. Ok…anyways.

Traces of Floyd are no where to be seen. He couldn’t have gone far in the span of, what? Five minutes? He had long legs, sure, but he—

“OFF WITH YOU’RE HEAD!”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. You knew who that was. Great. Now you had to calm down two people! Lovely…

You jog around the corner of the mirror chamber to the path way only to see Floyd with rose petals scattered about around him and a very angry riddle with his arms crossed in an exponential amount of annoyance and anger, as well as an unamused look.

“Oh-“

Riddles head whips in your direction and you prepare yourself for the onslaught of complaints…

“He broke a rule!” Riddle says, “He ruined my flowers,” Riddle says, “He came onto Heartslabyul grounds without invite and unannounced,” Riddle says. You had enough.

“Yea. He uh…mhmmm. I’ll take him back, just…uncollar him…” your finger points over to Floyd. He’s actively tugging at it and trying to crane his neck downwards so he can gnaw it off…is he ok?

“This is not the first time this has happened. I’ve let him get away with his actions one too many times. I shall send this matter to Headmaster Crowley now if you’d excuse me, Prefect. I have more pressing matters to tend to than dwaddle on a sorry soul who doesn’t know basic decency…”

“Riddle…I get where you’re coming from but Azul will soon have my head if I don’t bring him back and myself…so uh.” You sway on your feet.

He thinks for a moment. You weren’t untrustworthy, so maybe he could let this slide— just kidding, he’s Riddle. With a stern look and a dismissive tone, he makes up his mind and drags Floyd away to the main building.

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

“And now Floyd has earned a suspension?” Jade hums as he wipes off a table.

“From entering any other dorm besides his own, prohibited to participate in any club activities or work at the lounge, and now Azul’s making me work his shift and mine for at least a week…until his suspension is up.”

“My, my…I’d say it was deserved. As much as Floyd is held dear to me, he causes the outcomes with his actions. He finds them to be quite amusing, however, greatly so once you get involved.”

“Yea— wait…when I get involved? Is he doing this stuff on purpose?” Your hands perch themselves on your hips.

“That I cannot tell you.”

“Ugh…”

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

Incident Three: Balling

“What the fuck…” That’s all that leaves your lips once you step into the gym. People are chatting loudly and quickly and the only message that you got from Ace was:

Help. Floyd did sum shit. Tell him to get a hold and hopefully plan his words right so he doesn’t get a law suit

Safe to say you are fairly concerned. You push through the crowd of kids and find the familiar redhead accompanied by Jamil. Ace doesn’t let you speak one word once his eyes land on you.

“Ok, before you get all mad here, Prefect, you were the first one I decided to call cause uh…you know. You’re closer to the twins than anyone else really…” Ace attempts to reason with you but you’re entirely focused on something else. Someone else.

“Why is that guy passed out?”

The referee is surrounded by a few Sports med mages, all assessing the passes out form in the middle of the court. There’s a small pool of blood under his nose, which his nose is now plugged up with bits of gauze.

“Ok, yea. So…Floyd was given a penalty and he kinda hurled the ball at the ref…now he’s…” he motions vaguely to the motionless form. “Kinda knocked out. Probably has a broken nose. The look on the ref’s face was kinda priceless, though—“

Jamil smacks Ace and sighs.

“What?!”

“Floyd stormed off…” Jamil nods. That much is expected.

“Ok then…I shall…go find him.”

The suns setting. There’s a nice orange hue casted across the land. The setting would be really amazing to gawk at if it wasn’t for the task at hand. To find the culprit and ease him down from his hot headedness…you’re fine.

“Floyd—“

A hand grips your shoulder and turns you around. Face pressed against sweaty skin in under a second and you know who it is.

“Gross! Floyd!” His arms squeeze and, yep, don’t even try and breathe.

“That damn ref, you know? So sensitive! All I did was just trip someone…a couple times. RSA was kicking our asses again…just a tiny bit of foul play never hurt anyone…at least not too bad. Sports back in the sea were more fun!” His hold is steadfast.

“I once broke some poor guppies arm in a sport back home. Scuttle Ship. Fun game. And then I ripped his fins.”

“O-oh…ok…uh. On accident?” You struggle to keep your face from being muffled against his skin.

“Nah. Whole point of the game…whoever comes out less hurt is the winner.”

Oh…oh.

“Fun game…why are you here, anyways? Did ya come to watch the game? Hope you were gonna cheer for me.” His embrace, eases up.

“Uh, yea…and also I was worried…to see that you kinda left after what went down in the gymnasium…”

“Eh. He was a dumb ref like I said…”

You pause and clear your throat. “Your team needs you again…even id you’ll probably be benched.”

“Well then there’s no point in me going back. Plus. You’re better to hang around. I didn’t wanna play that game today, anyways…whaddya say we go scare some students walking around this late, huh?”

“Floyd…”

“Cmon.”

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

Last shift of the week! Yay! You just gotta tough it out. Easier said than done. You’ll get your paycheck and then off to Heartslabyul to get Grim and then probably get force-fed some pastries by Trey which you’ll happily accept, and then back to Ramshackle.

“Jade, where’s Floyd? I need these orders for table 12, like now…” you huff as you shift the tray out from under your arm and place it down on the counter, looking back in the kitchen through the doubles doors that swing at their hinges. Articulating back and forth in a fluid motion.

“He got called into Azul’s office.” He hums as he idly writes down things on his notepad

“Again?” That’s just great news for you. “If I have to call him down again I might just quit for real this time.”

Jade doesn’t even turn his head at your words. There ones you’ve said before yet you’re still here.

“Always, he’s been slacking off, as usual.” He smiles. “I can go ask the cooks where the meals are if you’d like.”

“I’d…appreciate it. I need the tips from customers tonight so I need all the tables I can get. Thanks a bunch.” You sigh, leaning against the counter and pulling out your phone. You read a few of the messages sent to various group chats you were in, the first year group chat oddly talking about how Professor Crewel is, quote, “a kinky mf.” Yea, you’re just gonna put your phone away again…were they wrong though?

Jade comes back out carrying another circular tray, you straighten up and you take it off of him. “Thank you, Jade. You’re a financial savior for me.” You chuckle as you move your hand around on the bottom till it rests balanced on your palm.

“It was nothing, really.” He gives a small bow and goes back to his duties.

You head off again back into the seating areas, weaving through the crowds of people who were, for some reason, standing instead of sitting and ending up in your way. You make it over to your section and then over to the table, bending your knees a bit as you place the tray down on a smaller foldable table off to the side. A random plate is selected and you put on your happy face and act for the people sitting around in the booth.

“Here you are, the seafood bake, uh, then you, you got the lobster dish here…then you ordered the salmon, and then you ordered the snow crab! That’s it I believe? Does anybody need anything before I head off?” You clasp your hands together and look frantically around the table as you wait and watch for any of them to speak. You’re met with small shakes of their heads and soft sighs of no’s, taking the hint and giving one last bright smile before you nod and walk off.

Off in the distance, a muffled slam of a door is heard and you see Floyd walking out of Azul’s office, a grimace etched onto his face as he heads back into the kitchen and passes by Jade, who, just glares at him before he goes to finish his own tasks.

You knew what would happen next, Azul would find you, then make you “calm him down.” It was never something you liked mainly because it was putting your life at risk, which was ironic because Azul explicitly stated he didn’t want you partaking in any harmful activities, but whatever. It’s sadly another small side job that’s forced upon you just so Floyd can get back to work himself. All for money…

The other waiters grab dishes and scurry off, moving far away. The chatter and yelling within the kitchen dies down significantly, going quiet as pots and pans slam against the stove top, the only culprit of that being Floyd. You take one breath in before you go inside and pick out the teal-ish colored hair from the other bundles of students and walk over to him as calmly as you could. It’s better to do the things you know that you’ll be asked to do before they happen, so…you got this. And you’re only doing it because you know you’ll be asked to and totally not because you like Floyd maybe a little. That’s not it. Definitely not it. He’s scary why would you like him? Exactly. Anyways! No sweat! It’s just Floyd…that’s it! Just Floyd and no worries…everything will go swell and you’ll all be happy again! Maybe he’ll break a few ribs when he squeezes you but that’s nothing…you’ll just be magicked up later by the nurse mage and you’ll be just fine. Just fine. You’re sweating. Shit—

“Hey, Floyd. What happened.” You sigh with a slight pout on your face. He doesn’t even look at you, his face contorting even more into a look that said “leave me the fuck alone.” It was worth a shot…he usually found that to be a dumb look on you but I guess not today. Oh no. He’s royally pissed right now. Hopefully Azul didn’t sneak a waiver somewhere in that working contract you signed…

You straighten up and glance at the other chefs in the kitchen, all of them giving you questioning gazes. One in the back clasps his hands together and bows his head and— wait, is this guy really praying right now? Geez…

“Floyd…” you try again.

He works away harder at the random meal he’s cooking. The contents already looked charred…

“Don’t wanna talk, Shrimpy,” He huffs, “Go.” He says gruffly.

“I’m not gonna go—“

“I’m busy! Since Azul wants me working my fins off then you know what, I’ll do just that!” He spits out. It sounds threatening, filled with warnings, but before you could try one last time to get him to ease up, one of the students bumps into him, sending the dishes they were carrying flying into the air. The guy stumbles back, food splattering on the floor and plates shattering, Floyd acting like a brick wall and staying still as he slowly turns to look down at him. No words are exchanged. None at all. He simply dumps the hot oil and food that he had into the pan onto him.

Screaming, yelling, a lot goes on within the span of a few seconds. Azul comes in, Jade follows behind, other waiters peer into the kitchen to see what’s going on.

You take the initiative and you grab Floyd’s arm while he’s distracted and take the pan from out of his grasp and set it back down on the stove. You turn the burner off and you look back at him, then to the, now injured, guy upon the floor.

“Floyd. This is coming out of your check, and you’re banned from the kitchen.” Azul comes over quickly with an aura of anger. Floyd rolls his eyes and pushes past him to walk out.

“Prefect, go after him, will you? I don’t need him hurting another person who doesn’t deserve it.” Azul waves his hand at the situation. It was common so no one really took much time to dwell on it since Floyd partook in these types of activities just to pass the time. A common occurrence if you will.

Azul gives you one last stern glance to tell you again silently to go do what he had asked of you. You reluctantly nod and you go out to search for him. It’s absurd, really, having to do all of this. It’d be better if they left him alone to blow off some steam, but no, you have to go calm him down, you have to be the one to watch him like a helicopter parent.

You go to the tweels shared room and knock on the door. It was a just a guess he’d be in his room, but you silently hoped he wasn’t so you’d have some time to avoid either a life or death situation. You liked your life at least a little now…

Silence. You’re met with silence. Ok, try again, just once more to make sure he’s not in there. You knock again, a little louder this time and announcing yourself to being there. And silence again. Maybe fate is helping you out today…

“Floyd? Are you in there?.” You’re about to knock one last time when the door is quickly ripped open, an angry Floyd peering down at you. Brows furrowed, eyes squinted and dark, glazed over with frustration and anger, a scowl etched into his lips. Yep…and here you were, standing in front of him, practically helpless and without anywhere to run because you know he’d find that a fun game and catch up to you in a second.

You straighten up under his gaze and clear the lump in your throat that you didn’t even know formed.

“Hey…”

Floyd doesn’t make any noises, instead opting for what he likes to do when he’s this mad, and wraps his arms around you and squeezes tight. He brings you into the room and closes the door with his foot, going over to his bed and taking you down with him as he nuzzles his cheek against yours.

You try and squirm out of his arms but he’s insanely strong and the efforts you make are useless. You’re already waiting for your back to make a popping noise…

“Floyd— heyyyy…let me go.” You murmur out as you struggle to breathe with all this extra weight on top of you.

“Shhh, Shrimpy. Quiet.” He mutters. He moves his face to the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning against the side, which in turn causes you to tense up. What the fuck is he doing. You try to shrink away, but that was a mistake because he squeezes you against him even more.

He brushes his lips over your pulse point and smirks, but it quickly fades away as he opts to keep his face pressed up against your neck, not doing anything. He likes to feel your heart racing…

“Always trying to make me feel better, Shrimpy…” he sighs. “And you do…meh, sometimes…you don’t have to listen to Azul…but ya do. Starting to wonder if you just like being around me…” he nuzzles into you again, teeth grazing your skin.

“For one, I kinda have to listen to Azul…” you whisper. “I can’t be like you with him. Plus…I don’t mind you all that much since—“ he squeezes again. For sevens sake. “Ease up! I don’t mind you, yea…you’re fine to be around. That’s it.”

“Liar…” he chuckles. “You’re so silly…” he pulls his face up and looks at you, his mismatched eyes calculating, inspecting that gaze in your eyes towards him.

“You’re stupid, too…for liking someone like me. But it’s so cute, Shrimpy.” His lips quirk up into a smirk and he bears his razor sharp teeth to you. “I could easily hurt you, Shrimpy….”

“That sounds vaguely like a threat but…you don’t really hurt me— not ever actually. Scare me? Yes…but not hurt.” you murmur. His smile softens a bit and he nods, moving his forehead to rest against yours. If you weren’t already flushed, you were now.

