#which again massive thank you for answering all of my questions and actually tearing the game to shreds for this info

[no-light-left-on]

Let's talk about the Chaos System in Dishonored

“Your actions affect the city. A high number of deaths results in more rats, more weepers, different reactions from your allies and darker final outcome.”

The most important thing to note is that we need to distinguish between chaos and morality. A lot of people interpret Low Chaos as Good and High Chaos as Bad which is… not inherently correct. At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that while non-lethal takedowns of key targets result in lower chaos, they are not the only thing that contributes to the chaos rating of a mission. I highly recommend reading these two posts [1] [2] by the lovely @kirtlandswarbler who looked into the science behind the chaos system.

It is perhaps easiest to imagine as the DnD alignment of Lawful to Chaotic. Low Chaos aligns with Lawful, the player character going after their targets and not dragging bystanders into their mess. All the takedowns are tactical, some might even say deserved – the Lord Regent hanged for his crimes, Campbell branded as a heretic that he was, Hypatia cured of her madness caused by the serum, Delilah locked in a painted world she desired so. The achievement for completing the game with non-lethal ways is even called Poetic Justice in DH and In Good Conscience in DH2. If the game is completed in a self-serving, bloodthirsty, anger satiating way, the chaos ends up being high – or plain chaotic on the alignment chart. But that is what the chaos means for the playstyle.

Chaos within the world is, in short, the way the world reacts to the player’s actions. The good and the bad, but every move the player makes in the world is a choice, and the world responds accordingly.

Let us set the scene, first, in general terms. In both games, the Empire is at a point of heightened anxiety. In DH it’s the plague, in DH2 the Crown Killer. Both games deal with brutality citizens face from the City Watch/Grand Guard, religious anxieties and terror from the Overseers, gang activity and a tyrannical regime from the Regent or the Duke respectively.

This is the world we walk into as Corvo, Daud or Emily. Everyone is uneasy and somewhat distrustful, and the player character then descends into the streets with a blade in hand, carving their way through a crumbling city to reach their goal. Loved ones go missing. Fathers don’t come back from work, cousins stop responding to letters. Even the elite in their palaces aren’t spared, slaughtered in cold blood with their loyal guard lying close by, staining the expensive hardwood floors. This is the world the player creates in high chaos – a world where no one is safe, and the few survivors live in terror, afraid that every breath they take might be the last. They see no reason to trust their neighbours, become more selfish, angrier- even your allies become more cynical, watching you slaughter your way back to the top, and why are they helping you again? To replace one tyrant with another?

In low chaos, however, the people remain safe. The civilians are allowed to continue going through their day to day life, however harsh it might be. The guards and overseers are spared, for the most part, and the nobles and rich that might go missing? That is their problem. They never cared for the smaller people. Both games open with a large shift in the political landscape – the assassination of an empress, a coup that seats a witch on the throne. And yet people still die of the plague or to the bloodflies. If a couple more members of the parliament die, that is, at the end of it all, just politics. It is among those who meddle with political issues, and not the business of the rest of the world.

The chaos is calculated by the absolute body count, along with a few special actions that the player can take. Most of them make sense. The chaos is higher if Daud blows up a slaughterhouse, killing many in the process, harming an industry, terrifying people who only hear of the event. Saving a young woman and her brother as they are harassed by the overseers over witch crimes they never committed lowers your chaos, because Corvo helped people in need. It’s a balance of the good and the bad you do, in total, rather than the simple distinction between killing and not killing the key targets. The overall chaos remains low even when all the key targets are taken down lethally. However, even if they are all spared, if the player killed every guard in sight just to reach these targets, the chaos will be high.

Something that I see (wrongly) be brought up is that killing key targets grants you a High Chaos ending, while the non-lethal takedowns result in Low Chaos ending. As mentioned above, that’s not true – they do count towards your total body count, but their deaths do not have a greater weight towards High Chaos. The non-lethal neutralization thus helps maintain lower chaos, but it does not necessarily mean that these choices are the right ones to make. The best example of this is probably Lady Boyle, which is oftentimes brought up as “oh but the morality of this game!!” critique. Death vs. poetic justice has little to do with morality in these games. After all, the protagonist (not counting DLCs) is out for revenge, to an extent, on people who have wronged them and caused them to fall on hard times. Just because a character lives does not mean there are not fates worse than death – like handing a woman to her stalker under the threat of death.

Morality and lethality in Dishonored are two things that don’t necessarily overlap. Lobotomizing Jindosh is, most definitely, a horrible thing and Jindosh ends up begging the MC to rather take his life than let him live without his intellect. There is no doubt that he is a horrible person, and many people tell you so during the game, but is this really the right way to go about things? Is an existence without the one thing you truly value about yourself worth it? On a similar yet completely opposite side of things, when you overhear one of the guards talk about how they have fun killing people who break curfew, is it truly a bad thing to kill them? One or two more deaths won’t affect your chaos all that much. It gets even more worth considering with the special actions that decrease your chaos which involve saving people from getting murdered by overseers or the guard. These actions are often difficult or impossible to perform without killing the attackers (like the guard harassing the girl that worked for Bunting).

These actions then reflect on your surroundings – the more corpses litter the streets, the more weepers and rats there will be, the nastier the bloodfly infestation. With a killer on the loose, there have to be more guards around. Mind you, the special actions that cause your chaos to grow are not enough to tip you over into high chaos alone. And as you, and Corvo/Daud/Emily by extension, grow more cruel, your allies grow more cynical. The Loyalists see Corvo butcher the city, and, well, it’s working. So why shouldn’t they get more cruel to achieve their goals, too? Emily is the most impacted, in Low Chaos growing to be Emily the Wise, the beloved empress of the Isles, asking Corvo innocent questions, while in the high chaos she talks about executions, asks how many people he's killed. Some grow to despise you, like Samuel, seeing the growing corruption and wishing for the quest to be done because they now see that the person they were helping was as much of a monster as the ones they are opposing. If you are cruel, the world will be cruel back, and the world involves those you might hold closest, like your daughter or your second in command.

The world, then, behaves in the way you mold it. Chaos reflects it, the destruction or kindness that you leave in your wake. Of course the murder of a noblewoman on a party she hosted, guarded by tallboys, will cause people to worry. Of course panic will spread when civilians are murdered in the streets. The general population of Dunwall will worry when the medicine that was meant to cure the plague suddenly turns everyone into weepers. But just the same, if people are shown kindness by a stranger without having to ask, they will be soothed. A cruel political leader being executed for the crimes he committed will make people excited, hopeful even. When Emily switches the Duke for his body double, the common people won’t notice. There is no need for fear, with the non-lethal takedowns. Not for those who are not directly involved.

Chaos, at the end of it all, dictates how the world evolves from the brink of collapse. The Outsider says it best, in one of his many speeches. “I have to wonder whether you're going to give if that final nudge, or pull it back from the edge.“ You have the power to tip the scales with your actions. Your choices matter, the big and the small, each life you save and each life you take, because at the end of the game, you are the one that has shaped the world that you will rule.

#dishonored #dh #li.txt #essays tag #YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT THERES MORE COMING YOUR WAY #yes there is an essay about the lack of chaos in doto coming #indirectly inspired by all the videoessays that talked about low and high chaos 'outcomes' of missions in a 'but this is not Good :((' #basically what Im trying to say: yeah chaos is about how fucked up you are. but from the perception of OTHERS #Im really tempted to write a full length analysis of all the games on their own and how chaos impacts the world #especially after dakota's hard work #which again massive thank you for answering all of my questions and actually tearing the game to shreds for this info

[queerfanfiction]

Could you write a fluffy smut where reader has mummy issues who cancelled on her for taking her bra shopping and Larissa offered to go with her and helps her pick out the perfect set but then it ends with smut idk you chose :)

Mummy Issues

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 3.6k includes: mommy issues, public-ish sex, discussion of trauma, fingering, fluff, mommy kink, praise kink

Your therapist is actually the one who suggested you ask your mom to go shopping with you to find a bra set for an upcoming performance. You’re not saying this specific reparenting technique doesn’t work, but there was no way in hell your mother was going to follow through. Still, you tried anyway. You were vulnerable anyway.

You’re exhausted from parenting your own parent, always considering other’s needs before your own. Fresh out of university and you still have never had anyone else take care of you for a change. The shopping idea was intended to be a low-stakes role reversal where your mom would step up to the task at hand.

Earlier that morning you texted your mom to confirm the meet up in Burlington. You never heard back, which wasn’t uncommon. Since you were coming all the way from Montreal, though, you expected some sort of acknowledgement. You even texted her as you were driving over to no avail. Downtown Burlington was not where you would have picked to shop if your mother was not involved. It was close to where she lived, and she loved the hustle and bustle of Church Street. To you it always seemed like a hot mess. Now you were in the middle of that mess alone.

After waiting in your car for 15 minutes, it doesn’t take a genius to know you got stood up once again. You contemplated just driving back right then and there. This wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do alone, yet none of your friends are in the area any longer. They all had moved away. Overwhelmed by the sheer fuckery of nothing ever working out, you were frustrated and tired. You consider breaking down into tears over the wasted trip and the years of parental neglect represented by this one instance.

The only person who you can think of still in the area is Ms. Weems. You suppose it’s Principal Weems now (thank you social media for that one). Is it weird to invite a former teacher you once had a massive crush on to go shopping? It’s been so long that it would be nice to catch up. You’re not going to lie, you were yearning to see the older woman. Impulsively, you dial the number she gave you for emergencies back when you attended Nevermore. To your surprise, a firm but sweet voice answers—the same voice that you’d fantasize about in your dorm when your roommate was out. You try to control your voice, but too many conflicting emotions make you croak and sniffle a bit when identifying yourself.

“My dear, is everything alright? And, please, it’s Larissa.” A tone of worry was inflected back to you by the other woman.

In an attempt to dodge the question about your wellbeing, you respond, “I’m actually back in Burlington, trying to find an outfit for an upcoming performance. Any chance you’re free?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Larissa returned with, “Oh, I don’t wish to intrude, but it was very kind of you to think of me.” Shit, apparently too nonchalant…

You reflect on all the times Larissa had comforted you back at Nevermore. She was protective of all her students, but it truly meant the world to you. You had always thought it was just another day, another student problem for her. There were many times you were neglected or mistreated by your mother that Larissa was privy to back then. Knowing this, as a Hail Mary, you softly let slip out, “I was supposed to meet my mom…”

Without missing a beat, Larissa’s voice turned tight, “Where are you?” You glance at the cross streets, give her your location, and let her know the specific store you’re at. She concludes, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes, love.”

Your heart flutters at the familiar pet name.

—

You’re already occupying the changing room when Larissa arrives. She calls out for you, and you crack open the door to let her into the small fitting area.

You are met with the most comforting hug. Larissa stroked your hair and squeezed you tightly. The last time an embrace has felt so all-encompassing was also from Larissa, which is a bit embarrassing. You guess you just don’t have a lot of good huggers in your life, and it felt so nice to be held close by someone. You breathe out a long sigh, as if all your troubles are muted by the closeness of the woman in front of you. Her scent replaces the air in your lungs, and you consider how nice it would be to never end this embrace.

When she pulls back and sees that your eyes are slightly red and puffy, she bends down towards you to cup your face with both of her hands. All that comes out of her mouth is “Oh, sweetie.” You give her a half-hearted smile in response. Her hands immediately begin stroking your face, brushing hair from your eyes, and occasionally resting her thumb and index finger at your chin. This. This is what being cared for is; the realization hits you and radiates out through your body.

“I’m here for whatever you need. Would you like to debrief about your mother? Or carry on with what’s needed here?” Larissa gestures to the garments in the fitting room without taking her eyes off of you.

Noticing how close she still is to your face makes your head dizzy, and you stutter, “I-I need s-something to wear under a strapless dress that won’t show during a piano performance.”

Reassuringly, Larissa states, “We can do that. You know I have an eye for those sorts of things. We’ll have you sorted in no time.” She then moves her hands to your upper arms and rubs them before turning to examine the items already set out.

“Piano? It’s no wonder. You always played brilliantly at Nevermore,” Larissa continued elatedly, brandishing a supportive smile. You think back to times when you’d be practicing in Nevermore’s music auditorium alone and feel a comforting presence at the back of the concert hall near the doors. You always assumed it was your imagination, not daring to get your hopes up that someone cared enough to support you or cheer you on. Your mother made sure of that…

You feel so much more at ease with Larissa here. Now that you think about it, she has always provided stability and nurtured you. You remember that she would sometimes give you rides to Jericho when the only Nevermore vehicle at the time was in use. You credit a lot of your success with the piano to her too, because she would encourage you to do open mics at the Weathervane and signed you up to play at a parade that Jericho had every couple of years. 

Yes, you felt indebted to the tall, gorgeous woman before you. The years since you’ve seen her have only emphasized her beauty. Her demeanor is both commanding and protective. It’s as if she is more comfortable in her skin than before; there is a sureness in her stance that is nice to see and that you wish you had. Even though you always considered her fashionable, her clothes now exude a kind of pride and carefully crafted style. Larissa’s perfectly-coiffed updo accentuates the smooth, supple skin of her neck before disappearing beneath her expertly tailored dress.

These thoughts invoke a light blush from your cheeks, and you know you can’t speak about your crush on her in the past tense. Your immediate dry mouth while watching her is proof that it never went away. Now you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have sought her out to assist in purchasing the perfect underwear, especially because you see her turn towards the garments and an emotion flashes across her face when she realizes the kinds of items you’ve picked out and need assistance with.

You’ve always liked the idea of dressing up underneath your formal outfit. To you, it made it feel more special, gave you extra confidence. For instance, knowing a sexy lace set was underneath your clothes made you feel as if you had a fun secret. Though, you realize it’s probably inappropriate to expect Larissa to help with this. If she felt uncomfortable, she was hiding it well. You tried to continue on as if everything was normal, even though doing so felt impossible.

When Larissa sits on the small ledge provided in the dressing room, you emphasize, “Thank you again for coming. I just drove from where I am now in Montreal.”

Realizing you should continue trying items on, you reach to unbutton your shirt when you hear, “You poor thing! Have you eaten?”

At this, you scrunch your face and shake off your blouse. “I’ll get something after this.” So many conflicting emotions swirl inside of you. You’re conflicted at whether to relish in the desperately needed maternal care or to shrug it off as a defense mechanism.

You begin to unhook a bra from its hanger and feel like you should ask, “Do you mind?” Larissa interprets that you’d like to change from your bra into the new one, waving her hand dismissively and saying, “Go ahead” in a delicate manner.

Without looking too awkward and challenged, you attempt to put on the new bra while taking  your current bra off in quick succession. It would have worked if the one you were trying on actually fit you. You had a hard time getting it on, and once you did, your breasts spill out of the top half, giving you the illusion of having four boobs. With you panting from the endeavor, you and Larissa begin to laugh at how silly it looks. You’re surprised that you’re not mortified, but instead having fun.

With some of your own tension released, you turn away from Larissa and towards the mirror to decide if you like the bra enough to go up a cup size. As you do this, what you don’t see is Larissa’s curious gaze, as if she is wishing she could reach out and touch the pillowy softness of your breasts.

“So, this one is NOT it.” Your playful declaration pulls Larissa from her lustful thoughts. It’s short-lived, though, since you immediately begin to try on more items. This time you choose a deep maroon matching set, and you turn slightly away from Larissa in order to pull up the bottoms over your current underwear. Because of the limited space in the room, your ass accidentally winds up in Larissa’s face. As if it is all in your head, you pretend the enclosed space is not rife with sexual tension.

“That’s gorgeous,” Larissa coos moments later with her hand reaching out. With both hands, she rubs along the intricate lace detail at your hip bones, and it feels as if your skin is set ablaze. You fight the urge for your breath to turn heavy and wanting.

Even if all of the tension is in your head and one-sided, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll need to stop trying things on soon. Well, at least stop trying on bottoms, because you can feel yourself getting wet under Larissa’s stares and encouragement.

“That fits you so very well.” “I love this on you.” “It looks absolutely spectacular.” “You look stunning.”

Not to mention Larissa has taken a hands-on approach to her support. After briefly touching your hips, she began dragging her long fingers along bits of your exposed skin when she was discussing an area. There’s no way she doesn’t notice the goosebumps that arise each time her touch lingers. At least being half naked in the chilly changing room is an excuse for the tight buds of your nipples. 

The juxtaposition between this experience and what your mother would have had in store for you is dizzying. No doubt she would have critiqued your strong shoulders or the cellulite on your thighs. It would have ended in a fight, you just know it. However, everything out of Larissa’s mouth was refreshing and electrifying. Maybe even healing at times?

The final set you had picked out was a delicate mesh thong bodysuit that was almost entirely see-through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should you stop trying things on. Larissa must have noticed, because she uncrossed and crossed her legs a few times before voicing, “Go on, honey.”

Embracing the process sheepishly, you slip into the item and turn away from Larissa to look at yourself. You study the outline of your breasts in the mirror, trying to determine if the subtle texture of the mesh would be noticeable under your dress. Or would the distance between the stage and the seats obscure the texture?

You then see that Larissa seems to be studying them too, except her eyelids are hooded and her pupils are dilated. Almost in slow motion you watch her involuntarily lick her lips. Your heart beats quicker, a flash of heat moves through your body, and you suppress a low moan.

Your eyes meet Larissa’s in the mirror.

You couldn’t say who initiated what next. Only that you were on Larissa’s lap, straddling her, while her hands were on you, roaming over your body and settling on your hips. Your mouths are working in tandem with each other, and you welcome her red lipstick staining your lips and neck. Your hands go to Larissa’s face—one cupping it possessively and the other slinking back to grip the nape of her neck. You want desperately to wreck her perfect hair, turning it into physical evidence of your connection and closeness.

Both you and Larissa can feel the heated energy building between you as you frantically attempt to take off the mesh bodysuit. Before you can, though, Larissa steadies your hands and inquires breathlessly, “Is this okay, darling?” Her eyes search your own, and you can make out desire and worry in her eyes.

You have to take a moment to let what she is asking sink in. This feels like such a natural (if not slightly expedited) progression of your feelings for Larissa. You wonder if there is more underlying her question. You know you two will have to debrief your feelings but right now the hormones raging through your body make it hard to focus too much on the worry or questions around if this should be happening. Instead, your body wiggles on top of hers, begging to continue the friction of your hips against her. You involuntarily whine and nod. “I want this, Larissa.”

Seeing your need and the sureness in your gaze, Larissa regains her composure and utters, “Shh, let me take care of you.”

—

Larissa rivals your intensity with her own fierce need. Her kisses are passionate yet soft. Her hands are gentle but unyielding in how they explore your body once the mesh bodysuit is off. With her every caress and tender nip over your skin, you feel so wholly wanted, cared for, and desired. A fire underlies Larissa’s behavior, as if each touch begets more longing and thirst for you. At the same time, you couldn’t have anticipated the fervent need you had to be validated and devoured by this woman.

Once she has marked your neck with her lipstick and teeth, Larissa moves downward to take one of your fleshy, beaded nipples in her mouth. Barely audible to you, she breathes out, “Absolutely beautiful” before flicking it with her tongue and causing you to arch your back.

One of Larissa’s hands runs over your thighs, teasing you and drawing circles and zigzags on your delicate skin. You can’t help but whimper in need every single time her fingers get closer to where your thighs meet. After almost resigning to her pace and authority, she trails up to cup your arousal. Your legs twitch with the sudden contact, and you emit a gasp.

“You’re so wet for me.” Pleased, Larissa enunciates every word, drawing the words out and reveling in how at her mercy you are. “It’s intoxicating.”

Unable to withstand not taking action, you press your lips against hers roughly, trying to close any distance between your bodies. Breathless after many kisses, you move to suck on her neck and whisper, “Larissa.”

“Please.”

Only after this plea does Larissa finally dip a finger into you. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. You would usually appreciate a sexual partner pacing themselves, but the need for her to fill you is overpowering. You wriggle your hips back and forth impatiently and breathlessly request, “More.”

Larissa delighted in your clear hunger for her, fully intending to give you everything you want. She eases in another finger past her second knuckle before adding a third finger once she realizes how slick and open you are for her. You unintentionally bite down on her shoulder, not expecting to get what you want without more begging.

 You couldn’t have imagined how good her fingers feel inside you. And you absolutely had imagined it. You remember pretending your fingers were hers after late nights riding back with her from Jericho. Or the time she gave you her coat on a chilly night and forgot to get it back, so you ended up masterbating to her scent surrounding you. Okay, you’re not super proud of that one, but at the time it felt world-changing the desire you had. Her fingers working inside of you now are of a different caliber. In fact, you never understood the metaphor of sex as worship or religion, but being on top of Larissa with her half-lidded eyes roaming your body changes things. You want to make her feel a sliver of how good you do right now.

Your hands begin to grab at the fabric of her top, desperate to remove her clothing and pleasure her as she is inside of you. Larissa lets out a low, throaty chuckle before asserting, “Ah, ah, ah. I want to focus on you, love. Let me please you.”

Her interjection just makes your heart swell more for her, and noticeably your noise level swells, as well. You’re not used to undivided attention and care—someone wanting your happiness above all else. It’s more erotic than you could have ever anticipated. At the increase in breathiness and moans, one of Larissa’s hands clamps over your mouth while the other continues to pump in and out of you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the reflection in the dressing room mirror of you riding her long fingers completely nude while she is fully clothed. The sight makes your knees weaker, and you groan, “Oh, fuck.”

Larissa’s whispers and affirmations throughout only brought you closer and closer to release. She has to know how her words are affecting you. Her hot breath over and over in your ear, inching you towards the edge.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” “I’ll give you anything you want.” “Shh, stay quiet for me.” “That’s a good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten around Larissa’s fingers, becoming more breathless and spacey as she presses the pads of her curled fingers inside you toward your pelvic bone, urging you to come undone. So, you do. Your entire body tenses, and you feel as if you will crumble under the anticipation and pressure. Tingles shoot down your arms and legs in waves, threatening overstimulation.

Larissa’s fingers still, and she presses you close to her, clutching you tightly. After a moment of your eyes being closed and your breathing slowly relaxing, Larissa asks you to bear down with your pelvic floor muscles. Confused, you obey. She gingerly removes her fingers from inside you, and your body aches at the loss. She proceeds to lean forward with you still on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and begins to rock you.

“You did so well, my love,” Larissa murmurs while stroking your hair away from your damp forehead. “You were so good for me.”

You can’t remember the last time someone was so attentive and sweet with you after sex—if ever. You also have never felt like an exposed live wire due to euphoria either, so… Her thoughtfulness makes your heart swell, and you’re hoping it’s not just due to the hormones flooding your body right now. As if you can’t contain the disbelief and gratefulness, you blurt in awe, “How are you real?”

Larissa pulls away from the embrace, searching your eyes for understanding. “I ask myself the same question about you.” At that, you rest your forehead against Larissa’s, exhausted and happy.

After sensing your heart rate has stabilized, wanting to make sure you go to the bathroom and hydrate becomes Larissa’s next priority. Her voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Let’s get you some food now. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

You two pick up the items in the messy dressing room and sheepishly leave the clothes on the courtesy rack outside. A grin blooms over your features as you think about how being stood up by your mom feels like such a nonissue now. Even the dilemma of what underwear to wear for your upcoming performance seems trivial. Walking out of the store with Larissa’s lipstick all over you, you decide that you won’t wear anything under your dress, especially not if Larissa is in the audience.

—

@sapphicbeloved Remember when you sent this request literal months ago????? Oops. Apologies, and please enjoy!

#I'm so sorry this took MONTHS to finish #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #mommy issues #principal larissa weems #request #requests #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #asks #fanfic #not proofread #will also post to ao3 #sapphicbeloved #fluff #smut #fluffy smut

[bo0mcat]

Hi Joker Out Tumblr!

I’m not very active here but after seeing all the comments regarding the recent JokerOutSubs interview in London I had to respond.

I was the one who went to go and interview them in London and the response over the last couple of days has been incredibly emotional, and incredibly overwhelming, so firstly, thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for making me so indescribably happy. Seeing people say that they felt safe watching this interview, and that it’s going to be a comfort video for them, actually brought me to tears on a number of occasions.

I wanted to respond to a few comments that I’ve seen. The questions were mostly devised by me and @alephai . When we were perfecting the questions and going over ways we could make them as respectful as possible, she suggested that we ask permission from Bojan before jumping into personal questions about his anxiety. I immediately agreed and I’m so glad we insisted on keeping it in, even as the questions went through several redrafts. We are both strong advocates of mental health acceptance, and I certainly understand on a personal level how challenging it can be to talk about. We wanted to make sure he had the opportunity to not talk about it, if he didn’t want to, and we were prepared for multiple scenarios.

