#IC fic

[puelluna]

ARYA'S ENDING

Read it here!

[kepesktribe]

What kind of relationship did they have with their parents? (For Florentel and Janlenoux!)

So I am going to do Jan first followed by Florentel because I am going to give a short little fic of Ren as a child at the end under a cut. Honestly though, Jan's was a toss up and Ren's is pretty good. Thanks for the ask @morganaux this ended up longer than expected too lol.

Janlenoux respected his mother to a point, but she didn't really pay that much attention to him, focusing more on his younger siblings. She did however inadvertantly cause his love of cooking. While trying to make him productive when he was too young to start training and she didnt have the time for him with his baby siblings care, she had passively sent him to help the staff... to which they set him to work in the kitchens. Since then he had always found time to help during meal prep and cooking. Looking up to his father more than anything as a respectful knight, his father 'doted' on him the most compared to his siblings when he was home in the form of extra training and even helping in the introduction of meeting a young adelphel by way of talking to the younger's own father... a beneficial agreement for both families as a means of sparring partners to push them to achieve greater heights in training. The fact they clicked together as fast friends made it all the better, and were always happy to be placed together as knights in the future. So all in all, Jan looks up to his family and is thankful to them... even if he can no longer go and see them since he is technically dead in Ishgard.

Florentel is not only the youngest, but also pretty much died at birth. He is a miracle baby... and thus his parents, and elder brothers, spoiled him to no end. He was a good boy that listened too. So honestly, the only time he ever had a real fight with his parents was over going to the scholasticate. He absolutely refused to. It would have done him wonders, considering he had a knack for controlling aether and would have made a great priest or deacon. However, all Ren wanted was to be a knight. Like his father. Like the people he admired. Which in turn was not good for his poor health then. He pushed through it all though, even if he fell sick constantly. Ren also did it to spite his father into not letting him go to balls (for he would rather dance with a man than any of those eye fluttering women that often was paired to danced with him). Of course once his family learned of his preference, they didn't force it anymore. So other than those two times, he got along with his parents wonderfully. He loves them dearly and visits home all the time. Got to make sure his father's grave has fresh flowers after all.

~ Now time for the little fic. (Okay I put two) ~

"RAWR! I am a mighty dragon, here to shatter your pitiful stone homes!" A young Dacien mimicked as he reared up on his knees. From a few feet away, standing on one of the couches of their home, was an even smaller Florentel as he brandished a light wooden sword and shield. "Not if I have a say! I shall defend my home and those around me." Carefully stepping off the couch, Ren advanced towards Dacien. A light mock battle played out until Dacien swatted away the sword and wrapped his brother in his arms in a hug. "Ha! Foolish knight! I have you now." Dacien snapped his teeth in a threat of a bite before he stated to tickle his brother's sides. At the mercy of the 'dragon' Ren could only double over in laughter, wheezing after a few moments.

"Alright, that is enough. I thought the knight was suppose to win?"

From another room, a man walked in with wax and wrinkles all over his face. A tired but warm expression plastered in his features. Beside him little Nolanel also was covered in the rapidly or already dried mess of what they had been doing. "Not fair! I was to join in the next time you two played Knights and Dragons!" The eldest glared at his brothers, but seeing the smile on Florentel's face was enough to have any sulking stopped before it began. He turned a sheepish smile towards his brothers instead.

A small laugh greeted the four as Camille stood up from her place by the fire, the fragile woman walking over to her husband and taking his hand. Her eyes drifted over each one of them and she shook her head. "Nolanel, you can play with your brother after lunch while Dacien takes his turn in the candle room. Does that wound fair?" A happy chorus of agreement sounded, save for Dacien who looked none to happy about working after lunch, and she turned to her husband. "And you! You made a fine mess of our boy and yourself. I want the two... no four of you off to the baths before luncheon is served." Alderrique Valerient chuckled before bending down to kiss his wife. "Yes dear." Satisfied, Camille smiled and stepped back, waving her arms in a shooing motion. "Well get at it."

Nolanel was the first to act, racing over to Ren. "I call dibs!" Kneeling down, Nolanel waited as his brother climbed onto his back, not at all passing up the chance at a choco ride. Ren laughed as Nolanel struggled to his feet but then easily shot off to the bathroom with his brother. Grudgingly Dacien followed with their father not far behind.

"Honestly, what am I going to do with the lot of them." Camille laughed before heading towards the kitchen to help with luncheon.

♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧ Second fic ♤♡◇♧♤♡◇♧

Nolanel smiled at his father, pretending to listen to Alderrique as he explained the importance of keeping everything well documented for a successful business. It was not Nolanel's favorite subject, but it was the best way to keep his father's attention at this moment. Although the subject seems to captivate little Florentel's attention, Nolanel doubted his little brother even understood a word being said with how young he was. At least it kept Ren from reacting to what else was going on in the room. Across the table, Camille let out a sigh. "Dear, you know the rule about business at the table." An eyebrow raised on her calm features but she simply lifted her cup of tea to her lips and took a sip. Alderrigue frowned at his wife. "Ah, but it is so rare for him to be interested in anything other than candles." He replied to her, just barely keeping a whine from his voice. His reasoning was short lived as Dacien gave a secret wink to his twin. With a relieved, silent sigh Nolanel smiled all the brighter. "We can always continue another time father." Giving up, Alderrique reached out and took his own cup of tea. A moment later and the head of house was spitting it all back out in a fit of coughs. "Who put salt in here!" Much to his annoyance, the twins burst into laughter as camille smothered a smile behind another sip. It didn't go unnoticed. Alderrique narrowed his eyes at his wife. "Pray tell why you didn't stop them?" Innocently she gave a shrug and a beaming smile. "I only assumed they wanted to sweeten it with sugar. Why, they do it all the time with my own." As sweet as her words were, there was no doubt she knew better and Alderrique didn't believe a word she said. After a second, it was confirmed as she started to giggle. "You really thought he would be interested in paperwork?" Alderrique just sighed again, pushing his morning tea aside.

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

More medieval dyes for y'all!

[jaybirbie]

DpxDc prompt Deadserious

Damian carried 2 swords. The first was gifted to him by his mother and was the only one he was ever seen using.

The second was also a gift, a beautiful sword made of ice with a green shine. The blade is able to take upon almost any foe, able to cut through titanium or any manner of creature.

The sword was gifted to him just before his arrival in Gotham by his beloved betrothed Prince Daniel Phantom of the Infinite Realms. They had trained alongside each other since they could walk.

Daniel had crafted Damian the sword to keep him safe! It would always remain by his side and return to him unless he willingly gave it up.

So there was no way he was letting the Justice League take it from him even if they could, just because Constantine and Zantana claimed it was too dangerous for the hands of a teenager.

But what was he supposed to do? Just let Darkseid kill them all?

[emositecc]

Based on @katzone’s Ice King Identity Crisis AU

[xjustakay]

✨ put us on ice by xjustakay ✨

“When you think about it, the rink is kind of like our circus.”

in celebration of finally wrapping up put us on ice, i was very lucky to be able to commission the loveliest @cuckooboo to do this incredible cover art piece!! truly the biggest of thank you's to cuckooboo for doing such an amazing job with this art, and all of my love and appreciation to each of you who have shown so much love to this story! it's been so very, very special to me<33

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

INNATE DESIRES.

Precious Delights (1/5)

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, profanity, semi public sex, size kink, power imbalance, breeding, choking, female reader (no mentions of looks besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.4 K

NOTES: The events of this start somewhere between 41 AC to 44 AC, while the rest takes place around 45 AC. Visenya has not died (yet), but Cersye, Alys and Tyanna have. Aegon and Rhaena are captured at Crakehall, and Viserys is still his squire and hostage.