“No…but I could, that’s the point.” He giggles before moving away again. He was teasing. “Do you know why I don’t?” He hums as he sits up, letting his arms unravel from around you. He looks out the window connected to the sea. You sit up as well, taking in a well deserved breath of air.

He’s silent for a moment, watching as the fish pass by without a care. Your uniform is all wrinkled now, great—

“Cause I’d be kinda pissed off without you around, y’know. And not just how I usually am…I’d be mad all the time.”

You stop. He stops and looks at you. You make very awkward eye contact with him, but both of your gazes soften. That’s sweet of him in his own way. Quite frankly you didn’t think he was capable of that since it’s not usually like him. Why is your heart beating a bit quicker now? This time it’s not so much out of stress or the fear of being eaten alive, Floyd looks fairly sated so…what’s this feeling for…

“What do you think of me, hmmm?”

You don’t know how to respond to that. Does he actually care what people think? No, not really. You see that all the time with how he even talks to teachers. But if you had to say, the few people he listens to, slightly, are Jade, Azul, and…you. That doesn’t mean anything! This is an odd question coming from him. “I think you’re…ok. Being around you is fun sometimes…uh…I don’t really know.” That’s great. You probably ticked him off more…

“Just ‘ok’? Ouch, Shrimpy…” he pouts as he looks at you. He inches his face closer to yours again, personal space being far out of the question at the moment. He looks down to your lips before smirking again and then locking on to your eyes.

“You just saying that cause you’re hiding something?”

That’s not…you weren’t, no. Definitely not. You didn’t really want to say how well he made you smile or laugh on days where you were down, or that he cared that much to make you happy again. Or whenever he’d always seem to find you to be his go to person to bug now for, well, everything he did.…you didn’t wanna say you liked getting him out of trouble, didn’t want to tell him you do enjoy being around him, he’d get all smug about it…and that’s it! Totally nothing else behind it. Nope.

“Be honest, Shrimpy. You like me? Cause I like you…for some reason.” He sighs. He moves closer again.

Kinda straight forward, no?

“What…huh?! WAIT WHAT?” you manage to stammer out. Floyd nods along to your words with an unimpressed look.

“I like you.”

“I heard you the first time!”

“Do you like me?”

“Ok…well…no! Wait…maybe? Yes? How do I even answer that right away?!” You’re freaking out and he’s enjoying it.

His smirk widens again and he laughs at you…this guy.

“See? Silly Shrimpy…” his arms lace back around you and his face is right in front of yours again.

Without taking anything else into consideration, Floyd pushes his lips against yours.

You don’t move, you don’t try and push him away, and out of all the times Floyd has ever given you a chance to stop him in any of his acts, you could tell this moment was one of them. His eyes are still locked onto yours, lidded and a smirk forming, gaging your reaction. His arms barely touch your body, giving you a chance to get the fuck out if you’d want to. But you don’t move away. You push your lips against his more and you flutter your eyes closed. Floyd takes the hint and he holds you again, though this time, it’s gentle.

After a moment you both pull away, a goofy grin across his face. “Hmmmm…” he giggles, “I feel a lot better now, Shrimpy. See? I’m bored now…cmon, let’s go somewhere and ditch that stupid work Azul’s got us doing…”

So! Wasn’t the best, yes, I know, but it’s something…

Also I feel like some parts from my courting fic for Floyd wiggled its way in here—

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[moonieandi]

corners and walls | silco x f!reader  

Summary: the grief of loss shakes apart the friends of four, leaving silco and her to pick up the pieces of the complex affliction between them

warnings (TW): slight spoilers for arcane season ii//act ii, swearing, mentions of death, alcohol mentioned, general trauma, violence (implied)

tags: established relationship, honestly for once NOT dumbasses, angst… comfort?, affection

notes: i think this is a oneshot. Im not completely sure (im kinda maybe sure) that this is a oneshot… im allowed to write about my interests! (pt 11 of snapshots in my drafts rn its a complicated ch im wrestling w myself about posting)--- but im in arcane brainrot…. I love dissecting it and unfortunately for all of u i LOVE silco……… hes a questionable character…… but the way the action of season ii is going i need something familiar in my life while looking at (doomed) victor/jayce (heavy sighs) — if u don’t wanna read i understand this is a moonie want (and need) — love youuuuuu <3 

word count: 2.6k

| masterlist | 

There were corners of her he did not know. 

Folds of her linens and clothes he moved to uncover in the past months. She was quiet, silent in the visage he had drawn of her, but stubborn (something familiar) and something of great consistency to him. 

It was hard to quantify her, easier to dismiss. She was not special. Of common stature and of common shape. Plain colors adorned her closet, plain and even temperament, plain tone, and of plain face. 

That is what they would say when uncovering her past. Now that she was part of this mess, part of the mess he had sheltered her into (part of the mess Vander had shepherded her into). The dream of a larger nation, of overarching architecture and structure and reasoning. A voice, they figured between the four of them, a voice that would listen and learn and speak loudly in the face of the injustices they had survived and crawled through. 

But he figured they would only comment on her appearance, perhaps. Of her coal stained shoes and the dirt under her picked nails. 

They would not know the woman behind it all. Would not know of Felicia either (now). Not with the violence inflicted on the bridge. Not with the weapon staining his hand (an accident he had sworn to them both). 

He knew of the woman before him though, knew of her mind and spite and grit. Knew of her work and the lengths and dredges she had come from. Knew of her grief. Something he sequestered in the back of his mind. Survive survive survive. She had once compared Zaun’s residents to roaches. Unkillable, dirty, and strikingly annoying. She meant it in an endearing way, she had to. She was a roach too. 

It was a different kind of insect, a different animal, that drove him to draw a gun on the woman he loved so dearly. He wouldn’t have thought to wrap a finger around the trigger if it weren’t for the feral instinct of preservation. He could discern danger like a sense, it came as easily as smell, as sight, as breathing. But it had him stuttering now, seeing her on the other end of his warranted violence (was it warranted?). 

She was a structure of poise, like usual. Another reason to keep the gun drawn to her. The silence in her acceptance of his decision. He knew though, that if they both survived the grief of his mistake she wouldn’t forgive him- never forgive him for registering her as a threat. How could she be? 

He had been waiting for the retaliation. He hid away in corners and along dark walls in wait. He waited for Vander to seek a sort of violence in him, the last violence the large man would ever do. Seek blood in the name of their shared friend, for the orphans he made. He was sick, sick with the thought of it most days. But composed, up until this point. Up until Vander used his last facilities to shake his roach of a mind from the corners of the nation they once dreamed of in the depth of caves and between stone-cold walls. She was it, was that thing that would make him waver, and he knew that. 

She had her palms raised, hands shaking. But composed, as usual. It was hard to shake the structure of her. She was rarely surprised by violence, much less the plights of men. She wasn’t quick to anger, wasn’t weepy at the thought of destruction, and stood as strong as cavernous walls, sturdy against the infrastructure of the Undercity. He admired that, he loved that. 

She had only shaken a total of three times, in front of him. Only bent her head and neck and bowed before him in emotion all of three times. Imprinted in his mind, the cascade of her hair, the shaking of her shoulders, and the sightless grief in her eyes. 

The first was the first time he truly saw her. She consumed herself with work. Whether it be their laborious job in the mines or the turmoil of finding justice in an unjustified upbringing. She had broken one day, that very first day. 

She was a sightless, unknowing girl in the crowd. But something about her hunched structure had struck him differently that day. He was younger then, only twelve. He knew of empathy but had yet to experience it. But he was shackled by it then, that day, when he first saw her. Hands bloody through her miners' gloves, shoes holey from the trek to and fro. She was younger, by a year or two. It was not unusual to find distressed children in the Undercity, perhaps more common than people would like to comment. Children, like they were, grew along the walls and innards of the city, meshed into stony hallways and bridges, faded into noise and paint of the background. It should go unnoticed by most, a crying child. But it struck him differently, then. 

The second, the day she confessed unfounded feelings. Years in the making, the dredges of the relationship between them. Even now, he could not comprehend the strings that were strapped between them. It was more than stuttered words and whispered confessions. It felt undying between them, an acceptance. 

She had been confused at the progression of their relationship, as was he. No reference to be found between them of a structure to hold their relationship. They took it in stride, took and molded their wants between them to breathe easily. Wind through a metal chime, ultimately peaceful, but prone to knots. Their strings overlaying, knotting, tightening. He had never thought to unweave them when he fled. The tug of knots and her heart led her back to him anyway. 

The third time would be now. The shake of her hands and the draw of her legs. The shimmering tears rounding along her chin. She was beautiful. She never liked when he said so, but she was captivating. He didn’t enjoy seeing her cry, it unsettled a deep dark part of him. One he would crush and stamp down, that domineering possessive part of him. He thinks of drawing the gun to his foot, squeezing the trigger at his incompetence and attitude to make her cry (this was the second time now, he swore, two strikes in the threads between them). 

“Please.” She never pleaded. “Please Silco, come home.” The grit of her teeth against a stutter, the shuddering of her breath in the cavities of her chest. Grief, unfounded. 

“You know I can’t, dear.” Too quick for his liking, he responded. He had backed himself into a dark corner, grown leaves into walls, and hid in shadows of the Undercity bridges now. It would have to be without her though, he grieved again. He had sunk so far into the stones, in the murky water of the Undercity, it wouldn’t be safe for her to follow. 

“I’m sorry.” An afterthought. A forethought. What he apologized for was lost between the notch of string on his belt and the thread leading back to her shirt. Was it for Felicia? His grief? Or was it for leaving her? (Was it for the children? For the young girls that remember his visage in Felicia’s home? For the blue-haired pixy girl that asked for him between shattered bombed dreams? The girls she shushed and rocked and cried to sleep?) 

She liked to think it was for all of it. Her stupid heart forgave him anyway. 

She was far from naive, far from gullible. 

She knew of men and violence and dark waters by the ripe age of nine. Something she would teach Felicia’s daughters now too. It was why she lived, why she breathed still, her unwillingness to bend and snap her neck in the face of shadows and men. But she had forsaken that for him, craved a subjugation in his waters, and wished to follow him up ivy walls and read the ink scrawled on his stupid notebooks. Wanted to breathe life into his ideas and into Zaun. She’d follow him into the dark, knowingly leaving the unsaught dawn behind her. 

She only bent because she knew the power between them was equal though. She was sure of exactly three things when it came to Silco. 

The first being that he was flippantly deep. That he thought not in breaths but in paragraphs. That he could not speak but write for hours on end, that he could comprehend and listen and swallow and accept, and that he did not react in haste. He was full of purpose and determination. It was more than endearing, almost blindingly inspiring that he wished for not better but only ever the best. 

The second being that he was a perfectionist. That his scripture was scrawling and hard to read, but comprehensive. That he enjoyed messes only because he enjoyed the meticulousness of planning and cleaning up. That he loved the structure of homes and corners of houses and the craft of cleaning something that was truly his. 

The third being that he loved of equal measure, that she was most sure of, could recognize in the dead of the night, in the depth of caves. That he was severely serious when it came to the strings strung between them, and not because of the disorder of them. He would have color-coded, would have untwisted knots, and lengthened rope if he wanted to. But that was the truth of it, that he was the farthest from a perfectionist when it came to love. That he didn’t measure distances and didn’t note words between them, because he threw away the scale of them long ago. Pulled her close, twisted words between them, and sang and hummed to her in crooks of her neck. That he wished for her continued safety above anything, and far above his own. She knew for a fact, was sure of it as she was of the red-pitched brick outside the bar. It was as cumbersome as the smoggy sky, but as easy to swallow as any dark liquor. That he loved her in dark corners that made him. 

But there were dark corners of her he did not know of yet. 

That the consuming grief of her long-time friend sent her into a rage, that the stabilization and measurements between them fell and broke when he was not there for her to confide in. She wished above all else that he had stayed, that he had faced Vander’s anger. She had stayed, breathed, and swam the storm of their mutual friends' grief. Stayed for the children and for their grief also. Did that make him a coward?

“For what.” She asks, the caverns of her lungs shaking now. Her hands weak, falling to her side. “Don’t say that, don’t say that if you don’t know what for.” It was senseless and miscalculated of him to say sorry. He is so purposeful, so full of preserverations. She just wished he did not feel he had to preserve himself in the face of her. 

The gun shakes now, dropping to his side, his finger poised along the trigger still. The depth of the scarcity of her image still shook him. It had been weeks, what felt like months since he’d seen her face. 

He had seen her in crowds, seen the children marking her frame and clutched in her arms. It shook him to not wake up to her face anymore, much less her smell or her frame or her voice. Her face though, the visage of tears and the weakness of her arms, awoke something in him. 

He had to remember himself, why he left. To build a nation, to structure a future for her. For the new shadows of Felicia that followed in her wake now. 

“Everything.” He meant. “For everything, my love.” 

She sighs deeply, tired. Her head tilting to the left on instinct. Powder made a home in the crook of her neck most nights now. 