We also decided right from the beginning that we didn’t want to put our own interpretations on the band. We wanted to frame the questions so they could answer anything they wanted to them, and make it clear that we’re not trying to sensationalise or find some kind of clickbaity quote. A looooot of thought, time and effort went into the questions and we think that the band could sense that there was a lot of love, respect, and genuine admiration for what they do in them. We’re really glad everyone else noticed it too!

We were also really mindful that the questions flowed neatly into one another - for instance, the questions about Bojan’s anxiety got steadily less personal and lighter so it would move smoothly into the questions about music. Again I’ve seen loads of comments about this and it’s so validating to see that the hard work put in was noticed.

We were extremely mindful of appropriate boundaries, and kept the knowledge that we’re ultimately strangers to them front and centre. The main goal on the day was to be as professional as possible. I’m genuinely so happy that they felt relaxed and comfortable enough to open up. I’m glad to say there was never a moment in the room where there was any tension, it truly felt like having a chat with friends! Afterwards, Bojan asked me if I were a professional journalist (which I am not) and it really made me incredibly happy. They are all absolutely sweethearts and some of the warmest, kindest people I’ve had the pleasure to spend an hour with.

The aftermath of the interview was one of the most intense weeks of my life and I have to shout out to every member of @jokeroutsubs who worked on this one. The dedication I saw from the subtitles, translators and video editors was insane. Lots of conversations at mad hours of the morning trying to get this out to the highest possible quality, and I am, as ever, bowled over by the JOS team. To say that joining up with them has been life changing is an absolute understatement, and I’m glad to say that through JOS I’ve met a series of women without whom I can no longer imagine my life. Strong, intelligent women from all over Europe who I now consider to be my sisters, and whom I love incredibly dearly.

I have to mention the message at the end of the interview. This was the product of many months of conversation about the impact of Joker Out on Slovene society between me and several members of the slo team, something that it’s been amazing to learn about from the perspective of an English girl, and we’re so glad we had an opportunity to tell them. Massive thank you again for all the voice notes I was sent to help me practice my pronunciation. I wanted to make sure it was as good as I could possibly manage to show my respect for the Slovenian people, language and culture.

Lastly I wanted to say thank you for all the messages I’ve received complimenting me on this interview. Credit in this case has to be shared between so many people. It was truly a team effort and I’m just so happy I could contribute in giving something back to a band I love and admire, and a community that embraced me with open arms during a difficult time in my life.

I love you all, and thank you all for your wonderful words. X

#joker out #jure maček #bojan cvjeticanin #nace jordan #jan peteh #kris gustin #bojan cvjetićanin #jure macek #kris guštin #jokeroutsubs #jokeroutsubsinterview #JOS #JOsubs #jokeroutband

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday and a big update to Reclaiming Home

yes I'm doing another massive update because it's all been sitting banked and I'll feel better once it's out. Also, because it's Wednesday and this is my main WIP atm so boom, two birds and all that jazz.

tagging the coemancer crew, @silurisanguine, @fangbangerghoul, @staticpallour, @eridanidreams, @bearlytolerant, @aro-pancake, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @order-of-the-eye, @toxiclizardwrites and anyone I might have forgotten <3 here's a snippet of the WIP that was posted to ao3 below. To start from the beginning of the update (chapter 5-11 is the big update) click here.

--

Cora stared back at the monitor, at her unfinished letter, “when I was younger I tried really hard to get him and my mom back together. I didn’t want things to change. I liked having my dad more but I was still scared of the changes. She just stopped coming around and I tried really hard to rebuild my family.”

“Changes are scary,” Frost agreed.

“I know my dad and Doc are trying to take it slow, to start over. I don’t want him to think I’m trying that again with Doc. I don’t want them to think I’m trying to rush them.” Cora felt her voice going shaky and she didn’t like it. Big girl, no tears.

“You could tell them that,” Frost reasoned, “it doesn’t matter the original purpose of the album, it’s just pictures now.”

“I like Doc a lot,” her voice broke and she stopped, trying to stop the emotions from coming.

“That’s natural, she’s a delightful soul,” Frost said.

Cora laughed, a tear breaking through, “Right?”

“Why does that make you sad?” Frost asked.

“I don’t want to drive her away too,” Cora whimpered and pulled her knees up to her chest, sitting in a tight ball on the big chair.

“I don’t see that happening, little bookworm,” Frost assured her.

Cora hugged her shins and steadied her breathing. Hearing that from Frost was comforting and she was trying to hold onto his words, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” Frost said. He leaned against the wall, his arms relaxed at his sides.

“Do you remember my mom?” she asked, “Have you ever met her?”

“I have,” Frost nodded, “I do.”

“Do you think she loves me?” Cora asked, her eyes glued to the monitor.

“I think she loves having a daughter,” Frost said. 

It wasn’t what she asked and yet answered so much. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, letting her legs relax to sit crossed-legged in the chair, “Does she like our secret book club?”

“She is proud of your little secret,” he said.

Another half answer that said so much with so little, “Do you think she’d notice if I stopped picking books? If I stopped?”

“Yes,” Frost nodded.

“Thank you,” Cora said as she went to finish her letter, “I should get this done while we’re closer to the FC satellite so it’ll get to her faster.”

“May I ask you a question?” Frost asked.

“Yeah,” Cora looked over.

“Do you enjoy your secret book club?” he asked.

Cora sat quiet, pondering his question. They’d started the book club as a way of sharing one of Cora’s interests and giving them more to talk about. Mom wanted it to be a secret because mom mentioned her dad not liking it, which Cora thought silly but then again they fought so much whenever they talked that it was possible. She didn’t like keeping that secret from her dad, she felt bad every time she lied about it, but it was what mom wanted. 

Then there was the fact that mom took so long to read the books Cora picked. She knew her mom was busy with work but she was pretty sure it was actually taking so long because her mom didn’t like the books. She frowned, “I wish it didn’t have to be a secret.”

Frost nodded, “secrets can weigh heavy on the soul.”

#starfield #sam coe #starfield fanfiction #fanfic #coemancer #the coemancer crew #atonalginger writes #wip wednesday #Cora Coe #Doc Melody #DocCoe #Reclaiming Home #Frost

[creepylittlelady]

Splendor Man HCs plz

Hiii!!!! Thank you so much for this ask, I love love LOVE Splendorman! I just learnt recently that he's actually meant to be Slenderman's older brother? But I'm so used to seeing him as the emotional younger sibling that I don't really wanna switch that around in my AU. Also Slenderman's backstory sorta relies on him being the oldest lmao.

Splendorman Headcanons!

-Splendorman was born the youngest, being born as Simon Gideon Durchdenwald. He was born in Prussia on October 31st, 1875. He died at the age of 26 in 1901.

-His overly happy and childish persona is sort of a coping mechanism for what he went through in life. He was often teased as a kid and spent most of his days alone, although he really did love the company of others. Not to mention the situation with Charles and his family, he was basically just in a constant state of stress all the time and as Splendorman he vowed to take it easy.

-The dude is the definition of patience. There's not much that will set this man off, and you only ever see him genuinely angry once in a century (Trender genuinely calculated it lmao). You can be every form of just shitty person and he can tolerate it. The dude is always smiling, kinda eerie sometimes......

-Due to being cursed by the Operator, he now takes on a similar form to the rest of the Slender brothers, however as he was the most 'human' out of all of them, he has a face and more human features. His tentacles are white and have little bells on them that chime everytime he's happy :3

-He LOVES doing magic and will often perform for people when they're sad. Upset? Here, have a bunny pulled from a tophat!

-His favourite song is Daisy Bell! He often sings it whilst frolicking the fields lmfao.

-He's genuinely the nicest person you'll ever met, but don't get him wrong, he can still do bad things. NEVER underestimate just how kind he can be. If he genuinely ever does lose his patience with someone, they're dead within the hour.

-He has absolutely no concept of an inside or outside voice lmfao, the dude is always really loud and really hyperbolic about everything, and he just loves using random hand gestures.

-He's an incredibly moral person and doesn't ever kill out of his own volition, and often breaks down in tears every time he ends up killing someone. He's gotten used to it now, but he still feels nauseous.

-He absolutely ADORES Halloween as alongside it just being Halloween, it's also his birthday! He throws a massive party for everyone in the Underground to come and join :3

-He truly does care and love for Slender as he just wants to help with whatever hes going through and get them out of this situation, no scratch that, he just wants to see his older brother again and just have a normal conversation with him. He tries his absolute hardest to find where Slender lives and has had no luck so far.

-He and Trender live in a manor house together in a very fashionable part of the Underground, it's definitely the brightest and most well-decorated in their neighbourhood.

-Splendor operates an ice-cream van!!!! He's also very popular with the local kiddies, and loves performing shows for them

-Lazari is somewhat aware of his existence. However, when she asked Slenderman, while Operating was controlling the body, who he was, it stated that Splendorman wasn't to be trusted, to which she just blindly listened. Although Splendorman has definitely tried to befriend her more than once, she just sort of gives a half-glance and walks away.

-He's also stumbled across Eyeless Jack and Ben Drowned before, and as they were told the same thing about him, they both turned away from him. He wonders if all three of them are correlated with them somehow.

-He hates not being liked. It's his absolute worst fear, and if someone doesn't like he goes into a panicked frenzy.

-He's actually quite smart! He doesn't like focusing his efforts on academic matters, but if you gave him a very complicated question he'd be able to answer it in a matter of minutes :3

Thanks for the request!

#littlelady #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta au #puppet strings #slenderman #ben drowned #creepypasta headcanons #splendorman #trenderman #slender brothers #splendorman headcanons #lazari swann #lazari creepypasta #the operator

[medicus-felini]

ᓚᘏᗢ Small (actually not so small) vent below. [Depression tw]

I don't know how to describe it exactly why but I got a massive mental burnout the other day. It may be not my bestest decision to share it here but I feel writing it down is better than keeping it for myself.

All the bad things that happened and still happen to me caught up. I feel awful. I lie awake the whole night only to break out in tears when my partner woke up. There was too much in my head to even spell out what exactly made me break down.

I am looking for a job for years, trying to get a normal daily shedule only to never get an answer and to fuck up my sleep shedule for the 100th time. I am getting 25 this year. My depression and panic disorder I developed when covid began seemed to 'heal' in a way. I went to group therapy, got medication which I still take to this day. I am stuck because I have trouble doing phone calls. Trouble TIPING IN numbers for real therapists.

Time is awful. When will I be done with learning a job? I will be 28 if it happens someone recruits me this year. And then I work. I will have so much less time for things I like. Speaking of which: I catch myself falling into the 'I don't enjoy the things I normally enjoyed' loop again. That was one of the main reasons for taking antidepresants and it now seems to crawl back.

I want to at least do something I enjoy. Writing, drawing, playing video games. I started to feel little joy in it again. It makes me angry to not be happy with my time. I don't want this.

I text my family less and less not because I am mentally exhausted but because of their believes. All except my dad (which I always had little contact to) openly and proudly boast about how they vote right wing parties in Germany. You can't discuss with them. I can't. Because I instantly start crying like some trauma haunted 12 year old back in the day when my mom raised her voice. This party I am speaking of actively stands for traditional beliefs, inbetween against lgbtqia+ (which, surprise, I am part of).

They only see points they like. "Oh, they won't get this through, you will be fine." BUT YOU VOTE FOR THESE BELIEVES. You actively support these anti lgbtqia+ shit only because you are racist and intolerant towards NORMAL PEOPLE who live their lives in Germany like everybody else for years.

Next thing is they hate my partner. Something that really only was a question of time passing. My mother always seems to dislike my and my sisters partners after some time. Finding little things she can pick on and passive aggressively point them out. Making everyone awkward and feeling unwelcomed. I feel unwelcome. It is my partner. My choice. You despite my choice and thus insult me with it. Family gatherings became horrible. My partner doesn't want to say anything because he is scared to 'mess up' and my mother getting fuel for her hatred. My sister is young and living with her. She took on my mother's believes politcal wise. I love her dearly but I feel like she also only plays mirage only to talk bad behind my back, which she usually does with other people.

I feel so alien. I don't even want to drive over there to my birthday. I would love to but it doesn't feel like my family anymore. It feels all so forced. My dog gets older too. He is the reason I still look forward a little bit when visiting them.

Writing this feels good in a way tho. Even if I know the majority of my moots only as little guys in my screen, I feel loved. I will observe my mental state these next weeks. If it doesn't get better, I'll call my doc and ask if we can higher my dosis. Just so I can think clearly and focus on important matters.

*Siiiigh* okay okay thanks for being lovely babes ♡

#this probably has so many typos but I just let my fingers write I did not proof read #depression tw #anxiety tw #⚕ ⦅ break time. ⦆⠀⠀/ ooc .

[finelinevogue]

Can we get some more brother!harry?

I really enjoyed your piece where he caught her smoking ❤️

of course you can!! (rip if your name is natalia) hope this is what you wanted;

Natalia.

Beautiful name to juxtapose a horrible excuse of a human being.

Harry was never that great when it came to choosing his girlfriends, but this one was by far the worst. Bekka had been bad, because she had been cheating on Harry with her best friends dad. India was just so toxic, to the point where she’d ask Harry why he wasn’t mad with her over the most trivial things as if she wanted him to be mad. Daya was ok, but she wanted different things to what Harry wanted and so they ended up in a massive argument and ending things quicker than they started. Natalia though, wow. She was something else and that wasn’t a compliment.

You don’t know whether it was just because she targeted you especially, but she was just a downright cruel person. You could easily tell her intentions with your brother were not good. She was a plain ol’ gold digger, evident from the credit card that Harry leant her and she spent so much on it the bank had to call Harry to ask him to authorise that he was aware of the amount of money being spent. She bought a car with his card. A fucking car. Harry was too blinded by her beauty and her experience that he was oblivious to her witchy behaviour towards you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to tell him either, it was more that he didn’t care enough.

“No Harry. No.” You argued with him, standing in the middle of the kitchen as he was busy washing the rest of the dishes in the sink. It was just the two of you home at the moment, because Gemma and Anne were spending the weekend at an exclusive spa in Cheshire, so you didn’t understand how there were so many dishes.

“Y/N, it’s not an option. You’re not staying at home by yourself.” Harry spoke sternly back to you, letting out his frustration by vigorously scrubbing the dishes.

“I’m literally 17 - 18 in like 3 weeks. I’m more than capable of staying home.” You stomped your foot to the ground like a child.

“And I don’t care. You’re coming to lunch whether you want to or not.” Harry finished the last plate and dries his hands on the towel next to the sink, before throwing it over to you.

“But she’ll be there.”

“She’s my girlfriend, so you’ll nice to her.”

“If she’s nice to me, then yeah.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the sink to start drying the dishes that Harry just cleaned.

“ Y/N, I swear to God.” Harry groaned in frustration, tugging a stressful hand through his hair. “Can you at least pretend to be happy for me for once?”

“Gee Harry, i’m just so happy to be going out to lunch with you and your girlfriend!” You put on the biggest grin as your sarcasm practically dripped from your tongue.

“Stop being a spoilt little shit and finish those dishes. We’re leaving in 20.” Harry spoke harshly, before leaving the room with a heavy strop to his step. It left you to blink back the tears that you couldn’t help that Natalia was ruining your whole relationship with your brother.

You and Harry used to be so tight nit, now it would be a miracle if he spent a day with you per month. Natalia had come along 5 months ago and she had completely turned Harry’s life around for the worst, only Harry was too ignorant to see that. Anne had come home multiple times to find you crying because Harry had cancelled on you, again, or Natalia had said something that had really hurt. Normally you were okay with taking hate, but Natalia made it somehow worse than that. Even if Anne or Gemma tried to talk Harry about the damage all this was causing you it would always be the same response;

“She just wants attention.”

The restaurant was very pretty.

It was one that you and Harry used to go to all the time, when there was no girlfriend around. It sold the best pastries and life-changing eggs on toast. The food was always delicious and the staff were so completely lovely. You were glad to be coming here, making you feel more comfortable than you would if you went to a expensive fancy restaurant instead. This little restaurant, named ‘Lemon Puffs’ after their infamous lemon, cream and pastry puffs, made you feel safe and happy.

“Remember to just be nice.” Harry spoke as you both approached the table that Natalia was already sat at. She was too busy on her phone to realise you were even here.

“If she plays nice then yeah.” You bit back.

“Y/N just stop being petty, y’pissing me off now.” Harry argued. “Whine like a bitch later. I don’t need it today.”

You stopped talking after that, not having anything else to say to him. He’d made it very clear that you were only here because he didn’t trust you at home by yourself, but by the same token wanted you quiet because he didn’t trust you enough to speak nicely. Harry hugged and kissed Natalia like he hadn’t just seen her last night and then sat down opposite to her, leaving you to sit next to Harry because you sure as hell weren’t sitting next to her. Natalia didn’t even make the effort to hug you or shake hands, in fact you barely got a simple hello.

“You alright, baby?” Natalia asked, twirling her hand into Harry’s from across the table. Disgusting.

“Yeah i’m good. This one’s a pain in my arse, as always.” Even with his joking tone, you knew he was being somewhat serious and that really messed with you.

“Typical.” Natalia rolled her eyes and tutted her tongue, not hesitating to use the opportunity to be mean to you. Harry thought she was merely playing along with his words, but you new otherwise.

“You know what you want yet?” Harry asked as he pulled his own attention towards the menu. You didn’t need to look at the menu, as being here so many times has allowed you to discover the perfect order.

“I think i’m just going to get the salad, but without the chicken, cheese or cucumber.” She answered, sipping on the water she must’ve already ordered whilst waiting for you both.

“So just lettuce?” You asked, not meaning for it to be a condescending question and yet she took it that way anyways.

“Is there something wrong with that, Y/N?” She asked, being really harsh in the way she spoke your name - as if the syllables actually caused her pain to speak.

“N-no I was just—”

“Didn’t think so.” She snapped and turned away from you to look back towards Harry, with her shit-eating grin that didn’t fool you. Harry kicked you leg under the table too, not appreciating the way you were speaking to Natalia. He didn’t even think about the way his girlfriend was speaking to you though. As usual.

“I’ll probably get the salad too.” Harry nodded his head and you shook your head as he spoke. Harry would never normally get a salad. Like, that’s so Kardashian of him. Harry, whenever he came here with you, always ordered a cheese and pickle panini, with extra crunchy pickles, a portion of chips and some halloumi fries too. Oh and then a cake for pudding. He wouldn’t have gone for a boring salad. Fucking Natalia was ruining him and you hated to have a front row seat of it.

“Not the usual then?” You tried to joke with him, but he was clearly still pissed off with you for being… you.

“Why, are you?” He asked quizzically.

“Obviously.” You smiled, which made Harry smile for a split second before Natalia pulled him away from you. Your smile disappeared and a frown settled in, knowing it would stay there for a long time.

“Babe, I am here too you know?” Natalia joked, bur you could see the anger and jealousy behind her eyes. If looked could kill you’d be ten feet under, twenty times over by now.

“Sorry, yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and paid closer attention to her.

Lunch went by slowly.

Natalia scoffed when she heard your order; poached eggs on toast with three pieces of crispy bacon on the side, a portion of chips and a mint iced tea. Oh and a cake for pudding, but you’d come to that later. Natalia ate her lettuce as Harry eat his salad as you ate your eggs on toast with bacon and chips. You loved the food, hated the company and couldn’t make up your mind whether you loved or hated being here. Natalia and Harry talked throughout lunch, leaving you out of all their conversations. The only time Harry spoke to you was when he asked whether your food was okay, eyeing it up as if he wanted to make love to it and send his salad to the nearest dumpster.

“Was everything alright for you?” Paul, the owner of the business and dude in charge of the eggs asked you when all your plates were empty as Harry’s growling stomach.

“Lovely, thank you.” Harry responded gratefully.

“Perfect.” You smiled as you handed your dirty plate to Paul.

“It was a bit plain.” Natalia moved her plate away from her in disgust and Paul put on his best customer smile, apologising for that before leaving to go and ring up the bill.

“Okay i’m just going to go for a quick wee before I pay.” Harry announced, getting up from the table to go to the loo.

“Okay babe. Don’t be too long.” She called out and then it was left just you and her.

“Well this was nice.” You tried to be nice, as Harry told you to, and start a meant conversation with your arch enemy. Kill ‘em with kindness - that was Harry’s slogan wasn’t it?

“If you hadn’t have been here then yeah.” She turned her nose up at you.

“Look,” you began, wanting her to understand something, “whatever i’ve done to upset you and make you hate me, i’m sorry. Just, I don’t want you to dislike me and I know that Harry really likes you so I want us to be able to get along.”

“Listen, Y/N,” there it was again - your name spoken with dripping venom, “I don’t want to get along with you. You make me sick. You are such a baby to Harry and you’re needy, which means I don’t get to spend time with my boyfriend—”

“Don’t get to spend time with him?” You had to laugh at that. Apart from today, you’d seen Harry maybe a total of 2 hours this whole week and it was Saturday. “You’re practically attached at the hip.”

“Not enough. Harry needs to keep away from you, you only bring him trouble.”

“I’m his fucking sister.” You shouted quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace for the rest of the customers.

“Not an excuse. Look Y/N, I understand that you are quite lonely and don’t have many friends? Maybe you should consider that’s for a very good reason?” She rhetorically asked you and that made you sit back a bit. She was pulling apart your insecurities now and exposing them to find the most painful parts, so she could watch you suffer with only the curse of her words.

“It’s not like that.” You tried to convince yourself more than her, tears in your eyes over something so hurtful to you.

“No? ‘Cause I think that you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.” She stood up dusted herself off as he noticed Harry walk back over to the table, smiling as if she hadn’t just shot his sister in the heart.

Her words stung more than a scorpions tale, and yes unfortunately you knew what that felt like. Natalia was right. You were alone, friendless and just trouble. There was a reason that you were all of this and Natalia had hit the nail right on the head with the reason why. You thought of your friends, his they always disappeared and left you and now you sit in the canteen alone or hang out only with yourself on the weekends. You think to Gemma and Anne going away for the weekend, not inviting you because it was age restrictive but you still couldn’t help but think there was a more pressing reason than that. Then you think of Harry and how he was fed up of you. He couldn’t be more resentful of you if he tried. You wanted to be a good friend, a good daughter and most importantly a good sister, but it was so blindingly obvious that you weren’t. You were never going to be.

You stood up from the table too, quickly wiping away a tear from your face before anyone could notice but you didn’t care to see if anyone was actually watching. Harry kissed Natalia and then walked over to the cashier to pay the bill. You noticed Paul and Harry talking and so you walked out of the restaurant and towards the car, still tears in your eyes. You needed to be strong for yourself though, especially because nobody else was going to be.

You stood with you handle to the door of the car waited for Harry to come and unlock it. You heard high heels before the car was unlocked, unfortunately.

“Excuse me, but I ride front.” Natalia spat at you, removing your hand from the door and chivvying you to the back of the car instead.

“You’re coming with us?” You asked, your heart aching that little bit more. You didn’t want to spend another minute in her presence and yet she would now probably spend the rest of the week until your mum and sister came back.

“Ye—”

“No she’s not.” Harry walked out of the restaurant and over to the car, standing in between the both of you but a little more towards you.

“Babe? What do you mean?” Natalia asked, a little bit shocked at his tone with her.

“Firstly dont babe me. Secondly, get your hand off my car. Thirdly, don’t ever come near me or my sister ever again.” Harry ordered angrily. You’d never seen him this angry before. You stood behind him, afraid of what was about to go down.

“What has she said to you, because—”

“She’s my sister and she’s got a name. Y/N didn’t tell me anything. Lemon Puffs, however, has eyes and ears everywhere and it’s amazing the stories you hear when you’re stood at the cashier or next to someone at the urinals.” Harry accused Natalia and she went hot red in the face, embarrassed that this conversation was actually happening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Maybe this will jog your memory. ‘I think you aren’t the kind of person anyone wants around, including Harry.’” Harry raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest confrontationally. Guarding and protecting you. You felt safe.

“Wha— You think I would say that?” Natalia asked, pretending to be offended by the accusation.

“I don’t know, let’s ask Y/N shall we? Y/N, did Natalia say that to you?” Harry asked, turning to look at you with hope in his eyes, but also sorriness for everything that’s happened. You could see it all behind his eyes and you wanted to squeeze him tight to accept his apology, because you loved him and you needed him.

“Y-yes.” You answered, looking down so you didn’t have to make eye contact with Natalia.

“Harry you can’t possibly believe her.” Natalia laughed, but there was heavy insecurity in her tone.