After the passing of your father, you, your younger siblings and mother had fled from Dragonstone to Driftmark almost immediately. It was a blessing and a curse altogether, because it meant you could keep your life after the arrival and coronation of your uncle Maegor, while you would have loved nothing more than to witness the sight of the Black Dread’s shadow devouring the castle on the eponymous island. 

When the Dowager Queen and Vhagar arrived, it was her that urged your mother to come back to join the busy life at court – meaning you and your siblings were to abandon her childhood home Driftmark. 

Your mother’s stay in the capital was brief, and you assumed it was because she could not stand to be separated from her children any longer, as Visenya had ordered you four to Dragonstone instead. 

Two years after your arrival, it was evident that you had become a prisoner in all but name to Visenya on Dragonstone, barely allowed to leave the castle. When she was not around, her spies and vipers were. 

And so it was even more surprising that, when you were summoned to the Throne Room in the midst of your lessons, you came face to face with none other than your uncle. He sat on the throne, his mother lingering not too far away. With him in the room, his big frame concealing most of the impressive seat, it was even more apparent how frail she had become over the years. If you would have to guess, she would not do much longer. 

As your purple eyes met his, it was as if a wildfire ignited in your body, coursing through your veins, vividly remembering the night you had caught him speaking to your father about a possible betrothal. But it also angered you, knowing that he had left for Pentos with his second wife not long after, without even saying goodbye. 

On the other side of the throne stood none other than your mother, and while both Visenya and Maegor seemed rather smug and pleased, Alyssa had a grim expression on her face. 

Like an invisible string luring your body towards his, you came to a stop shortly before the first step to where he sat. “Your Grace.“ You smiled sweetly at him and slightly bowed your head, more out of courtesy than true belief, because your brother Aegon was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne after all. 

At least five knights guarded the door to the Throne Room behind you, and when Maegor rose from his seat with the pommel of Blackfyre fidgeting between his thick fingers, you were certain that was the moment your life came to an end. 

His steps were heavy as he walked down the steps, coming to a stop just shy of you. His domineering frame was looming over yours, and you had long forgotten the last time you had to crane your neck to look up at someone as tall and big as he was. 

“Leave us,“ Maegor’s gruff voice rang out, and when both Dowager Queens opened their mouths to protest, he was quick to shush them with a simple raise of his hand. Even when they walked past you, you did not dare break eye contact with your uncle, and while he usually was a hard and brutal man, there was a hint of softness in his eyes solely reserved for you. 

When you two were the only people left in the room, he directed his voice towards you. “You have grown,“ he stated, his eyes traveling up and down your body. With the defiance of a young woman, you jutted out your chin just slightly, nonchalantly looking up at him. “How would you know?“ you asked. “Five years and you have not once come to visit me.“

Your uncle chuckled dryly, one hand coming up to pinch your chin. “You know ‘tis not as easy as you make it seem.“ 

From how much your father had told you after Maegor’s departure, you knew he probably was right, though you had yet to find out the true reason behind it. With his longing stare making you somewhat uneasy, the pregnant pause between you two grew thicker with tension.

Until your voice cut through it. 

“Why are you here, uncle? Do you not have a wife to care for and a realm to rule?“

“I do,“ he said, his tone growing a bit harsher as the memory of the stranger taking his three wives not too many moons ago flashed before his eyes. “I am here for you.“

A small crease formed between your brows at his words. “I am afraid I do not understand.“

“Maybe you will understand this.“ Where his paw had rested on your chin before, it traveled down to your waist, almost taking up its entirety with his fingers splayed out. 

He dipped his head towards yours, but you were quick to bring your hand up between your faces, taking a careful step back. “We can not,“ you stated, trying to sound stern, yet you were betrayed by your fluttering nerves, your heart beating in your throat.

With his hand still on your waist, he pulled you back against his firm chest as if you weighed nothing, the sheer display of his strength bringing heat to your cheeks. “The matter is settled already. I shall take you as my wife in a sennight,“ he said. “I have waited long enough for this, and with my brother dead there is no one left to deny me.“

“My mother–“ 

“Has no other choice than to give me what I want.“ The threat was unspoken but clear. 

Every attempt to speak against him was silenced by his lips on yours. The kiss was far from being gentle, and it was evident he claimed your lips with a carnal need. With his hands traveling over the curves of your waist down to your rear, roughly fisting the skirts of your gown, it was obvious that he intended to do the same with your body. 

Your heart was racing, pounding against the confines of your ribcage when your lips parted, releasing a shaky breath. “I-I have never–,” you whimpered, trailing off as you looked at him with wide eyes. Every ounce of affection and gentleness Maegor mayhaps held before had vanished with a snap, leaving only a man hungry for your virtue. 

But no matter how badly your body ached for his touch, having craved it for so, so long, you pulled away to walk past him, climbing the few steps towards the throne with shaky legs as a heat settled at the apex of them. You had to bring some space between the two of you, mayhaps that allowed your thoughts to clear again. 

”My brother Aegon–,“ you started, but were interrupted when you tripped over one of the last steps, causing you to topple forwards. Taking in a sharp breath while bracing yourself on your hands and knees, Maegor was quick to not allow you to get back on your feet. Kneeling down next to you with one hand resting in the place between your shoulders, he applied just enough pressure to keep you down. 

“Where is your craven brother now, sweetling?“ he emphasized the nickname with a condescending tone, and it should have you feeling sick to the stomach, not aroused. “Not here. He had the chance to claim the Iron Throne, but he did not take it.“

His hand brushed over the bodice of your dress, trailing deep enough so he could cup your arse. But it merely lingered there for a few seconds, never settling. That touch alone still was enough to reignite the flame within you, and only when your fluttered nerves calmed just a bit, you noticed the proximity between you – and how he looked at you with darkened eyes. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tried to gather some courage before speaking, “You are just as much of a coward as he is. Coming to claim what is rightfully his when he is besieged at Crakehall.” Another chuckle came from Maegor, but this time it sounded somewhat amused. 

“Oh, I know you do not think so highly of your own kin,” he said, a smug smirk pulling on the corners of his chiseled lips. His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently, the pad of his thumb brushing your lips. 

“Enough with the mummer's farce, Y/N. Are you not at least a little happy to see me, mh?” It was evident in his mocking tone that he did not really care much about your feelings. You were meant to marry him regardless of what you wanted. 

With pleading eyes, you looked at him, slowly nodding your head and allowing your guard to fall – even if only for a few seconds. “Y-Yes.”

“And do you not want to be a good, obedient wife to me?”

If his question did not already choke the air from your lungs, his hand fisting the skirts of your dress to lift it just enough for his hand to snake underneath certainly did. It was him harshly groping the flesh of your arse that caused you to speak again, forcing you without voicing a command. 

“I do.”

As his fingers started to drag over the dampened spot in the center of your smallclothes, he got all the confirmation he needed to proceed with his actions. The ministrations of his fingers grew in determination, dragging around your little bud in circular motions and eliciting soft whimpers to fall past your lips. As the pleasure rippled through your body, your hands grabbed the edge of the step beneath you, knuckles blanching from the force. 

Shame filled your veins, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, instead focusing on the throne in front of you. “I–,” you wanted to repeat your previous words, but your uncle was quick to cut you off. “Then let me be the first and only. You belong to me.” 

Any protest was once again silenced by your own gasp as two of his thick digits pushed the linen of your smallclothes aside, scarcely dragging through your soaked mound. Only when they were generously coated in your arousal, he eventually pushed them inside without a warning. 