It was striking to see him. She dreamed of him between nightmares and dreamless sleep. Dreamed of waking up to him, of the quirk of his lips and the crook of his nose. The smell of him and the warmth of his embrace. The fold of his jacket around her shoulders and the breath of a kiss along her brow. When she woke she could not decide the ups and downs of walls, couldn’t decide if it was a tortuous nightmare to be awake or to be asleep. 

It strikes her when he steps forward from the shadowed corner she had backed him into. His hair is longer, his eyes deeper and darker, his clothes caked with dirt. She thinks to be insistent again. Thinks of bringing him home despite Vanders’ anger, despite the grief they shared between them. But wasn’t Silco grieving also? 

He approaches with stuttering steps. Unsure of the length of strings between them, grasping her to tie her tight again to him, when he reaches for the curve of her cheek and jaw. 

“Don’t cry.” He commands for the third time in her life, sweeping his thumb and fingers along her wet cheeks. She shutters around it, breathing between the mess of string and space between them. 

“Good.” He hums, bringing his fingers to the nape of her neck, curving her neck up in revelation. He bends his own in subjugation to her, curving his shoulders and bowing to her visage to meet familiarly between them. Curving his slight frame and lips against her own warmth, the common parts of her beat faster at the affection. It burst between them, the movement of endearment and familiarity. She forgot about this above all, missing the plainer parts of life you don’t know to miss until they are gone. 

She’d miss him again and again, would string along strings and set fires in dark paths and along walls searching for him. They’d say goodbye now, and say goodbye again once she traced him back down to the cobblestone he had slid into and out of. She’d look for him in architecture and in the children of the Undercity, she’d swear and kiss away it all now, though. Anything to push off the knots between them, anything to stop a stuttering goodbye between them that was as inevitable as her own death. A thousand of them, these tiny goodbyes, she’d take though, if it meant he lived. 

Lived farther down below than she’s ever been. But then again, there were corners and foothills in her mind he did not know of, yet. 

[thezuzulibrary]

Jeongin hard thoughts?

Imagine you and jeongin were having sex when he finished first so you ended up faking an orgasm. A few days later he overhears you telling a friend over the phone abt this. When you wake up next to him the next morning you find yourself tied to your headboard, unable to escape. You are completely naked and jeongin comes in. He eats you out and forces orgasm after orgasm out of you until you are crying and he is completely relentless. He finally let's up after your 15th orgasm and you are relived, until you see him take the vibrator from the drawer and turn it to the highest and holding it against your clit while he fucks you coaxing about 20 more orgasms leaving you feeling exhausted. He says he only did this to pay you back for the orgasm he owed you.

If you do this, could u pls tag me? <3333

스트레이키즈

yang jeongin 𖹭 afab!reader

what i owe you.

synopsis: an insecure jeongin wants nothing other than to make you feel good.

content: explicit sexual content (mdni), pwp, afab!female reader, established relationship, pet names (babe, baby, innie), dubious consent but it all works out, mentioned faked orgasm, yandere!jeongin if you put glasses and squint, they have a safeword but the reader doesn't use it, not proofread, lowercase intended.

explicit warnings: dom!jeongin, he is a little mean/aggressive but sweet and calm?, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, overstimulation, using a vibrator, bondage/eagle

zuzu's notes: hiii! sorry this took so long, it was in my drafts for awhile. idk if it's okay that i answered your ask or if you wanted me to just make a post and then tag you but... well, amazing ask, girliepop! i love the idea so much, but you made it sound complete so i didn't know what to add, i hope you enjoy anyway hehe. writing this kinda reminded me of seven by jungkook ft. latto, so maybe that's a song rec while reading this lol. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

"don't get me wrong, i love jeongin..."

i.n didn't intend to eavesdrop. he arrived home a few hours early to surprise you, but his curiosity piqued when he heard your soft voice when you were supposedly supposed to be the only one he would come home to. as he crept closer to the door of your shared bedroom, expecting the worst that he pushed to the back of his mind,

he knew that you were talking about him. he let out a breath of relief when he saw that you were on the phone. he wanted to know more but also he felt guilty for violating your privacy... it was your shared home anyway, he felt somewhat justified in his behavior.

"i guess he has been a little stressed lately and needed a quick release. i just had to fake mine,"

i.n's heart dropped to the pit of stomach. fake? he felt a gnawing sensation. as he listened closely, they prayed that you were referring to something else and not your intimate moments together. the uncertainty was weighing heavily on his mind and he felt a sense of insecurity about your pleasure. he wondered when else you would fake and he didn't realize. your words continued.

"otherwise... i don't know, he could have been embarrassed since he could always make me release before him... it's my first time having to fake it—"

without warning, i.n burst into the bedroom and loudly announced himself. "babe, i'm home!" he exclaimed, immediately capturing your attention. he proceeded to remove his shoulder bag and neatly comb his hair, all while putting on a convincing performance that he had just arrived.

"oh!" you exclaimed, hanging up the phone and rushing to put on your slippers and greeting i.n with a warm, loving hug that i.n struggled to return properly. "you're early, baby!" you said cheerily, planting a kiss on his cheek. "how was practice?"

"practice was a little tiring," he forced a smile. "i wanted to take you out to dinner."

"oh, really? let me get ready then—" you pulled away from him, looking around before heading toward the closet.

"ah, babe," he called out, following you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around you from behind. "maybe after dinner, you'd wanna...?"

"oh," you paused. a bead of sweat dripped down i.n's forehead as he awaited your response. he felt a little nervous but he wanted to make up for your lost orgasm tonight until he heard your response; "maybe not tonight, baby." you smiled and patted his hand around you as you searched for an outfit.

"ah, okay, then..." i.n promptly removed his arms around your body and decided to wash up as well.

dinner went by quickly and quietly, probably like last night. i.n couldn't get the thought of your phone conversation out of his head and decided to plan something for the next morning.

"dinner was amazing, baby," you kissed his cheek as you opened the door to your apartment. "we haven't been able to eat out in weeks."

"that's why i wanted to surprise you..." he gave you a sweet smile.

the night ended peacefully, it was dark and quiet, the bedroom was well ventilated, and you were actually a bit chilly, so you cuddled up to i.n's broad form. curse you for being so cozy that night, you ended up having the deepest and best sleep of your life until you woke up to a sensation.

your eyes fluttered open and you look down to see i.n's head between your legs. slowly, your mind woke up along with your body and you grew alarmed, shutting your legs together, only to not. they were tied down to the foot of the bed, you tried to move your arms but they were tied to the end of the bed. "jeongin-" you rasped out.

he lifted his head from your legs, "oh, you're awake." he said blankly and wiped his bottop lip with his thumb as he sat up.

"what are you doing? untie me," you whined as your arms and legs struggled to escape the restrains.

"shh, baby, calm down..." he shuffled up, legs straddling your stomach as he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, then your soft lips. he pulled away and stared into your eyes. "i'm simply making up for a lost orgasm the other night."

"babe, i have a meeting to get to,"

"tell them you're sick." he went back down and laid his tongue flatly on your clit, kitten licking it, earning a soft moan from you. "i'm sure you will be soon."

"baby, please-" you cried when he fit two of his thick fingers knuckle-deep effortlessly into your pussy, you were so wet from arousal and his saliva that he didn't struggle. he curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. "ah, baby-" you moaned out. fuck. he hadn't given you this type of attention in months, maybe it was okay to call in sick today. you were a bit overwhelmed and you could only move your hips against his hand.

"you like that?" i.n asked quietly as he watched your hips rock against his hand, eyes flickering to look at your already fucked out expression. "you must really like it..." he whispered and pulled his fingers out.

"innie!" you whined out, your disappointment was short-lived when he began lapping at your cunt again, sucking and eating you like there was no tomorrow. "don't stop like that..." you moaned, you could feel your climax building up as he sucked harshly on your clit and licked your hole. he let out a low moan as he felt your cum build up on his tongue.

"mmm, babe, you taste amazing. i can't believe i missed out on this for months..."

slowly, you caught your breath, but you felt his tongue on you again. "ah, innie, stop- i- can't..." you whined, moving your hips away from him.

"ah ah, quit moving, babe. i need to make you feel good." jeongin grabbed your hips in place and continued his job. you whined in his grasp, helpless. "if you really wanted to stop, you'd say the safeword, no?" he put his middle finger and began fingering you aggressively. you blubbered as you felt another orgasm building. "come on baby," he said, voice low as he quickened his pace, finger unrelenting, his thumb moved to rub your clit and you creamed around his finger.

"ah, baby... please..." you moaned out, eyes fluttering shut. you hadn't had to consecutive amazing orgasms forced out of you liked that before. "please..." you blubbered.

"please what?" jeongin asked, his finger began pumping inside you once more, this time he fit in his pointer and his ring, he pushed them in so deep you felt the cold silver of his rings against your folds. you whined out at the sensation. "please what baby?"

you were left speechless, your voice exhausted from the relentless stream of orgasms jeongin had wrung from you. his fingers continued to work their magic, adding another orgasm to your already impressive tally, he began to eat you out once more. and more. and more. this continued for about 10 times before he finally stopped, pulling away from your quivering pussy and sucking the evidence of your cum from his fingers.

"mhgh... baby, are you done now...?" you asked weakly, your voice barely audible. your eyes fluttered open as jeongin stood up and walked towards the bedside table, pulling out a vibrator with a wicked glint in his eye. your eyes widened.

you had a long day ahead of you.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

main masterlist.

©️ 2025 k-zuzulibrary All Rights Reserved.

[giveafike]

I love Game, Set, Match! If you ever continue it, since the last time y/n was struggling with her game and Ben helped her out, maybe this time we can have Ben struggling and y/n helping him out

Combining this with another prompt for part 3 of game, set match - another anon said: I dont need u to make game, set, match a whole fan fic, but i would love to see a part 3 with them as mixed doubles partners in like the us open or something!! part 2 was amazing, so exited to see your next work regardless of the plot<3

(here if you haven't read part 2 + here for part 1)

—��——————————————————————

TLDR: Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton couple meeting up after some time for an Opens Tournament after spending time away. They're set to play mixed doubles, Ben's got issues, we're cosplaying bob the builder the way we can fix this!

Word count + info: 6.3k! A bit shorter than the other two, but I promise it's more intimate! Dialogue (lots of flirting and teasing). Mentions of Matteo Berrettini & Ajla Tomljanović.

Character Inspo: Wbk by now: cheeky n playful MC - yk just... fun! I didn't write any specifications, but in my head I was envisioning Tyla so! But put whoever you want to cast ;). She's fallen hard in love here tho

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, this is sooo cute. There is a lot of suggestive content here 😭 but nothing NSFW, teasing, playful relationship, lwky submissive Ben, hope I make u guys giggle!

Azzie Notes ✚: HI!! Last post for a bit (I'm still writing other things! Just taking a bit longer than expected - do send more reqs tho, I'm running low!) I LOVEEE writing Game, Set, Match - I'm so proud of this baby!

Do send in blurb reqs, I can push em out quicker than these longer stories. In saying that, I do have a couple in the works rn who knows? Maybe we'll have a new baby project on our hands.

Also, for anon asks + messages that aren't directly fanfics, follow #azzie asks for stuff bc I feel bad hoarding up space on the main tags for just anon convos. Should I do more of that? Do we want me to talk? Send qs and stuff if you do, otherwise I'll carry on w the usual fanfics and AUs.

I'd love to write a fanfic (SFW or NSFW) w a name and character description, like I could do SOOO much more, someone pls req, so I can storyboard and draft up stuff!!!

————————————————————————

Game, Set, Match (Part 3) - B.T.S

It had been weeks since you’d seen Ben.

With the WTA and ATP tours in full swing, your schedules pulled you in opposite directions, placing you both in different cities and on different courts. Your phones had been lifelines, but they only gave you fleeting sporadic late-night texts, quick phone calls, and longing video chats to keep you in contact.

But now, the separation was over, and the moment you stepped off the plane, a familiar rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, your heart raced, already knowing Ben was somewhere waiting for you.

You pushed through the terminal tunnel-visioned and suddenly, you saw him. Even in a crowded airport, Ben stood out. Tall, with his unmistakable athletic build, the brim of his hat tilted low, his lips were bitten as he scanned the crowd, his eyes locked on you the second he saw you. The world around you blurred, and Ben made his way toward you with long, determined strides.

Before you could even fully register the relief washing over you, his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. His familiar scent filled your senses, instantly grounding you. Your arms were thrown over his neck, your face tucked into his neck as you held him tight, wondering how you had managed to last this long without his comforting touch.

“I missed you so damn much, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. One hand ran through your hair, the other smoothing your back.

You sighed into him, your hands rubbing his back, curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer. “I missed you so much more”.

Ben didn’t waste any time. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft and intense like he was making up for every missed kiss over the last few weeks. His hand slid up your sides, slipping under your hoodie to rest against your bare skin. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and you shivered slightly from how badly you had missed the feel of him.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been without you,” he breathed against your lips, his thumb stroking along the small of your back as he kissed the corner of your mouth and then down the line of your jaw.

You smiled, but your voice came out softer than you intended, already melting against him. “I think I have an idea. I was struggling too.” Your eyes fluttered open and shut with each kiss he planted, your gaze roaming over his face, boring into the kindness in his sweet eyes. You reached up to peck his cheek in slow, lasting kisses.