“I trust her more than anyone. More than you. I trust Y/N with my life.” Harry back answered, taking no more bullshit from his ex-girlfriend. “We’re done Natalia. Okay? I don’t want to see you ever again. What you’ve said and done to my sister is unforgivable and I don’t want someone like you in my life.”

“You were a dick too.” You added quietly behind him and he just turned round to smile and wink at you.

“So what? That’s it?” Natalia asked, dumbfounded.

“Bye Natalia.” Harry walked around to the drivers seat and you to the passenger side. He stopped before opening the door though, wanting to say one last thing. “The bill was split in half by the way. Paul’s just inside waiting for you to pay.”

With that, you both got in the car, laughing at Natalia’s reaction and just everything. Apologises were made and promises of no relationships until you two had built back up yours were sworn. It would take time, but Harry was willing to prove that he was a good brother and you were always going to be someone he wanted around.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue harry styles #finelinevogue #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #harry blurb #harry styles x sister!reader #harry styles sister concept #harry styles sister #harry styles masterlist #finelinevogue blurbs #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #anon response #anon #harry styles angst #harry styles sister angst blurb

[naruhearts]

I’m done keeping my composure.

Sorry, this will be a LOADED post! (And I’ll be repeating the points others have made)

for real, to everyone being nasty and telling heartbroken fans that “Dean was always supposed to die get a grip you’re just butthurt etcetera etcetera—” F you royally.

How dare you police the brutal feelings that’s been embroiling us since the Finale That Must Not Be Named aired. 

The show you think you all watched, the show you all believe was the same SPN from Season 1-4, changed at some point. Kripke wrote his original vision, put it to screen, saw it through in S5 as he intended, and closed the door on that era.

In 2008, Supernatural was adopted and inherited. As you know, there was a supreme paradigm shift post-Kripke era. The show FLOURISHED (we won’t talk about Gamble thanks). It evolved, transformed, grew beyond trauma-induced self-worthlessness and toxic masculinity and endless death and hegemonic social ideals and conservatism and repressive anti-revolutionary ideas. Castiel, the iconic favourite and beloved staple of the series portrayed by Misha Collins, was introduced in Season 4 as the core lead character, and he ushered in a brand new era of Christian mythos that SPN took advantage of. Longevity SKYROCKETED. Audiences were INTERESTED. SPN amassed an incredibly groundbreaking fanbase infused by non-nuclear principles. A massive subversive wave began, fighting the Status Quo of the times since 2008. It’s precisely why such an abysmal ending to a show of extensive Freud-Jungian metanarratively meta META complex stature and social POWER will render us totally and unbearably broken for years to come.

Point is, DEAN WINCHESTER NO LONGER WANTED TO DIE. HE WANTED TO LIVE. HE WANTED TO SIT ON THE BEACH, PLUNGE HIS TOES IN THE SAND, AND SIP UMBRELLA DRINKS WITH HIS BROTHER AND HIS BEST FRIEND. He said this in Season 13. And then, a season later, he told the ghost of his long-deceased father — the source of his deep-running trauma and the figure of self-reductive authoritarianism permeating his arc since Season 1 — after being questioned why he didn’t pursue the Nuclear Fam, that he already has his own: his brother Sam, his adopted child Jack, and Cas.

Dean’s best friend Cas. Oh god, Cas, who made his inevitably permanent mark on Dean’s soul beyond allyship. Castiel, renamed to Cas, God’s -iel removed by Dean. Dean, the human spark that lit the fire of pre-existing autonomy in the inherently rebellious angel who was, this entire time, the catalyst for free will in God The Writer’s puppet show. Their friendship set on goddamn fire. I can also write paragraph upon paragraph about my love for Cas while devastated tears stream down my face, but I digress—

Cas’ romantic love for Dean pushed our main Heart of SPN to love himself. Love is free will. Free will is also love. Of note, Cas’ love confession in 15x18 was supposed to offset something so vastly important and fundamental...to maybe (read: most likely) pull the trigger on SELF-TRUTHS in conjunction with free will. And The Great Anticipated Follow-Up to the episode penned by the passionate Berens should have included (read: seemed like it was going to be) Dean, closeted trauma survivor in love with his best friend, being given the opportunity to do it right: to SPEAK HIS TRUTH, and then that very singular opportunity was STOLEN so grossly. After poring over it for days, I refuse to believe we made their years-long story up out of thin air, spun it out of fantastical-delusional dream cotton candy, because we DIDN’T. IT WAS REAL.

As I said in another post: “I’ve just been feeling physically ill for the past >40 something hours with the terrible knowledge that 19/20 undid years of vital progression towards healthy interdependence, autonomy, and a positive endgame, where Sam, Dean and Cas close the ring of found family in final empowering self-fulfillment...where Dean, no longer repressed and set free, is able to use his words and speak his truth as a queercoded trauma survivor, henceforth confirming and self-affirming his own bisexuality since S1 by reciprocating — by telling Cas that he always loved him, too, loved him endlessly, which would have altogether divested Supernatural of its cult status and catapulted it into global worldwide significance as the longest running sci-fi genre show in American broadcasting history that actually dared to defy and, by proxy, empower LGBTQ2IA+ everywhere who found profound personal meaning in Destiel through VALIDATION,” — found themselves mirrored in Dean and Cas’ respective character journeys individually and as each other’s queer love interests.

THIS IS WHY DEAN WASN’T MEANT TO DIE.

THEY WERE SO ESSENTIAL, NOT JUST TO THE OVERARCHING STORY AND HEALTHY INTERPERSONAL THEMATICS OF MODERN SPN, BUT ALSO TO THE SOULS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE ACROSS THE WORLD WHO FOLLOWED THEIR JOURNEYS, HOPED FOR THEM, ASPIRED TO BE LIKE THEM, TREASURED THEM, WEEPED FOR THEM, AND FOUGHT FOR THEM, LIKE YOU AND ME.

Heck, how could anyone think Sam Winchester had a well-deserved characteristic ending? He didn’t. Dean’s brother was shafted so badly. He stopped hunting when seasons ago, he had canonically accepted that he no longer wanted an apple pie life. He simply...turned the lights off in a resoundingly empty bunker and left — abandoning his dead brother’s room — never to return (he did return later to get the Impala, family photos etc, I mean this symbolically)...as if — dare I say it — Supernatural itself eerily told us, in the negative-spaced pitch blackness, that the organic show and the wonderfully complex, matured characters we’ve grown to love weren’t going to survive or be revisited...that it was all going to perish, and that they no longer gave a single shit about their own show, which, to me, is the worst cardinal sin, because how dare they throw Team Free Will, an immovable and indomitable and passionate found family they built from the ground up, a found family CHOCK FULL TO THE BRIM OF LOVE AND LIFE RAGING AGAINST THE AUTHORITARIAN MACHINE IN ORDER TO ACHIEVE FREE WILL, under the bus no matter who is to blame. Growth was stomped on.

Then Sam married a faceless wife who wasn’t his textually established (and deaf) love interest Eileen, named his son Dean Jr., and grew old miserably, still mourning the passing of his older brother, shaken and sombre. Back to square one. IT WAS ALL ANTITHETICAL, even OUTSIDE a shipping context, and I ripped my hair out at this point in sheer disbelief.

This 15x20 ending would have fit somewhere between S4-7. Now? IT DOESN’T FIT. IT’S A JAGGED PUZZLE PIECE THAT DOESN’T BELONG ANYWHERE. IT’S THE FOREBODING UNKNOWN STRANGER IN ITS OWN LAND, BOTH LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY. This kind of ending was basically an illogical, unsound cluster of metastasized cells that, to me, ruined the viability of previous seasons to sustain bold praise and respect and dignity and rewatches and classic nostalgia in such insidious ways.

Dean Humanity Winchester and Cas, after everything they’ve been through, were silenced and lost in death, ripped apart from each other, unable to love each other the way they deserved, because of disappointing, vile incompetency and homophobia. The greatest love story ever told, again obliterated in less than 60 hollow minutes.

You know what this tells your audience, CW SPN? Death without self-growth is the way to go, and no one is allowed to forge their own path to freedom.

HOW INSULTINGLY HARMFUL IS THAT?

I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving.

We all deserve answers.

#fuck #my stuff #spn s15 #15x20 #sorry this was so long winded but i’m so #I think I finally wrote out all my frustration in this??? #i’m still broken but I do hope it gets better #ily all #my meta #fuck cw #fuck spn #deancas #destiel #excuse me for any sloppy grammar and weirdness and shit #I’m still emotionally wilding lol #the greatest love story ever told #narrative #character development #narrative cyclism #supernatural #destiel deserved better #jensen and misha deserved better #at the same time this all seems cathartic anyway :P #I sorta snapped because wtf WE AREN’T WATCHING THE SAME SHOW IF YOU BELIEVE DEATH IS THE ANSWER 😭 #I respect your opinion only if you’re respectful towards ours #but I’ve literally seen so many nasties out there #I’d rather have queue #long post for ts #I’M TEARING UP AGAIN #I’m ill

[iwadori]

Why you break up with the haikyu boys part 2 (Osamu, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Ushijima.)

Part 1 (Atsumu, Oikawa, Kageyama, Kenma, Akaashi, Sugawara)

Genre: angst

masterlist

Osamu: “For fuck sake Y/N, don’t deny it I know that you...”

You and Osamu were basically arranged to be together, you were best friends from when you were little and your parents thought you were a match made in heaven.

Did you love Osamu? Of course, you pretty much worshipped the ground he walked on.

But there was always a strange look he gave you whenever he mentioned his brother. You never really focused on it, but that was something you took note of.

When you came back home, after a long day of work. You see Osamu sitting in the kitchen alone, with some paper in front of him and a drink in his hand.

“‘Samu Babe!” You exclaim sauntering over to him “How are yo-“

“Don’t.” He said simply, taking a sipping some of his drink (to which you could only assume was some form of hard liquor.)

“Why ‘Samu, what’s wro-“

“You bought tickets to his game.”

“Who’s game?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Y/N, you bought tickets to my idiot of a brothers game in an attempt to slut around under my nose..”

“Samu, that’s not what it was I-“

“I don’t want to hear it Y/N!” He yelled slamming his drink down making you flinch.

“Gosh Samu whats wrong with you. I know that I had a teeny crush on Atsumu when we were kids but it was just a childhood crush. An innocent childhood crush.”

“For fuck sake Y/N, don’t deny it I know yo-“

“You know what? That I’ve spent majority of my life, trying to ease your own insecurities and jealousy of your own goddamn brother. How childish can you be Osamu ?”

Osamu eyes opened a bit in realisation, and his lips slightly parted. “But Y/N, you-“

“I what? Brought us tickets to your TWIN brothers final volleyball game, because I wanted him to see the support from his family and friends.”

“I’m sorry Y/N I really a-“

“Don’t.” you say picking up the tickets and turning around “I just thought maybe, just maybe for at least a day you could put your weird feelings towards your brother aside... but I guess you can’t.”

You left the apartment, and got your stuff another day (one where you knew Osamu was at work.)

No you did not end up dating Atsumu, you were most certainly friends and only friends. You did end up going to the game on your own, to cheer on Atsumu who most definitely appreciated it.

You thought you saw a certain Miya twins sitting in the stands at of the game, hiding his face with a baseball cap. Which made you smile a bit...

Well at least he ended up coming to the game.

Iwaizumi: “I just don’t want you Y/N, I never did”

In your second year of Seijoh Highschool, you were approached by a rough looking boy who had a ‘resting bitch face,’ and looked like they were coming to pick a fight with you.

But no, it was just “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

He was very popular throughout your school, as he was vice captain of the schools volleyball team and he was Oikawa Toorus best friend.

So when he approached you that Friday afternoon at your locker, you definitely didn’t know why.

“Y/N..” he said nervously scratching the back of his neck “umm this is for you..”

In his hands was a bar of chocolate and a scrunched up note that read

AN: DID I WRITE THAT NOTE MYSELF, yes yes I did anyways...

You were very surprised at this sudden confession as you and Iwaizumi weren’t in the same social circles and you were definitely not the type of girl that would be on his ‘radar.’

You had a quite unsettling feeling, which made you subconsciously squint your eyes at him. But they soon soften as you saw the nervousness that Iwaizumi was showcasing to you as you were contemplating on you answer.

You got out a pen, shaking the unsettling feeling you had out of your head. And ticked the box “Yes” giving it back to Iwaizumi.

He smiled widely and rushed towards you in an attempts in giving you a hug which went awkwardly wrong leaving you both laughing.

Dating Hajime, wasn’t bad nor good... it’s just what you wouldn’t expect it to be.

There wasn’t much of a change to what your usual school routine was which consisted of: going to lessons and spending break and lunch on your own reading a book.

And technically you were still doing that, but you were now just always with Hajime. Wether it was at lunch or at practice (which he always insisted you go to, also hinting that he would like for you to bring him bentos to practice.) which you did end up doing.

One day, whilst doing your daily “bento delivery,” to your boyfriend, you overhear him talking to his friends; Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

“God I can’t stand her, always running behind me like a lost puppy giving me bentos that I didn’t even fucking as for” he complained, making you gasp.

“Really?” Exclaimed Hanamaki “I know you said she confessed to you one time, but I didn’t know it was that bad?”

“Yeah she’s a stalking bitch, it’s getting annoying.”

“Gosh it’s seems someones getting a taste of the ‘Oikawa Experience’” Matsun said making them all laugh.

You entered the room, furious. “What the fuck Hajime?”

“Woah woah woah, it’s seems your stalkers about iwa, we’ll leave you too it” said Hanamaki, with Matsun following behind him as they leave.

“What do they mean I’m a stalker?”

“Well aren’t you?” He responded with a smirk

“Gosh y/n you’ve been following me about for a while now, dont you think it’s time to stop”

“Bu-But you confessed, with your note and w-“

“Are you sure about that Y/N, cause I don’t really recall ...?”

“Hajime don’t lie, we were dating.. we ARE DATING.”

“Okay Y/N let me fill you in on a little secret,” he said leaning down next to your ear “I don’t want you Y/N, I never did.”

“ but why m-“

“Why you? Because nobody knows Y/N L/N and nobody cares, I can tarnish your name and nobody will give a shit.. and that’s why your an easy target” he said still smiling “ I just wanted to rub it into Shittykawas face that I had my own little “fan club”

You were stunned, frozen in shock as Iwaizumi walks past you to leave the gym, making sure to grab the bento you made him.

“Thanks again for the help, I’m definitely going to miss these bentos!”

You should have listened to your gut feeling from before.

Daichi: “you’re just not marriage material”

Daichi was “the perfect guy,” he was nice to strangers and was helpful to the community and just an all round great guy.

So it was a massive question as to why he went for you, since you were definitely not the girl for Daichi.

“I don’t care what anyone says, your the perfect girl for me” was what he always said.

Even though those statements went out the window whenever his mother got involved.

Daichi’s mum was a strict traditional woman, who believed in family values that went back thousands of years ago.

And she most certainly didn’t like you.

She wanted you to be Daichi’s doting wife, who cooked and cleaned for him. Whilst he works and was the breadwinner of the house.

Although you found no problem with the women that did do this, but this was not for you.

When it comes to meet ups with you, Daichi and his mother. He never told her to stop when it came to the rude comments she made about you, or the times she suggested Daichi go for a more “prim and proper” girl named “Misaki Ayuzawa.”

After the meetings, when his mother was gone, he always tried to reassure that she was wrong and her words didn’t matter.

But you knew they did, that daichi was actually considering some of the things she said about you wether they were true or not.

The tension in your household was strong, since you barely talked to each other anymore. But you had hope for better things...

Until one day, you get a message from Daichi’s mother saying. “It seems Daichi made the right choice, as we all know ‘Mother Knows best.’” With a video attached of Daichi proposing to the one and only “Mikasa Ayuzawa” surrounded by all their high class business friends.

When Daichi got home he yelled, “Y/N, where are you I was at this business party at this fancy restaurant and I got some nice things for you to try!”

“Business party?” You say rolling your eyes “Or Engagement party.”

The shocked look on his face made you smile, as you both knew now that he was caught.

“Fuck you daichi! Why would you do this without even tell me !” You yelled, tearing up a bit.

“Y/N, it wasn’t meant to go down like that it was just I was talking to my mu-“

“Fuck your mum! And you!”

“I’m sorry Y/N you’re just not marriage material an-“

“I don’t care what you’ve got to say, you’ve done it and it’s over with”you said leaving.

“I’ll come back to get my stuff later,” you say “oh and congratulations on the engagement Sawamura-San”

After you said that, Daichi’s heart broke.

He did end up marrying her, and he regretted every day of it. Since she was great and all, but she just wasn’t you...

But he knows now you’re long gone, definitely not going to forgive him for marrying another girl whilst being with him.

Ushijima : stop being so emotional

You and Ushijima were very much opposite In every aspect, and at first it wasn’t really a problem.

Especially since you always excused it as “opposite attracts.”

But recently all you and Ushijima do is argue, left and right always arguing.

You complained about Ushijimas lack of emotion when it came to you, you don’t think he cared about you or about anything.

Whenever you brought up something that was wrong he would reply with “Y/N this is something you need to be acting all upset about.”

And that would definitely upset you even more, you just wanted him to notice you or shout “Y/N I care about you and I love you.”

But Of course he didn’t.

One night he came back late (again) after promising to be home early to have a meal together.

“What’s taken you so long Ushi?” You asked

“I was at practice. I told you this.” He said simply, remaining as stoic as ever.

“But you said- you promised that we can have dinner together.” You said

“ oh well I’m sorry. We can have dinner now if you like.”

“I’m not hungry anymore” you mumbled past him, going to your bedroom.

“Y/N, what’s your problem” he said following after you.

“It’s nothing...”you said tears filling your eyes.

“Okay I’m going to go eat now.” He said leaving you alone in the room going to the kitchen, making you sigh.

After you calm yourself and collect your faults, you go into the kitchen where Ushijima is at the table eating.

“Ushijima, we need to talk.” You said taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“We should break up.”

“Okay.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You say tearing up again.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking that for a while now.” He said bluntly “since Y/N, you’re just too emotional.”

“Oh I see.” You say now full on crying.

Ushijima looks up to see you all teared-eye, and he is kind of suprised because ‘why were you upset.’ He got up and tried to console you, but you flinched away and said “Don’t, just don’t Ushijima.”

“I’m sorry Y/N...”

“Why are you sorry? Do you even know what you’re apologising for?”

“No.”

“Well then, just seems to prove my point further...” you go to leave before saying “thanks for the wonderful time... I guess we just weren’t meant to be.”

AN: can someone appreciate what I did with Iwaizumis....no? Okay 😃 I feel this one way way more angsty then part one but oh well. What did you think.

General taglist[bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi @iimoonii @hamdehlesmis @Shoyosupremacy @meadowsinjapan @iambashfulperson @kayleighbeccaa @dearkousei @bakugouswh0r3

Get on the taglist here

#signedwithane😌 #haikyu hurt/comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu scenarios #haikyu headcanons #haikyu #osamu x reader #osamu angst #osamu scenarios #haikyuu osamu #iwaizumi hajime is baeeee <33 #iwazumi imagines #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi scenarios #daichi x reader #daichi scenario #daichi sawamura #daichi angst #ushijima scenarios #ushijima angst #ushijima x reader #ushijima headcanons

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 7

Chapter 1     Chapter 6

Marinette rubbed her head as though the action might actually have an effect on her throbbing headache.  It hadn’t any time she’d tried it in the last hour, but it gave her brain the illusion that she was doing something to help other than just waiting for the painkillers to kick in.  The action also gave her something to focus on other than the pounding hangover from not getting nearly drunk enough last night.  Because somehow despite the massive amounts she, Jason, and Roy had drunk last night, all of her problems still existed.  Utter bullshit, that.  And now she still had to deal with all her problems and felt like crap on top of it.  Double bullshit.

She adjusted her sunglasses again, fighting the urge to squint because squinting hurt.  Although honestly, she wasn’t sure which hurt more, the florescent lights, the sunlight beaming through the hotel windows, or squinting.  She was sure there was some way to settle the glasses on her face to block out all light, she just hadn’t been able to figure it out.  She now realized why people significantly smarter than her wore those godawful, ugly glasses that wrap around their head and cut out all sun.

She took a deep breath and braced herself for the full blast of a suspiciously sunny Gotham morning. Gotham has like three sunny days a year and one of them is today?  What the Hell did she do to Tikki to deserve the last few days?  She wandered out of the hotel still contemplating revenge. How does one get revenge against a god anyway?  How many ways can she destroy cookies?

She didn’t get more than a few steps before she sensed someone in front of her.  She weaved slightly to the left but quickly realized there was someone there too.  She weaved to the right and finally looked up when she realized there was someone there. There were people all around her, taking pictures of her, shoving phones in her face as they yelled questions at her.

She stumbled back a few steps and blinked at the group of reporters that had apparently been camping out in front of the hotel for her.  She quickly plastered on one of Adrien’s patented PR smiles and nodded to them. She tried to push through them, expecting them to move out of her way, as they did in Paris for Adrien.  But reporters in Gotham clearly did not show the same respect that Parisian reporters did because none of them moved out of her way.  

Her smile strained slightly as she looked to the one in front of her.  “Excuse me, please,” she requested in the most sickeningly sweet voice she could manage.

The reporter sent back an excited smile.  “Ms. Dupain Cheng, would you care to comment on your relationship with your family? Perhaps explain why Gotham hadn’t had the pleasure of your presence before?”

Marinette looked the reporter up and down.  She looked at the group surrounding her, noting how they had closed the circle to the point of touching her.  She’d been to raves with more personal space.  She moved to push through a small gap between reporters, but stopped when they quickly closed the gap.  Marinette gritted her teeth and widened her smile.  “There’s a reason we’ve chosen not to speak about this and that reason was NOT to discuss it in an exclusive with you at this exact moment.  Now if you will excuse me, I would very, very much like to get some coffee.  I’m sure you can understand the difficulty of starting a day without it.”

She gave them a conspiratorial smile, hoping if they felt like they were in on the joke they would let her through. Instead, her response emboldened the reporters, who started shouting out her name and more questions.

“Will you attend more Wayne functions now?”

Marinette didn’t even know which reporter shouted the question to address them if she wanted.  She huffed and decided to give up on pleasantries.  She was hung over.  She was hungry.  She wanted coffee.  “Why would people change a relationship that doesn’t involve you because you know about it?” she grunted as she tried to push through the cracks between people.  

The reporters closed ranks tighter around her, making it impossible for her to break through without injuring someone, which she was sure was the plan of at least a few of them.  Whether it was to get a more salacious story or to sue Bruce Wayne, she wasn’t sure.  Probably both.  She looked back to the hotel lobby hoping the concierge would see her predicament and help her, but he was determinedly ignoring the scene in front of the hotel.

She set her jaw and prepared herself to create a scene channeling her best imitation of an irate Chloe Bourgeoisie.  She’d deal with the fallout later.  Right now, she needed to get out of this situation before someone actually did push a little too hard and tiny gods decided to curse the city.  She opened her mouth to yell but instead heard someone else’s voice boom through the crowd.

“I think my sister told you to leave her the fuck alone.”

Marinette looked around to try to find the source of the voice but couldn’t see past the wall of reporters.  She didn’t have to wait long for him to push his way through the crowd like a wrecking ball, not worrying about injuring anyone as he shoved his way through.  Jason stopped in front of her with a smirk.  “She just says it in a much more polite way than I do.”  He held up a bag and a tray of coffee.  “I come bearing gifts so you don’t have to deal with this shit out there somewhere.”  

Marinette shot him a grateful smile and turned back toward the hotel.  “That sounds brilliant.  Thank you.”

Jason winked at her.  “I got you.”

They didn’t stop or even look at each other until the elevator doors closed behind them.  Marinette leaned against the wall and finally took a full breath.  She looked over to Jason with another grateful smile.  “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting that and I…” She looked down for a moment to collect her thoughts.  “I wasn’t prepared.  I’ll do better next time.”

Jason’s eyes softened.  The press was a lot for all of them to get used to.  None of them had taken naturally to it, especially Gotham’s press.  They at least had the advantage of starting young and knowing what to expect, not to mention since they were kids, the press didn’t have a lot of chances to get to them.  Marinette had just been thrown out there without a life preserver.  Bruce didn’t even send any guards.  “Don’t worry about it.  I thought you could use the save.”

Marinette laughed and narrowed her eyes at him.  “That was a socially acceptable version of a kidnapping.  I had no way of getting out of that without exposing that there is no relationship.”

“Should have just exposed it then,” he shrugged, not remotely nonplussed by her comment.  “I just thought you could use some sustenance after last night.”  He held up the bag for her as they exited the elevator and made their way to her room.  “I know you must be used to fancy French food so I got a variety of food from the best bakery in town.  And I didn’t know how you take your coffee or if you prefer tea so I got both and lots of sugar and creamer.”