“Gods,” you whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as your maiden hole tried to adjust to the girth of his fingers. “P-Please…” You did not know what you were begging for. For him to leave you be or for him to give you more?

Maegor seemed to be at least a bit mindful when it came to your maidenhead, keeping his fingers still until they were buried to the hilt. You clenched around him tightly, which caused him to hiss through gritted teeth as if it was his cock plunging deep inside you and not his fingers, hardly preparing you for what was to come. 

“Please,” Maegor mocked you with a chuckle, pushing his lips forwards into a pout that feigned his pity. “You are so pretty when you beg, niece.” The ministrations of his fingers were slow, pulling out almost completely only to push right in again. The sounds of pleasure they forced from your throat were enough to drive the man next to you close to insanity. 

His head dipped forward, looking you down with a sharp expression that savored the sight of your face contorting in pleasure all because of him. Your body was torn between feeling hungry for him and being humiliated because of him, the interplay leaving you utterly confused, and longing to be filled by something else of his. 

When he withdrew his fingers from your cunt, they were glistening with your arousal. The warmth that slowly spread throughout your stomach had vanished just like that, and the whine that slipped past your lips at the loss of friction was the epitome of being pathetic. 

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, engulfing them with his lips and humming as if he enjoyed the finest Arbor red the castle had to offer. You squeezed your thighs to soothe the aching that burned between them at the sight, feeling empty and not at all satisfied. “So, so sweet,” he purred, the tone a stark contrast from the harsh one he had used before. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he released in the following, the purple of his eyes almost eclipsed by black. 

Magor leaned in to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent he had missed so dearly for the past five years. 

The softness of his voice and the close contact had you losing yourself in his dominating presence, completely at his mercy. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head before his bulky frame disappeared behind you, one leg bent at the knee while the other foot was planted firmly on the ground. Because he was so close, you felt him undoing the laces of his breeches, his hands bumping against your arse each time he pulled the strings loose. 

Your impatience got the worst of you, masked as a shiver traveling up your spine. You were not sure if you had to accommodate a girth wider or lesser than his fingers, but at this point you did not care. Your body longed for something you hadn’t felt before, and it needed it. Now. 

One of his hands darted to your hip, squeezing it harshly while the other wrapped around his hard member. Feeling the impatience take over your body, you pushed your hips back enough for the tip of him to prod at your hole, causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. 

As you turned your head to look at him from over your shoulder, your hooded eyes met his, a lazy smirk draped over his features. “That is all it takes to change your mind?” he mocked, stifling a grunt as he forced himself into your tightness, your maiden walls squeezing him. “Pathetic.” All of the sudden, his raspy voice was strained, having to restrain himself from pounding into you before he even filled you to the brim. You could see it in the way he set his jaw, forcing you to avert your eyes in fear.

You released a mixture of a whine and a shaky breath, the burning of the stretch prominent enough to cloud your mind and set your body on full alert. With both his paws on your hips, you could not even intervene or squirm away. Every ridge and vein of his cock dragged along your clenching walls as you accommodated the sheer size of his member, not making the stretch any more pleasurable. 

“S-Stop,” you whimpered. 

And Maegor actually listened, but only because he had bottomed out completely and needed a few moments to regain his composure, adapting to you squeezing him like a vice. “It will become more pleasant soon,” he grunted, trailing his hands up and down your sides in a comforting manner you did not know he possessed. “Trust me.”

The first snaps of his hips were neither hard nor fast, but deep and determined enough to brush that sweet spot inside of you your own fingers had not reached before. Having his breeches pulled down enough to free his cock and the sac of his stones, they slapped against your sensitive bud each time his hips met yours. 

With that pace, the burning slowly but surely turned into the pleasure your body had been asking for. 

Looking back at him once again, you were blessed with something you hadn’t seen before. A few strands of his usually neat, silver hair hung in front of his face, every now and then clinging to the few beads of sweat on his forehead before the tremors of his thrusts freed them again.

He felt you adjusting to his size, which prompted him to increase the pace to the point he was pounding you. Each impact forced your head to tip forwards and your knees to scrape across the stone floor, barely diminished by the skirt of your dress. 

Something you hadn’t anticipated was him bringing his hand in front of you to clasp around your throat. With the strength he possessed, his grip was tight, choking you regardless of him intending to do so or not.  

“I want you to look at the throne,” he commanded through gritted teeth, the choking and gasping sounds you made merely a dull noise in the background. “‘Tis the seat our son will sit in one day.”

His other arm snaked around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his firm chest, securing you and keeping you steady despite the reckless snaps of his hips. Mayhaps it was the possibility and danger of the Dowager Queens barging into the Throne Room or because you finally got what you had craved for more than five years, but your peak built in the pit of your stomach far too quickly for your own liking. 

“I am going to fuck you so full of my seed, making sure it will bear fruit.”

Maegor shifted his hips, angling them so he was thrusting upwards into you, which had his cock reaching even deeper than before, causing you to mewl and whine. Even if you wanted to, you could not reply, but with a renewed wave of your arousal dripping down his throbbing member and stones, you did not even have to.

“I-I–,” you stammered, his grip not loosening. It was a surprise you managed to inhale enough air to fill your lungs – mayhaps he was better at assessing his strength than you thought. 

“Go on,” he rasped, squeezing your throat in a rhythm that matched his hips, sensing your impending peak. 

It was embarrassing how quickly your peak took over at his words, rippling through you with soaring pleasure. Each time his stones hit your little bud, your overstimulated body tried to jerk away from him – but to no avail with his strong arm around your waist. 

Maegor watched in awe as your body trembled within his grasp, the tremors growing more apparent with each second he did not pull out. His mouth pressed to the side of your face, tongue licking a flat stripe from your jaw up to your temple. 

“You want my seed, niece?” he grunted into your ear, “want me to fuck a child into you? See your body swell with my seed?”

Finally loosening the grip he had on your throat to allow you to speak, you croaked a ‘seven hells, yes!’ into the chilly air of the Throne Room. “Put a babe in me… please,” you all but begged, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him – enough to capture his lips with your own. 

The response of your body his and your own words elicited was pitiful, but it was just the truth. You wanted his child, the thought lingering in your mind for the past five years. Your walls trembled around him, choking him so tightly the bull of a man behind you had to take a deep breath to keep his composure. But all effort was fruitless when his pulsing cock spent itself inside of your quivering walls. 

Each of his grunts and groans was devoured by your lips on his, drinking them down as if they were the only things keeping you alive. Out of instinct, you started to roll your hips against his, prolonging his own peak as you milked him for every drop of his seed. 

Maegor was out of breath by the time his movements came to a stop, staying buried inside of you as if he meant to make sure his efforts bore fruit. And you relished in it, despite the vulnerable position it brought you in.

Tipping his forehead against your temple, he closed his purple eyes, breathing shakily before speaking, “merely pack the bare essentials for the travel. We shall depart for King’s Landing in the morrow… on dragon back."

Bowing your head once, you fixed your undergarments and dress once he had pulled out, sitting back on your haunches. With your back facing him, he did not notice the wide grin on your lips. 

Mayhaps then you finally were to witness the sight of Balerion’s shadow devouring Westeros' capital.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme

[enthyrea]

someone’s possessive 🙄

[ladythornofrivia]

Aemond existing:

Me: no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, you could dracarys me like how you dracarys the Riverlands, or take me as a prize of war and i'd still ride you.

(Decided to make part 2)

[sunkissed-zegras]

★ RIZZLER P ─── PB⁵ (part one)

౨ৎ ─ summary | y/n is a youtuber and on the cancelled podcast, she reveals she has a crush on paige bueckers. this unfolds a series of events which ultimately ends with y/n at one of uconn's games.