Ben pulled back chuckling, just enough to look at you, his thumb coming up to brush over your cheek as he drank you in, like he needed to commit every detail of your face to memory. “I’m not letting you out of my sight now. I need you close, with me, all the time,” he whispered, his eyes big and soft with affection. “Not for a second.”

His intensity sent a wave of warmth through your chest, but you still managed a smirk, raising an eyebrow. He looked like a little kid, never wanting to let you go. “Not even for a second, huh? Okay, big guy.”

Ben grinned, his hand slipping back under your hoodie, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pulled you in for another kiss, one that promised more than just a reunion.

“We still need to get to the hotel,” you laughed breathlessly, playfully hitting his chest.

“Hotel’s first,” he said with a mischievous grin, dipping his head to brush his lips over your ear. “But after that…” He nipped lightly at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. His hands crept higher under your hoodie, grazing the edge of your sports bra. “I’ve got some plans for us once you settle in.”

You laughed, squealing, swatting at him playfully. “Benjamin Shelton! Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I don’t think I can,” he murmured with a smirk, his lips barely brushing yours as he leaned in. “Not when you’re finally here.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed him away, heat rising in your cheeks. As you wheeled your bag toward the exit, Ben caught up, a boyish, gummy smile tugging at his lips as he stole the handle from your hands. His arm slipped around your waist, resting a little lower on your hip, a teasing glint in his eyes that promised he wasn’t quite done yet.

In the taxi, Ben’s clingy neediness only seemed to intensify, and you felt it in the way his hands couldn’t stay still. He pulled you closer, nearly into his lap, making it nearly impossible to sit normally in the seat.

His hands traced delicate patterns on your back, on your sides. His lips hovered near your ear, occasionally brushing against your cheek or neck, you could feel the smirk tugging at his lips, sending tiny shivers down your spine. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a quiet declaration, he missed you, he needed you.

“You seriously have no idea how much I’ve missed you, like, really bad. Like, losing my mind, bad,” Ben whispered, his voice thick with a mix of affection and urgency. His thumb brushed along your ribcage, slow and deliberate, like he was memorising the feel of you all over again.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back against him, feeling the warmth of his chest against your back. “Ben, darling, I’m getting an idea, with how handsy you’re being,” you teased, giggling as you glanced up at him. “You’re being so clingy, baby.”

Ben chuckled, not the least bit embarrassed. “Can you blame me?” he murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “I haven’t had you in my arms for weeks. I’ve been dying just to touch you for weeks. My beautiful, gorgeous girl, the woman that I love so much…now all mine in my hands again…”

His voice trailed off while he planted kisses as your breath hitched slightly at his praise, offering him a soft hum as his hands continued their slow exploration, fingertips skimming beneath the hem of your hoodie, teasing the edge of your waistband, roaming back up to toy with your sports bra. “Weeks, huh? You're acting like it’s been years.”

“Might as well have been,” he muttered against your neck, brushing your hair to one side gently, nipping playfully at your skin. “I don’t think I’ve gone this long without touching you since we started dating. I’ve been so desperate to just touch you.”

You giggled softly, your head tilting to the side to give him better access, your fingers resting against his arm. “Maybe I book more WTA tours away if this is the welcome I get.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and he pulled you even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Don’t even joke about that.” His lips brushed against your collarbone, his breath hot and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me when you’re gone, baby. I’m not letting you go far from me for a long time.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, ownership laced in his words. You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, your fingers running along the edge of his jaw. You could feel Ben slowly start to get more desperate, his playful feathering kisses turning into something more permanent, sucking and biting softly as if to leave small, subtle marks on your skin.

“Oof, someone's possessive. Guess I’m stuck having to deal with you being all over me then,” you teased, though your voice came out softer, more breathless.

Ben grinned, his eyes deep with affection as he kissed you again, plunging this time, one hand slipping further up your back, underneath your hoodie. “You’re not exactly pushing me away, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” you murmured, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re too tempting.”

The taxi jolted slightly as it hit a bump, and you let out a quiet giggle breaking out of your bubble and swatting at his chest lightly, clearing your throat as you sat up. “Ben, the driver’s right there.”

Ben glanced over at the driver, who was politely staring ahead, before shrugging. “Doesn’t bother me.”

You let out a laugh, pushing lightly at his chest again. “Behave,” you said, though there was no real force behind the command. You were enjoying the attention far too much.

Ben hummed softly, his lips still brushing against your skin, hands roaming even more dangerously as he cupped your breasts under your hoodie. “Can’t help it. You’re here, and I’ve been deprived for too long.”

The playful banter continued all the way to the hotel, his hands wandering and gripping and his lips stealing kisses at every opportunity. By the time you arrived, the air between you was thick with the tension of weeks spent apart, and you could barely wait to get to your room. Ben grabbed your suitcase with one hand, the other arm firmly around your waist, guiding you through the hotel lobby with an almost single-minded focus.

As soon as you were in the elevator, the doors barely closed before Ben had you pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours, hands gripping your waist as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between you. Your hands pressed against the wall to soften the sudden push, before snaking up to the nape of his neck.

“Ben,” you breathed between kisses, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “We’re almost there, hold on, babe..!”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding lower. “But I can’t wait, baby.”

By the time you reached the room, you were both breathless, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stumbled inside. Ben closed the door behind you, immediately pulling you into his arms again, his hands slipping beneath your hoodie, lifting it slightly as his lips found yours in a kiss that was slow and needy.

You smiled against his lips, finally breaking the kiss to pull back just enough to catch your breath. “You’re insatiable..!” you teased, gasping, though your own hands were wandering, tracing the familiar lines of his strong chest and shoulders.

Ben grinned, his hands slipping down to your hips, pulling you closer. “Only when it comes to my girl.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re sweet.”

His lips brushed against yours again, but this time the kiss was gentler, more tender. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he pulled you even closer. “I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart swelled at the words, and you kissed him softly, letting the moment linger. “I love you too, Ben.”

For a few moments, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world falling away. It was about the quiet comfort of being together again, of knowing that even after weeks apart, nothing between you had changed.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his voice soft but playful. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smiled. “I was actually going to ask you that. You’ve been here longer than me, did you manage to set up a practice match?”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to your waist again. “I did. We’re playing against Matteo and Ajla.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and you raised an eyebrow. “As in Berrettini? Matteo Berrenttini? That’s quite the practice match.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah? You sound a little too excited about that.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile as you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Well, have you seen him?”

Ben’s eyes squinted, his hands slipping lower as he pulled you flush against him. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your hands on his chest, teasing him. “I’m just saying... he’s a little distracting.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should give you something to distract you from him.”

You grinned, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I think my boyfriend is distraction enough,” you murmured, your lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss. “But if you want to make sure I’m focused...”

Ben smirked playfully, his lips capturing yours again, and you let out a soft laugh as he lifted you off the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he lifted your legs around his waist. “I think I can manage that.”

As you pulled back, breathless and grinning, you whispered softly, “You know I’m teasing. I love you, Ben. Everything feels right with you.”

Ben’s expression softened, his hands gently stroking your sides. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice full of affection. “More than you know. Feels like home with you in my arms.”

You planted a few soft kisses on his face before leaning into his ear, murmuring, "I still think you owe me a distraction though, Ben."

He chuckled, kissing your cheek. "That'll you get, darlin’ " he mumbled against you, bringing you to the bedroom. That night passed by in a blur of moments of pure, genuine love and care, making up for lost time and emotion.

The next morning, the air was cool and crisp, and the sun bright as you arrived at the court. It was a perfect day for tennis the autumn breeze a welcome break from the summer heat you had both endured on the tour. You could hear the hum of early risers in the distance, but out here, it felt like the world had shrunk to just you, Ben, Matteo, and Ajla.

The warm-up with Matteo Berrettini and Ajla Tomljanović had started off with an easy-going energy, but as the sets progressed, the friendly competition turned more intense. You and Ben moved together fluidly on the court, your bodies instinctively syncing as you read each other's movements, making quick glances, wordless nods, and smooth exchanges.

There were moments of effortless coordination with Ben's power serves and your swift returns combined to win quick points. It was no surprise to anyone watching how well you complemented each other, not just as a couple but as doubles players too. But despite your solid partnership, you noticed a subtle flaw in Ben’s play, something that had escaped both his attention and the growing tension in the practice game.

Between points, you caught the way Ben’s jaw clenched when a shot didn’t go as planned, or when a well-placed return from Matteo caught him off-guard, making him shake his head. It wasn’t that he lacked the skill, Ben was as powerful and talented as they came, but there was a rush in his movement, a drive to end points too quick and fast, a desire to out-muscle rather than out-think his opponent. He was pushing too hard, chasing shots aggressively when he didn’t need to, leaving himself out of position for the next exchange.

“Ben,” you called softly during a break between serves, approaching him with a playful smile, but your eyes scanned him thoughtfully.

He tilted his head, his sweaty curls brushing his forehead, and he flashed that bright grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “Yes, babe?”

You glanced over at Matteo and Ajla who were catching their breath on the other side of the court, then back at Ben. “You’re doing great,” you said, giving him a playful nudge, “but you’re leaving yourself open. You’re trying to end the point too fast, darling.”

His smile faltered slightly, the competitive edge still buzzing in his eyes, but there was a flicker of realisation too. “What do you mean?”

You took a step closer, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers gently trace down his forearm as if to soothe his tension and take the edge off of your suggestions. “You don’t have to go for the big finish every time,” you said softly, your voice tinged with affection. “Trust me to set you up.”

Ben blinked at you, clearly processing what you were saying. His eyes roamed over your face, then down to the feeling of your hand on his bicep, his expression softening as he began to understand. “You think I’m overdoing it?”

You smiled, leaning up to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, studying his eyes before you answered. “Hmm, a little teensy bit, yeah. Just play it a bit smarter. You know I’ve always got your back.” Your hand slipped down to pat his chest lightly, fingers lingering on his heart.

Ben let out a slow breath, his pride unshaken but his focus shifting. “Got it,” he muttered, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Leave the setup to you, huh? My girl’s handling business?”

“Exactly,” you teased, giving him a quick wink. “I know what I’m setting up for my man.”

That last part clearly struck something in Ben, the pride swelling in his chest as you called him your man. His grin widened, a gleam in his eyes now, not from the competition but from the quiet confidence you had in him.

“Damn right, I am,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower so only you could hear. “Guess I’ll have to show you what your man can really do once I’m in.”

You gave him a soft swat on the arm, giggling. “Save it for the court, Benny. Or maybe later, when we’re off it.”

Ben chuckled but pulled you into a quick, possessive kiss, his lips lingering longer than they probably should have, given that you were still mid-match.

“Later then,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands lingering at your hips before he pulled away with a playful gleam in his eye.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Matteo called from across the court, his thick Italian accent laced with amusement. “You two ready, or should we leave you alone?”

Ajla laughed, shaking her head. “Pretty sure we all know how this match ends if they keep that up.”

You shot a playful glare at them, then turned to Ben with a smirk. “Think they’re jealous?”

Ben gave a quick shrug, flashing that cocky grin that drove you wild. “Who wouldn’t be? I mean, look at my beautiful girl.” He winked at you before jogging back into position, and your heart warmed at the ease and pride in his voice when he said it, his girl.

As the next point started, the flow between you and Ben seemed smoother. You both moved like two parts of a well-oiled machine, he focused on power and strategy, and you on finesse and setting him up for those big finishing shots. You watched him settle, taking more time with his positioning, trusting you to create the opportunities for him. And when that perfect moment came, his power unleashed with precision, and you saw the change in his eyes, a new level of control starting to blossom.

Ajla returned a lob shot, and Ben waited, patient, as you volleyed it back, setting him up. The moment the ball left her racket, Ben struck, sending it down the line in a clean, blistering shot that left both Matteo and Ajla flat-footed.

“Vamos!” Ben shouted, his voice full of triumph, his fist clenched, as the ball bounced out of reach. He turned to you with wide, triumphant eyes, rushing over to scoop you up in his arms before you could even blink.

“That’s my man,” you laughed as he spun you around, both of you laughing and riding the high of the win.

Ben pressed a quick kiss to your lips, still holding you in his arms. “Told you we’d make a good team.”

You could hear Matteo clapping slowly in mock defeat behind you, and Ajla was laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Alright, alright, we’ll give it to you guys this time.”

You beamed at Ben, his arms still tightly around you, your face inches from his. “Always knew you had it in you.”

Ben grinned, his forehead pressing against yours as his voice dropped low. “Only ‘cause I’ve got you by my side.”

You and Ben had barely finished celebrating your win when Matteo and Ajla sauntered over, shaking their heads in defeat but still smiling.

“That was impressive,” Matteo admitted, clapping Ben on the back.

“Though, if you two keep up with the lovefest on the court, you might distract yourselves one of these days.”

Ben smirked, his hand casually resting on your waist as he pulled you closer. “Nah, we’re just that good. Plus, she keeps me in check.” He winked down at you, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his cheeky confidence.

Ajla gave you a knowing smile. “You guys are impossible. But alright, a deal’s a deal. Lunch on us."