Marinette giggled as she opened her door.  “You’re not wrong.  My parents owned a patisserie.  I grew up on the best baked goods in France.”

Jason blinked a few times at her before setting the drinks and food on the coffee table.  “That’s it, next family reunion is at your place.”

“Not so sure that’s going to be a thing,” she said quietly.  She reached for one of the croissants and ripped off a small piece, popping it in her mouth.  “Not really sure I count as family.  That’s kind of been made clear.”

“Yeah well, we didn’t know and we’d like to get to know you, if you’re okay with it,” he said biting off a chunk of cheese Danish. “Look, I’m not looking for family dinners and brunches and shit, I just… want to make sure you’re okay.”  He looked up at her earnestly for a moment before his eyes turned mischievous.  “Although if you grew up in a bakery, I might want all that at your parents’ place.”

“At least you’re asking.  That’s something anyway,” she grumbled as she took another small bite.  

“Speaking of family, where is model boy?”

Marinette puckered her lips in disapproval as she watched the crumbs fall from Jason’s mouth as he spoke.  She looked away before she snapped at him.  “He and Max went apartment hunting.”

“Without you?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Neither of them were suffering from a raging hangover that took double the normal dosage of painkillers just to take the edge off of,” she said pointedly.

“Coffee,” Jason grunted, motioning toward the coffee. “Lots of coffee and food and water.” He pushed the bag toward her. “Not the bird bites you’ve been taking.”

She studied the croissant in front of her with a furrowed brow as though it had some kind of answers for her.  She nearly dropped it when she heard a knock on the door. She looked through the peephole and gasped, flinching back from the door.  Jason immediately jumped up and ran over to her.  “What is it?  Another reporter?”

“No,” Marinette rasped out, her eyes never leaving the door.  “Worse.” Her heart started racing and her breathing became labored.  She wasn’t ready for this.  She wasn’t ready to speak with him.  What was she supposed to say?  How was she supposed to speak with him?  She didn’t even know how she felt yet.  She hadn’t sorted through this all yet.  Tears threatened to fall from her eyes.  She wasn’t ready.  This was happening too fast.

She flinched visibly when he knocked again. He’d had time to prepare.  He’d had time to think this through.  He knew how he felt about this.  He’d had time to plan and prepare.  She had none of that and here he was on her doorstep.  He knew about her and she knew nothing about him. He was ready and she wasn’t given that chance.  

She was just expected to deal with it.  She was just expected to handle it.  She was just expected to accept it.  He’d created this entire situation and she was left to pick up the pieces and move on.  And now he was here.  He was on her figurative doorstep in person and now she had to deal with it, on his timetable, according to his preference, because yet again it all had to be done on his terms.  Her preferences didn’t matter.  Her feelings didn’t matter.  Her opinion didn’t matter.

“Want me to kick their ass out?” Jason offered already reaching for the handle.

Marinette shook her head and let out a calming breath. He thinks he can come in after twenty years gone and act like everything is fine and expect her to play nice, he has another thing coming.  He wanted a detached relationship?  She could do that.  She’d seen it enough growing up with Adrien and Chloe’s parents.  She knew how to play the game.

She shook her hands to get the tension out before finally reaching out to open the door.  “Mr. Wayne.  This is an unexpected pl… experience,” she stuttered.  She mentally grimaced.  She was showing weakness.  She needed to be strong.  She plastered on a clearly fake smile.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being weak.  She wouldn’t cry for him.  She hadn’t cried because of him in the twenty years he’d been absent, she wouldn’t do it now.

Bruce took a breath.  “Marinette…”  He froze for a second.  He hadn’t thought hard enough about this.  He knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to tell her, but he hadn’t thought about how to tell her, how to lead into it.  “I was hoping to speak with you,” he rushed out, wincing internally at the sound of it.

“Well, that’s a first,” she scoffed before she could stop herself.  She slapped her hand over her mouth and mentally berated herself.  What was she doing?  She was supposed to be calm not cruel.  She was losing this game!

Jason grinned and propped his arms behind his head as he kicked out his legs, the very picture of relaxed.  “I like her.  I’m keeping her.”

Marinette shot him an appreciative smile but Bruce did a double take, frowning at the sight.  His mind raced as to what it meant that Jason was there.  Was it good?  It was good, wasn’t it?  She was getting close to one of her brothers already.  But that brother was Jason, and despite the fact that he loved Jason, he was well aware their relationship was still contentious at best.  Not exactly the best brother for her to get close to. And he was already encouraging her hostility against him.  Not that he didn’t deserve it, he knew he did, it was just that any of the other brothers would help mitigate that hostility.  Jason would fan it.  “Jason, what are you doing here?”

“Brought baked goods and coffee,” he answered casually, a smirk making its way onto his face.  “You?”

Bruce let out a heavy sigh through his nose and smoothed out his face.  Getting annoyed now would do nothing for his goal.  If Marinette was connecting to Jason, getting frustrated with him would just push her further away.  “As I mentioned, I was hoping I could speak with Marinette about the… situation.  I wanted…”

“‘The situation’,” Jason mocked shaking his head at Bruce.  God was he always this bad with his kids?  He thought it was just him.  “Way to sound sincere, B.”

Bruce’s lips pursed until they were no longer visible. He didn’t need Jason sabotaging him right now.  He was doing a good enough job of it on his own.  “I’d like to speak with Marinette on our own, please.  Why don’t you go home?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide and her chest clenched. She didn't want Jason to leave.  She wasn't ready for Jason to leave.  Once Jason left it was just her and him.  Just thinking about it suddenly she couldn't breathe.  Suddenly the air felt too thin and too heavy at the same time.  No.  She needed somebody else here.  

Jason shot a look over to Marinette, letting his eyes pass over Marinette like he hadn’t been noting her body language.  He let his eyes wander for a second before returning to Bruce with a tilt to his head.  “No.  I’m witnessing this, unless Pixie tells me to go home.”

Marinette could have kissed him… on the cheek. Because he was her br… it was complicated.  But she was beyond grateful he had spoken up for her.  She let out the breath she’d been holding and raised an eyebrow at him. “Pixie?”

“Small, violent,” Jason grinned at her.

Marinette laughed and playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine, whatever, Goliath.”

Jason leaned back again.  “Oh, no, that one’s already taken.  By a dragon bat, no less.”

Marinette’s face scrunched in confusion.  She tried to search through her Americanisms for what a dragon bat could be.  It had to be a species of bat right?  Maybe? But then again it was American English so for all she knew it could be a flower.  “A what?”

“Jason!” Bruce admonished.  He was really not looking forward to trying to explain what a dragon bat was or how Damian came to be in possession of one.

Jason rose up enough to grab one of the croissants and shove half of it into his mouth before he spoke.  “I’ll introduce you sometime, or Damian will have to actually… which he won’t.  I’ll show you a picture, you seem like the kind of person who likes terrifying animals as long as they’re fuzzy.”

“I… fair,” Marinette conceded easily.

“If I can bring us back to the topic at hand,” Bruce interjected loudly, cutting off any more discussion of dragon bats.

“Family bonding, right?”  Jason cut him off with a pointed look.  “Isn’t that what we were doing?”

Bruce glared at Jason for a few seconds, which did nothing to wipe the smug smirk off his face.  Giving up on Jason, Bruce focused on Marinette.  “At the gala you mentioned you didn’t plan on being in town much longer, leaving today actually.  I was hoping I could convince you to stay a bit longer.”

Marinette examined him with a dour curiosity.  She cocked her head to the side.  “And why might that be?  You don’t need me here to make an announcement that we prefer to keep our relationship private, hence they didn’t know about me.”

Bruce let out a deep sigh.  That was fair.  It was a fair response.  Sabine had warned him she would be suspicious of him.  “This isn’t for the public,” he assured her.

“Isn’t it?”  She blinked a few times at him, her face blank.  “Are you sure?  It feels like it is.”  She turned to Jason.  “Doesn’t it feel like it is to you?”

“It does indeed,” Jason nodded in agreement, keeping eye contact with Bruce as he did.

“Jason…” he started threateningly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you relying on me to make fixing your fuck up easier for you?  Wrong kid.  You’re looking for Dick or Tim… actually I wouldn’t rely on Tim for help explaining why being an absentee father isn’t actually that bad.”

“Jason, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Bruce growled.

Marinette straightened up and moved between him and Jason.  She wasn’t going to let him bully Jason for standing up for her.  “I don’t think so.  So far he’s the only member of my family I like.”

“Ooh, you should totally give Cass and Steph and Duke a chance too,” Jason offered with a faked enthusiasm as though the confrontation with Bruce didn’t just happen.  He kept his eyes on Marinette but relished the increasingly frustrated scowl on Bruce’s face as they ignored him.

Marinette nodded.  “I’ll consider it.”

“Oh and Alfred… and I guess Tim too.  He’s a prick but he’s alright I guess,” Jason continued.

Marinette blinked at him.  It was like a never ending list of people.  An ongoing list of people he had taken in after walking away from her.  A long list of people he’d cared about and for without having to be pressured into it by the press.  A mile long list of people he wasn’t pretending to care about.  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“We have a lot,” Jason corrected her.  They were in this together and he’d remind her of that as many times as she needed.  “Alfred isn’t a sibling though.  He’s like a grandfather.”

Marinette paused at that.  She hadn’t considered that.  Another grandfather figure.  Another grandfather that didn’t want anything to do with her.  Sure now Grand-père Roland loved her but for the first fifteen years, he’d known about her and didn’t care.  Maybe it was her.  It had to be her right?  Two grandparents, that isn’t coincidence.  That’s a pattern and the only commonality was her.  She pursed her lips together to focus on something other than the tears welling up behind her eyes.  “Sounds like the kind of person who definitely would have known about me.”

Jason’s eyes widened.  “I… don’t know the answer to that,” he answered slowly.

Marinette nodded, slowly going numb.  “So, what I’m getting from this so far is I have a another grandfather-type figure that knew about me and didn’t feel any kind of interest in me and a ton of people that my father decided were worthy of his love and affection when I wasn’t.  So it isn’t that my father didn’t want to be a father, just that he didn’t want to be my father.”

“That isn’t…” Jason started.  This was going down the wrong path.  He was trying to show her he had her back, not remind her about the pain.  But instead, now Marinette was getting hurt, remembering the pain.  She’d lost her sass and impertinence and now was moving toward hurt.  And she was blaming Alfred.  Alfred was one of the only good things about being a Wayne!

“Jason!  I think it’s time for you to go home.  Now!” Bruce roared.

Marinette contemplated Bruce coldly, numbness consuming her fears and insecurities and morphing into cold, analytic contemplation.  He was blaming Jason.  Her frustration wasn’t because of Jason or anything he said. Her pain wasn’t because of Jason, it was because of him, because of his decisions.  And instead of taking responsibility for it, he was blaming Jason.

Jason blinked a few times, no longer certain of his role in this interaction.  He looked back and forth between Marinette and Bruce, noting Marinette’s hardening features.  She was getting ready for a fight.  He could see it developing, but he wasn’t at all sure Bruce did.  He held up his hands in surrender and sat back down calmly. “I promised I wouldn’t leave unless Pixie asked me to.  I intend to keep my promise to her,” he said calmly.

Bruce glared at him again and faced back to Marinette, a fake smile plastered on.   “As I was saying.  I’d like a chance to get to know you, if you would let me.”

“And how many members of the press did you want to be there when you do?” she inquired sharply.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “That’s not fair.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped and she shook her head at him incredulously.  “Wow. Way to pull the rich, white guy entitlement card. ‘I know everything about this situation has been unbelievably unfair to you, but now I’m being inconvenienced in the mildest way possible and I don’t like it,’” she mocked. She rocked back on her heels and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Rest assured M. Wayne, I do not intend to speak out against you.  Your reputation will not be harmed by me.  Tell the press whatever you want.  I won’t contradict you.  You can relax.”

“Marinette…” he started, unsure of where to go. Everything she had said was so far from the truth, he didn’t know where to start.  Her view of the situation was so skewed, he didn’t know how to put it back on kilter.  His shoulders sagged in defeat.  “This has nothing to do with the press.  I had put plans in motion to get in contact with you before any of this started.  Mr. Fox will confirm that for you if you don’t trust me.  You seem like quite an impressive young lady and I would like to get to know you better, if you’ll give me the chance.”

His tone was contrite and quiet, but Marinette wasn’t done being upset yet.  She wasn’t ready to move on and let go of the anger.  “And if I wasn’t, you would continue to ignore me?  If I was a problem child, if I had social issues, if I couldn’t find a job, you’d continue to treat me like I never existed?  I’ve finally done enough to gain your attention. Oh thank you so much for letting me know.”

“That isn’t what I said,” Bruce rushed to assure her. “I meant to compliment you not say you had to earn my attention.”

Marinette pursed her lips and looked over to Jason. He was looking back at her with sympathetic, concerned eyes.  She let out a long sigh and looked away from them both.  “Look, I meant what I told the press earlier.  I had no intention of you seeing me at the gala.  I had no intention of anyone finding out about me. I didn’t even know there was anything to find out when I made the plan to come here.  And I have no expectation of anything about our relationship changing.”

Bruce perked up slightly, but focused on keeping his body language the same, so she wouldn’t see the difference.  That was an opening; expectation instead of intention. It wasn’t that she intended not to change it, it’s that she didn’t expect it.  “I do,” he assured her, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, keeping it calm and even.  “I would like to change our relationship.  I would like the chance to explain and try to start to make it up to you.  If you would like to try.  

“If you’re open to it, I can extend your reservation until you are ready to move on, or if you would prefer, you are more than welcome to stay at the manor.  I would love to have you stay with us but I understand that may be overwhelming.  Or, WE has have some flats available, with multiple bedrooms.  You and your friends could stay there for a while.  Your friend is going to need a place to stay while he looks for an apartment, right?

“I’ll leave the choice to you.  Whether we pursue a relationship, if you stay, where you stay; they’re all your choice.  Here,” he handed her a paper with several numbers hand written on it. “These are my numbers; office, home office, cell phone, manor.  You can use any of them to contact me.”

Marinette took the paper impassively.  She squeezed her other hand in an effort to keep the tremble from being too obvious.  “Thank you, M. Wayne.  I will consider your words.”

Bruce nodded, letting the very formal use of his name wash away.  This was still progress.  This was still movement in the right direction, even if it wasn’t as much as he would want.  He knew it could take a long time.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to fix this today.  “Thank you, Marinette.  That’s all I can ask for.  And I’m sorry for ambushing you here.  I tried to call and text you all yesterday to set up a time to talk in person so you could prepare but it seems like your phone was off.”  

He let out a small breath seeing her eyes widen at his admission.  That had to be a good sign.  Maybe he actually said the right thing for once.  He nodded to her and left her to think, hoping Jason would urge her to call. He seemed to want a relationship with her as well.  Hopefully, he would realize this was the best way to get that.

Jason sighed and looked up at her as soon as the door closed behind Bruce.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not.  It’s… it’s a lot.  I think I want to be alone,” Marinette said absently staring at the numbers in her hand.

Jason nodded.  “It is.  I understand. If you want to talk, at all, about anything.  About where to drink in town, best burger, anything, give me a call.”  He gently took the paper Bruce had handed her out of hand, letting her decide if she gave it to him or not.  When she let go, he put his number on it as well.  “I only have one number, but now you have it.”

Marinette nodded at him.  “Thank you, Jason.”

Jason hesitated briefly.  “For what it’s worth, if you decide to stay you should take him up on the flat.  The hotel is stupid expensive and WE offers the flat to visiting collaborators all the time, so it’s not like it’s all that special… if you want to avoid being treated special.”

Marinette nodded at his words, barely taking them in as her mind tried to fight the numbing process.  Jason watched her tentatively.  “You look like a hugger,” he said uncertainly.  “Did you… do you want a, um, a hug?”  

Marinette looked over at him and blinked a few times, not sure how to take his words, partly because he seemed unsure of them himself, but partly because things were having a harder time permeating her brain right now.  Jason took her curious look as doubt.  “Oh come on. It’s fine.  I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.  Trust me.  I tell Dick to fuck off enough when he tries to hug me.  I have no problem saying no to hugs I don’t want.  I’m offering because I mean it.”

Marinette blinked a few more times but finally nodded vacantly.  Jason pulled her into a warm, comforting hug.  After a few moments he pulled away.  “It will all be okay.  No matter what you decide, it will all be okay.  And no matter what you decide, I’m here.  Nobody’s replacing you as my sister.  So get ready for some completely inappropriate Christmas presents this year.”

Marinette smiled absently at his joke, her eyes never meeting his.  “Thanks, Jason.”  She leaned against the door after she closed it behind him and slid down it, staring blankly at nothing.  The room felt colder than it was before, but she couldn’t manage to care enough to get up and get a blanket.  She thought there might have been ambient noise going on around her but none of it registered.  Nothing registered.  Not the numbing sensation that was rapidly overtaking her body from her fingers and toes up to her head until she stopped feeling anything.  Not even the point she was staring at.  She didn’t know how long she stared at the nothingness before black overtook her vision and she passed out.

Chapter 8

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn 

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #mbdbwm2021 #prompt - gifts

[mrs-gucci]

Gucci’s Girl [REPOST] {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! I originally wrote this story as an ‘x OC’ because that’s what I was writing at the time, but I decided to change it into an ‘x Reader’ story since that’s what more people like to read!

**I used a translation application for the Italian in this story. Apologies if there are any typos and/or incorrect sentences/grammar. Italian sentences/words are in italics throughout the story with translations after the sentences in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. fluff. grinding. multiple orgasms. pretty vanilla sex.

(possible) tw’s: infidelity (he’s engaged, not married).

SMUT under the CUT!

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname).

“Y/N, will you stay after for a bit?”

Mr. Gucci walks over to your desk.

“I need to ask you something.”

You nod, smiling up at your boss.

“Of course, Mr. Gucci.”

Inside, you were panicking. 

He’s never asked you to stay after work before, except on your first day, which made sense.  But this doesn’t make sense… 

He returns the smile.

“Excellent. Just come to my office.”

You continue to work, faxing and typing away until the clock read five. 

Everyone else begins to pack up and bids you farewell as you make your way up to Mr. Gucci’s office.

The wooden door has never looked more intimidating than it does in this moment, as you raise your knuckles and knock.

“Entra in.” (Come in.)

You take a deep breath before you turn the handle, forcing a smile on your face.

He looks so scary and intimidating when he sits at his desk, a fact that, when you told him, made him laugh.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Come in, sit down.”

The chairs in his office are top-of-the-line, a refreshing change from the less-than luxurious chairs out on the floor.

Mr. Gucci lights a cigarette and takes a drag before standing up and walking around to take a seat in the chair next to you.

When he sees your confused expression, he laughs softly, taking another drag.

“I know you think I look scary sitting back there, and I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Your eyes go wide.

“O-Oh, that’s not what I meant—“

“I know, tesoro.”

He chuckles, eyes flickering over your face before he speaks again. 

“So, the annual House of Gucci Ball is coming up, as you know.”

You nod.

“And, I was wondering...would you want to...come with me?”

Your stomach drops.

“W-What?”

The CEO looks incredibly flustered and anxious, a new look for him.

“My fiancée isn’t feeling well and as the head of the House, I really don’t want to go alone…”

In a bold move, you reach out and gently place your hand over his. He looks up at you, and you smile.

“I’d, uhh, I’d love to go, sir. It would be my pleasure.”

“Great.”

The corners of his lips tug up into a genuine smile and his eyes dart away from yours as he takes another drag.

“I’ll have the company tailor come in tomorrow and take your measurements for a gown. And you’ll come here three hours beforehand in order to have hair and makeup done.”

You’re still partially in shock as he discusses dresses and makeup and hair. 

It’s become clear to you over the past few weeks that he has feelings for you, and you think they’re the same feelings that you have for him. 

But obviously, neither of you can act on them, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s set to be married in a few months, and there’s a very strict company policy that forbids relationships between workers and their supervisors.

So, it left this unresolved tension between the two of you, and you literally just agreed to spend an entire night at an event with him.

The reality hits and you feel lightheaded.

Oh my god, I’m going to the company ball with Maurizio Gucci.

Four Weeks Later

The elevator dings and you step out into the now-vacant office. You see several people standing around a portable salon setup, and they all turn to look at you.

“Miss Y/N?”

One of them asks.

You nod.

“Si.” (Yes.)

They quickly sit you down in the chair and begin applying makeup and doing your hair.

-

You’re tearing up a little bit as you look at yourself in the mirror. Clad in a long, form-fitting gown and in full hair and makeup, you look and feel like a princess.

The stylist hands you a small accent clutch and almost immediately after, the elevator dings, and Mr. Gucci steps out, clad in a snappy black suit, not unlike what he wears at work everyday. 

That man is never not in a suit, you’ve learned.

His eyes go wide as you step down from the small platform. Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze.

The stylist looks nervous as his eyes roam your figure. 

She speaks up a moment later, voice meek.

“Il vestito e il trucco soddisfano i suoi standard, signore?” (Does the dress and makeup meet your standards, sir?)

He tears his eyes away from you, and nods at the stylist.

“Ha superato le mie aspettative.” (It’s exceeded my expectations.)

You’re blushing madly now, unable to meet his eyes as you feel him looking at you again.

Soon, the stylist packs up and leaves just you and Mr. Gucci alone. 

He clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“You look...beautiful, absolutely beautiful, tesoro.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, absolutely starstruck by his handsomeness. He somehow manages to look better and more attractive every time you see him. 

“You’re too sweet, sir.”

He takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. 

“Please, I’m Maurizio tonight.”

You nod, trying his name on your tongue. 

“Maurizio.”

Mr. Gucci smiles as he releases your hand.  “We have a few minutes before the car gets here...would you like some water? Espresso?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” You say. 

A few moments of sexually-charged silence lingers between you two.

“Thank you for agreeing to join me tonight.”

He says suddenly.

“I always enjoy our time together, Y/N.”

You smile.

“Me too.”

“Really? You do?”

Maurizio blushes slightly.

“It’s just...I’m an old man, you’re a young woman...”

You chuckle as you reach out to hold his hand.

“You’re not old, sir—Maurizio. And yes, really, I do enjoy our time together.”

“I’m glad.”

He says, eyes flicking down to your lips as he leans in a little bit.

Wait...what? Is he gonna… Fuck, oh god, this can’t happen...

Honk!

He flinches at the sound, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

“I guess the car is here.”

You chuckle nervously as he holds out his hand, and you take it, walking alongside him to the elevator. 

It’s a short drive to the hotel and when you two arrive, there are swarms of paparazzi, all crowding around the car when the driver pulls to the curb. 

Maurizio clearly sees your overwhelmed expression and tension, reaching over to squeeze your hand. 

“Don’t worry, tesoro. Just stay by my side and don’t answer any of their questions, yes?”

You nod and he gets out, walking around to open your door and help you out of the car. Immediately, when the press sees that you’re not his fiancée, the cameras flash even more rapidly and voices overlap one another. 

“Sei la nuova fidanzata di Maurizio?” (Are you Maurizio’s new girlfriend?)

“Maurizio, dov’e la tua fidanzata?” (Maurizio, where’s your fiancée?)

“Strumento a mano.” (Gold digger.)

“Puttana americana.” (American whore.)

They were all basically on top of you, asking so many questions and saying so many things about you, it was incredibly overwhelming.

Suddenly, Maurizio’s voice boomed through the crowd, and everyone fell silent.

“Lasciala in pace!” (Leave her alone!)

His arm wraps tighter around your waist, pressing you even further into his side as he walks you both into the building. The cameras and crowds were almost completely silent, still, and you were just trying to process it all as the two of you walked into the event, you still tucked into his side.

He stopped just inside the door and let you go, taking your hands instead, eyebrows furrowed with worry. 

“Are you okay, tesoro? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shake your head, still trembling a little bit. 

“N-No, I’m okay, just a little shaken up.”

“They’re vicious and relentless...mi dispiace. I should’ve warned you about them beforehand, but I’m relieved that you’re okay.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s okay, Maurizio, really.”

You smile sadly.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He wraps an arm around you again, gently squeezing your hip before rubbing it lightly. 

“Of course, anything for mi tesoro. I’m indebted to you for joining me tonight.”

You’re blushing, eyes darting away from his. 

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. It’s an honor to accompany you, and I’m sorry that my presence caused so much trouble for you, with the press.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before guiding you into the massive ballroom. 

You’re absolutely stunned by the beauty of it, the chandeliers glittering on the ceiling as they illuminate the entire room. 