─ warnings | mention of vaping and white claws, lots of banter, also sm tana and brooke content its insane (cause im obsessed w them, what can i say?) nothing else!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"SO YOU'VE ALWAYS known that you were a little... fruity?" Tana's voice came out amused as she sipped on her White Claw, looking back at you.

Brooke's attention was on you as well as the girls exchanged looks before laughing. You sipped on your own White Claw as you thought about the question before nodding, a smirk on your face.

You pulled in the microphone before answering the question, "Yeah I guess so, like... when I was in middle school I really liked this girl and then I just kinda knew."

"Was that like, the earliest memory? Or..." Brooke asked as she drank her Alani, her attention centered around you.

"God, I actually believe I'm saying this on the podcast," You paused before letting out a small podcast. "No, my first crush was on Bella from Twilight."

"You're kidding!" Brooke giggled as all three of you laughed.

"I mean, I guess you knew she was gay when you first saw her. Your gay-dar is that great, huh?" Tana joked as she took another sip of her White Claw.

"Hey, my gay-dar is top-notch," you retorted with a grin, leaning back in the couch. "But seriously, it's funny how those little moments stick with you, right? Like, even before you fully understand what it all means."

Tana nodded, her expression turning more thoughtful. "Totally. I remember being drawn to certain things, certain people, and not fully getting why until later."

"It's like our subconscious knows before we do," Brooke added, taking another sip of her drink.

"Exactly!" you chimed in, feeling a sense of camaraderie in the conversation. "And then looking back, it all starts to make sense."

"So is your type still the cool, effortless girls or..." Tana raised her brow with a smirk as you laughed, feeling a blush on your face. She had to bring this up, especially because you'd began sending her 50 edits a day.

Brooke's eyes widen in surprise as she glanced back at you and Tana, an amused look in her eyes. She hummed as she sipped on her drinking, Tana took a hit of her vape as you sighed.

"Can't believe you brought that up," you mumbled into the mic as Tana bursted out laughing.

"Of course, I brought it up!" Tana exclaimed between laughs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Bro, don't be shy it's the podcast. It stays between us, promise."

"Shut up, Tana," you mumbled as Brooke snickered. "Okay well my type has always been basketball girls. Like always, my first girlfriend played basketball but she didn't go D1. My second girlfriend did go D1 but she didn't make it into the WNBA,"

"Not you dissing your ex's," Tana laughed as you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but chuckle along with them.

"Hey, I'm just stating facts here," you replied with a shrug. "But yeah, there's just something about basketball girls. Maybe it's the confidence, the athleticism, or the height, I don't know. It's just always been a thing for me."

Brooke nodded in understanding, her expression thoughtful. "I get that. There's a certain vibe they have, you know? Plus, there's nothing like watching them dominate on the court."

Tana grinned, taking another hit of her vape. "Well, looks like the fans have uncovered your type. Now we just need to find you the perfect basketball-playing, D1 and WNBA-bound girl. Oh wait,"

"She already did," Brooke grinned as she glanced toward you. You sent her a glare before she put her hands up in defense, "What! We need interesting topics."

"Bro, it's Paige Bueckers or whatever her name is," Tana spat out as you sent her a glare before throwing your head back in embarrassment. The girls laughed loudly as you resisted a smile before shaking your head.

"Yeah, yeah, so funny" you muttered, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment as Tana and Brooke continued to tease you mercilessly.

Tana shrugged, unfazed by your reaction. "Hey, you said it yourself, she's the perfect basketball-playing, D1, WNBA-bound girl, right?"

You couldn't argue with that logic, but you still couldn't help but feel a bit flustered by the teasing. "Yeah, but she's also, like, a superstar athlete. And like... she lives in Connecticut,"

Brooke chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm reassuringly. "Don't sell yourself short. You never know what could happen and pretty privilege is real, I'm sure Paige would fly out for you."

"I mean she followed you back on Instagram," Tana added as Brooke stifled a laugh, her eyes twinkling mischievously. You felt your embarrassment deepen at the reminder.

"Okay, okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves here," you interjected, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks at the mention of Paige's Instagram follow. "Just because she followed me back doesn't mean anything."

"Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that," Tana teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

You sighed, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "You two are relentless, you know that?"

"But that's what friends are for, right?" Brooke replied with a grin. "Paige if you're listening, Y/N's in desperate need of a girlfriend so-"

"Shut up, Brooke!" You groaned as Tana laughed loudly, her amusement evident in the way she doubled over.

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," Brooke shot back, still grinning ear to ear. "You never know, Paige might be listening and thinking, 'Hmm, maybe I should slide into her DMs.'"

You rolled your eyes, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. "Yeah, right. More like she's listening and thinking, 'Who are these weirdos talking about me on their podcast?'"

Tana finally composed herself enough to speak. "We're not weird, we're just... enthusiastic. Oh and hot,"

"Yeah, because that's definitely going to win Paige over," you quipped, a playful grin tugging at your lips despite your embarrassment.

"Oh abso-fucking-lutely, hello. Have you looked at yourself recently?" Tana gestured toward you with a smirk, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I mean, who wouldn't want a piece of that?"

You couldn't help but laugh at her boldness, shaking your head in amusement. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery. Let's get back on track before this podcast turns into a matchmaking show."

Brooke chimed in, her grin widening. "But wouldn't that be fun? We could be like the queer version of 'The Bachelor.'"

You laughed at the thought, but quickly shook your head as the whole room erupted in laughter. Brooke looked confused as she mumbled "what?", the whole room laughing.

"Nothing, you're just cute," you took a sip of the White Claw as you tried to stifle your laughter, feeling a warmth spreading through your cheeks.

──

"Damn, she is hot," Paige mumbled to herself as she scrolled through your instagram, zooming in on your pictures as she took you in. Ever since the episode was uploaded, TikTok made it a point to let Paige know that the Y/N L/N had a crush on her.

Now, she's heard of you before. You were close with those Triplets from Boston (she couldn't think of the name right now, something with an S) and best friends with Brooke because of your older sister. They'd both went to the U of A and were in the same sorority, and they became inseparable. You made your own YouTube videos and had a massive following which made Paige a teensy bit nervous.

That was before she looked at your Instagram, because holy cow were you gorgeous.

And apparently, KK and Ice were huge fans of you too, so they were fangirling. They'd sent her the podcast link as soon as it dropped and were freaking out, trying to play matchmaker between you and Paige (they needed tickets to the Cancelled live shows, and this was the easiest and cheapest way). They'd also managed to send her tons of edits of you, as well ─ she underestimated the power of edits until right now.

At first, Paige had brushed it off, thinking it was just another internet crush blown out of proportion. But now, as she found herself scrolling through your Instagram, she couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in her chest.

She paused on a picture of you smiling, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and couldn't help but feel drawn to you. There was something about your energy, your charisma, that seemed to leap off the screen and capture her attention.

Paige shut her phone as she bit her lip, thinking about her next course of action.

──

we ❤️ white claws

y/n | guys paige liked my story y/n | like the thirst trappy one

brooke | UR KIDDINGGGGG WHAT THE FUCK

tana | whatd we tell you 🥰 talking abt them on a podcast is the ultimate rizz

y/n | no im freaking outttt what the fuck y/n | what do i do

y/n | guys pls tell me im freaking out

tana | idk, text her?

brooke | yeah! y/n ur a cutie pie n she already made the first move, it's pretty a safe bet to say she likes u

tana | or at least thinks ur super sexy

y/n | im scared

tana | of what??? 😭😭😭 get yourself a white claw, and hit some blue razz and TEXT HERRRRR 😫

brooke | what she said !!!!!!