You grinned, side-hugging her over the net. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As the four of you walked off the court, lighthearted banter filling the air, your mind was still on the way Ben had adjusted his play. He’d listened to you, adapted, and it had paid off. There was no denying the satisfaction that came with seeing him execute your advice perfectly. But you also knew that some things would need a little more fine-tuning and practice, and for that, a private session was definitely in order.

Later on, after lunch with Matteo and Ajla, you found yourself back in the hotel room as the sun set, both of you a little tired but still buzzing with energy from the match and the good company. Ben was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone, while you sat on the edge, absently bouncing a tennis ball against the wall in a rhythmic thud.

“Hey,” you said after a moment, glancing over at him. “How about we hit the courts again? Just the two of us. I think we could use some more time out there.”

Ben lifted his head, one eyebrow raised, a teasing twinkle already forming on his lips. “Oh? Didn’t get enough today?”

You smiled, looking back at him. “You’re getting better, Ben, but there are a few things we should work on. You were doing great out there with Matteo and Ajla, but I think we could sharpen up your positioning a little more.”

Ben set his phone down, sitting up now, fully intrigued. “Oh? You’re offering to coach me?”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Yeah. I know you want to be the best, and I can help you with that.”

His eyes brightened with interest, and he was up in an instant, hauling himself up off the bed with a grin. “Alright, coach. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The tennis court was empty when the two of you arrived, the evening air cool and crisp under the soft glow and hum of the stadium lights. Ben took his spot across from you, bouncing lightly on his feet, his signature cocky grin in place as he spun his racket in his hand.

You and Ben had the ball bouncing back and forth in a comfortable rhythm. You enjoyed these quiet moments together, where it was less about winning and more about the two of you syncing up, even if it meant some fine-tuning in his technique.

“Alright, coach,” Ben said with a grin, settling into a more relaxed stance. His playful tone was the same as ever, but there was something softer in his gaze tonight, he was taking you seriously, eager to work, eager to show off for you. “How are we doing this? What’s the game plan to make me even better?”

You leaned back on your heels, arms crossed as you eyed him. “Footwork first. You keep rushing when you don’t need to. Relax into it, be patient, trust yourself and you’ll find your rhythm.”

Ben nodded, his eyes locked on yours as he mimicked your movements. His focus was intense, but this time it was different from how he worked with his dad. Ben had always been a little impatient with Bryan, more concerned with power and quick sets.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was all yours, giving you his full attention, which stirred something more than pride inside of you. As you demonstrated, he followed suit, his footwork and his motion becoming more controlled with each drill. Every time your hand grazed his arm or adjusted his posture, Ben listened obediently, applying your feedback without his usual back-and-forth banter. That focus on your words, the sincere look in his eyes as he perked up to listen, sent sparks through you.

“Better,” you said after a solid rally, a proud smile creeping onto your face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Ben wiped his brow, a hint of pride in his expression. “Guess you’re a pretty good coach, huh?”

You grinned, shaking your head as you walked past him. “I’ve always been good at keeping you in line.”

The game continued, the ball bouncing between you both, the steady rhythm soothing and familiar. You pushed Ben to focus on positioning, drilling him on staying grounded before committing to a shot.

And then, after another smooth exchange where he hit every cue perfectly, the words slipped out without warning.

“There you go! Good boy.”

It hung in the air for a second, and you froze with a shocked expression on your face, realising what you’d just said. Your cheeks burned up instantly as you glanced at Ben. He had paused too, his face lighting up mischievously with a look that told you he was absolutely not going to let this go.

“Good boy?” he repeated, his voice low and teasing. “Is that how we’re doin’ things now?”

You rolled your eyes, pointing your racket at him trying to remain serious, already feeling your face grow warmer. “Benny, don’t start.”

But Ben wasn’t backing down. He sauntered toward you, his grin spreading wider as he closed the distance between you. “Oh, I’m definitely starting. Honestly? I think I like it when you call me that.”

Your heart quickened as he moved closer, his presence as effortless and warm as it was overwhelming. Ben had always been cheeky, but this? This was something else, and the worst part was you liked it. You liked how easily he fell into his role, how willingly he listened, and how obedient he was when it was you guiding him.

“Ben,” you warned, trying to play it cool even though the heat rising in you was impossible to ignore. “We’re still practising.”

“Oh, I know,” he smiled, his voice dropping an octave, making your pulse race. “But you have to admit, I’ve been followin’ your instructions pretty well. Don’t you think?”

Your breath hitched slightly as he moved even closer, his body nearly pressing against yours, the net being your safe haven keeping your space, his eyes glinting with that familiar, playful intensity. “Maybe I should keep bein’ a good boy, hmm?”

It was that line, delivered with a perfectly raised brow, that sent a surge of heat right through you. You hadn’t meant to say it, it just slipped out, a reaction to how well he was following your guidance, but now you couldn’t take it back. And now Ben was fully leaning into the moment, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you.

You tried to recover, taking a small step back to regain some distance.

“You’re… getting there,” you cleared your throat, attempting to steer things back to tennis, though the words came out shakier than you intended.

Ben wasn’t having it, though. “Getting there? Come on, coach, I thought I was doing great.” He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your waist, pulling you back just a little closer. You couldn’t help but suck in a breath, your body betraying the calm front you were trying to keep.

“Am I being good now?” he asked, his voice low, filled with amusement but also something heavier, something deeper. His teasing had shifted slightly, still playful but now layered with affection, and it made your head spin.

You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your composure. “Ben, you-”

“I’m listening,” he cut in smoothly, his lips dangerously close to your ear now, his voice lilting in his drawled-out voice, oozing off his tongue like molasses. “Just like you wanted. Don’t I deserve a lil more praise, hm?”

Your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t help the rush of heat, the buzzing feeling that flooded through you. He was teasing, sure, but he was also right. He had been listening, and the way he responded to your guidance, so open, so eager to improve for you, was doing things to your heart you hadn’t anticipated.

“Okay,” you said quietly, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. “You’re doing real good, Ben.”

Ben smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your eye, and the way he looked at you, both playful and sincere, made you feel completely undone. He raised an eyebrow as he caught your eyes with his, holding your gaze, expecting a bit more.

“You're a good boy,” you added softly, almost as if you were under a spell.

His grin widened, and in that moment, it was clear that you had lost this round. Ben had flipped the dynamic entirely, and though you were supposed to be the one in charge, he was now calling the shots, and it was thrilling.

And in the comfortable quiet of the evening court, with the world fading around you, Ben leaned in and kissed you softly. It wasn’t rushed or heated, just a simple connection, an acknowledgement of the easy rhythm you’d both fallen into.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes sparkled with that same teasing glint.

"Thought you were in charge here, darlin'," he mumbled softly, his twang teasing as he stepped closer, his dark brown eyes gleaming in the dim light of the court. There was something about the way he said it, that lazy confidence mixed with an undercurrent of playfulness, that sent heat straight through you.

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to give him a sharp retort. But the way he was looking at you, all calm and patient like he had all the time in the world to enjoy how flustered you were, made your pulse quicken, made you squirm under him. The man knew exactly what he was doing.

And then, without another word, Ben leaned in and placed his hand to rest gently at the back of your neck, his fingers slipping through your hair, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch as you both stared into each other's eyes.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his lips just barely curving up into a cheeky smile. “Still wanna keep goin', or you ready to call it?”

Your breath hitched, but you managed to keep your cool, meeting his gaze with a sly smile. “You’re getting cocky, Benny."

His grin widened, and his voice dropped, nice and smooth. "Can't help it when you’re lookin’ at me like that."

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Fine, we’ll call it. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on you next time.”

"Guess I'll have to look forward to that, then," he said, his voice lingering just enough to make you smile.

As you both gathered your things and left the court, the night air cool against your heated skin, there was a sense of ease between you. He reached over, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked, and even though the teasing had subsided, the intimacy of the moment lingered.

A few days later, the stakes were higher, the atmosphere much more intense. You and Ben had practised with Ajla and Matteo in the lead-up to this match, but the reality of the Open, the weight of it, the pressure, was different.

As you stood side by side with Ben, gazing out at the packed stadium, the noise of the crowd buzzing in your ears, you could feel the energy crackling around you. This wasn’t just any match, this was what you’d been working toward.

The first set was fast-paced and intense, Matteo’s brutal serves and Ajla’s precision giving you little room to breathe. You and Ben barely kept up though while moving in sync, feeding off each other’s energy as you fought to stay in control.

When the set finally ended, narrowly in your favour, you both collapsed onto the bench, your breaths coming hard and fast. Ben leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring out at the court with that familiar, intense focus with a gel pack in his mouth you’d seen so many times before.

His brown eyes were dark, locked onto the lines of the court like he was reading every inch of it. He wasn’t the playful, adoring Ben right now. This was the side of him you admired most, the one who studied the game like it was an art form, completely absorbed in every detail, every strategy.

The sharp angles of his face were even more pronounced as he heaved, sweat glistening along his jawline as his gaze stayed locked forward. It was that quiet intensity, the way he seemed to block out everything but the game, that made him so magnetic out here. He was in his element, and it was captivating.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, still catching your breath as you watched him. He didn’t speak at first, keeping that unwavering focus on the court, his breathing steadying. You knew better than to interrupt when he got like this when that competitive side of him came out, Ben was locked in.

But after a moment, you leaned over, your shoulder brushing his, and gave him a soft nudge. “Hey.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and just like that, the tension melted a little. He smiled, soft and small, and you could see a flicker of the playful Ben you knew so well underneath all that intensity.

“You’re playing smart, Ben. Matteo’s a powerhouse, but you’ve been nailing those returns. Keep pushing him wide, make him work for it.”

He exhaled, nodding as your words sank in. "Yeah, you’re right." His voice low and a bit raspy from the heat of the match.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand brush against yours on the bench. “We’ve got this, okay? Just stay in the rhythm. I’m right here with you.”

He turned to look at you fully, and there it was, that gaze, the one that made your heart race every time. Dark brown eyes locked on yours, filled with trust and something deeper. “I know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. "Ain’t no one else I’d rather be out here with.”

Before you could respond, the whistle blew, signalling the start of the second set. Ben stood first, turning to offer you his hand, and you took it without hesitation. There was a strength in his grip that steadied you, and as you walked back onto the court together, you felt that connection between you grow stronger.

The second set was even tougher and rallies longer, each point feeling like a battle. Matteo’s serves were punishing, and Ajla was relentless, but you and Ben had found your groove. He followed your lead, trusting your instincts, and every return, every volley, felt sharper than before.

And when Ben sent a sharp forehand just past Matteo’s reach to seal the match, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

You spun around, immediately finding Ben, and before you could say a word, he was there, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug, spinning you once before setting you down gently. His eyes, still sparkling with that competitive edge, softened as he looked at you, pride radiating from every inch of him.

“You did it!” you squealed, breathless from both the match and the rush of it all.

“We did it, babe” he replied, his accent thicker now, the exhaustion and adrenaline mixing in his voice. His sweet eyes held yours for a beat longer before he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

The crowd’s cheers only seemed to fade as you kissed him back, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It wasn’t about the victory, not really. It was about everything that had led up to this. The trust, the hard work, the way you two moved together.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was teasing. “Guess that means you’re the gonna be coaching me after all this, huh?”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection as you pushed at his chest lightly. “Don’t hold onto that just yet, Benny.”

He grinned, that familiar playful glint back in his eyes as he laced his fingers with yours. “Too late for that.”

As you both walked off the court, hand in hand, the crowd still roaring around you, you knew that whatever came next, whether it was another match or another late-night training session, you’d face it together. And that was the real win.

[joaosnovia]

❦ - is this a curse..?

summary:: you and your boyfriend sneak into the abandoned end of winter wonderland and you come across this alleged fortune teller who ends up making you two do side quests.

warnings:: none?

writers note:: this concept was honestly really old bc it was originally made in bangladesh when i visited an abandoned theme park so can’t lie bc i found the draft version in my notes app so i just fixed it up fast asf but yea hope yall like it bc i found it funny. joao is giving cave diver in this so i wouldn’t be surprised if he willingly went into the nutty putty cave by choice?

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added!

‘are you sure this place isn’t haunted?' you asked, eyeing the flickering carnival sign overhead.

'only one way to find out,' joão grinned, pulling you forward. the fairgrounds were technically closed, but a gate left half open practically invited mischief. and you, against better judgment, followed him in.

'if a clown jumps out, i’m drop kicking it,' you muttered.

'noted,' he laughed, leading you past rusted rides and empty food stalls. the air smelled faintly of popcorn and nostalgia, tinged with just enough creepiness to keep you on edge.

then you saw it: an old fortune-telling booth with faded gold lettering; madame lulu sees all.

'nope,' you said immediately.

'oh, yes,’ joão countered, already slipping inside. 'come on, where’s your sense of adventure?'

'buried under common sense,' you grumbled but followed anyway.

inside, it was dark, save for a single flickering bulb overhead. a mechanical fortune teller doll stared blankly from behind the glass. joão inserted a coin, and the machine whirred to life, spitting out a card.

he read it aloud: 'seek what’s lost, find what’s true. beneath the dragon’s gaze, waits a clue.’

you stared. '...is this a scavenger hunt?'