Maurizio seems to notice your staring, and pauses as well, chuckling softly. 

“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?”

You turn to him and nod, smiling. 

“It’s beautiful.”

Once you get inside and take your seats, Maurizio is immediately flocked with people wanting to speak with him. Some of them give you a judgemental glance or gaze, and you just look away, taking another sip of your wine. 

This is gonna be a long night.

-

Naturally, Maurizio has been talking to people nonstop all night, which was expected of course, but for some reason, you’d sort of hoped he’d make some time for just the two of you. You genuinely enjoy his company, he’s actually really kind and funny when he’s not in ‘work mode’. 

Why would he do that for you? You’re just his replacement date, Y/N, nothing more.

So, you sit back in your chair and casually nibble at the new dinner course that was put on your plates a few minutes ago. 

A dance song begins to play and suddenly, Maurizio stands up and holds his hand out for you. 

“Would you like to dance, mi tesoro?”

“Absolutely.”

You blush, biting your lip as you stand up.

He places his hand on the small of your back as you two walk onto the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck while he places his hands on your waist, holding you close as the two of you begin gently swaying to the slow tune. 

“It’s nice to step away from the table for a bit.”

He says, chuckling. 

“I only see these people once a year, so they always want to talk the night away.”

You laugh. 

“I understand, and I’m happy that I could provide an excuse for you to get away, even if only for a few minutes.”

“You’re anything but an excuse, Y/N.”

Maurizio says, blushing a bit. 

“I’ve been wanting to make some time to spend with you, but I haven’t gotten the opportunity. I’m sorry for that, this must be tedious for you.”

You shake your head. 

“No, it’s alright, although I do respect your fiancée much more now that I understand what happens at events like this.”

You jest, and he laughs.

“But, in all seriousness, I’m fine. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to keep me entertained, I understand my role for tonight.”

His face sinks ever so slightly, but he still smiles nonetheless. 

“I did hope to spend some time with you, though. Like I said, I enjoy spending time with you.”

The song suddenly ends and a much more upbeat one takes its place. 

Maurizio’s face seems to light up, and he smiles widely. 

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

You’re suddenly lifted up and spun around. You laugh the entire time and he continues spinning you. 

The whole world seems to fade and suddenly, it’s just you two on the dancefloor. 

Your eyes are glued on one another as he sets you back down, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so genuinely. You briefly wonder how many of these moments he gets to have with his job.

You’re still laughing as he takes your hand and tries to twirl you around. He’s laughing along with you as you start to twirl, but you forgot how long your dress is, and you start to fall backwards.

A strong arm reaches down and scoops you up before you can hit the floor, and suddenly, you’re centimeters away from his face, his breath tickling your skin. 

He’s still smiling as he slowly stands back up with you in his arms. 

“Be careful, tesoro. We’re not taking any trips to the emergency room tonight, okay?”

You smile, unable to bring yourself to take your eyes off of him as you’re placed back onto your feet, his arm still around you, holding you close. 

You allow yourself, for the first time since your internship began, to take in all of his features. You let your eyes drink in his beauty and it feels like time has stopped. He’s even more handsome up-close, his pale skin a stark contrast to his dark eyes and the freckles sprinkled across his features. 

Before you know it, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, his lips so close now.

“Voglio davvero baciarti, tesoro.” (I really want to kiss you right now, treasure.)

He whispers.

His voice is so deep, yet soft and full of yearning. It sends a chill down your spine.

“Non ti fermero, bello.” (I’m not going to stop you, handsome.)

“Bene.” (Good.)

He leans forward the rest of the way and your lips connect in a tender embrace. 

You close your eyes and let your hand reach up to cradle the side of his face. 

He soon pulls away, a face-splitting grin on his face. 

You’re wearing a similar expression.

“Mi chiedevo quando l’avresti finalmente fatto.” (I was wondering when you were finally going to do that.)

You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his slightly.

Maurizio laughs softly.

“Mi chiedevo quando avrei dovuto farlo anch’io.” (I was wondering when I was going to do it, as well.)

The moment is quickly ruined when you realize exactly where you are, and you’re afraid to know how many people saw that. You quickly stand up straight and so does he, both of you taking a small step away from each other as you straighten yourselves out. 

When you turn back towards the table, all of the people stare right at you, and you feel your face get hot. You look up at Maurizio when he comes up beside you.

“I think I’ll just catch a cab back to the house…”

You say, looking down.

He looks over at the table, seeing his work colleagues giving you judgemental glares. His finger gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

“Let me take you back, tesoro. It’s the least I can do, and we can talk about...everything.”

You nod. 

“I’m really sorry about this…”

Maurizio shakes his head. 

“No, tesoro, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done that in such a public space.”

Your cheeks get warmer. 

“Are you saying that you still would’ve done it?”

His cheeks go pink as he looks away. 

“Yes, I still would’ve kissed you, Y/N.”

Is this real?

He clears his throat, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“Why don’t you go up to the front while I retrieve our stuff from the table? I’ll make sure that no one says anything or thinks poorly of you.”

“Thank you.”

You say, smiling. 

“I’ll get them to call us a cab.”

He’s at the table for about five minutes while you wait by the door, anxious for what’s to come. 

“Sorry, mi tesoro, they tried to tell me that I shouldn’t leave early. But, I insisted on seeing you safely back to your house.”

“If you need to stay…”

You begin, but are quickly stopped.

“No, I’m going with you.”

You’re so flattered that he would leave the biggest company party of the year just for you. You.

The cab arrives shortly after and you two walk out into the warm Italian night air, hopping into the car. His hand rests gently on your thigh as the car pulls away from the curb. 

He sighs.

“I’m sorry that I got you involved in this. My life is...complicated, especially as someone constantly under the public eye.”

You don’t even want to ask this next question, but you have to.

“Maurizio, are you still engaged?”

His head turns away to look out the window.

“I’m not sure.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, you aren’t sure? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Patrizia left me last night and she hasn’t come back.”

He says, choking up a bit.

You gently put your hand over his and he looks over at you.

“I’m really sorry, that’s...terrible. Did she say why?”

“I told her that I was taking you tonight, and she got upset.”

He sighed. 

“She asked me if I had feelings for you, since I talk to her about you almost every day…”

“You talk about me?”

Maurizio smiles softly, nodding. “Of course I do. Ever since you’ve been here, the office has been...happier. I’ve been happier.”

You take a deep breath, trying not to freak out over what you’re hearing.

“S-So, when she asked you if you had feelings for me...what did you tell her?”

He turns fully to the side, bringing a hand up to cup your face.

“Le ho detto la verita, che mi sono sentito per te sin dal primo giorno in cui sei entrato in ufficio.” (I told her the truth, that I’ve felt for you since the first day you walked into the office.)

You can’t help but smile as your face warms again, eyes darting away from his as he continues.

“Sono un uomo migliore con te nella mia vita, tesoro.” (I’m a better man with you in my life, treasure.)

“Maurizio, I…”

You begin, trying to find the right words.

“Lo so che non dovrei, ma mi sento anche per te.” (I know I shouldn’t, but I feel for you, too.)

He smiles, leaning in closer.

“Qual e la ragione dell-amore senza rischi?” (What is the point of love without risk?)

This time, you close the gap between your lips. His other hand comes to hold your face as you kiss, so much passion and want in every movement of your lips together. 

You move closer, legs draping over his lap.

Just as you make a move to sit on his lap, the cab pulls up to your house, forcing you apart.

Both of you are panting softly, eyes staring deep into each other’s.

“Tesoro, ti prego, faccio l’amore stasera.” (Treasure, please, let me make love to you tonight.)

He leans in and crashes your lips together again, this kiss filled with urgency, with lust, with need.

You nod, biting your lip.

“Ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te, per favore.” (I want you. I need you, please.)

Maurizio smiles, paying the driver before quickly hopping out of the car, rushing around to let you out. As soon as you step out, you’re swept up off your feet and carried bridal-style to the front door. You unlock the door and he quickly closes it with his foot. 

You reach up and begin planting kisses on his neck, enjoying the way he sighs softly. 

“Which one is yours?”

He asks, breathily.

“Upstairs, the loft.”

He makes his way up the small flight of stairs. 

“Is anyone else here?”

You nod. “They’re all on the first floor.”

Maurizio hums, gently placing you down on the bed before shedding his suit coat, hanging it on your desk chair, followed by his tie. He takes off his loafers and socks, placing them beneath his other clothes.

You’d barely gotten your heels off at the point. He laughs when he turns around and sees you struggling to get the shoes off. He quickly pulls it off and tosses it on the floor, holding your foot while he kisses your ankle and calf. 

He takes a moment to look at you laid back on the bed, once neatly done hair loosened, makeup a bit smudged. His lips pulled up into a smile, teeth playfully scraping at your ankle bone. 

“You have too much on, mi tesoro.”

You smile, standing up and turning away from him, silently asking him to unbutton and unzip your dress. He steps up behind you, breaths hot on your neck as his fingers work the buttons. 

His lips begin planting kisses on your shoulders, soon undoing the zipper, freeing you from the dress. You step out and stand before him in just your underwear, looking away as his eyes rake over your figure. 

Your cheeks grow hotter when you look down to see the tent growing in his dress pants.

“Etereale.” (Ethereal.)

He mutters, fingers working the buttons of his shirt, gently tossing it with his other clothes before working at the buckle on his belt. 

“Formidabile.” (Gorgeous.)

The leather belt was soon tossed onto the growing pile of clothing. He unbuttons his pants before stepping forward again, now almost right up against you. 

His hand wraps around your wrist and brings your palm to the tent in his pants, growling softly when it touches. He leaned forward, lips at your ear.

“For you, tesoro. All for you.”

You shudder as his lips plant kisses all over your neck while his hands roam your bare body, fingers teasing your breasts.

“You’re so sensitive.”

He breathes, hands squeezing your breasts gently. 

“When was the last time someone touched you like this, hm?”

“It’s been a w-while.”

You say, gasping when his thumb rolls over your pebbled nipple. 

“O-Oh…”

Maurizio grins, placing one more kiss on your neck before standing up straight, tugging his pants and boxers down. You watch in amazement when his length bobs as it’s exposed, mouth watering at the sight.

He smirks. “Do you see something you like?”

“Absolutely.”

You reply, biting your lip. 

He laughs softly. 

“Well...would you like to touch it?”

His cheeks flush pink. 

You nod, reaching to wrap your hand around the base. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and he sucks in a breath when you begin stroking.

“Mmmmm, davvero buono.” (so good.)

His head falls back when you increase your pace, hips gently rutting forward. His eyebrows knit in the center of his forehead, small moans escaping his lips.

Suddenly, he pulls away, letting out a shaky breath as his length stirs at the loss of contact.

“You are too good at that, mi tesoro.”

He bites his lip, fingertips teasing the lace waistband of your panties.

“May I touch you now?”

You nod, jumping softly when he all but tears the material down your legs, exposing your folds. He reaches down and cups your center, eyes widening when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh,”

He whispers, fingers tracing up to rub your clit.

“Tesoro...you’re so excited already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your hips suddenly buck forward out of instinct, and Maurizio chuckles breathily, rubbing a bit faster. You gasp, breath catching in your throat. 

“S-Shit.”

You allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure, head falling forward onto his chest. The small noises falling from your lips get increasingly louder as you draw closer and closer to release. 

His fingers suddenly push up into you, and you almost cum right on the spot. His digits feel so much better than yours as they begin plunging in and out, scissoring occasionally. 

“Lasciatemi prendere, tesoro, e ti acchiappero.” (Let go for me, treasure, and I will catch you.)

He whispers breathily, stroking faster. 

“Andiamo.” (Let go.)

His fingers curl up inside of you, and after a few rubs on your g-spot, you’re coming with a soft cry. 

“Maurizio...oh mio dio…” (Maurizio...oh my god…)

Your knees buckle and you begin to fall, but he catches you immediately, smiling down at you as his fingers continue to work you through your climax. He leans over to kiss you again, slowly and gently pulling his fingers out. 

“Lay back, mi tesoro, and open your legs.”

He whispers against your lips, standing back up straight as you sit down on the edge of the bed before laying back. 

You spread my legs, ready to receive him, and he smiles as he climbs on top of you. He’s still wearing his glasses, and while you find that humorous and quite frankly cute, it’s also incredibly arousing for some reason. You don’t dwell on it, wanting to focus on the moment unfolding before your eyes. 

Maurizio strokes his hardened length a few times, grunting softly, before rubbing himself across your folds. His eyes shut and he takes a shaky breath as your slick spreads across his cock. He starts pressing and rubbing the tip against your clit for a bit, smirking when your hips buck up against him.

He looks down at you, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Are you ready? I’ll go slow for you, tesoro.”

You nod and he pushes in slowly, growling softly. He shivers, stopping when he’s about halfway in.

“Is it still okay?”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his hips forward while you scoot closer, pushing him in the rest of the way.

“D-Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle.

He laughs breathily, nodding. 

“Indeed, it does.”

You take deep breaths while you adjust to his size, soon nodding, letting him know that it’s okay for him to move. He pulls about halfway out before pushing back in again, exhaling loudly as he establishes a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts. 

“O-Oh, cazzo, sei fantastico.” (Oh, fuck, you feel amazing.)

Your jaw hangs open, body bouncing with each of his inward thrusts. You hold onto his biceps for dear life as his pace increases ever so slightly. 

“Maurizio,”

You breathe, looking up into his eyes. 

“Keep going, please.”

The bed squeaks as his hips’ movements grow more desperate. 

“Tesoro, I--cazzo--I’m not going to last.” (fuck)

He says, eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

“I h-haven’t done this--merda--in a w-while.” (shit)

You nod in understanding, moving your hands up to cup the sides of his face.

“It’s okay, M-Maurizio, it’s alright.”

His eyes meet yours as he growls softly, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s n-not. You deserve better, t-the best, Y/N.”

Your thumb swipes on his cheekbone as his eyes tear up with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

“Y-You already are the best, bello, and I w-want you to cum, no m-matter if I have o-or not. I want you to p-pleasure yourself, okay? Don’t worry about m-me.” (handsome)

He smiles softly, falling onto his elbows, lips connecting with yours as he thrusts get harder. He grunts deeply with each thrust, breath hot and heavy on the side of your neck.

“Oh tesoro, I’m...close. Where…”

He searches for the right words, mind clouded with lust. He groans in frustration.

“Dove vuoi che sborra?” (Where do you want me to cum?)

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently. 

“Sono sulla pillola. Puoi sborra dentro, se vuoi, bello.” (I’m on the pill. You can cum inside, if you want, handsome.)

These words seem to awaken something in him, his eyes going black, hips suddenly rutting quickly and desperately into you. 

“Cazzo, sei incredibile, sei perfetto, tesoro.” (Fuck, you’re amazing, you’re perfect, treasure.)

Maurizio buries his face into the crook of your neck as he reaches climax, moans and gasps muffled by your skin. He buries his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls with his release, rutting them desperately as he fills you up.

“Y/N, oh dio, prendi tutto per me. Bene, sei bravissima, mi tesoro.” (Y/N, oh god, take it all for me. Good, you’re so good, my treasure).

As soon as he finishes, his hand reaches down to rub your clit in circles, eyes meeting yours.

“C’mon, let me pleasure you now. Let go, tesoro, give yourself to me.”

Your back arches and your hips grind against his fingers, mouth full of whimpers, whines, and gasps as his fingers rub you. You grab onto his bicep when you cum, looking up into his eyes. 

“Yes, oh Maurizio, yes!”

You gasp, moaning softly as your release spreads throughout your body.

He continues to rub you through it, cock twitching slightly where it still sits inside of you, causing him to growl softly. 

After both of you take a moment to catch your breaths, he slowly pulls out, and you can see that he’s already hard again. He blushes, looking away for a moment.

“I...I’m sorry, that’s never happened before…”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Maurizio, you don’t need to apologize. It’s actually sort of flattering, that I can do that to you.”

He smiles softly, laying down next to you, pulling you back against him. You didn’t realize exactly how hard he actually was until you felt him pressed against your back, and you felt bad.

“Do you…I mean, I can...”

You trail off, a bit embarrassed, hoping he got the point.

Maurizio immediately shakes his head. 

“No, tesoro, don’t worry. I will be okay.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip before you speak.

“If you wanted to, you could...rub it against me.”

You feel his member twitch at your proposition, and you turn around in his arms, looking up at him. His cheeks are bright red.

“Will you show me?”

He asks quietly.

You smile, nodding. 

“All you have to do is start moving your hips against me, using my skin to rub on.”

He experimentally rolls his hips, jaw clenched as he tries to contain himself. 

“O-Oh.”

He tried it again, growling as his cock dragged along your stomach.

“Tesoro, it’s…”

You can’t pretend that this isn’t incredibly arousing for you to watch and feel. His tip was already red and leaking, so you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“Does it feel good, Maurizio?”

You feel him nod, hips moving faster now as he looks down at you. 

“Yes, cristo, it’s s-so good.” (christ)

His lips crash onto yours and he loops an arm behind you, holding you still as he begins rutting against you, growling into your mouth. He moves his head down to kiss and nip at your neck.

“Your s-skin is so soft, mi tesoro.”

He whispers, grunting with each forward motion now. 

His leg lifts up and lays over your hip, allowing him to thrust harder, hand still on your lower back. He’s close, you can tell, and you attentively watch the way his face contorts as he reaches orgasm. 

He suddenly hugs you tight, a choked sob against your neck as his seed spills all over your stomach and his.

“Ah! Ah--oh--cristo!” (christ)

You run your hands through his hair soothingly as he comes down, trembling slightly. He slides down your body a bit, resting his head between your breasts, kissing them gently. 

After a short while, he looks up at you. 

“Grazie, Y/N, grazie mille.” (Thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.)

You smile. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Maurizio, it was my pleasure.”

He reaches up and connects your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss before he pulls away, cringing when he feels the stickiness between you. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’ve never...that’s never…”

You kiss him again, cutting him off.

“No worries, we can just clean it off. I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

You stand and come back a moment later with a wet washcloth, reaching down to wipe yourself off before Maurizio’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. 

“Let me.”

He smiles, taking the cloth from your hand, cleaning up the sticky substance before doing the same to himself. 

Your cheeks are warm as you look up at him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, mi tesoro.”

He suddenly looks away, frowning softly. 

“I-I can’t stay tonight, Y/N, I’m sorry. If someone catches us…”

You shake your head, holding the side of his face.

“No, no need to explain. I understand.”

Maurizio nods silently, sighing as he begins to redress. You slip your panties back on, along with an oversized t-shirt and you pull your hair up into a ponytail. 

When he’s ready, you offer to go first, in case anyone’s still awake. He agrees, and you make your way down the stairs, looking around, not seeing anyone. You look up the stairs and nod, indicating that it’s okay. He makes his way down and you walk with him to the door. 

“Do you have a car coming?”

He nods. “My driver is already outside.”

There’s a moment of silence before Maurizio suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you against him as his lips crash down onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of longing. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down closer. 

He pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open. 

“Alla prossima, tesoro.” (Until next time, my treasure.)

You smile, biting your lip as he sneaks out the door, rushing down and hopping into the car waiting for him. 

As you watch his car pull away from the curb, only one thought occupies your mind:

Holy shit, I just slept with Maurizio Gucci.

#adamdriverwriter #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #maurizio gucci #maurizio gucci smut #maurizio gucci fluff #maurizio gucci x reader #maurizio gucci x you #maurizio gucci x reader smut #maurizio gucci x reader fluff #tw: infidelity #house of gucci

[ramzawrites]

Hello! May i suggest a drabble?

Philza teaching y/n how to fly/ use their wings; Just thought i'd be a funny enough idea picturing these massive wings on a child and having dadza teaching them. 🌿

-Much love, anon.

Reader and Philza - Flying Lessons

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Philza, Tommyinnit, Tubbo

Warnings: cursing

Series: a request from a nice anon :D

Summary: Philza caught Y/N once again in trouble with Tommy and Tubbo and after breaking that little dispute up Y/N surprised him with the question “Can you teach me how to fly?” They sure are lucky that Philza has a weakspot for the fellow winged hybrid.

Words count: 2040

Authors Note: I love Dadza so much and I love writing for him so thank you so much for the request :D

There was a crash followed by a loud scream and curses. All accompanied by laughter from multiple people.

Now, the SMP was chaotic and Phil was slowly getting used to it but this commotion somehow piqued his interest enough that he was curious to see what had happened. He dropped the equipment he was working on in a random chest and ran towards his front door.

The crash and the voices sounded pretty loud so it didn’t surprise him at all when he found a group of people in the middle of the town.

He found Tommy, Y/N and Tubbo. The usual troublemakers.

Tommy was laying on the ground, flat on his back. His hand outstretched and pointing at Y/N who was giggling to themself as Tommy cursed them out, calling them a “brat” and the like which Philza found quite ironic.

Tubbo stood close by, clutching his stomach as he continued laughing. Gasping for air whenever he had the chance. Tears brimming in his eyes. Honestly he looked close to collapse. Hard to imagine that he was the president of this place.

Y/N on the other hand had their arms smugly in front of their chest. Their wings half closed but still sporting an impressive wingspan for their young age by the looks of it.

As Tommy finally decided to stand up, Philza made his way towards them as well “What happened?” He was already halfway to chuckling himself alone from Tubbo’s laughing, Tommy’s screaming and Y/N’s puffed up body language.

Exasperated Tommy turned to the winged man “It’s Y/N! I was talking to Tubbo, you know state secrets and all, and they just ambushed me!”

Philza couldn’t help but to raise one of his eyebrows at him “Ambushed? What do you mean ambushed?”

“They just-“ Tubbo begun talking, he was still laughing but he managed to calm down somewhat “They were just suddenly there! I was talking to Tommy and then I saw them gliding down in the corner of my eye and they straight up kicked him down. It was so funny, Philza!”

Tommy scoffed “They did that on purpose!”

At this exclamation Y/N ran around behind Philza and hid behind his legs. Standing between Phil’s body and his wings. Grabbing onto his shirt and peeking their head out at the blonde “Actually it was a mistake! I didn’t mean to!”

Almost instinctively Philza opened up his wing so they could fit in and put his hand on their head “What happened, Y/N?”

It took a moment before they answered “I wanted to learn how to fly…”

They pulled their gaze back up from the ground and instead threw an angry expression towards Tommy “So, it really wasn’t my fault! You were just in my way!”

“Oh you little-“ Tommy begun but Philza interrupted him.

“Hey, drop it. They said they didn’t mean to, so they didn’t mean to. Besides aren’t you too busy as Vice President to argue with a child? Weren’t you telling me that you were talking about state secrets with Tubbo there?”

Tubbo nodded “Yeah come on big man! They did apologize right after so let’s just get going.”

“Alright, you are lucky Philza is here or- or- I don’t know but something would have happened!” Tommy grumbled.

He then turned around and continued walking along. Tubbo waved Philza and Y/N goodbye only to follow his best friend.

Once they were out of ear shot Philza let out a sigh. Tommy was a troublesome, troublesome person. It wasn’t the first time he had come to Y/N’s aid like this. In fact whenever problems arose Y/N would run over to Philza and ask for help.

Philza took his hand off of Y/N and took a step back so he could look at them. Their wings now hugging their back like usual and instead of their self-assured expression they looked a bit sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“You were able to fly before L’Manburg blew up, right?”

He was a bit surprised by that question “Uh, yeah. My wings are too damaged now for me to be able to fly though.”

While Y/N still looked worried, a bit of determination broke through “Could you teach me? Teach me how to fly? There is no one else here who could!”

Y/N was right. Sure, they could probably learn how to fly on their own over time but it didn’t surprise him that they would approach him for it. He himself had to learn how to fly alone and would have really appreciated someone else to help him.

“Well before I can say anything, can you open up your wings for me? Show me exactly how big they are.”

This seemed to brighten up Y/N’s mood and they happily obliged. Their wings swinging open and showing off how huge they actually have gotten. It took Phil a long while until his wings were big and strong enough to carry his weight but for Y/N it seemed to be different.

They were pretty young but their wings were already so big that it took him aback for a moment.

He nodded “Oh wow, okay. Honestly I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to fly with these. They look strong enough to hold you.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide “You think so? You will help me?”

“Yeah, I will you little gremlin. Let’s get somewhere else with more space and preferably high up.”

There he was. Agreeing to help Y/N without even really thinking about it. They were seriously lucky that Philza had grown to have a bit of a soft spot for them. So much so that the joke was going around that Philza has adopted another child once again since he just can’t help himself.

Which was very much warranted seeing how they basically have moved in with Phil at this point. He didn’t feel comfortable with the though that this young child lived on their own.