──

Paige skimmed through the comments as she laid back on her couch as Ice and KK talked about whatever topic they were on. Paige had been distracted this entire live and everyone could piece together why ─ anyone would be distracted if someone as popular as Y/N had a crush on them.

Lost in her thoughts, Paige barely noticed when Ice nudged her and asked if she was okay. She quickly snapped out of her daze, offering a distracted smile and nod before turning her attention back to her phone.

"P, the fans wanna know how you feel about the recent Cancelled episode." KK wiggled her eyebrows through the screen as Ice laughed.

"Bro, I know you were gonna bring that up," Paige said with a chuckle, shaking her head in amusement. They really wanted to go to one of the Cancelled live shows, huh?

"She's fine as hell, I think that's like... what I feel right now." Paige shrugged nonchalantly as she smirked, feigning indifference but unable to hide the hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Ice and KK erupted into laughter, clearly amused by Paige's candid response. "Whoa, straight to the point, I see," Ice joked, flashing a playful grin.

Paige couldn't help but laugh along with them, feeling a sense of lightness wash over her despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach. "Hey, I'm just being honest," she replied, trying to play it cool.

Ice leaned closer to the camera, his expression playful. "So, does this mean you're gonna slide into the DMs?"

Paige shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Who knows? Maybe I already have."

"Rizzler P is back, whew," KK exclaimed, her excitement palpable even through the screen. "We're definitely getting those tickets to the show now, Ice."

Paige grinned at KK's enthusiasm, feeling a rush of excitement despite the nerves dancing in her stomach. "Hey, don't get too ahead of yourselves,"

"Already protective of your girl, P?" Ice teased as she raised her eyebrows, earning a laugh from KK.

"Bro, shut up," Paige mumbled as she shook her head, wetting her lips as she glanced up at the screen.

──

↳ eliana 🐬 here ya guys go... paige's got our girl cheesin :)

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[ohhgingersnaps]

I'm seeing some frustration over fandom creatives expressing anger or distress over people feeding their work into ChatGPT. I'm not responding to OP directly because I don't want to derail their post (their intent was to provide perspective on how these models actually work, and reduce undue panic, which is all coming from a good place!), but reassurances that the addition of our work will have a negligible impact on the model (which is true at this point) does kind of miss the point? Speaking for myself, my distress is less about the practical ramifications of feeding my fic into ChatGPT, and more about the principle of someone taking my work and deliberately adding it to the dataset.

Like, I fully realize that my work is a drop in the bucket of ChatGPT's several-billion-token training set! It will not make a demonstrable practical difference in the output of the model! That doesn't change the fact that I do not want my work to be part of the set of data that the ChatGPT devs use for training.

According to their FAQ, ChatGPT can and will use user input to train itself. The terms and conditions explicitly state that they save your chats to help train and improve their models. (You can opt-out, but sharing is the default.) So if you're feeding a fic into ChatGPT, unless you've explicitly opted out, you are handing it to the ChatGPT team and giving them permission to use it for training, whether or not that was your intent.

Now, will one fic make a demonstrable difference in the output of the model? No! But as the person who spent a year and a handful of months laboring over my fic, it makes a difference to me whether my fic, specifically, is being used in the dataset. If authors are allowed to have a problem with the ChatGPT devs for scraping millions of fics without permission, they're also allowed to have a problem with folks handing their individual fics over via the chat interface.

I do want to add that if you've done this to a fic, please don't take this as me being upset with you personally! Folks are still learning new information and puzzling out what "good" vs. "bad" use is, from an ethical standpoint. (Heck, my own perspective on this is deeply based on my own subjective feelings!) And we certainly shouldn't act like one person feeding a fic into ChatGPT has the same practical negative impact, on a broad societal scale, as a team using a web crawler to scrape five billion pieces of artwork for Stable Diffusion.

The point is that fundamentally, an ethical dataset should be obtained with the consent of those providing the data. Just because it's normalized for our data to be scraped without consent doesn't make it ethical, and this is why ChatGPT gives users the option to not share data— there is actually a standardized way (robots.txt) for website servers to set policies for how bots/crawlers can interact with them, for exactly this reason— and I think fandom artists and authors are well within their rights to express a desire for opting out to be the socially-respected default within the fandom community.

[avatar-anna]

When You Fall In Love...

so i've been reading icebreaker and it's been putting me in the hockeyrry mood

part one, part two, bonus, bonus

Harry watched from the empty stands as Y/n ran through her routine for the fifth time. Her teammates had gone home, her coach asked Harry if he would lock up on the way out, and now it was just the two of them in the empty rink. There wasn't even any music playing anymore, Y/n was just skating and performing her tricks as if there was.

Every time she did it, it was flawless. Her routine was fast and intense and incredibly difficult, but Y/n performed with ease every time. She landed her tricks like they were nothing, tricks which Harry now knew the names of and could tell the difference between a lutz and an axel. She was incredible, and he was in awe of her every single time.

But even in her perfection, Y/n had yet to smile once.

Harry decided she'd had enough after she finished her fifth run-through, quickly jogging down to the edge of the rink before she could skate out to the middle again. He leaned over the barricade and kissed the top of her head. This close to her, he could see her rosy cheeks and heaving chest, a sign that her routine did wear her out, despite making it look so effortless.

"You were phenomenal as usual, baby," Harry said while he gathered her things.

"I bobbled a landing and my timing was off for a whole four counts," was her reply.

Harry frowned, not pleased by her recent negativity. Any athlete could be critical of their ability, but Y/n seemed uncharacteristically hard on herself lately, and he had no idea why. "Everything okay?" He asked, shouldering her duffle bag as they walked away from the rink.

"I'm fine."

She certainly didn't sound fine, but Harry decided not to push. Not now, anyway. Changing the subject, he said, "I got an email from the recruiter. I should be receiving my contract soon."

Excitement didn't even begin to cover how Harry had been feeling lately. Last week, he'd met with an agent of a minor league hockey team, one that was a feeder to an NHL team. He expressed their interest in Harry moving to the east coast after graduation and join them for spring training. And after giving it some thought, Harry accepted.

He was over the moon, thrilled that years of hard work was finally paying off. He'd made his passion into a career, and had the potential to really make a name for himself. Life couldn't have been better.

But where Harry seemed to be flying high, Y/n seemed stuck. She was happy for him when he told her the news, had gone out to celebrate with him that night. But something felt off between them. Harry couldn't put a name to it, but he just knew.

"That's great," Y/n said with no amount of enthusiasm in her voice. Harry tried not to take it to heart, she was clearly in a mood from her practice. She was under a lot of pressure too, he reminded himself, and sometimes had a knack for not knowing how to express herself with words.

"Is there something on your mind? You've been quiet recently," he said, hoping he wasn't overstepping her delicate boundary.

Y/n shook her head as she approached her car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Harry couldn't help but feel more and more like there was something on her mind, but he let it go again.

Before pulling the car out of the parking lot, Y/n rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"It's okay. As long as you know you can talk to me about it."

Her throat bobbed, but she nodded, then turned her focus toward the road. Harry filled the silence with rambling. He talked mostly about the NHL, about his contract and where he wanted to live and how everything was happening so fast.

So caught up in trying to break the tension, he didn't notice Y/n's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

*.*

"Styles! What the hell are you doing? Focus up! Let's go!"

Harry rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily during the brief pause in the game. His eyes flicked up to the stands, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but he didn't see the one he needed the most.

Despite being recruited by a minor league hockey team, Harry was probably having the worst game of his life.