'looks like it,' he beamed. 'let’s go!'

'joão..’

but he was already out the door, dragging you along. beneath the dragon’s gaze turned out to be an old carousel with a dragon-shaped ride. underneath it? a tiny tin box with another clue.

'who set this up?’ you whispered.

'ghosts with a sense of humor,' he shrugged.

the hunt led you across the fairgrounds, through funhouse mirrors that distorted joão’s grin into something terrifying (‘nightmare fuel,’ you’d said, laughing), past a cotton candy stand where he tried to steal an old, hardened puff ('that’s a fossil, not food’), and finally, to the ferris wheel.

'this has final boss vibes,' you said, eyeing the rusted structure.

'only one way up,' he smirked. 'race you.'

'you cheat..’ but he was already climbing into a cart, pulling you in after him.

at the top, the city stretched out beneath you, lights twinkling in the distance. joão pulled out the final clue card, reading it quietly. 'sometimes, what you seek isn’t hidden; it’s been beside you all along.’

'corny,' you teased, though your heart did a weird little flip.

he looked at you, smile softer now. 'yeah... but kind of true.'

you glanced away, the view suddenly not as distracting as the warmth of his gaze. 'so, what was the treasure?'

'guess we found it,' he murmured.

and maybe you had. maybe it was the laughter, the chase, the stolen glances. or maybe, just maybe, it was him.

'next time,' you said, breaking the moment with a grin, 'we’re doing something less dramatic.'

'no promises,' he winked.

[whirlpool-blogs]

An Inside Look at Jack Hughes, the Top NHL Draft Prospect Flyers Fans Are Craving

Published January 28, 2019

Understandably, John Wroblewski had initial doubts.

Not necessarily about the player as much as the situation. Wroblewski was coaching the 2016-17 U.S. national U-18 team when the little brother of star defenseman Quinn Hughes tagged along for a skate.

That little brother was Jack Hughes and Wroblewski had yet to see him play.

"You sort of ask the questions, OK, well how often do you have a 15-year-old skating with a U-18 team and how good is the kid?" Wroblewski said.

The verdict?

"The answer is he's pretty good, he's pretty good," Wroblewski said with a laugh last Wednesday in a phone interview with NBC Sports Philadelphia. "We've got to keep an eye on him. You get him out there and instantaneously he fits in and exceeds and then also enamors you - all three of these observationalist thought processes come to your senses in that hour and a half skate of this tiny, little kid who somehow comes out and impresses you so much within that short period of time.

"Not only with his skill level, but kind of how some of the great players out there, how they can make the game slow down or speed up at their will. It's tough to describe unless you've been around him."

Wroblewski has been around him a bunch, coaching Hughes for the second straight season in the U.S. national team development program. 

Unequivocally, he now knows all about the 17-year-old, a darting and dynamic center whose playmaking ability can cause motion sickness for opponents.

Before the start of 2018-19, Hughes was hardly a blip on the Flyers' radar. Not with the team signing James van Riemsdyk to bolster an experienced roster and take its biggest step since the 2011-12 season. The NHL draft was an afterthought.

Oh, how things have changed.

The Flyers entered the All-Star break at 19-23-6 and with more points (44) than only two other NHL teams - the Devils (43) and Senators (43). A startling shake-up within the front office and coaching staff became the messy byproduct of another slow start, this one the most impactful of them all.

Suddenly but inevitably, Hughes' name has permeated the fan base. He is widely considered the consensus No. 1 pick for the 2019 NHL draft.

And Flyers fans are astutely aware. 

The golden spot is in sight.

Similar to any NHL draft, the climb of the top overall pick will be debated. Many will line Hughes up against past No. 1 selections - from Patrick Kane (2007) to Connor McDavid (2015) and fellow USNTDP product Auston Matthews (2016).

While Hughes is only 5-foot-10, 168 pounds and turns 18 just a month before the draft, Wroblewski sees him developing into a player of his own mold.

My belief is that he'll be in the NHL next year and there's really not a comparable. You're starting to see more and more of the hybrid type of player - guys that play with speed and skill. One of Jack's unique traits is that even though there are questions out there in regards to his size, he's a true center iceman and he will play in the middle and he will figure out a way to make it work.  You throw him into the blender with wingers like Kane and [Johnny] Gaudreau, but then you have to put him in the middle of the ice, so he's got that speed like McDavid. He doesn't have McDavid's size, but he's got things that I think McDavid would be envious of, as well.  There's a component here that I think has yet to be realized. Like his brother Quinn, young kids are going to look at him and want to be him as a player, sort of revolutionize the position that a quote, unquote undersized centerman can persevere and make it to be a superstar in the National Hockey League - because there's not a ton of them that have done that.

Wroblewski calls Hughes "manicured."

It's an excellent way to describe him. Hughes doesn't sound like a 17-year-old. He's well-spoken because he's well-groomed, unfazed by the hype of being the top-ranked 2019 draft prospect.

He credits much of his maturity and preparation to his "great support system," featuring his family and coaches.

His father Jim Hughes, mother Ellen Weinberg-Hughes and uncle Marty Hughes all played Division I hockey. His older brother Quinn was drafted seventh overall by the Canucks last summer and plays at Michigan, while his younger brother Luke is 15 years old and considered an up-and-coming talent.

"We've all kind of been through the ringer already," Hughes said last Tuesday in a phone interview with NBC Sports Philadelphia. "I'm thankful to have them around me."

Wroblewski said the scouting presence this season for the Hughes-led U-18 team has been "overwhelming," but in a good sense.

"It's been nonstop, it's been relentless," Wroblewski said. "The scouting community - reporters doing articles or scouting prospects, [people] that do this for a living, and of course the NHL scouts - is all trying to decipher where do these guys fall in the pick of the litter. And I'll tell you, right behind Jack on this team, there's a slew of other players that are going to be right there with him in the National Hockey League."

For Hughes, the eyes on him are at an all-time high with the draft a little less than five months away.

Is he keen to the amplified attention?

"No, I've been dealing with that since I was 14, 15 years old," Hughes said. "A scout is pretty much another person in the building. All I have to do is play my game and have fun."

Like Wroblewski said, Hughes is manicured.

He gives you guys the clichés at times, but there's a little bit of twist to his cliché answers. There's insight there, it's not like he's just throwing out these random phrases. He's got practice at it, but he's not just going through the motions when he talks to the media, which gives me a lot of hope that he could be at that ultimate ambassador to the game. Not just a guy that goes through and plays excellent hockey and is a focal point, but somebody who is also attractive to the media.  At the same time, when the cameras are away and he's not on the spotlight, he's a kid. He's a high school kid who is goofy and funny in the back of the bus - he's got personality, he's got swagger, he has a lot of the intangibles.

There wasn't just one play or game that convinced Wroblewski.

"I don't think moments capture excellence," he said, "particularly with a kid that's going to go No. 1 overall in the draft."

The World Under-17 Hockey Challenge in November 2017 was when Wroblewski really saw it. The U.S. had taken home gold by beating Canada, 6-4, in Dawson Creek, British Columbia.

Hughes led the field with 15 points (five goals, 10 assists) in six games.

"He just completely dominated the event - and then as the octane and the temperature rose in the tournament, he continued to surpass expectations and continued to dominate and find another level," Wroblewski said. "In a hostile environment - he was a kid who grew up a bit in Toronto wearing the American sweater, and all of a sudden he's thrust into this environment; it was such a pro-Canadian environment, and he allows himself to block out all the X-factors and just concentrate on dominating the game at hand. 

"That to me was kind of the time where I was like, 'This kid is No. 1.' I always had that throughout the fall, but from there on, it was like, 'This is the kid that's going No. 1 next year.'"

Hughes strives to be the entire package.

That doesn't mean he's there yet. However, the multifaceted, no-holes-in-your-game mindset is what pushes him.

"As a hockey player, everything you do you want to improve," Hughes said. "You see the best players in the world working on their game, year in and year out. For me, I focus on everything, but some of the things I focus on the most are my faceoffs and my shot. Those are two things that need to be really good to be a good player."

What about his strengths?

I play a new brand of hockey - speed and skill, the way the game is now. I'm kind of an open book. There are a lot of great players out there and something that they all have in common is that they're Swiss Army knives. They can do everything really well. I feel like my game is what my game is, but I'm working on other parts of my game and trying to become the best at everything that I do. I'm going to show up to the rink to compete and have fun.

In 28 games this season as the captain of the U.S. national U-18 team, Hughes has 56 points on 13 goals and 43 assists. In 60 combined games last season between the U-17 and U-18 teams, Hughes had 116 points on 40 goals and 76 assists.

"He's a workhorse on and off the ice," Wroblewski said. "He'll do whatever it takes. When he finds a deficiency in his game, or if there's something not at - if you want to scale things out of five - if there's something that's not at a five, he'll start working right away at getting to that number. 

"Last year, it was his shot. He did not have a very good shot. It was still good, but it wasn't elite. He went at it hard this summer, his one-timer, his release, everything else has improved so much in that regard. And that's something that I think he'll continue to do."

The Twitter hashtag has grown in popularity for any struggling team near the NHL basement and in the ballpark of the 2019 draft's first overall slot. #LoseForHughes.

Hughes isn't oblivious to the slogan in which many Flyers fans have adopted.

"The first time I heard it was actually my OHL draft year (2016-17)," he said with a laugh. "It's not new to me, but every time I see it, it's pretty funny and I get a little chuckle out of it."

How hard the Flyers charge after the All-Star break will determine their chances for Hughes, while the NHL draft lottery results will have the final say.

Whichever team does land Hughes, its fans will be on board with his message.

"I'd tell them I hope to give them a lot of good years," Hughes said. "That's what every player wants - they want to go to a city that's hungry to win and a city that's a lot of fun. That's really what I'd be excited about - have fun with the city and playing hockey for the community and the city, for however long I'm there."

[callmehere-iwillappear]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

this has been sitting in my drafts for probably months and i actually don't remember who tagged me at this point sorry </3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

168,724

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently just rise but i've had some other fandoms i've written for in the past

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

call me here (i will appear) Use Only For Intended Purpose The Idiot's Guide to Blindfold Chess new phone who dis because i fear i'm lost (and i cannot be found again) wow big surprise(/s) all of these are rise al;jfldksjfkd

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try to but uh </3 i am not very good at it

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ummm. probably waiting for answers, wasting time bc even if u know the comfort and healing comes there very much isn't any in the fic itself so whoops </3 i am not good at hurt/no comfort so i don't. have a lot of fics that would really qualify

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uuhhhhh ig fibonacci? most of my fics have relatively happy endings and. this is the one with the least angst overall so

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not yet thank god

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do not alfjdlkjfkdls

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

imma keep it real with you chief most of the crossovers that i've written are with other people's aus and idk if that counts

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of fingers crossed

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeesssss? sorta? it's not like, on ao3 but i've done some collab crossover stuff with friends (see aforementioned crossover question)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

god idk. i don't do a lot of shipping these days sorry </3 i have some ships i think are cute but i'm not like, into them enough to say they really qualify

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i want to finish idiot's guide and cmh very very badly and i refuse to jinx it. idk abt npwd solely because of like the type of fic it is, idk if it'll ever be finished finished yk. like there'll always be more little scenes i can do

16. What are your writing strengths?

um. i've been told i'm good at character voice

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

sweats nervously

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don't really do it? i probably wouldn't unless it was like, just a couple words - i don't mind too much when other ppl do it bc i have a translation extension on my laptop but i don't have many options when i'm on my phone

19. First fandom you wrote for?

doctor who........ i was like. god idek. fifteen? maybe younger i straight up don't remember <- also none of this is on ao3 this was like, back in my ff.net days and i don't think i even remember my login lmao

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

hmm hm hm. okay. probably because i fear i'm lost. just bc like... idk i'm proud of how it turned out and i'm really . idk. happy with the reception it got. i'm happy it reached people who can relate to it. and it's short enough that there's not like, enough space for there to be parts where i just have to force myself to write stuff i'm not 100% happy with to fill in the gaps. if that makes sense

tagging: You

[nats-revival]

𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙭 𝙖. 𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣

pairing: ellie williams x abby anderson

w/c: 1.2k

tags: kinda angsty, takes place during santa barbara era, not proofread, some descriptions of violence and injuries, ellie and abby need therapy real bad, uh description of trauma (?), i probably missed smth, but we know that i suck at tagging, what’s new

Before you continue, please read this! - I absolutely do not condone the purchasing of any other the last of us games. The Last of Us is heavily influenced by Isreali politics. Also, here are some ways to inform yourself about Palestine. Link 1 | Link 2 | Link 3. You can even help simply by clicking here.

A/N: tried to be in my descriptive era!!! also ignore that my user isn’t the same thing that’s on the lil banner thing, this has been sitting in my drafts since 1948. 😭 anyway yall i hope i ate down. also also, song title from the other side of the game by erykah badu (w song btw u should listen to it ONG!!)