Said kid was now happily skipping towards a clearing on a low mountain. It was semi easy accessible but a good place for them to practice without anyone else causing problem on purpose.

Honestly Phil wasn’t really sure how he felt about all this. Sure he was happy with how happy Y/N was but it also made him miss his own wings. His ability to just take off and fly to wherever he wanted to go.

Shoving these thoughts away Phil decided to pull his attention back to Y/N. Making sure they wouldn’t suddenly fall down the mountain somehow.

Once they arrived Phil fell down onto one of his knees and put his hands on Y/N’s shoulders “Before we start, you know how to glide and have done it before, correct? I saw you do it multiple times but I want to still ask you.”

They eagerly nodded, their mouth in a huge grin accompanied by a blush from the excitement.

“Okay good. That makes it easier. You see that rock formation over there? You think you could get up on there? When you are up there try jumping off. If you are too scared you can just glide down to me but try flapping your wings a bit. It should come natural. It did for me at least.”

He stood back up and opened up his own destroyed black wings. They still hurt a bit but it was bearable.

Y/N still seemed to be amazed though.

Phil begun moving his wings. Moving them in a way he was used to.

“You see how I move them? Can you do that too?”

The young kid didn’t wait long to do so. Opening up their wings to show off their full wingspan once again. Swinging their wings back and forth which created way more wind that pushed against Philza than he first imagined.

He laughed “Okay, I see you have no problems doing so. You think you can do what I asked you? You feel up for it? I’m gonna wait down here for you.”

“Yes!” they cheered and ran towards the stone formation. It looked like a ton of huge boulders that fell down the actual mountain, forming this pile.

Y/N closed their wings and climbed up the rocks unexpectantly fast.

While Philza barked orders at them in order to teach them in truth he had no real idea what he was doing. His best method on how to learn to fly was just to jump off somewhere and hope. That’s how he learned and that’s pretty much how he handled raising Wilbur now that he really thought about it.

“Hey! Hey! Make sure you look, okay? I want you to look, Dadza!”

Dadza? That was a first from them. Not that he minded it.

“I’m looking! I’m looking! Don’t worry!”

Y/N stood still and bowed down a little bit. Opening up their wings but they didn’t move. They just stood there, hands balled up into fists close to their chest. Y/N looked like they could move and jump any second but they just didn’t. Their feet where the only thing shuffling around.

“Y/N?”

“I can- I can do it but- but- I am scared!”

That was something he should have expected. They were about ten feet up in the air so it really was a normal reaction even though he was sure that Y/ N has been jumping off higher places to glide off.

But still this was kind of a different situation.

Philza thought for a moment “I will catch you?” He sounded unsure himself. Of course he would catch them in case anything happens but he wasn’t sure it would make them feel reassured. It was still high up. If he could he would probably stand next to them and fly off first to show them but alas this was not an option.

“Okay!” It somehow seemed to work.

Y/N was putting a lot of trust into Phil.

To support his claim Phil opened up his arms and put them in front of him. Nodding to Y/N as a sign that he was ready. He then moved his wings away from his body once again. Moving them just like when he demonstrated to Y/N how to move them beforehand.

With a deep breath Y/N followed his example. Beginning to move their own and once they felt like they had the rhythm down enough, they jumped.

Phil saw for a split second how panic spread across their face but they didn’t crash down. They stayed in the air. A bit unsteady but they effectively flew in the air.

“Dad look!” Y/N cheered only to drop a good feet down which made Phil jump in trying to run beneath them in hopes of catching them in case they do fall down but Y/N managed to stabilize themself again.

He let out a hearty laugh “I see! You are doing it!” Phil wasn’t sure if they noticed how they defaulted to calling him Dad or Dadza now. There was no need to correct them though. At least that’s how he felt about it.

Y/N begun flying in circles around him. Their expression showing off their glee only to suddenly grow pale “How- How do I land?”

“Shit I knew I forgot something. Just try to glide down for now like how you usually do!”

Y/N immediately angled their wings and stopped moving them. Now gliding down still in circles but Phill soon noticed that they still had quite the speed on them. So when they got down enough Phil sprinted in their way and tried catching them.

The end result of that was Y/N just crashing into Phil’s chest and pulling him off his feet. Both landing safely on the ground. Phil’s arms wrapped around their small body, protecting them from sustaining any wounds that they could get from grazing the ground.

While Phil’s heart was still pumping hard from fear, Y/N used the chance to also wrap their small arms around him “Thank you! I was flying! I was flying!”

Tired Phil nodded, mostly just glad Y/N seemed to be alright “Yeah, though you better practice. You weren’t even up there for a whole minute. I can’t always catch you like this. I’m too old for this, you little shit.”

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #Philza reaeder insert #philza x reader #dadza x reader #ramza writes #anon request

[childotkw]

Hello Jordan! I know this is kind of random but I can't help but wonder if you have any tips for writers? I mean, I love your writing and it just baffles me how you are still writing Consuming Shadows, it’s been so long and the quality just keeps getting better! And to think that not only that, but you're still writing other stories… I wish I could be like you, but I can't write a single chapter without having to take a break for a long time because of burn out, and I love writing! Anyway, I'm sorry for the mumbling, I just wanted a few tips to keep writing without having to take such long breaks, and also how you come up with the stories, how you decide the story line... I hope I'm not bothering you. Hope you're doing okay! Also, do you have an idea which fic you're going to update next? Take care!

Hey there! Firstly - thank you so much for your kind words! Never feel like you're bothering me, I'm perfectly happy to answer these kinds of questions! (And believe me, no one is more surprised that I'm still writing CS then me - it's mind-boggling that it's been a constant in my life for five years.)

I've kind of pulled your three main questions out to address one-by-one, I hope that's okay? I feel like they are some pretty meaty topics, so I wanted to give them all the proper reply they deserve.

Dealing with burnout

This one was actually the one I wanted to talk about the most, since it's very personal to me and my experiences with writing. I get writer's burnout all the time. It's a constant mental and emotional battle for me, and for the longest time I was really really harsh with myself when it came to this. I would get upset whenever I was writing because I felt like nothing was good enough. I would constantly trash on the quality of my work, tear myself down, and I just generally would hate the very idea of writing. It was, and still is, awful. I've made myself hate writing so many times, and I can admit that I'm in this mental place right now (obligatory celebratory emoji for acknowledging my issues: 🥳).

You stop writing, you drop your projects and your interests, and you don't touch them again for months - sometimes years at a time. But you're also so incredibly miserable because you're not writing, and then you just ping-pong between those two thoughts until something happens to trip you out of it. It sucks. Majorly.

My main issue with burn out comes from two separate issues - writing for myself versus writing for an audience. There's the constant, oppressive knowledge that your work is being judged by strangers; and if you're like me and you don't have/want a beta reader, that weight is even heavier. You think things through more deeply, you second guess more stuff, and that translates to longer breaks between chapters as well.

(Seriously, before CS blew up and got popular, I was churning out chapters every week - but once the pressure of having more readers became a thing I slowed down massively. And sure, there are arguments that I was in uni, and working full-time (first as a barista, then as a manager), and was just generally trying to figure out how to be an adult - but a contributing factor in my mind to the slower updates was the fact that more eyes = more chances for me to screw up. I still remember this one ask I got that basically read like "why have you slowed down so much?? You used to be a lot faster :/ " and that one really got to me.)

So, I absolutely understand burning out. And I'm going to let you know a few of the things I do / tell myself whenever I get in this state, and hope that some of it can help you!

Be kind to yourself.

Seriously. I cannot stress this enough. Please be kind to yourself. If you write for fun, then let it be fun. You don't owe anyone anything, and you shouldn't punish yourself with hypothetical consequences that won't happen if you need to pause and step away and take breaks in between chapters. Don't blame yourself for putting your own enjoyment and mental/emotional health before a story. Your audience will wait for you, even if it takes time.

Keep writing no matter what.

This might seem counterintuitive to the whole 'burnout' thing - but you won't feel better if you stop writing. You'll get in even more of a slump. Be stubborn and make yourself write, even if it makes you feel like a grump.

Set yourself short-term, flexible goals

“I will write 50 words tonight" | "I will write one scene by the end of the week." | "I will finish half this chapter by the end of the month." | "I will write a sentence a day." | Never underestimate the power of having short, quick goals. You will feel a sense of accomplishment each time you tick off one of your goals, and before you know it, you'll have written a chapter.

Know what gets you in the mood.

Writing is a very laborious and exhausting process. Having little habits to get yourself in the correct mindset is really helpful. Listen to certain music (I'll listen to Japanese Koto music), have a favourite beverage (I drink tea and sometimes lemon water to get my brain flowing), set up in a specific location / position that will be your 'writing zone' (I can often be found on the floor). This can help build a connection in your brain that makes it go "oh we're on the floor in this one specific corner right now - must be time to word!"

Change projects.

This is something I fall back on all the time. If one project is frustrating me, I'll just put that one down and get another off the shelf, so to speak. I'll swap projects, swap scenes, swap fandoms, swap characters, and even swap from fanfiction to my original stuff. Staying stagnant on one story is never good for you. Fresh ideas will come when you're elbows deep in another story, and it's great! (Maybe have post-it notes or something similar nearby so you can jot those little thoughts down without losing your steam with the other stories).

Those are my biggest tips for dealing with burnout - if you want me to clarify on anything, or do a more intensive dive on anything, let me know! Now - onto the rest!

Coming up with story ideas

Ah yes, my greatest issue as a writer - too many story ideas, not enough restraint. 

I’ve always had an overactive imagination, so coming up with new ideas is very natural and easy (the sheer amount of AUs I have is testament to them haha), but whether those ideas have any substance to them is another matter entirely.

I’m naturally curious, so my story ideas normally come from me either asking questions or just pondering how different things would be if xyz happened instead. But my way of generating story ideas doesn’t work for everyone, and if you’re someone that struggles with this, I have a few suggestions -

Online prompts.

There are hundreds of really good prompt generators online that can help jog your brain. One word / sentence prompts can be really inspiring and can grow into really rich stories if you think long enough. For example, what if you got the word ‘Oasis’. You could take this two different ways - literally or figuratively.

Literally - Where is it? Who uses the oasis? What is their culture like? Does it have religious significance to them? What would happen if the oasis suddenly vanished? 

Figuratively - Character A considers Character B to be their ‘oasis’. B is the person that rejuvenates A. They are like a mouthful of cool water on a hot day. Delve into this relationship. 

Reimagine old myths and legends.

Find an old tale and use the beats of the story to create a newer, more modern one. For example, in high school I ended up writing a short story that was centred around Ares (Greek God of War) meeting Michael (Archangel) in a bar. Their entire interaction involved concepts like the power of human faith, how religions evolve over time, new vs old gods. Not a bad effort for a sixteen year old, I’ll say haha. You could do this with stories like Icarus or Hades and Persephone. Pick an old tale, pull out the main plot points, and adapt it with your own characters. 

Canon-divergence.

Mainly for fanfiction, but point to any part of a canon timeline and ask yourself “what if the exact opposite happened in this moment?” Is it a climatic battle? Is it a conversation that reveals a huge secret? Make it so the hero loses the fight - how would that affect the plot then? Do it so the huge revelation doesn’t happen - how do characters go forward without all the information? CS was born out of me thinking “what would have happened if James had had his wand on him that night?” so there’s literally no limit.

Design your own system.

This can be a great thought experiment, and can get you to build some neat worlds. Design your own magic system - figure out the ins and outs of how things work. Create a fictional government - how are laws made, is there a royal family, is there corruption? Come up with a religion - are there gods, what are the domains, are there any rituals? Draw up a fantasy map or city - come up with geological features, country borders, roads, etc.

This can be a good way to get your brain to start churning creatively. There’s less pressure since it might not be directly related to an actual story, and you get some experience in world-building.

Old tropes. 

Find a list of old tropes and combine them with a prompt. This gives you some lines to work with, while still allowing you to paint between them with whatever colours you like! For instance, let’s use the previous example of a prompt, and combine it with my favourite trope. 

‘Oasis’ and ‘Enemies to lovers’. Instantly, I’ve got like, seven different ideas. You could have two enemies fighting in the desert, they get separated by a sandstorm, and find the same oasis, then they have to share and through that they grow to understand each other. Or you could have it more metaphorical, in that Character A’s enemy is their ‘oasis’, the only person they know is completely honest with them, and they’ve just had an experience where they need a bit of honesty so they seek their enemy out. 

See how fun it can be to just randomly cobble together a prompt and a trope? It doesn’t matter if these things have been done a hundred times before - there’s nothing stopping you from writing the millionth ‘there was only one bed’ story!

Real life experiences. 

This one just came to me, but it could be very interesting. Take a real life experience that you have either heard about or experienced yourself, and put it in the context of a fantasy world. 

One that I was just thinking of is - what if a tsunami hit in a world that had widely used magic? How would spells affect the devastation of the tsunami? Would it make a difference at all? Would they be just as affected as our world is? It can be really cathartic to write things like this.

 I’ve done it before - if I remember correctly, I wrote Jacob’s betrayal of Hadrian in CS right around the time one of my oldest friendships ended (not in any way as serious as in CS, but I was feeling sad so that translated into how Jacob and Hadrian’s relationship ended).

That’s all I have for generating story ideas. I hope some of them help! Now, onto the final one!

Deciding on storylines

When it comes to deciding on a storyline, I have a few tricks.

Align character growth with the ‘big events’. 

People grow when they are challenged - so track your character’s emotional and mental growth with the plot points with the most at stake. Of course, you can have growth in between these moments, but I find it easier to change the trajectory of a character when they are in the midst of a huge emotional battle.

Want vs Need.

This is a really basic writing technique, but you want to have conflict and tension in a story. To get that, you should have what your character wants be directly opposite to what they really need. For example, take Hadrian - for most of CS, what he wanted was Lily’s approval, but what he needed was to be freed from her control and manipulations. By having this really simple and clear concept, I was able to shape the story events around this slow progression from ‘want’ to ‘need’ in a way that was organic and relieving for readers.

What they want/need and how to stop them.

This is another really basic trick, but if you’re having trouble coming up with tension in your story, it’s pretty handy. Just ask yourself what your character wants/needs to succeed, and then deliberately keep it from them. Seriously, just start coming up with ways to stop them from reaching their goal. By actively thinking of ways to mess with your characters, your storyline will just automatically start to fall into place.

Story arcs.

When you’re really struggling, it can be good to fall back on the classics. If you have a whole mess of ideas but no idea how to string them together, find a story arc that suits you and start organising the plot points in a coherent way. My two favourite story arcs are just the standard cycle, and ‘The Hero Cycle’. I’ve made two graphics that explain these in more detail.

Regular Cycle

The Hero Cycle

Anyway, this got way longer than I was intending 😅

I hope these answer your questions - but if you want me to expand on anything, or want more specific advice, just let me know, darling!

#anonymous #personal #writing #writing tips #i honestly hope this somewhat answers your questions #i got a little off-track #but still! #i hope you get something out of my babbling!

[seijorhi]

Cry-Baby

A commissioned continuation of this soulmate AU by the lovely @pokemonfreak666 - thanks for your patience, bby!!

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Female Reader

TW non-con, nsfw, double penetration, rough fucking, minor mentions of blood, kidnapping

The water’s not hot enough. 

It should be; it should burn. The knob’s twisted all the way up, steam rising in billowing clouds, fogging up the bathroom mirror, but it’s not hot enough. You can still feel them on you. Everything else – the blood, saliva, their cum, you’d watched it swirl down the drain, sitting on the shower floor, arms curled tightly around yourself as if that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart and shattering entirely.

But the water’s scalding, and you can still feel your soulmates’ hands crawling over you…  their mouths… their cocks tearing you apart from the inside out. Why won’t it wash away? You’ve scrubbed and scrubbed, your skin’s red and raw but the filthy feeling won’t go.

And they’re just outside. Sitting in your bedroom, or maybe wandering around your living room, sprawled across your couch flipping through channels on the TV. Maybe they’re out there looking at the pictures that line your walls, you and your family, your friends. Fuck, maybe they’re in your kitchen, rifling through your fridge for a late night snack after fucking their soulmate six ways from Sunday.

You can’t go back out there. You don’t want to see them.

Is it awful to hope for some kind of horrifying villain attack or massive accident to force them to go and leave you in peace?

… Would they? 

You can’t imagine Pro Heroes not running off to do their duty, but before a few hours ago, you couldn’t imagine them holding somebody down and raping them either, and clearly they had no qualms about doing that, so maybe your Heroes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. 

Then again, what difference would leaving make? They know where you live, probably where you work. There’s no anonymity anymore, it’s not like you can just slip away and hide from them. 

You’ve been in the bathroom too long already, you know that – you can almost feel their anxious energy seeping through the crack in the door. Too much longer and they’ll surely come bursting in. 

Patience clearly wasn’t their strong point, and it’s nothing short of a miracle they let you come in and shower alone. Kirishima at least had been more than eager to come join you, grinning widely and tugging you by the arm towards the bathroom– it’d been Bakugou, watching you pale and flinch through red, unreadable eyes who’d reined him back in. 

Maybe he saw how scared you were, how fragile the thread that was holding you together was. Maybe he thought that gifting you these precious minutes alone after what they did would in any way come close to starting to mend the damage they’d just wrought. 

Maybe he just hadn’t cared enough beyond getting his dick wet. 

You’d grown up thinking your soulmates would make you happy, love you in a way that nobody else ever could. The possibility of ever deliberately hurting them seemed like such a foreign and uncomfortable concept to you. But obviously they didn’t care enough about your feelings or your lack of consent to stop them from forcing themselves onto you, maybe you were nothing but an object to them. Something to take and fuck, because naturally you were made for them.

What did it matter if you didn’t want it? 

Your eyes drift down to the timers on your wrists, run down to zero. A quaking sob rips from your throat and you bite down harshly on your bottom lip to stifle it. 

“Why am I even here? In less than an hour you’re gonna meet them, and what am I supposed to do then, hmm?” your friend had asked with a laugh. “Be the world’s most awkward fourth wheel?”

You’d laughed with her, knocking your shoulders against hers with a fond little smile, “Well if they’re gonna be in my life for the long haul, don't you think it’s important that they meet the person who matters to me the most right off the bat?”

You’re terrified of going back out there and facing them, but what other option do you have? The only window in the bathroom is too high and too small to squeeze through, and even if you could, getting an apartment on the seventh floor had seemed like a great idea at the time, but it doesn’t exactly lend itself to an easy getaway. 

The flimsy lock on the bathroom door is all that’s keeping them out – with their strength it’s hardly much of a barrier at all, but it’s all you have.

Here in your bathroom, under the scalding water, you’re safe. They can’t hurt you.

You’d like to think that now they’ve gotten what they wanted, now that they know that you can’t run and their reputations can’t be tarnished, they’ll go. And there’s a little voice inside your head that tells you it’s a stupid, foolish hope. You know that the moment you set foot outside that door, things’ll never be the same again.

A few years back, you read an article on some tabloid website about an up and coming Hero who’d disappeared out of the blue after joining Hawks’ agency as an intern. Supposedly, they were soulmates, and once the Pro realised it, he’d swooped her up and taken her to some secret safe house to hide her away from the rest of the world, supposedly ‘for her own protection’. It was all rumours, of course. No way for them to actually prove the theory – and no one actually cared about some missing, low level Hero at the end of the day. It was news for a week and then everybody moved on.

Are they gonna do the same thing to you?

Spirit you away to some hideout where they can keep you all to themselves – so they can fuck you whenever they want without having to worry about you running off? You’ll never see your family again, or your friends… they’ll be your entire world, and just like that intern, everybody else will forget you ever existed.

Or maybe they’ll be satisfied enough just forcing themselves into your life, letting you go back to your job, your boring, mundane nine to five, never knowing when they’re going to pop up and take what they want. They’ll come over and play house, acting as if this is a normal relationship, waiting for you to come around and accept them. 

Love them. 

The thoughts makes bile rise in your throat. Your entire body aches from inside out. There’s bitemarks and bruises littering your skin, marks that won’t fade for days… you can’t let them do this to you again.

As if they can hear your panicked thoughts, a knock sounds on the bathroom door, and your heart clenches.

“Hey, babe?” Kirishima calls out, “You okay? You’ve kinda been in there a while…” 

That same voice, chanting breathlessly above you, “I love you, I love you– f-fuck– I love you!”

Panic, cloying and sharp tears at you. You try to answer, tell him to leave you alone, that you need more time, but the words catch in your throat and all that comes out is a pitiful squeak and he knocks again, louder, more insistent and it’s too much.

They're gonna break down the door and hurt you again. Hot tears well up and spill down your cheeks with an audible sob, and you clutch at yourself tighter, willing them away–

“Babe? Talk to us, sweetheart, you’re making us worried.”

The door handle jiggles insistently, and you bury your face between your knees breathing rapidly, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna break it down, they’re gonna–

“Move, Kiri,” Bakugou snaps.

You don’t register the snap of the lock breaking or the frantic footsteps that approach, the harsh sound of your heaving gasps drowning out all else. Then suddenly there’s strong, muscular arms pulling you out from the water with a muffled curse.

It’s Kirishima who’s holding you, you realise as a flash of blond darts back behind you to turn the shower off. And it’s suffocating, the way he clutches at you, big hands running along your back, pulling you closer, holding you tighter, words of comfort you can’t hear over the pounding of your own heart spilling from his lips. 

And then Bakugou’s face is filling your vision, the scowl on his face growing more pronounced as he studies you – shaking, teary, eyes wide and swimming with fear– 

Something inside of you just gives and you don’t fight it when the darkness swallows you whole.

—

When you come to, you’re lying on something soft – a bed, you realise, but not your own. There’s an arm slung over your waist; corded with muscles, tan, covered in fine, golden hair and faint white scars; Bakugou’s.

Which means that the warm breath gently tickling at your neck must belong to him as well. 

You’re not naked at least; a quick glance down at your body revealing they’d dressed you in one of your old tees and a pair of panties. You’re not sure whether that observation is supposed to calm or unnerve you; you’d rather be clothed than not, but the thought of your soulmates rifling through your things, dressing you while you were unconscious… is not a pleasant one. 

“You’re awake.” It’s an observation, not a question.  His voice is gruff, an edge of sleepiness clinging to the words, but it lacks the heat you’ve come to expect from the explosive Hero. He sounds comfortable almost – at least that’s the sense you get as his face presses up against the nape of your neck, his arm drawing you closer with a low groan.

Still, you haven’t uttered a sound. 

It feels surreal, lying there in your captor’s arms – and he is your captor, soulmate or no, there’s no denying that fact anymore. There’s a part of you that realises that you should be panicking, kicking scratching and clawing because you don’t know where you are, but it’s certainly not your apartment and you definitely don’t want him touching you after what he’s already put you through. 

But rather than the sheer, unrelenting panic that had gripped you before, it’s just… nothing. Dormant, lying simmering just below the surface, and you’re almost scared to draw breath, to shatter the sweet, tender facade between the two of you.

There’s no point in asking where you are, no point in demanding he let you go. They’ve shown you that what you want doesn’t matter here, so instead you ask the obvious question.

“Where’s Kirishima?”

Bakugou grunts, burrowing himself closer. It’s not cold in the room, but his bare skin burns like a furnace, just on the wrong side of comfortable. “Makin’ breakfast.”

Breakfast. 

You swallow tightly, but Bakugou isn’t done. 

“Scared the shit out of us, fainting like that,” he scoffs. “Should’a fuckin’ known you’d need us to come take care of you.”

His fingers, resting over your stomach, dip lower, sliding roughly beneath the hem of your panties as he grinds his hips along your ass. He’s hard already, you can feel every inch of it, long and thick pressing insistently up against you. 

Shame and indignation flare up like a match struck, but before you can even open your mouth to snap a retort, Bakugou yanks his hand out of your underwear to stuff his fingers inside your mouth.

Your first instinct is to bite down, but the blond at your back just growls, “Suck,” and you’re not stupid enough to think that hurting him (or trying to at least) is going to stop what’s about to happen.

Or maybe you’re just scared to test exactly how far you can push them before they really hurt you. 

Obediently, your tongue swirls around his thick digits, hollowing out your cheeks and earning a grunt of appreciation from your soulmate. 

“Always thought that my soulmate was gonna be someone strong,” he mutters, his hips still rocking up against yours. “Somebody who could keep up with Kiri ‘n me, hold their own in a fight. Never thought you’d be some weak as shit, quirkless little cry-baby.”

It stings more than it has any right to. 

Slowly, his fingers slide from your lips, a long, thin glistening strand of saliva connecting the two. It’s hard to fight the whine that escapes you as they return to your pussy, angrily shoving aside your panties before thinking better of it and ripping them off of you completely. The warm puff of breath that ghosts across your skin sends shivers down your spine, and though you can’t see his face when he speaks next you can tell that he’s grinning.