Not one pass connected, he was letting second-rate players get by him, and he'd spent more time in the penalty box than in the actual game. Nothing about this was right, and still all he could do was look for Y/n.

She wasn't there, and even though things had been weird between them recently, he was still surprised. When she wasn't at a competition of her own, Y/n came to every one of Harry's games. It had started out as Harry wanting to impress her, maybe show off a little, and then as time went on and they grew closer and their relationship became more than two people having sex in secret, he wanted her to be there just because it felt good knowing she was watching him play. All his nerves floated away when Y/n was sat in the stands, sometimes in his jersey, cheering him on.

And of course there were times when she couldn't come, but this wasn't one of those times. Y/n had purposely not shown up. He knew they'd fought before the game, but he didn't think she would abandon him just to be petty. They were past that now.

His sole focus should've been on the game he was playing, but instead his mind kept drifting to the fight.

Harry could feel Y/n pulling away from him. He finally felt like he was getting everything he wanted—a spot on a minor league hockey team on the east coast that would eventually lead him to the NHL, graduating with semi-decent grades thanks to Y/n, and of course being with his dream girl. At first, she'd seen him as some douchey athlete that was only good for one thing. He remembered seeing her for the first time their freshman year, performing tricks on the ice that he'd only ever seen on TV, and when he whistled and clapped loudly—perhaps a little obnoxiously—after she'd finished, she'd rolled her eyes at him and told him to fuck off.

It was love at first sight.

Harry had been so careful around Y/n. He played by her rules and followed her lead, trying not to let the comments about them not dating get to him too much. He liked their initial dynamic, finding it funny when he got under her skin because she made it so easy. It became a kind of game, this push and pull that was fun and exciting and eventually led to their arrangement.

He knew that she cared about him on some level, he just needed to bide his time and show her he wasn't who she thought he was. Not entirely, anyway. And when she finally did, and they became more than just people who screwed around, everything was perfect.

They'd been through so much together. Y/n pushed Harry to be better, and he worked with her to master new tricks and nail her routine. There wasn't anyone else who understood his level of commitment to hockey, but she did, and that just made him love her more.

So when he got the call offering him a spot on the minor league team, Y/n was the first person Harry told. She'd been happy for him, and he was over the moon, his mind already making a million plans—where they'd live, her coming to his games, him helping her find a new rink to train at. It felt like the doors to a new and exciting world had opened for them, but she then she started pulling back, and Harry practically watched as that door slammed shut.

Harry pushed himself to focus back on the game, on the hockey stick in his hand and the ice beneath his skates. He felt like it took more effort than it should've to get his head back in the game, but his team managed to pull out a win, and he managed not to get benched before it happened. That didn't stop his coach from ripping him a new one in the locker room, but Harry sat there and took it, shaking his head and promising his piss poor performance would never happen again.

Exhausted both physically and mentally, he trudged out of the locker room and toward the parking lot, debating whether to take the bus home or call an Uber. Even in his senior year, he still didn't have a car, but Y/n was usually there to give him a ride home. To their home. Moving in together for their last year of school seemed like a no-brainer, and it had been amazing so far, though the last week had been kind of a disaster. Harry could feel the tension between them growing, but every time he asked Y/n about it, she'd say she was fine even though they both knew everything was not fine, and the cycle continued. He wanted to be excited, he wanted to celebrate the success he'd managed to create for himself, but he felt rather deflated instead.

To Harry's surprise, Y/n was waiting for him in the parking lot. He didn't hesitate putting his gear in the trunk and coming around to sit in the passenger seat. Y/n leaned in to kiss him immediately holding onto the sides of his face fervently.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry for not being here tonight and I'm sorry for acting strange, and I'm sorry for—"

"Y/n, what's going on with you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Can we wait until we get home to talk?" She asked. I want to be able to talk to you properly, and I can't if I'm driving.

When Harry nodded, Y/n must've deemed it enough. She peeled away from the rink, silent tension filling the air between once again. It had been following them around all week.

That ended tonight, though. He didn't care how much Y/n hated confrontation or hard conversations. They couldn't move forward if they didn't move past this roadblock first. Harry loved Y/n more than he ever thought possible, and stubborn as she was, he knew she loved him just as much. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard she tried to fight him on the way down.

*.*

"Y/n, you know I would be ecstatic if you'd told me you qualified for the Olympics. This is a huge step in my career! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am! God, Harry, I am."

"Then why are you pulling away from me? I feel like I can't be excited about this around you when you're the one person who should understand how this feels."

"I can't do this. I can't have this argument with you," you said, trying to step away from him.

Harry was quick to grab your hands in his, keeping you from walking away. "What aren't you telling me? Do you want to break up?"

"No!

"Do you not love me anymore? What? What is it, Y/n?"

"God, I didn't—I didn't ask for this," you cried, feeling like a damn had burst inside you. It was out now, and now you had to see it through to the end. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I wasn't prepared to love you this much. You're the one who wanted to take things further, and now you're—"

You're leaving me, you couldn't bring yourself to say. You really were happy for him. All of his dreams were coming true, and he had an ambition that matched yours, which made you love him more. And now that ambition was taking him far away from you, and you weren't handling it as well as you thought you would.

"Y/n—"

"I'm happy for you, H, I'm so happy for you that I could burst. And maybe even a little jealous," you joked, though there was some truth to what you said. "But I guess I just...I guess I didn't expect to love you this much. And I don't—I don't know what to do because you're going soon and I'm..."

You had no clue, and that alone was terrifying.

At the start of all this, you never imagined falling in love with Harry. He drove you absolutely insane, and despite your physical attraction to him, you kept your distance. But he kept doing these things that made you like him, and eventually care about him, and finally made you fall in love with him. It just wasn't something you saw coming. Love was definitely not on the brain when you met Harry.

Because you knew this moment was inevitable. The moment when one of you would be given an opportunity you couldn't refuse and would pull you away from each other. Once upon a time, you thought you would be given your dream job of a lifetime—competitive skating and hopefully the Olympics—but somewhere down the line, skating stopped bringing you joy, only pressure and anxiety. And now Harry had his dream job on the other side of the country, and you were left to flounder and wonder how you would survive waking up without him next to you.

"You're making it seem like it's a bad thing that you're in love with me," Harry said quietly, but the low tone of his voice didn't hide anything. You knew he was getting upset. After all the avoidance the last week—on your part—yours and his emotions were coming to a head.

"It's not! It's just that you're leaving!" you said, resisting the urge to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And all week you've talked about how excited to get out of here and leave this all behind and start a new chapter in your life. I mean, would it kill you to act like you're a little torn up about leaving?"

It was so selfish, and you knew it was. It was why you'd been avoiding Harry, this conversation. Harry had every right to be proud and ecstatic for leaving to play in the professional league. He worked so hard, pushed himself farther than anyone you'd ever met, except for maybe you. Your pain was clouding your good sense, and now you'd shown just how horrible you could really be.

You couldn't look him in the eye after saying what you did. Even if it was how you felt, you still felt ashamed for raining on Harry's parade. "Y/n—" he tried to say when you hastily wiped a tear from your eye.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry," you said, getting up from the couch and scurrying off to your bedroom.

Flopping on the bed, you pulled the covers over you, trying to hide from everything happening around you. It was too much. Your senior year was supposed to be fun and full of unforgettable memories, not arguments and heartache.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Harry slipped inside. He slid into bed next to you, and you didn't fight it when he rested his face in the crook of your neck. Because despite everything you were feeling, this was all you really needed.

"I'm not leaving you behind," he murmured gently. "You mean too much to me."