Blows were exchanged in both directions. Ellie brought a knife to a fist fight, but that meant practically nothing to Abby. Water sloshed underneath their feet, swirling with the crimson of their blood. Each punch, hit, and stab was given with emotion. They grunt with effort as they try to take eachother down, yet to no prevail. Just when Abby thought it was over, she’s overpowered by Ellie. The girl had somehow managed to hold her down in the water, drowning her. Abby clawed at Ellie’s arms, attempting to wiggle from underneath her.

A multitude of emotions wash over Ellie. Hatred, sadness and anger. But the one that was the largest in this moment was regret. Regretting not making amends with Joel. Leaving Dina alone with JJ. Everything. Her face twists and she cries as all the emotions she had bottled up finally came out. Her grip loosens on Abby and she lets her free. Abby sits up as she catches her breath, coughing a little between gasps of air. After catching her breath, Abby looks at Ellie with disbelief. She was certain that this would be her last day on earth, dying amidst an apocalypse by the hands of the girl she loathed. 

“Go.” Ellie murmurs through her tears. Her legs are crossed as she sits, the bottom half of her body completely submerged in the water. The stiletto switchblade was gripped tightly in one hand as the other dropped blood where two of her fingers had been missing. Ellie thought initially that killing Abby would’ve stopped all her pain. Relieved of that false sense of justice Tommy convinced her she would feel if she had just gone after her and finished her off. But it only made her wallow more in her own self hatred. She’d turn back time if she could.

She’d make things up with Joel, become on good terms with Dina, and kick Tommy out of their quaint farmhouse before she could even hear what he had to say. But she couldn’t. After seeing Abby for what she thought was the last time at the theater, her brain chemistry had altered. She was craving to kill her. She had wrote many entries in her worn journal about it. Her nimble fingers gripped her pen as she wrote. She wrote fast and feverishly, her handwriting becoming damn near illegible. She hid these things from Dina and tried to drown herself in the task of raising another human. But she couldn’t. It was on her mind like the plague. She hated it. It made her wanna smash her head against a wall one hundred times.

Of course she understood the consequences of killing Abby. She thought it would mean nothing. She was killing another person wouldn’t matter. But she knew that killing her specifically would matter. It cost her relationship with Dina. She knows she should’ve just stayed home but she couldn’t. She needed to be in control of her mind. She hated the self destructive thoughts and how her moods were so irrational. She wanted that burden to be lifted off her shoulders. 

There was a sting of silence after Ellie’s words. Abby didn’t say anything, the waves sloshed and Levs breathing could barely be heard. Ellie slouchs. She didn’t hear Abby moving. She was confused. She’s just slinky escaped death, why didn’t she leave? Why didn’t she just go take care of Lev? What the fuck was wrong with her? Ellie couldn’t understand and it made her mad. “Why won’t you leave?” Ellie doesn’t actually look at Abby. She never looks her in the eyes. She can’t. 

“I’m not going to leave you here with no way home.” Abby said as she looked down at her. “I’ll get home. Just take the boy and go.” Ellie instructed insistently, raising her voice slightly. Abby hated how stubborn she was being. Ellie had a hard time accepting help and accepting it from someone she’d just nearly killed seemed well, outlandish. Abby walks infront of Ellie, crouching down to her level. “Ellie. Look at me.” Abby starts gently. Ellie turns her head in the opposite direction. “Ellie. Please look at me.” Abby asks again. Ellie won’t turn. A gentle, calloused and large hand comes up to Ellie’s face. Naturally, Ellie flinches a little. She hadn’t let anyone do this since like, forever. She had forgotten what a gentle touch was. “Listen to me. I want you to come with me and Lev. I’ll pick you up and bring you over there if I have to. I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” Ellie doesn’t say anything. She looks into Abby’s green eyes.

Despite the fact that her eyes were full of pain, they were still pretty, Ellie thought. She didn’t know why she’d been thinking about something at a time like this. A hazy fog settled around the girls, making it seem like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Ellie keeps her eyes on Abby as if something would happen if she looked away. Ellie was horrible with eye contact but right now? She was a pro. It almost seemed like Ellie was searching for something in the girls eyes. “But why do you want me to come with you? I just tried to kill you.” Ellie asks with a slightly raised eyebrow. “I just tried to kill you too. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. But you’re not, are you?” Abby asks, mimicking her raised eyebrow. 

“Huh. Well, I guess I’m not.” Ellie mumbles. Even though she was telling her that she wouldn’t kill her, she still wasn’t 100% sure. Ellie was already in enough pain as is. Abby had lost enough in life. They were two girls who were suffering in different ways. Abby seemed to also be searching for something in Ellie’s eyes. Solace. She would’ve been ridiculous to think the girl she’d just fought a handful of minutes ago would come with her. She didn’t even know why she proposed that. I mean, Ellie hated her, didn’t she? No way she’d— “Fine.” Ellie spoke again. Abby was a little shocked. “You’ll.. come with me?” “Yes. Now hurry before I change my mind.”

Neither of them smiled at their agreement. They moreover were relieved. This is what Abby was hoping for; a fresh start in their.. ‘relationship’ or whatever you’d call this. Abby goes to try and start up the boat, the sound of a sputtering engine could be heard. Ellie goes for her backpack. It drips with sea water as did her clothes. By now, it was almost entirely dark, a small lantern illuminated the boat. The fire inside flickered. The boat finally starts up. Wordlessly, Ellie treads across the water over to the boat. She sits next to Abby awkwardly because of the girls large frame. In one of her hands, she still held the switchblade as if her life had depended upon it. She hadn’t looked in Abby’s direction as the boat drove across the water, but Abby looked at her once and redirected her attention to what lay ahead. They were both painfully silent, not knowing what to say to eachother. The silence was awkward yet comfortable. Ellie wasn’t really ready to talk, nor was Abby. In their own way, they both understood that.

[idletype]

get to know me tag! :0

was tagged by my beloved b @weizhiyuan <3 many moons ago and i just remembered this is in my drafts. but thanku!!

do you make your bed? i wait until i absolutely HAVE to be out of bed to get up so i don't usually have the time or see the point

what's your favourite number? 7 or 9 (my bday)

what is your job? i work at a tutoring academy :D

if you could go back to school, would you? i am currently in school and Suffering but i still plan to (hopefully) go to grad school in the near (hopefully) future!

can you parallel park? in theory yes in practice yes but with a lot of adjustment and anxiety mumbling

a job you had that would surprise people? i've only had 2 other jobs besides my current one so i don't think so

do you think aliens are real? yes and if they're reading this rn pls call me pls give me ONE chance

can you drive a manual car? no and everytime i see it in movies or videos i am very confused

what's your guilty pleasure? i was raised catholic so all of my pleasures are guilty 👍 but fr i wouldn't say i have any, cringe is dead, life is too short, we should all enjoy the things we enjoy without shame (as long as it isn't hurting anyone ofcourse), etc etc

tattoos? none but i've many ideas about ones i really want, both silly and serious

favorite color? green (and yellow and blue and brown but mostly green)

favorite type of music? soft indie sad girl music, 2000s emo/pop punk, musical theatre, noisy kpop ... mostly those 4 wildly different genres

do you like puzzles? yes but i don't do them often, i should really do more puzzles. love the nyt games tho

any phobias? bugs especially cockroaches, this is specific but not being able to wake up from a dream/not being able to tell if i'm dreaming - i'm a very floaty spacey person so i'm scared of suddenly losing my sense of what's real

favorite childhood sport? i do not sport and have never sported. swimming and gymnastics but i'm not very good at both. swimming is still p enjoyable now

do you talk to yourself? constantly

what movies do you adore? dead poets society is my all time fav, wolf children, greta gerwig's little women, stephen spielberg's west side story.... i recently watched bottoms and it was SO good

coffee or tea? both, i probably drink coffee more nowadays bc i'm a caffeine fiend but tea is very comforting to me

first thing you wanted to be growing up? a princess/singer/actress probably. i have childhood photos of me wrapped in a curtain putting on a concert in the living room

tagging @qt-qtoey @petrichoraline @distant-screaming @serene-skies @benzatthanin unless u have already done it hehe

[chilapis]

hi i’m in love with genshin lapis can u tell me her lore can u tell me everything can i know i wanna know im so curious im sitting here w my notes eagerly awaiting ur response ✍️ i love u btw

hi, hello ! i love you too . also i read your tags & i think they absolutely can be friends. two of them (they’re going to beat people to death together)

do be warned that there is heavy projection because yeah ajax is like. with me-with me (real) (mentally ill) but also if i’m making a s/i to ship with him as well … tragically she will be suffering from the same deeply rooted character flaws as myself.

genshin lapis is . quite literally just a retired, immortal warlord who just wants a simple, domestic now.

beautiful woman who used to consider international peace a mere (unhelpful) suggestion is now trying to help people finalise their divorces and drafting contracts for business. she isn’t particularly affiliated with any region mostly because she isn’t, open about who she really is? so she’ll spend centuries in a nation, and then move to another every 60-70 years or so til she completes the rotation and then start all over; new name, new identity, new past, but the same face and the same profession. she loves liyue with all her heart but tends to stay there the least because one in every three people there are more than at-least 150 years old and she has gotten that “wait, don’t i fucking know you” look from a little too many people for her liking. she also avoids old people like the plague for this same reason because she doesn’t want to see the gears click in someone’s 90 year old grandma’s head.

except the thing is that she doesn’t need to be open because she makes it so painfully obvious. you know how most non-mortal or long-waiting characters in genshin will just shut up and entertain their mortal company’s false assumptions and beliefs? not her ! her pride is far too big for that. if you’re wrong she’ll tell you that you’re wrong and she knows because she was there (the realisation of what she said will hit her in exactly 10 minutes once her tangent is over. everyone who knows her falls into either one of two categories: either they think she is insane, or they think she is immortal. Both are correct.

i feel like despite being in the legal field she does not particularly. care about justice or law; in the sense that she doesn’t quite, believe in it existing anymore? she helps people out, don’t get me wrong; she’ll even do it pro-bono, free of charge, but her acts of kindness feel more like tossing a slab of meat to a caged animal than actually doing something nice, if that makes sense. there’s this, looming feeling of detachment from everyone and everything that she cannot shake off & she knows it’s because immortality has deeply affected her ability to relate to others or form connections but she’s helpless in the sense that she she doesn’t even know what a life beyond this would be like, and she’s not sure if she wants to. societies are moral-run now; there’s more rules, there are new concepts.

& then she meets ajax & ends up forming not only just an emotional attachment but one that is so intense and overwhelming that she doesn’t . know what the hell to do about it. she is freaking out because this is probably the first time she’s ever felt this way & he’s there & he’s talking to her & she doesn’t know what it is but she’s staring at him with such wide eyes. also gets super protective of him, even after finding out that he is literally the 11th harbinger. the relationship is what would get her back to her old spirits of um . killing and battling and conquering. except in the past she did it for the sake of it. she did it for the act itself. but now it’s for him — now she does it because she knows he wants power and honestly, she does too! she may have repressed it for a bit but she also wants to be on top of the food chain! just like how she used to before! & now they can do it together!

except there’s . one teeny tiny issue. she isn’t fond of the fatui; she didn’t mind before and even took on a few cases for some of them but after knowing ajax & loving ajax she will start kicking and screaming and unsheathing her sword the moment the tsaritsa is mentioned. she actually doesn’t even mind the harbingers all too much (except pulcinella) (she has beaten him up and will do so again DO NOT let this woman near a retirement house she is not afraid to fight senile white men) but the tsaritsa just . makes her blood boil for some reason. I think a part of her (her ego) might even lead her to wanting to play god herself but um. we’ll see about that

she LOVES a good spar though. chilapis love language (we fall deeper in love every time one of us backs the other into a corner). I feel like the first time she saw foul legacy, childe was expecting her to be afraid or nervous, and he thought she was because she kept looking away but no she was just un. Deeply flustered and appreciative of his form. after she finds out what a toll it takes on him though she refuses to ever let him use it when they're playfighting. ALSO SHE LOVES HIS FAMILY? she never had one herself so domestic comfort is such a new concept for her and it makes her so giddy. i feel like after meeting ajax she just tags along with him on his missions. her job? her affiliations? her home? who cares, she finally found what’s truly hers. she won't ever bring it up herself but if he told her to permanently move to shneznaya i think she would. in a heartbest. i feel like she’d be the first to bring up marriage though. childe may want to simply date at first, see how things pan out, but she’d be like dating …..? What is this “dating” you speak of ….. She is actually fully aware of modern concepts 60% of the time but she likes to play dumb. especially when he’s around.

[thatdesklamp]

WAIT OMG-

been reading intrinsic warmth for a WHILE and your writing is top tier!! i always wondered to myself every time i’d read a chapter why the writing just STICKS, yk? i’m a MAJOR book girlie, i read 24/7.