“But fuck, sweetheart, you’re goddamn perfect – everythin’ we didn’t know we needed.”

He kisses you as his index and middle fingers plunge eagerly into your cunt, not the rough, biting kisses he’d gifted you with the night before, no. These are almost tender, sweet – or at least as sweet as a monster like Bakugou is capable of – entirely at odds with way his calloused fingers curl inside of you, fucking you, stretching you out while he cruelly thumbs at your clit.

Katsuki wants you strung out and whining for him. For Kirishima.

He wants you helpless.

“We’re gonna keep you nice ‘n safe, baby. Won’t have to worry about a goddamn fucking thing ‘cept keepin’ your soulmates happy.”

It sounds more like the passing of a sentence than a reassurance, but you can’t tell him that you don’t want this. He knows – he has to by now. He just doesn't care.

You don’t hear it when Kiri comes back, not when Bakugou’s sucking at your neck, your pussy throbbing with need as his fingers drive relentlessly into you, hitting your g-spot with every flick of his wrist.

You might not have noticed the redhead lingering in the doorway, his cock tenting in his pants, eyes dark and glazed over as he watches the show unfolding before him, but Bakugou certainly does.

“Oi, shitty hair. You just gonna stand there and watch or are you actually gonna fucking do something?” His voice is rough and a little breathless, closer to a growl than speech – it makes your gut clench, a shiver run down along your spine.

When your eyes finally do meet Kirishima’s, your heart squeezes, your stomach flipping. Kirishima’s staring at you like a wolf readying itself to pounce, like he wants to devour every inch of you and savour the taste.

He grins widely, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Bakugou’s the one with the bad reputation – as explosive as his quirk, brash at the best of times and overly aggressive even with his friends – you have every reason to be terrified of him, even before he broke into your home to take you. 

Kirishima might be kinder, gentler with his touches (at least, he tries to be), but you’re a fool if you think you’re any safer with the redhead. 

“Thought you said you were gonna wait,” he says, advancing towards the two of you as he kicks out of his shorts, but the grin on his face doesn’t waver for a second. He’s not nearly as put out as he pretends. “I could hear the pretty little thing moaning all the way in the kitchen.”

Shame would be enough to flood your cheeks with heat, but it’s the sight of Kiri’s cock, flushed an angry red, veiny and thick, hanging heavy between his muscular thighs that does the job. The spit in your mouth dries, your heart thumping unevenly even as pleasure pools in your gut courtesy of Bakugou’s attention. You let out a sharp shriek as he quickens his pace, one hand reaching to grab at his wrist, the other clutching desperately for purchase at the bedsheets, but it’s not enough. 

Heat burns at your core, and unwittingly, you find your hips bucking up against him, fervently searching for more.

At your back, the blond chuckles, you feel the deep vibrations echoing through your chest, “Yeah, well you were taking too long.” 

There might be more that he says, but at that moment he slides a third finger into your dripping cunt, calloused fingertips slamming against your tight, gummy walls and you’re robbed of the ability to think. 

Your first orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, the building pleasure snapping like an elastic band stretched too far. A strangled moan slips out of your lips, and you don’t even notice the teeth sinking into your shoulder, Bakugou once more staking his claim as you cum for him. You quiver and quake in his grip, your cunt tightening around his digits and sucking them in further with a lewd squelching sound that you might be more embarrassed about if you could focus on anything but the pleasurable aftershocks of your peak.

All the while, Kirishima drinks you in, salivating at the sight of your drooling, fucked out expression, the syrupy slick that’s all but dripping out around Bakugou’s thick fingers, still stuffed deep inside of your pussy.

And maybe if he were a better man, he might allow you a moment to breathe and hurtle back down to earth, but patience has never been a virtue of his. He lunges forward faster than a man of his size has any right to, jumping onto the bed and all but tearing you out of Bakugou’s hold. You’re still reeling, panting and sore and dizzy with pleasure as Kirishima’s lips crash against yours, stealing what little breath you have left in a burning kiss.

Your attention’s caught on the way his tongue’s sliding against yours, trying to coax you into kissing back, the sharp, minty taste of him – you miss the way he grasps at his flushed, leaking cock, dragging it along your puffy slit. You miss the sound of Bakugou shedding his own pants.

You’re still weakly trying to push at his chest when Kiri slides his cock into your warm, welcoming cunt, his low, guttural moan lost to your lips. And despite Bakugou’s attempts at preparing you, it still burns, the sheer girth of his fat cock filling you up and stretching you uncomfortably. Tears sting at your eyes, a whimper catching in your throat as he hums in pleasure, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer, impaling you further onto his length.

Yet you’re not given a moment to accommodate the massive cock inside of you – not as you feel another blunt, flushed cockhead pressing up against your already stuffed pussy. Realisation hits a moment too late, your face blanching, your heart skipping a beat as panic – sheer panic – chokes at you.

You try to push back from Kiri’s embrace, only to feel Bakugou once again pressing up against your back, trapping you between them. You squirm in vain, trying to kick and push, fighting even as the blond’s cock, not as girthy as Kirishima’s but still far too big for you to take with Kiri still inside of you, starts to force its way into your plush, velvety walls.

“F-fuck, she’s tight,” he grunts as you arch up against Kiri, your tits, still covered by your thin, cotton tee, squishing up against his bare chest in an attempt to writhe away from the overwhelming feeling of fullness, the burning, stinging, throbbing pain between your legs.

But your soulmates are far from considerate, not even as you start to wail, your nails raking down the redhead’s broad shoulders. 

“Your pussy’s a fuckin’ dream,” he continues, swearing with a hiss as he finally bottoms out.

It’s too much, you feel like you’re being split in two. Every twitch and throb of their dicks, every vein, every inch of them is pressed too tightly against you, your walls struggling to take them both. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, oh god it hurts so fucking bad, but neither one of them care as you start to sob–

No, Kiri just kisses away your tears, taking your face in his large hands and cooing sweetly when you beg them through gasping, heaving sobs to stop.

“You’re doing so good for us, baby. Look how well you’re taking our cocks – it’s like you were made for us,” he laughs at his own stupid joke, and all you can focus on is the pain as he starts to draw his hips back, your oversensitive walls screaming in protest. “We’re gonna make you feel so fucking amazing, just wait.”

And it’s not his wide, beaming grin that shatters you, or even the hunger blazing in those crimson depths. It’s not Bakugou panting at your back, his hands coming up to shove your top up so he can palm greedily at your tits, or even the lewd almost feral sounds the explosion Hero’s making as he and Kirishima settle into a maddening rhythm, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath and steady yourself as they fuck you.

No, it’s the sheer, feverish love you can see written across his face clear as day, the softness with which he holds you, even as he chases his own pleasure.

This is their version of love, and you – quirkless, weak as shit and entirely at their mercy – have no hope in hell of escaping it. 

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere bakugou katuski x reader #yandere kirishima eijiro x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere kirishima x reader #tw non con #tw kidnapping #tw blood #it's like one mention but still #me posting this when my dash is dead instead of at 2am #more likely than you think

[celestialrry]

nerves

4.8k

HELLLLO IM WRITING THIS INTRO AND POSTING THIS WHILE FALLING ASLEEP SO ILL POST ALL THE DETAILS ADN ADD THIS TO MU MASTERLIST LATER I LOVE TOU ALL THANK YOU FOR FOLOWING AND REBLOGGIN KISSES FOT YOU ALL (this is like right after release of hs1 harry I think hope you enjoy mwah)

summary: Actress!Y/N goes onto a talk show, and the host has a surprise for her.

warnings: cursing, kinda sorta an anxiety attack?

Y/N was nervous.

This would only be the 5th talk show she’s ever gone on alone after being in the spotlight for a few years when her acting career took off. She started off with indie films and soon made her way to the red carpet, working with esteemed actors and actress’s she could only ever dream of meeting. It was pure bliss.

Of course, fame came with other struggles like hate from the media and random people on twitter, but at the end of the day she was so grateful she had the opportunity to be in the business. She loved getting into a character, finding out what makes them click, and fully emerging herself in whatever film she’s in. At the moment, she was promoting her new film, and being the lead, she had gone on a few talk show’s by herself, but they never failed to make her sick to her stomach. Having no one to turn to when it gets awkward, even not having body heat by her side in front of a live audience and a professional host made her body rack with goosebumps.

“Miss L/N?” 

Her head turned towards the door of the dressing room she had been sitting in for 15 minutes alone, trying to get her nerves down. “Yes?’ She responded flashing a forced smile to the assistant standing in the door way. “They’re ready for you.” She nodded her head and stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her long dress and tumbled a bit on her heels to follow the assistant that was already walking towards the side stage. 

They instructed her to wait until her name was called, then walk onto stage and take a seat and have the show progress. So Y/N stood there, biting her bottom lip that was coated with clear gloss and her arms crossed around her waist, her heel covered toe tapping the floor in anticipation. 

“Now welcome our very special, and gorgeous guest, Y/N L/N!” She heard Jimmy Kimmel announce and took a short breath before stepping through the automatically opening curtains. She smiled and waved at the people sitting in the audience, happy to see people supporting her, and greeted Jimmy before taking a seat on the loveseat closest to his desk.

“Y/N! Welcome, how are you feeling tonight?” He flashed a comforting smile at her. 

She chuckled a bit due to her inability to not laugh in uncomfortable situations. “I’ll be honest with you Jimmy,” She said, adjusting herself in the seat. “M’ pretty nervous.”

“Nervous?” He asked. “Now, why would 2 time Emmy Nominee Miss Y/N L/N be nervous?” Jimmy teased.

Her eyes fell to the floor and her cheeks heated up before looking back at him. “Because,” She dragged out. “It’s always nerve-racking being on live TV.”

He just nodded and made a joke about feeling the same even though he does this every week.

“How are you feeling tonight?” She asked.

He smiled before resting his arms on his desk. “I’m feeling good, I have a surprise for you later, but I’m supposed to ask the questions now, will you let me?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled back.

Y/N met Jimmy the first year she really became “famous” and he had always been her favorite late-night talk show host just because he was never invasive or creepy. Her standards for hosts were quite low at this point. They continued on, promoting her new movie and such before he settled back in his seat. 

“So.” He said.

“So.” She said back, raising a brow.

“I hate to ask you this, but I honestly am curious myself,” He began, and her anxiety creeped up just a bit. “Now, we dug through your old interviews, and it seems in every single one, when asked if you had a celebrity crush, your answer was Harry Styles?”

She simply nodded, her cheeks heating up again, and a small smile creeping onto her face at his name. 

“I see that smile, Y/N.” Jimmy said, and she let out a laugh, her smile now wide.

“So, do you mind telling us why you like him so much, or should I say love him so much?” His brow raised.

Y/N laughed a bit more, just at her nerves, and took a breath. “Um, he’s always been such an inspiration for me to actually chase my career, I mean I knew him from when he was on X-Factor to be honest. Binged that show all the time when I was in middle school and to see a boy just 2 years older than me just go straight into being in one of the biggest boy-bands in the world was insane. He’s just so passionate about what he does and I admire him for that. Uh- from what I can tell he’s just very charming, sweet, funny, caring, and…” She trailed off her rant, biting her bottom lip just a tad.

“And?”

“He’s incredibly attractive.” She finished a smile on her face as she glanced at the floor again.

“Understandable. I think he’s a good looking man myself, met him a few times and got flustered,” Jimmy jokes before looking at Y/N. “What if I told you he was the surprise I had for you?”

Her brows furrow as she looks at the man sitting across from her. “What? Do you mean like a video-” She feels a tap on her shoulder. 

Y/N turns around, still massively confused, and then she sees him.

Harry standing in a simple black suit and white button up, only a few of the buttons actually buttoned and her jaw drops. “Hello.” He says, smiling at her.

Her eyes are wide and she looks like a dear in headlights before her face falls into her hands, elbows resting on her knees, her breath erratic. “No, this isn’t- no. He’s not here.” She says into her hands and the crowd laughs. Everyone laughs. 

“M’a bit offended you think I’m not really here, love.” Harry grins, and she pulls her face out of her shaking hands to see him.

She opens her mouth to say something and nothing comes out. 

Harry Styles, her celebrity crush since the ripe age of 14, a crush thats lasted 8 years being 22 now, and she’s only seen him on screens her entire life. “Fuck.” Was all she can say. He laughs a bit at her starstruck appearance and turns to Jimmy. “She’s not normally like this, right?”

“Right.” The host jokes, looking back at the girl on the couch, and his smile diminishes a bit. Her eyes are watering and she’s trying to keep her composure but her bottom lip is trembling and Jimmy’s now worried he’s about to have a sobbing woman on live TV.

“You okay Y/N?” Jimmy asks and her head quickly turns to him and then back to Harry. “I-fuck, I’m sorry.” She tries to laugh it off. Tries not to think about how the man she’s loved even before she knew what love truly was, was standing in front of her right now. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry says, slightly frowning but trying to keep a happy face. He’s standing in front of a girl he’s adored ever since he watched her first movie, for Christs sake, and she’s silently about to break down in front of him, because of him. 

Before he can even properly introduce himself, she’s standing on her heels, wobbling a bit, and looking up at him. “Can I hug you?” She mouths, not wanting her question to be picked up on the mic on the back of her dress and before her mouth even closes he’s stepping towards her, big arms wrapping around her waist. Her arms find their way around his chest and her head is resting on his shoulder and her eyes are squeezed shut and she’s mouthing “Oh my fucking god. Oh my god.” Without realizing she’s facing the audience who laugh at her inability to not fangirl. His head dips as he hugs her, reveling in her touch, and then she’s pulling away, remembering they’re on live TV and she can give him a proper hug backstage after this is over when they don’t have to worry about appearances. 

She’s still reeling when his hands slide off her waist and he sticks his hand out and says “It’s so nice to meet you.” She takes his calloused hand in hers and says “Same to you.” Blinking away unshed tears.

“Shall we sit then?” He asks and she looks at Jimmy admiring the moment before back at Harry. “You’re staying?” She blurts out before shutting her mouth abruptly. 

“If you want me too.” He grins that grin she’s always been infatuated by and she nods, maybe too quickly. “Of course I do- yes,” She coughs. “Yeah, uh, please, let’s.”

They both plant themselves on the loveseat, Y/N taking the spot in which she was before and Harry sitting on the other end, keeping a distance between the two. She recomposes herself and sits up. Harry looks at her for a moment before looking back at Jimmy. 

“How are y’Jimmy?” He asks.

“I’m doing well, proud of myself for inviting you, you’re the one person I’ve seen make Y/N go absolutely speechless here,” Jimmy jokes and Y/N groans and smiles, leaning her top half on the arm of the chair, her face in her hands before sitting back up. “How about you, Harry?”

“M’doing well, was very excited to see Y/N here and I’d hopefully say it’s the same for her.” He smiles looking at her, dimples flashing.

“Yeah!” Her voice squeaks. “You’re right. It’s the same for me. I-” She cut’s herself off from saying she’s shitting her pants at the moment. Figuratively, of course, but it’s not very appropriate. She still can’t believe this. Twitter is going to have a field day talking about how flustered Y/N was at this moment.  

“Have something you want to say, Y/N? To Harry, more specifically?” Jimmy asks.

“Um,” She begins, locking eyes with Harry. “Did you hear, what I said, um, before you walked out here?” 

The green eyed man nods. 

Her hands start shaking again and she awkwardly laughs. “I’m sorry you heard that.” She apologizes. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Harry asks her, tilting his head and Y/N was going to pass out. “I’m glad you think all those things about me, plus, it’s a nice ego booster to hear that you think I’m ‘incredibly attractive’.” He chuckles a bit, but truthfully he was happy his celebrity crush feels the same way about him.

She just laughs back and mumbles a “Thanks.” Before Jimmy starts up a conversation about whatever was going on at the moment.

Jimmy and Harry start talking about something and Y/N nods her head and laughs when it’s appropriate but she couldn’t process anything. Her hands were interlocked, shaking in her lap, and all she could feel was Harry. Harry sitting next to her, Harry breathing next to her, Harry waving his hands around while he spoke in front of her. It was all too much. 

Suddenly his knee lightly knocked against her own. She abruptly turned to look at him, but he was still looking at Jimmy. So she assumed it was a mistake, until it happened again, and this time when her eyes looked to him, his met her’s and he gently and subtly moved closer to their thighs were touching. Y/N let the leg that was crossed over her other relax and fall to the couch, only her ankles crossed, and she swore she could hear his breath stop for a moment, but it was too quiet to be sure.

A few moments after they both had gained the courage to barely revel in each others touch, Jimmy was ending the show. Y/N doesn’t remember what she said or did before the camera cut off, she vaguely remembers waving to the audience but she’s not completely sure. 

And then it’s over- just like that.

“This was so fun Jimmy, thank you for inviting me on.” Harry said, standing up (reluctantly) and going to give Jimmy a hug. Y/N on the other hand was watching the interaction and it all hit her like a wave again. Harry fucking Styles was standing in front of her. The men both turn to her as she stands up and she gives a weak smile and mumbles “I forgot I needed to text my assistant, m’sorry I’ll be back.” before speed walking behind the curtain and booking it to her dressing room. She quickly flips the “Do Not Disturb” side of the sign on the door to show and closes the door behind her, her breathing accelerating. 

She barely makes it to the couch before bursting out in tears.

Y/N couldn’t really put a finger on whether or not they were tears of joy, sadness, embarrassment, or a combination of all 3. She’s pretty sure it’s the latter though. She slips her heels off and lies on the couch, her hands over her face with not so silent cries as she tries to calm herself. 

Meanwhile, both Harry and Jimmy sensed that Y/N wasn’t just going to text her assistant. “Do you think- do you think I said something maybe?” Harry quietly asks the late night host as they walk behind the curtain and into a quieter hallway backstage. Jimmy simply shakes his head before locking eyes with Harry. “Have you seen any of the videos where she talks about you, Harry?”

He shakes his head no and the older man pulls out his phone, doing a quick scroll of his email before finding video file and opening it. “A couple of interns here made this combination of all the times she talked about you in her interviews.”We were gonna play it as you were coming out but her manager said it would be too embarrassing.” Was the only preface Jimmy gave before clicking play.

Y/N stood in an elegant emerald colored gown just off the red carpet, all done up for her first big movie premiere. An interviewer stands in front of her, holding a mic that the woman was moving between herself and Y/N. “So Miss L/N, we need some juicy secrets from the “It-Girl” herself. Who’s your celebrity crush?” Y/N looks at the floor, a shy smile on her face as the quietly says “Harry Styles.” The interviewer’s eyes widen and she chuckles a bit. “I feel you honey, what do you like most about him?” Y/N purses her lips slightly before speaking again. “Um, everything? I think he has a really good heart.” The interviewer makes a joke about how she likes his eyes instead and Y/N laughs, but anyone could tell it was forced. 

The screen begins to play another clip. 

Y/N is sitting on a couch with her co-stars of a movie she did a year ago, dressed in a classy blush colored suit, and they’re all playing a game with some other talk show host. “Let’s see who knows Y/N the best now, shall we?” The host asks, and looks down at the cards in his hand. “Who is her celebrity crush?” And almost immediately all of her friends were jotting down their answers on a white board. “That was fast,” The host laughs, as does everyone else. “Okay everyone, flip it around.” ‘Harry Styles’ was written on every single board. “Oh my god.” She smiles wide out of embarrassment and puts her face in her hands. 

It reminds Harry of what she did when she first saw him.

“Y/N! Looks like you’re absolutely smitten with Harry Styles, aren’t you?” The host asks, and before she could even open her mouth, a co-star of hers was already speaking. “She’d play his songs in her trailer in the morning, full volume, and sing them as loud as she could. It was a good way to wake us all up.” He jokes, and everyone laughs at that. “Whenever he’d post a photo on instagram, or tweet something, I’d see tears in her eyes.” Another co-star speaks up. The audience laughs again and she looks to them. ‘I’m serious! Y/N absolutely adores him.” By this time Y/N’s face was out of her hands and she was sinking into the couch. “Are you embarrassed, Y/N/?” The host jokes “Of course not, well I didn’t want to get absolutely exposed, but I’m not embarrassed to be a fan, could never be embarrassed to be a fan of him, he’s… he’s amazing.”

The phone then fades into yet another clip.

This time, Y/N is sitting in a stool, doing the Wired Autocomplete Interview, and she tears off the second paper of the question, “Is Y/N L/N…” . “Is Y/N L/N,” she reads and the paper catches after the word “dating” is revealed. She looks up at the screen, a twinkle in her eyes as she shoots a close-mouthed smile at the camera. She turns back to the board and rips the paper off, struggling a bit and laughing, until it’s revealed. “Is Y/n L/N dating… Harry Styles”  She bursts out laughing, her free hand clutching her stomach.

Harry frowns a but at this, and he didn’t feel like thinking more about why.

 “Um,” She begins, “Sorry, I just- do I really talk about him, that much? S’a bit concerning.” She mumbles to herself. “Yeah, no, I’m not dating Harry Styles, he would never. Though, I like how people think it could be a possibility, thats quite funny. I’ll take the… hidden compliment, is that even the right phrase?”

The screen goes to another clip but Jimmy pauses it there and turns off his phone, turning to Harry. “You didn’t do anything Harry, it’s just you being here, she’s probably overwhelmed and-“

“Mr. Kimmel? Jones needs you.” Someone calls out to him down the hall and Jimmy slips his phone in this pocket and sighs. “Sorry, gotta handle this, thank you, for coming.”

“It’s okay,” Harry assures him, “Thanks for having me.” And at that Jimmy rushes down the hall in search of Jones, and Harry stands in the same spot

Harry knows how much he means to his fans, he’s seen them sob at concerts, break down at meet and greets, and when they tell him how much they love him when they run into him on the street. He knows this. But this felt different, for some reason. Maybe it was the burning feeling in his chest when she laughed off how he would never be with her, for what particular reason he has no clue (or just doesn’t want to address it), or how he couldn’t help but pop a dimple when he heard she loves his music. He wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of though, is that he needed to speak to her again, hug her for longer, actually get to know Y/N. So he walked into the main back room, walking down different halls until he came across the one that read “Dressing Room #4” and Y/N’s name scribbled in messy handwriting on the white board underneath. He knocked a little rhythm, and waited.

Y/N was still crying, to put it lightly. Maybe hyperventilating was the right word, because she was breathing quite fast, and there was a steady stream of tears flowing down her cheeks. She heard the knocks and attempted to calm herself down a bit, yelling out a “One second!” Before wiping under her eyes and walking to open the door. “Eliana,” She began, ready to wave her assistant way (not that she didn’t adore her, but Y/N needed to be alone before talking about everything), “Can you come back in like 15 minutes, I’m sorry I just need to-”

Her mouth closed when she saw Harry outside of her door, his small smile quickly fading into a frown as he took in her state. “Y/N I wanted to- are you okay?” He asked, stepping a bit closer, trying not to push any boundaries. When she didn’t respond and he saw her bottom lip quiver a bit, his chest clenched. “Can I come in? Can we talk?” He gently asked, eyes running over her puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and disheveled appearance. 

She nodded and he walked in, and she gently shut the door behind him. He turned around to look at her and when his eyes met her’s, she couldn’t take it anymore. She let out a gut-wrenching sob and her face fell in her hands as she shook her head. “I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” She choked out and he stepped towards her, his hand coming to rest on her elbow. “Y/N, please, don’t apologize.” And without thinking he took the last step towards her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly, one of his hands cradling the back of her head. Her hands fell from her face and she held him back, arms wrapping tightly around his torso yet again.

As she cried into his chest, he mumbled a soft, “Breathe for me, love.”, and she tried to get her breathing to match his own deep breathes. “I’m sorry,” Y/N says for the millionth time. “I told you to stop apologizing, Y/N, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He frowns to himself, that burning feeling in his chest again. She reluctantly pulls away, and his hands remain on her arms as her own come up to wipe the tears flowing out of her eyes. 

“You didn’t sign up to be here and have to deal with a crying fan, Harry.” Y/N sighs, finally looking up at him. 

“Hey, I came because I wanted to see you, I’ve seen your movies and I think everything you’re absolutely incredible at what you do, and when Jimmy called asking if I could come to surprise you I jumped at the chance to finally meet you. I know what I signed up for.” He says, his thumbs rubbing the skin of her arms gently.