You sniffled, and Harry pulled you closer to his chest. "You're going to be thousands of miles away."

"Says who?" he said, kissing your cheek. "Who says you aren't coming with me?"

"And do what?" you huffed, even though the thought slightly lifted your spirits. "Be one of your...puck whatevers and follow you around like a puppy? I need a life of my own too."

You were being stubborn and argumentative and you both knew it. There was some relief in knowing Harry wanted you with him, but you also didn't want to just move because Harry was. You needed purpose, you needed to feel like your life had some sort of direction in it. But it was unfair to put all of that on Harry, and you didn't know how to express how you felt without sounding insane, so instead you said nothing, and that obviously went over brilliantly.

Harry chuckled. "See, because you just said how in love you are with me, I can tell that you're frosty attitude is just an act. Now turn over and look at me."

You reluctantly turned over, brow furrowed exaggeratedly because you couldn't cross your arms over your chest. It used to infuriate you how easily Harry could get under your skin because he knew you so well, that he knew just what to do or say to pull you out of a bad mood. In this moment, you were thankful. He could see past all the harsh words and see to the root of the problem. You'd said some things that were perhaps out of order, but Harry understood. Despite everything, he understood.

"You've worked just as hard as me, Y/n. I want to be there for you the way you've been for me. You can achieve your goals too."

"I just...I don't know if I want to achieve them anymore," you said quietly.

It was the first time you'd said it out loud. Since you'd learned to skate, there had only been one goal: the Olympics. Getting there wasn't just a matter of training, it was about devoting your life to your craft, it was barely having a life outside of training and competitions and giving all your time to winning. And after spending nearly your entire life doing it, you felt yourself slowly burning out. You'd go through your routines flawlessly, but your heart wasn't in it. All you could think about was the future—the next competition, the next training session, the next qualifier. It took seeing Harry so happy about being drafted to the minor leagues to realize the fire had gone out in you. Thinking of Olympic qualifiers and training and affording coaches and costumes and picking the right music only filled you with dread when you should've felt joy.

"Oh."

"But I don't know who I am if I don't have skating."

"You don't have to compete to skate, you know," Harry said. He rested his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your temple lightly. "You can c—"

"Oh God, don't say coach," you groaned. "It's perfect. You'll be a hockey superstar and I'll be the washed-up figure skater who couldn't handle the pressure of being an athlete and wound up coaching instead."

"I know you're being like this because you're scared, and that's okay," he said. "But I'll help you find a new dream, Y/n. I promise."

You had to blink away tears because your heart couldn't take how much he cared about you. "Even when I've been a complete bitch?"

"You haven't been. I'm sorry if you felt like I was leaving you behind. I guess in my mind we would always be together, no matter where we ended up."

"God I hate how much I love you sometimes," you grumbled while flinging yourself on top of Harry and holding him tight. "It's too much, you're too much, and I can't stand it—"

"There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?" Harry asked, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Sitting up, you perched yourself on him, your legs straddling his waist. Dipping down, you made sure your noses were brushing, but you didn't close the distance. Not yet. Your heart was racing simply because Harry had been so kind to you, because he knew you so well and said exactly what you needed to hear. It felt ridiculous to know that there was a time when he pissed you off so much you saw red, that his teasing remarks and cocky grin grated on your nerves. Now you didn't want to imagine a life without him.

"I'm sorry for saying all of those things," you murmured. "I really am proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do."

Harry's hand reached up and threaded through your hair, his fingers gentle as they passed over your scalp. "I know you are. And I mean it, Y/n. I'll help you. I know you love to skate, we just have to find a way to channel that into something else. If not coaching, maybe performing?"

"What? Like Disney on Ice?" you asked skeptically, your nose wrinkling at the thought.

Harry shrugged as his hand dipped beneath your shirt to stroke your back. "You'd be a cute princess."

"With my luck, they'd make me a tree."

"Then you'd be the cutest tree there ever was."

Shaking your head, you nudged your nose against his again. "Can we hit pause on talking about the future? I just want to be with you here. Right now."

"Course," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin. "And then maybe we can circle back to you being my puck whatever."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

And that was something you knew how to do better than your skating routine.

[ilovepaigebueckerss]

favorite words.

pairing: reader x p.b.

summary: reader pranks paige ONCE AGAIN for a tiktok video

a/n: i know paige doesn’t cuss its js for the story yall.

______________________________

you were scrolling on tiktok when you saw a video with the caption ‘saying my gfs favorite words otp to get her reaction’ you watched the video dying laughing at the way she was reacting in the video and decided you had to do it with paige.

a couple minutes later paige got home, a chiptole bag in her hand with you and her chipotle order in it. “hii paigeyy” you greeted your girlfriend. “hi baby” she says smiling wide. you grabbed the bag from her and sat it down on your island.

once you were finished eating you decided it was go time.

you went to tiktok and started recording, you put the phone by your face and pretended you were on facetime. (you have airpods in)

“ehh, i dont really wanna play basketball” you say trying to hide your smile. immediately after saying that paige gives you that ‘whos on the phone?’ look.

you pretend to not see her, “yeah, but i was thinking i could come over and we can go to walmart.” you continue, “yesss lets get some trufu.”

paige starts to smile at those words and walks over to you on the couch.

“no i don’t think paige would wanna come.” you say.

“no i wanna come” paige says a desperate tone in her voice.

after she says that you couldn’t help but bust out laughing, you turn your phone screen around to show her no one is on the phone.

“you just walked the prankkk” you say still laughing, tears pricking your eyes.

“oh fuck youuuu” paige says disappointment laced in her tone.

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caption: dw i got her tru-fru after this. 😭😭

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comments:

@uconnwbbfan: what a big back😂😂

@kkarnold: i would’ve folded after you mentioned tru-fru too

@paigebueckers: yeah these pranks have to stop..

@oemgee: LMAOOOOO “walked the prank”?.. 🤣

see more..

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

More natural dyes! I honestly love stuff like this so much.

[sugoi-writes]

In Every Sense - Part 2 to Scent Kink!Alastor x Reader

It's heeeeerrreeee~ Here are some warnings: we get some internal monolgues of Alastor hopelessly trying to seduce you, oral (f!receiving), light man-handling, begging, and some really just... absolutely raunchy filth. Please enjoy~ (please note, this is still overwhelmingly inspired by @hazelfoureyes so please please GO READ HAZEL'S CONTENT. IM BEGGING YOU. ITS SO JUICY)

Right. Where was he? Oh yes... this mess.

Alastor straightened himself out quickly, mess of his clothing and floor included. Your clothes, however, were discarded to his bed... probably never to be washed again.

After he freshed up, his eyes scanned and paused in his armoire mid-search. His taloned hands brushed against a silk top... not one of his preferred fabrics, but one he could certainly pull off. His fingers danced on it a moment more, before deciding it was worth changing it up.

Black, lattice-patterned top and tailored, wine red trousers... simple, but classy, right? As he tossed around the idea of a belt, he decided to skip that step. It would make the process of settling between your sweat-covered thighs take an eternity too long. That is... if he didn't devour you first.

Alastor threw his casual fit together, opting to keep his pointed, black dress a part of the ensemble. But should he try boots...? Would that be too much? Maybe it would be easier to kick off...?

He wondered over to his personal liquor cabinet, pouring himself a whiskey. He needed to get a pep in his step and to still his rambling thoughts. Though he usually preferred to take things slower, savoring the bite of liquor on his tongue... He instead took it as a shot, hardly reacting to the harsh intake. His shoulders hunched, huffing as he turned to look in the mirror. How ridiculous he must've looked...