AND THEN IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I READ ONE OF YOUR TAGS THAT YOU PUT UP ON ONE OF YOUR POSTS WHERE YOU WERE ANSWERING A QUESTION FROM ANOTHER LOVELY READER AND I SEE THAT YOU TOOK AN ENGLISH A LEVEL?

first of all (not 100% sure on this) but i’m pretty sure only british ppl take gcses, a levels, etc. YOU’RE BRITISH?

i feel like i’ve met my other half rn over something so tiny but yeah. IT LITERALLY EXPLAINS WHY YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD:

i could point out the NUMBER of times i’ve seen juxtaposition, symbolism, foreshadowing in your fic to someone if they’d asked me to point it out for them. at first i thought you might’ve done it unknowingly, and then i decided that nope, bc foreshadowing is such a BIG writing technique that it simply couldn’t have been by accident.

it’s one thing to know about a writing technique and another to actually be able to SUCCESSFULLY incorporate it into your writing. if it isn’t clear enough, i’m saying that you did it AMAZINGLY. you’ve got a natural talent and i’m envioussss (in a supporting way ofc 😭).

you should really look into making your own book, and i think you EXCEL at the supernatural aspect of plot in stories. your writing is so unique and different yet so warm, it reminds me of autumn (my favourite season).

idk how to end such a long message, ultimately i don’t have a reason for typing this up and shit. ik you have tons of people probably saying the same thing and it might just get repetitive for you, but i wouldn’t feel comfortable not being part of said bunch-of-ppl-probably-saying-the-same-thing.

oh! and take your SWEET TIME updating. it’s your story, your fic, your writing. the ONLY thing we readers can give you as a payback and thanks is time, patience, and understanding <3333

RAHHH BRITTANIA 💪💪💪💪

Agh. Yes—I’m British (English to be precise, sweet sweet caroline etc), hence the use of ‘u’s in words like ‘colour’ and ‘humour’, and also why everyone’s parents are their ‘father’ or ‘mother’ and not mum/dad. ‘Mom’ feels too American but ‘mum’ feels too rah engerland, yk? I’ve mentioned previously that I’m looking forward to writing fics where the characters are actually from England and where I’m actually allowed to write them the way I talk, mostly. Good lord am I excited.

And yes lol I took English for an A-Level. Bloody smashed it too, if I get to brag, mwahaha. Didn’t take it any further (I’ve also previously said that I’m a # woman in stem uni student, which is true), but I still write a killer essay imo. Give me 10 minutes to do a refresher on ‘Othello’ (it’s been a while okay) and I can talk for donkeys about his tragic fall and how much of a wanker he is. Which he is! I’m a Desdemona defender for life.

You say ‘natural talent’. PLS. No!! God no. Not at all. I wish—that would’ve made it a lot easier, but whatever I can do rn is down to bloody years of toiling away on my shitty little laptop, I promise. I’ve got another anon ask that asked about some writing tips so I’ll do the bulk of them there but my number 1 will always and forever be to practise. Whatever skill I have now has been earned over the many years. You don’t even want to see some of the stuff that will never grace my ao3 page (atla had me in a chokehold through covid and I have never been the same).

But you are genuinely so complimentary: this is so so lovely of you. Thank you?? It’s really weird being someone who writes and also someone who enjoys analysing literature; you’re right, half of the ‘techniques’ are intentional (the number of times I’ve flicked through some chapters’ drafts and thought, ‘fucks sake none of this makes sense, I need to add some decent foreshadowing or none of this will make sense in two chapters’), but also so much of my writing is just thinking, ‘hmm, this doesn’t really feel right. No no, I don’t like the vibe of this. I want this to feel more GRAAHHH and less lalalala. Lemme change this up a bit’. Whether that leads to the whole, short sentences->speeds up the pace of the reader when reading the section->increased tension, mimics actual fight encounter, etc etc (all the stuff you blag on about in eng lit), then maybe that counts as intentional? And maybe not.

Making my own book? That’s lovely of you to say but I also really don’t have any ideas for anything non-fanfic’y! Lol. I love a good bit of canon compliance, that’s my issue. That being said—hey, another eng a level reference—I’ve made multiple references here to being the world’s #1 ‘Atonement’ hater. Unfortunately, it also lives damn rent free in my head and I’ve got the bare bones of a WW2-era, perhaps epistolary, longform fic buzzing around. (Fandom: Marauders. I’m a disgrace but here we go). I’ve written nothing for it and maybe I never will, but that’s one of the only things I can see as being more standalone from original canon. Anyway: it’s the fanfic life for me. Ali Hazelwood’s life is but a distant dream.

But anyway! Thank you again for your lovely words. The next IW chapter will take a very long time, I have to be frank, so thank you for the reassurance that that’s not absolutely disgraceful lmao T_T Thanks again!! <3

[plague-of-insomnia]

Hey apologies for the random ask but I’ve been seeing the tag “no beta we die like men” for so long now & ur tags reminded me that after like 6 years I still have no idea what a beta writer does? I think your an excellent writer & I know you’ve had beta writers before so I was wondering if you could explain what it is? Sorry if it seems like I’m using u as Google but Google isn’t great for explaining fandom things 🙃

Hope you’re well xx

Hi, anon, well, a beta writer in the simplest terms is essentially a buddy who reads your work and gives you feedback. They can be different things to different people.

For example, especially in fandom, some might simply want the reader to look for grammar or spelling errors. Others may want a simple overall vibe check (like, is it flowing OK, does this scene fit here or should I cut it) kind of deal. Some may want someone who’s native in the language they’re writing in to check it over (if they’re not a native speaker themselves).

Traditionally, especially in the publishing realm, a beta writer is someone you trust to tear your story to shreds and help you see where it needs to be fixed or reworked.

For example, when I was working on my published novel, I had an older friend I trusted read it and asked her to be brutally honest about it, including any major flaws. I wanted an outside opinion because sometimes you can get too close and can’t see the forest for the trees, which is why having another set of eyes can be so helpful.

Another reason you might want a beta reader (and I’ve done this too with my novel) is to have an “expert” read it to help ensure you properly incorporated a particular thing in the work.

For example, let’s say you’re writing a story about lawyers but you don’t know anything about the legal system in the country where the story takes place, or you know a little but not enough. Having a lawyer or someone like that read your work can help you get that aspect right.

So TL;DR, again, a beta reader is just someone who reads the story and gives the author feedback to improve it. It can be a range of things, and you can have multiple beta readers for different purposes.

But many fan fic writers don’t use them bc they’re just having fun and don’t care if the story has flaws. And that’s fine!

I use a beta reader sometimes for my fan fic but not always. Most often for fan fic, I want to know if the scenes flow and make sense since I tend to write out of order and want to be sure there are transitions so the reader won’t be lost. So usually I want more of a “vibe check” kind of deal.

I’ll admit WDH is the one fan fic I treat most like published work in the sense that I extensively plan each chapter and often do multiple drafts before I publish. My other work I often only do 1-2 drafts and many I don’t use a beta reader with. I do for Synch, again mostly for the vibe check.

I hope that answered your question, but if not, feel free to send another ask.

[thuganomxcs]

A: I love seeing you on my dash

C: Your writing style is captivating

D: I admire how much depth you give your characters

E: You’re so creative with your plots

F: You always make interactions fun and engaging

G: Your aesthetic is chef’s kiss

H: You’ve inspired me more than once

K: I always feel safe and respected around you

M: You make me want to write more

N: Your support means a lot to me

O: You handle tough topics with such grace

P: Your humor is everything

Q: I love our character dynamics

R: You’re one of my favorite writers here

T: Thank you for being part of this community

U: I look up to your dedication

V: I appreciate your patience and care

W: You make me feel seen as a writer

X: You’re someone I’d love to talk to more

(I couldn't pick just one!!)

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 | 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

You really went out and chose almost EVERY one of them..literally just not the Z and B..more too? I'll actually Go over 'em.

I'm happy that you love seein' me on your dash. There are gonna be days you're just gonna have to give me the keys to your dash because that's when I'll just spam out drafts whenever I'm in that mode.

My writing style, I'm glad you like it. Though, I do need to get a little better. Being descriptive is something of a weakness for me but I'll get better. Though I'm still grateful to hear you comment that you like it, it means a lot, trust.

My weakness is that the muse' canon is something I'll always want to expand on. For instance Yusuke's food truck and secret private detective work? Took that off the books where his job as a food vendor was really a front for him handling supernatural work. Then everything else beyond that stems between all the yakuza games I played, just the ones that would make sense for him. I'd say 90% of my headcanons can be traced back to the original yyh manga.

My creativity with my plots really just come from the games I play and the movies and shows I've seen. I mean I don't mind the simple 'interaction' between muses where they just stand and talk. But I also love to keep things moving.

Super happy you appreciate the interactions. Ingvar is something of an older brother to Yusuke, or at least it's how he sees him and not only because he's incredibly small XD

My aesthetics. Hoo boy I've seen some impressive things on this site, but I do appreciate your compliments AND your kindness.

I've inspired you?? MORE THAN ONCE?! Man I dunno how I did that, but I really hope you've got some good stuff written out because of it, because your writing is just top-notch.

Respect is what keeps this world spinning. I'm also glad to hear you feel safe on this lil blog of mine, so you damn well know I'll do my best to keep it going.

IF i made you wanna write more and more, then I hope ya do it. You're a terrific writer, so I'd love to see more of oyur stuff over my dash thank you very much.

I'll definitely support you in everyway I can for sure. If there's a way I can do more to help feel free to look me up in the dms. Granted my replies on there are VERY slow.

As for heavy topics, I wonder if I have thrown out heavy roleplays here and there. I pretty much tag whatever I feel would sound triggering that's for sure.

Haha whatever humorous post I've ever made is basically cause I've got me some great writing partners to bounce ideas off of.

I love it too, Yusuke being the isekai person in a fantasy world and he's pretty much doing what he can to learn about the world while befriending his friendly giant.

You have my sincerest gratitude for that kind of honor. To be one of someone's favorites on here?? Nah that's not something I take lightly, not in the slightest. Thank you soo much.

Been around here for a while, glad we've got someone as great as you in the community too.

My dedication, Oh man, I adore this guy soo much from day one all those years ago.

People have lives outside of roleplaying not to mention because of my hundreds of queues (no exaggeration) my replies always tend to be soo soo late.

I'm glad because you're one of the best writers I've met on here.

When it comes to talking, you really can find me mostly on discord.

[lolipopjewel]

fanfic author tag game

tagged by my bestie @snove101 thank u so much!!!! i dont think i have any other fanfic writing friends to tag so if u see this and you want to do it then do it! u can say i tagged u ;3

How many works do you have on AO3 ?

23 surprisingly enough... damn i didnt realize ive published that many

What's your total AO3 word count?

64,849 according to my ao3 statistics

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

Home is wherever I'm with you - 417

Stay stay stay - 379

Anything for you - 328

I'll go up in flames with you - 322

It's cold, I don't want to be lonely - 302

Do you respond to comments?

yes ofc! i usually respond to most comments but sometimes if they are just short i forget to, but i read them all <3

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Either Would I do it again? or Deathbed, both are open endings which I wrote specifically for the reader to decide what happens after but they both involve potential character deaths and not happy endings

Do you write crossovers?

god no, i actively avoid crossovers like the plague it's really not my style ^^;; i was a "rise of the frozen brave tangled dragon guardians" kid when i was younger but since then I have not been a crossover person

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

hmmm not particularly? I did get someone on my splatblog giving me shit for writing a m4rie drabble that i recieved as a request bc the splatoon agents dont have canon ages- largely due to the fact that they are self insert characters- and they were implying i was writing about a gr00ming situation. after that person said something about it i felt really icky and laid out my personal "lore" for the agents i write for on my splatblog, including their ages which are all over 18, so there would be no misunderstandings. still makes me a little mad to think about it -.-

Do you write smut?

yes :3 i write quite a bit of it actually i just don't publish it </3 i dont finish a lot of stuff i start writing so there are lots of half finished smut one shots on my computer

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't believe so...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

no but it would be very cool if someone did!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no and i dont really have a desire to, im insecure about my work lol

What's your all-time favorite ship?

ahhh its such a hard question, im not sure i can choose just one and my top favorite is always changing based on what im hyperfocused on. some ships i come back to frequently though are achilles/patroclus/zagreus, kuroo/kenma, hinata/kenma, and ramuda/jakurai

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

agh... watercolor.... i have a lot of ideas for it and i do get inspiration to work on it every now and then or someone comments on the fic and i want to write more but im so bad with chaptered fics. i think i originally intended for it to be a one shot but i liked the idea of it so much and i just kept writing. maybe one day i'll wrap it up at a place i like but not anytime soon.

What are your writing strengths?

i like to think im good at introspective and emotional scenes from the character's perspective, irl im very empathetic so its easy for me to describe the feelings in writing

What are your writing weaknesses?

adhd renders me incapable of writing chaptered fics i fear, also i struggle sometimes with not writing the same thing multiple times, like picking different words to use can be hard if that makes sense

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

definitely a cool concept! i only know english and american sign language so I don't really write in other languages since i don't know them

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

genshin impact!!! i am currently in the hyperfixation hard rn and i've never published anything for the fandom on ao3 so i do want to. also my hades 2 drafts that are sitting in my docs unfinished bc i cant play the game yet.... one day....

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Watercolor!!! something about the style i wrote it in is just very appealing to me and its something that i can look back on and read with fondness and actually compliment myself on. like i said earlier sometimes i get inspiration to keep writing for it but im not good at chaptered fics so i dont know if i'll ever finish it but its definitely a work im very proud of.