Hair disheveled... eyes half lidded. His hands were sweating, the loose blouse serving as a juxtaposition to his too-tight pants. Maybe his shirt should be tucked? No, that'd look stupid without a belt...

How strange it was for him to fret... at least, fret over impressing another person. Moreover, trying to impress someone he pined for. He almost loathed the way you made him feel, and how his core seemed to clench everytime you walked by... but, there was no room for doubt now: he would make you answer for his obsessions tonight. Surely you would take responsibility, wouldn't you...?

Alastor's head shook, before he opted to tuck half of his shirt in. He saw this often in modern fashion, targeting the front corner of the shirt to show off or bring attention to his thigh and... well-- downstairs.

He quirked a brow, intrigued with this look. It was... messy. Not the neat-and-narrow hes accustomed to. And in a way, he quite liked it. Maybe with the disheveled top, your eyes would be distracted enough to be drawn below the belt...?

Hah, what a pun. It doesn't work anymore if you don't have a belt, right?

Alastor chuckled, absolutely tickled by the thought. Alastor pulled out a wine-colored blazer, which perfectly complimented his pants. Can't be too prepared for the hellish night, right? He paused, walking over to your discarded top again for one final sniff; one final tease before the real thing. He shuddered at the thought, already feeling a light twitch coming from below. 

With a resolute nod, he walks out from his room, heading towards the lobby. Maybe you would be retired for the night? Maybe he could catch you before your evening shower... He sought you out, his nose steering the way as his thoughts swam with visions of you. He would have you tonight, he thought, his hands summoning and twirling his microphone with a prideful flourish.

--

You hadn't known how it got to this point. You hadn't known how much liquor both you and Alastor had drunk, round for round... but, Alastor's plan managed to work. He caught up with you, just before you were retiring for the night... and now, you did manage to head to bed... just the wrong one.

You yelped as you were slammed against his bedroom door, hands flying to grip the collar of his shirt. The passion of his kiss made you weak, his own knees buckled. Your sounds mirrored the other's, hips rolling in tandem as the heat between your bodies danced and mingled with one another. Alastor was already getting carried away, hands grabbing at everything he could touch... your cheek, your ass, your waist... He needed more. He needed you to be absolutely bothered and sweating.

Alastor pulled away, licking a long, wet trail from your collar bone to your ear. You trembled as ghost-like kisses were placed along your jaw, pleased sigh his reward. Your head tilted back and to the side, allowing better access to the longing demon.

"Ahh-- Alastor!"

His name fell from your lips, bruised and hanging agape as your breath came out in labored puffs. Alastor groaned, eyelids fluttering as he inhaled once more. A shaky sigh soon followed, making your thighs clench together. He licked at the sweat that ran down your neck, swirling his tongue before kissing there again.

More... he needed more of this.

No words were exchanged as his lips wandered lower, your clothing coming down and off with his lecherous journey. You could only cradle and grab at his hair, trying to slow or stop his descent when he would kiss a particularly gratifying area... but your eyes widened as his kisses lingered on your lower abdomen. Your eyes met his candy apple reds, swirling with lust and intrigue.

"Mon cher, I simply cannot bear to wait... I must have you." He couldn't contain his raspy sigh as he took your pants off, sliding them down your trembling legs. You'd be lucky to have these clothes back after this night...

Once you were bare before him, he kissed at your mound, the smell of your hormones and sweat making his brow furrow with desire. His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull as you moaned, nodding feverishly," I-I... I don't-- fuck, Al... Don't stop..."

Al looked firmly at you, mouth hanging open, but not coming closer. You huffed, trembling as your cheeks flush.

"... Pl-please... keep going... I want this."

Alastor smiled up at you, toothy grin absolutely drunk with adoration as he lowered his head. He spread your legs apart, arms moving to lift you. You were pushed up until you sat upon his shoulders, suspended a few inches off the ground. You were shaking at the realization of how powerful he was; how easily he was able to sustain you with just his shoulders. It was a strength that made your abdominals clench in anticipation.

The moment his tongue ran up your slit, you saw the light, eyes widening from the feeling of his warm muscle. Alastor grunted as he started to gently lap at your core. Finally: something that distracted him from how divinely you smelt...

Now he had a new muse (and problem) to keep him up at night... the taste of your arousal.

Like a man starved, he began to lavish you earnestly, hands trapping your thighs around his head. He showed you no mercy as his tongue alternated between stimulating your clit and delving into your relaxed hole. You convulsed with his minstrations, one hand stabilizing you against the door while the other gripped an antler for deer dear life. You soon found your hips rolling into his face, his nose brushing your clit with every thrust. Your head collided with the door as your moans transformed into animalistic whines and huffs, unable to control the ravenous sounds he tore from you. Alastor wasnt any more refined, hungry like a tramp in heat.

His expression shook and strained with pure bliss as he took you in whole: touch, sight, sounds, scent, and taste. This truly was the thing that he needed most; to seek you in your entirety. He knew now that he needed to own your body by ways of physical desire and passion... something he only became keenly aware of recently.

Now, even if your soul would so pretty under his grasp... this seemed to outweigh that desire. This was the ultimate way to both have you, and for you to tie a metaphorical leash around his neck. He hadn't fully realized it, but he was completely and utterly yours, and after this display, you'd surely have him the same way...

His dignity be damned. You were too sweet to resist.

You held his fringe out of his face as Alastor groaned with every flick of his tongue, vibrations sending your nerves into overdrive. His movements, his reactions, and his blatant obsession with your scent had you seeing stars. You ground your face harder into Alastor's obedient tongue, forcing his inhales to be rapid and short. Had he breathed any harder, one would speculate he was panicking. But ahh, what a way to die again, but by your thighs and eager cunt...

"Sh-Shit-- Alastor I'm-- fuck, y-you're too-- Hah!"

Alastor's cock twitched and strained, unable to be freed as your noises grew in tempo and pitch: you were nearing your climax.

Yes.

Yes, cum on him; cum on his face.

He wanted to see your mouth hang open in a silent wail, riddled with ecstacy. He wanted to feel your legs snap his neck from the force of your grip. He wanted to taste the arousal on his tongue as it multiplied. And most importantly... he wanted to be fully engulfed in your scent as your cunt rode his tongue... At this rate, he would be making another mess tonight.

He would never wash his shirt again, aware of the cum dripping down onto the collar of his dress shirt... a notion that nearly made him squirm. Maybe he could convince you to let him keep your outfit, as a token of tonight's debauchery?

He had no more time to think as your orgasm overcame you. Both hands held his antlers as your frantically ground into his mouth, practically suffocating him as you sprayed his jaw with your release. Alastor could only take it, choking and sputtering but absolutely living in the moment. His eyes were fully rolled back, schelaras devoured by a deep, pitch color.

When oversensitivity started to make you quiver, you pulled away, utterly satisfied. Your hands went to smooth out Alastor's scrunched-up hair as he panted. You gave it a playful ruffle, apologetic for your behavior. You smile breathlessly down to the overwhelmed demon, about to thank him... Then, a shrill scream is ripped from your throat. Alastor's seering, hot tongue is on your clit again, hands digging in to the plush of your thighs.

"Mmph... more-- Please, let me have more, cher... need it-- need you!"

You whined as Alastor's pleas fell unto eager ears, head lolling. Alastor's tongue began to awaken a new vigor in you. You were more than happy to please the starved man below you... Maybe next time, you'd tie him up in your clothes, leaving him unable to do anything but take your passion, in every sense of the word...

[bamsara]

"why would you read a fic with a scene or something you dont like in it" you see i have this ability called using my thumb to scroll down the phone screen really fast