At his words she let out another sob, her shaking hands coming up to cover her face for a moment yet again. Harry’s eyes widened, he was telling the honest truth, and he didn’t think he said anything wrong. Y/N however, was seeing in person, how king he truly was, and it was just another reality check that the Harry she’s loved for so long really is the same in real life; it was too much to handle. “Thank you,” She sniffles, looking up at him again, meeting his piercing green eyes. “I just, I’ve adored you for years, still do, and I never thought I’d meet you, even after I started getting ‘known’, I always thought you were like, too perfect to be real, and now you’re here and you’re real, and y’know when you meet a celebrity who seems so sweet in interviews and all that but they turn out to be an absolute prick? It’s not like that, you’re the same person I’ve loved over a screen, I- you’ve been my inspiration for fucking years and I don’t know. It’s just a lot.” 

Now her hands were on his arms and they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“M’not perfect, Y/N.” Harry says softly. Y/n chuckles a bit, glancing to the side before meeting his eyes yet again. “I know, I know the ‘nobody’s perfect’ crap, but if you’re insistent on it, then I think you’re the closest thing there is to perfect, Harry.”

His cheeks turn pink at her confession, and a small smile weaves its way onto his face. “Thank you,” He finally says, before bringing her into another hug, this time her arms wrapped around his neck, and he bends down a bit to hold her tighter. “For everything you said, seriously, you’ve got no idea how much it means t’me.” He admits, still reveling in her touch. She slowly pulls away, noting in her head that he never seems to be the one to let go first. “Of course, wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” She smiles weakly, still drained from all the emotions flowing through her. He just smiles at that, before his hand drags down her arm and he hold her hand, wordlessly pulling her over to sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t let go of her hand as they sit quite close facing each other. “Do y’wanna hear a secret? It might make you feel better.” He suggests, cursing himself for being willing to do anything to see her smile fully. “I wish I could lie and say that it’s something I wouldn’t know, but I think I know a bit too much about you.” She says, letting out a small laugh, and he does too. “I promise you don’t know this.” He mumbles.

“Okay, go for it.” She says, holding his hand a bit tighter. 

“Well, after you bolted here, Jimmy showed me a few of your interviews, and I wanted to tell you that you’re my celebrity crush too.”

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, a face that looks eerily similar to when she saw him for the first time just an hour prior. “You saw my interviews?” She gasps, her voice cracking at the embarrassment of him seeing her shamelessly confessing her love for him about a million times. It was safe to say she didn’t hear the rest of his confession.

“That’s what you’re focusing on here?” Harry laughs and raises a brow at Y/N.

“What else is there to focus on,” She groans, taking her hand out of his and burying her face into her hands yet again. “I can’t believe Jimmy showed you that, I’m never coming on this show again.” 

Harry grins, a dimple popping as he gently wraps his arms around her wrists, pulling her hands off her face. “Did y’hear what I said after that?” He asks softly, his eyes bring into her own. She shakes her head “no” in response and he takes a quick breath before telling her yet again. 

“I said, you’re my celebrity crush too. I’ve watched everything you’ve been in and I think y’are absolutely amazing, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t think you’re beautiful, inside and out.”

Y/N’s jaw drops for the thousandth time that night. 

 “You’re fucking with me.” She deadpans, her face blank and mind swimming with emotions.

He frowns and squeezes her hands. “M’not, swear to you.”

She shakes her head in denial. There’s no way she was Harry Style’s celebrity crush. Not in a million years would she ever think those words would be spoken, much less even thought of.

“You don’t believe me?” Harry asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

“I believe tha you’re just too nice and you feel bad for me, so that’s why you’re telling me this.” Y/N admits to him, a sad smile on her face.

“Really?” He asks, letting go of her hands and bringing one of his own to his pocket. 

“Really. I appreciate it, I do, but you don’t have to try and make me feel less humiliated, I think we’ve already passed the point of no return.” Y/N says, laughing a bit.

“Mmm, okay,” He smirks. “Well that just won’t do. May I have your number?” 

She raises a brow as he pushes his phone into her hands, already pulled up on a new contact. She types in her number and “#1 fan” in the name and hand the phone back to him. Harry laughs when he sees the contact name and saves it to his phone, then putting it back in his pocket. 

“What was that?” 

“What was what?” Harry muses, a teasing glint in his eye.

She purses her lips. “Why did you just ask for my number?”

“So I can contact you of course,” Harry smiles. “How else am I supposed to set up another date with you?”

“Another?” Y/N questions, her lips turning up.

“’m a gentleman of course, would never ask you out on a first date over the phone,” Harry calmly explains. “So would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?”

Y/n hesitates, unsure if this was still an ask out of pity. “You can meet me at my house, of course if you’re comfortable, and I’ll order us takeout to eat on my porch.” He continues, getting more exciting as he imagines how the date would go. 

“What makes you think I’d say yes?” She teases and his mouth gapes. 

“Oh fuck off.”

#I just used jimmy cause I didn't feel like making my own host up lolz #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles #harrys styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #im literally half asleep but I needed to post this tonight #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

[theladyofdeath]

Engagement Pie {Elriel}

Naked Texts & Pie #5

Warning: nsfw. 18+. Dom/sub.

Written alongside @snelbz . Thank you for reading this awfully dirty mini-series that was just meant to be a drabble. (;

Azriel was about to have a panic attack.

Inside of his mind was not a pretty place to be, not that it lacked ideas of flowers and baked goods, but because it was a complete and utter mess.

All day, while Elain was gone, he had been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, unaware if he was doing everything right but sure hoping he was.

He was hoping it would be perfect.

He glanced at the clock.

He had about half an hour until she got home.

At this point, Azriel and Elain had been dating for a little over a year, and living with each other for nearly six months. Since Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, they knew, without a doubt, that they were meant to be together.

Then again, they had always known, just had never confessed it.

Their families had been less surprised by their sudden relationship and more surprised by the state they returned to the wedding reception in, but neither of them could find it in themselves to care. They were happy, blissfully, wonderful happy and in love.

Azriel opened the oven for the hundredth time, peeking inside to make sure things were still going smoothly. The pie was still there, it hadn’t run away, but it still didn’t have that beautiful golden brown crust that Elain’s always did. Sure, he could text her, ask what exactly he had done wrong, but that would ruin the surprise. He’d done his best to keep everything a secret so far. He wouldn’t ruin it now by texting her a question he could easily ask Google.

After doing so, it looked like he had done everything right, so he let it cook longer, forcing him to wait longer in anxious anticipation.

Azriel paced back and forth, fully aware that he had everything in place. He just needed the damn pie to hurry up and get done.

Elain would be home in twenty minutes, and Azriel needed to be in place when she walked through the door.

At ten until six, Azriel looked in the oven once more. It looked a little bit better, but not as done as he wanted it to be.

He’d wait until the last possible second. It wasn’t ideal, as there were other parts of his plan that required that pie to be done and, preferably, not piping hot, but he’d make do.

So he continued to pace in the kitchen until he heard the garage door rising, signaling Elain’s arrival home.

Hurrying to the oven, he threw the door open and pulled the pie out. The second it was exposed to the natural light of the kitchen, and not the watery bulb of the oven, he knew he fucked up.

It had bypassed golden brown and gone straight to brown, but thanks to the lighting in the oven, he couldn’t tell. He swore under his breath as he laid a towel on top of the washer and set the pie on top of it, letting it cool.

He’d ordered take out from Elain’s favorite restaurant, which had been delivered just a few minutes before, so thankfully even he couldn’t mess up dinner.

Right at six, he could hear Elain’s feet climbing the wooden steps to the front porch and he quickly sat at the kitchen table and popped open a bottle of wine, filling the two glasses.

When Elain entered, her purse on one shoulder, her keys in her hand, she stopped and a slow smile spread across her lips at the display.

“Wine and Rita’s?” she asked, setting her belongings down on the counter. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Azriel smiled as he set the wine bottle down in the middle of the table. “Nothing special. You’ve just been working so hard that I wanted you to have a relaxing night with your favorite food.”

Her smile widened as she sat across from him, but then she stilled for a moment. “Do I smell…pie?”

“No,” Azriel said, then quickly changed his mind. “Yes. It was a candle.”

She blinked once, twice and said, “Huh. I didn’t know we had an apple pie candle.”

She let it drop after that, filling Azriel in on her day. It had been uneventful, a change from her usual hectic schedule, and she was grateful for that. The past month or so, she would come home, scarf something quick and easy down for dinner, and collapse in bed, ready to do it all again the next day. Tonight, she actually had some pep in her step.

“Dinner, wine,” Elain mused, running a finger over the back of Azriel’s hand. “Did you have anything else in mind tonight?”

One of her eyebrows was raised slightly and he knew exactly what she was referring to, which yes, he absolutely did, but first, he had something else he needed to do.

“Actually, yes,” he said, standing. He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Her other eyebrow had raised to match, clearly showing her surprise. “Okay.”

He disappeared for a moment, and when he returned, he held a pie in his hands, dark brown crust and all. It also had a massive “X” cut into the direct center. It didn’t look like a venting hole.

Covering the bottom half of her face with both of her hands, Elain tried to stop the giggles from bubbling from her lips, but she couldn’t. “I knew I smelled pie,” she said, still laughing.

“I sort of burnt it,” he admitted, setting it down in front of her.

“I see that,” she chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him. “I’m sure it will still be delicious.”

He was about to say something when she asked, “But what is that?” gesturing to the center of the pie.

“That….” Azriel started to say something, but wasn’t sure what. All he knew is that he was a nervous mess and not a lot currently made sense. “X marks the spot.”

Elain blinked. “What?”

“X marks the spot.”

She blinked, again. “I don’t follow.”

Azriel sighed. “Pirates… When they bury treasure… X marks the spot.”

Elain’s head fell to the side. “Babe, are you drunk? Are you high? Are you alright? You’re not-.”

Azriel sighed, and reached into the pie. His hand broke the crust, and Elain was so surprised by the gesture that she jumped, and a nervous laugh escaped her. “Az, what are you doing?”

His hand came back up a minute later, covered in apple filling. “You know, I had a whole, romantic thing planned out with the pie. Pie is our thing, and it was going to be cute as hell-.” His words fell off as he opened his hand, revealing a beautiful pear-shaped diamond on a thin, rose gold band.

Elain stared, her mind taking a second to process what she was looking at. He picked up one of the napkins from their dinner and wiped the ring off, as well as his hand, before dropping to one knee from the chair he was sitting in. With his clean hand, he took hers in his. He prayed she couldn’t feel it shaking as badly as he thought it was.

“I know we haven’t been together long, El, but I love you so much. You’re my entire world and my best friend. I can’t—.”

Elain’s lips crashed into his and they went tumbling to the kitchen floor. She pulled back, just enough to see his face and breathed, “Yes.”

Chuckling, Azriel said, “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, kissing him again. “My answer is yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

He sat up and Elain crawled off his lap, sitting next to him on the kitchen floor. He took her hand in his again. “Let me at least ask the important part, yeah?”

She was grinning like a fool, but she nodded, waiting for him to go on.

Resting the ring against the tip of her finger, Azriel asked, “Elain, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and a tear slid down her cheek. “Yes. Yes! Of course, I will.”

He slid the ring onto her finger with shaky fingers before her mouth was crashing into his, once again.

Azriel wanted to ask that question for so long, and now that he had, not at all the way he had planned, it didn’t even seem like it had happened.

Yet, as she flung her arms around his neck, everything seemed completely and perfectly right.

Elain leaned back and peered at the ring. It was magnificent, lovely, perfect.

She slowly looked at Azriel. “You….hid it in the pie?”

He cringed, but laughed softly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Her eyes went wide and she glanced at the ring again. “You didn’t bake it with the ring in there, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he chuckled, pulling her back into his lap.

She went willingly, straddling his hips and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Okay, good. The pie would have been inedible then.”

“I think it’s inedible now,” he scoffed, his hands gripping her hips, while his lips found her neck.

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” she said, her voice going high and breathy.

“There’s something else I’d rather eat instead,” he replied, tilting her face down to meet his as his lips crashed into hers.

Elain hummed against his mouth as she fell into the kiss. After the millions of kisses that they had shared and the constant lovemaking that had come along with being helplessly, madly in love, Azriel never grew tired of being intimate with Elain.

In fact, he couldn’t get enough of it. Every time he was with Elain, he just wanted it more and more. He couldn’t grow tired of it, ever - it was impossible.

His hands swept up her back and tangled into her hair, and she cupped Azriel’s face in her hands.

He could feel the cool metal of her ring against his cheek.

Azriel rose, taking Elain with him, and laid her down on top of the table. Her head fell right next to the pie. She couldn’t help but glance over at it.

She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“Something funny?” He asked, ducking away, trailing his nose down her neck as his lips found her collarbone.

“No.” It came out as more of a breathy moan than the sigh she was meaning it to be.

“Really?” His hands gripped her wrists, unwrapping them from around him, and he pinned them above her head with one hand. “That little laugh would suggest otherwise.”

His free hand began undoing the buttons on her shirt one by one, and Elain was practically vibrating beneath him by the time he was pushing her shirt to either side of her body.

Her bra was made of nothing but lace, and he could see her pebbled nipple through the fabric. He toyed with the idea of taking it off, but his lips closed over it, the rough lace scratching against the sensitive skin. She whimpered softly, her back arching off the table to better accommodate his mouth, and when he tugged on her nipple with his teeth, the whimper became a moan.

Gazing up at her, he said, “Is anything funny now?”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip as she slowly shook her head. “No.” Azriel raised a brow. “No, what?”

Elain couldn’t help her spreading grin as pure excitement radiated throughout her body. “No, sir.”

Azriel smirked in return as he gave her his first order. “Stay still.”

“And if I move?” she asked, quietly. Since their first time, Elain learned that she liked to test her boundaries.

Azriel liked it, too - when she was naughty.

“Then I’ll stop,” he said, and slowly let go of her wrists before putting his fingers in the band of her black skirt and yanking it off. “And you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

She shook her head, watching everything he did, biting her lip. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table to hold herself in place. As he dragged her panties down, as slowly as he could, she wanted to reach out and touch him. She was nearly naked, while he was still completely clothed, but she figured that was exactly how he wanted her.

It typically was.

He was quite the tease, but Elain secretly enjoyed that fact.

Azriel took a step back from where she lay and crossed his arms as his eyes swept across her body, taking in every beautiful inch.

In response, Elain spread her legs wide for him.

Azriel took in a deep breath and nearly growled.

He loved the sight of her, longed for it, thrived on it. It made him weak in the knees, still, and he was certain it always would.

“I am amazed,” Azriel breathed, “by your beauty.”

His comment only made her spread her legs wider.

He smirked. “What do you want, sweet girl?” He trailed a finger up the inside of her thigh, getting so close to where she needed him, but not quite.

“You,” she sighed, but it sounded more like a gasp.

“I know that,” he drawled. “Be more specific.”

“Your mouth on me, please,” she replied, gripping the edge of the table harder.

Azriel smirked again as he gently brushed his thumb over her entrance and then circled her clit once. “You’re saying you want me to eat your pie?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking up at her face.

“Yes, sir, please.” The words were breathy and quiet and he was fairly sure she was already trembling.

Azriel fell to his knees as Elain’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. It was the anticipation, the want, the need…

The second his tongue swept between her slick folds, Elain was already on edge.

Azriel had that effect on her.

Those hands that gripped the edge of the table tightened, and Elain’s eyes fluttered shut.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He had the first time, and he sure as hell did now as he took his clit between his lips and sucked, gently.

“Az,” she breathed, fully aware that when she said his name, it sent him wild.

He took her ass into his hands and pulled her closer to him.

She could never last long when his mouth was on her. The things he could do with his tongue made her see stars and she knew this time wasn’t going to be the exception. Azriel knew it, too.

He flicked his tongue over her clit and pushed a finger inside of her. “Are you close already, Lainey?”

She nodded, feeling his breath on her sex.

A second finger joined the first, and he curled them upward. “I couldn’t hear you. I said, are you close?”

“Yes, sir, I’m so close,” she panted.

Her arms were straining and he swore he heard the wood groan beneath her hands as she struggled to keep them where they were. It was surprising she’d held on for this long. He knew how badly she longed to have her hands in his hair or even kneading her own breast, still covered in that pretty, lace bra.

“Don’t come yet,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to the top of her sex.

He was torturous.

Purely evil, and yet, Elain thrived on it. Her entire body shook as pleasure swept through her. She was so close. So very close to the edge, ready to fall into the oblivion that was being loved by Azriel.

Her body jerked, and Azriel held onto her tighter.

Elain tried to obey, and tried to stay perfectly still, even though her entire body fought against it.

Azriel’s tongue continued to dance along her sex, continued to suck on her most sensitive of parts.

“I need you,” Elain begged.

Azriel didn’t respond, he only tugged her close, sucked her harder, praised her longer.

“Az, please.” It was more or a groan than anything else and he responded by sucking her clit between his lips and pulling hard. At the teeniest press of his teeth, she began to shake, and then he began to pump his fingers in and out.

Elain shattered, crying out and letting go of the table. Her hand dove into his hair and she lifted her hips, doing whatever she could to keep his face where it was.

Azriel worked her through her orgasm and when she stilled, he stood, wiping off his face and looking down at her. She was still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling, but that full bottom lip was caught between her teeth again as she watched him. She knew what was coming.

“You weren’t supposed to come yet,” he breathed, dragging a finger from top of her sex up her stomach and between her breasts. He reached her face and worked her lip from between her teeth. “You disobeyed me.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, even though she really, really wasn’t. The last thing she was was sorry.

“You’ll have to be punished now,” Azriel said, softly.

“Punished how?” Elain asked.

Azriel watched her for a moment before he said, “Turn around.”

She did as she was told, rolling onto her stomach, her ass in the air. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, and raised his hand before smacking her across her ass.

Elain gasped at the contact and had to bite her lip to keep from exploding into a fit of delighted giggles.

The sharp intake of breath was her only response, she fought to keep in the quiet cry or moan that he wanted to draw from her. She was feeling bratty tonight.

Glancing down at the ring sparkling on her finger, she knew exactly why. She got to experience this sensual rush for the rest of her life. She was Azriel’s.

And he was hers. Forever.

His hand cracked against her skin again and she had to close her eyes and bite her lip to keep from moaning.

He did it again and again, but then he suddenly stopped.

“You’re getting even more wet for me,” he breathed, dragging a finger along her center. She was unable to stop her whimper. He added, “That’s not the point of a punishment.”

He knew exactly what his spankings did to her. He loved it, and if he kept on with it, she’d be dripping all over their kitchen table.

Without warning, he picked her up, carrying her into the living room and tossing her on the couch. She bounced gently, a pleased smile on her face.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he ordered, pulling his own shirt over his head.

Slipping the button down off her shoulders, Elain reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She watched as Azriel removed his belt and dropped it to the floor.

She tried not to let herself feel any disappointment as he discarded the belt. He’d used that once or twice before and the unyielding, stiff leather had drawn more than a few orgasms from her as he spanked her with it.

He popped the button on his jeans and said, “Touch yourself.”

Propping her feet up on the couch, she spread her legs for him and slid her hand over her pussy. He was right. She was soaked and so, so turned on. She circled her clit with one finger. She moaned softly, “But I want to touch you.”

“That’s too bad,” he replied, his eyes settling on her sex. “You’re being punished.”

She slid her finger between her folds, teasing herself. Adding a second finger, she just barely dipped them into her entrance, but no more than her finger tips. She was so sensitive, still riding the high of her orgasm and fought off a moan as she watched Azriel watch her.

Dragging the zipper down on his jeans, her eyes tracked the motion and she stilled, waiting for him to take them off.

“I don’t remember telling you to stop,” he said, regaining her attention.

Her fingers began slow motions, yet again, but she didn’t take her eyes off of where his own hands worked at removing his denim. She breathed, “And how long will this punishment last?”

Azriel’s eyes sparked as his chest rose and fell, slowly. “It’ll end when I want it to.”

Elain nodded as her fingers slid up inside of her and she let out a soft, low moan.

Azriel licked his lips as he tracked her every movement. “Keep up the good work and I may just let you choose your own punishment.”

“I’d rather have a reward.” Her voice was soft, low, but it was shaking slightly. The anticipation got her off just as much as her own fingers did.

He paused with his jeans hanging low on his hips. She could see the waistband of his black boxer-briefs underneath. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“I want to touch you,” she said again, slipping both fingers inside herself again, deeper this time. Curling her fingers up, she reached for her g-spot, eyes falling shut when she skimmed over it. Her head fell back against the cushions and she groaned.

His approach was silent, but she felt his hand on her face and when she opened her eyes, he was standing in front of her. His cock was in his hands and he stroked it once. “You want to touch me?” He asked.

“Yes, please.” She continued to pump her fingers in and out and licked her lips as her eyes bounced between his eyes and his thick, proud length. It was just a few inches from her face.

“How do you want to touch me, Elain,” he asked, dragging a thumb over her bottom lip.

It was that tone, that deep, sensual tone of his that drove her mad.

“I want to take your cock into my hands,” she breathed, the words hitched. “Into my mouth.”

Azriel hummed, as if he was debating it. He nodded to the fingers that were pumping in and out of herself. “You can touch me when you’re finished touching yourself.”

Elain nodded, her hand moving faster as she pumped those two fingers in and out, then another, easily sliding in alongside the others.

Azriel stroked himself, slowly, again and again as he watched.

Elain’s other hand trailed between her legs and she began to circle her clit, pulling a loud moan out of herself. As her two hands worked, she drew closer to the edge, and Azriel’s breathing grew shallower.

Her words were high pitched and she was struggling to keep her eyes open as she asked, “Can I come? Please, I’m so close.”

He ran his thumb over her lip again and waited until she was looking up at him. And then he smirked. “No, baby, you can’t.”

Elain wasn’t proud of the whine that she let out, but she slowed her fingers. She didn’t withdraw them, because she knew he wouldn’t like that, but stopped circling her clit. If she didn’t, she was going to come and as fun as another punishment really would be, she wanted her reward.

“Good girl,” he crooned, tilting her chin up to look at him. She’d been staring at his cock. There was a milky bead of precum on the tip and she wanted to lean forward and lick it off.

As if he could sense her thoughts, he ran his thumb over the thick head, spreading the wetness over the length. She tried not to whine again.

“You want me in your mouth?” He asked, shifting his hips forward slightly.

“Please,” Elain breathed, nodding eagerly.

“Do you think you’ve been punished enough?”

She frantically nodded, and Azriel wondered if she even knew she was bucking her hips, searching and needing release. He loved when she got like this, so needy and begging for whatever he’d give her.

Instead of giving her what she wanted though, he crouched, taking the hand that had been circling her clit in his. Raising it to his lips, he licked the tips of her fingers. He moaned quietly. “I will never get tired of the taste of you.”

Elain whimpered softly, her other hand still pumping in and out of herself.

“Do I taste as sweet to you as you do to me?” He asked, leading that hand back to her swollen clit and stood.

She began the slow circling again and nodded, and he knew if she was incapable of speaking, she was going wild with lust.

In the quietest of voices, Azriel said, “Prove it.”

Elain wasted no time wrapping her lips around the head of his cock and lathering him with her tongue. Azriel let out a long, slow breath at the contact and when her finger slowed against her clit, he shook his head. “Don’t stop.”

Elain moaned, and the vibrations against him had Azriel’s fingers weaving their way into her hair as Elain took Azriel further into her mouth.

She continued the slow circling of her clit, but slipped the rest of her fingers from wet pussy. She reached for his cock, to wrap around what wouldn’t fit in her mouth, but he caught her hand. Her fingers were glistening, still costed in her essence, and he brought them to his mouth. “We can’t waste that,” he murmured, before sucking them between his lips one by one.

Elain’s eyes fluttered shut and she moaned softly as he released her hand and slipped his free hand into her hair as well, absolutely controlling her and the pace with which she worshiped him.

Or so he thought.

Opening her throat, Elain took him as deeply as she could, gazing up at him as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Azriel was unable to stop the groan as he fucked her mouth and throat with no abandon, until she began to gag softly.

He withdrew himself, dropping his jeans the rest of the way, and sat down on the couch next to her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her roughly. “That’s new,” he crooned, his lips dragging down her neck.

Her laughter was sensual as she continued to stroke him. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think you’d be surprising me, too,” she admitted, bringing her hand up to admire the diamond sparkling on her finger.

Azriel wrapped his hand around hers and brought it to his lips, where he kissed the back of her hand, just below her ring.

“I’m just glad you’re not asking me to wait for this again until our wedding night,” he murmured.

Elain grinned. “I don’t think I would survive the wait. I’d have to marry you tomorrow.”

Azriel’s eyes sparkled as he took her hips and pulled her on top of him. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”

Elain moaned quietly as Azriel teased her at her opening. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna make you wait.”

“That, and you want a big wedding,” he said, leaning up and trailing kisses along her throat.

“Not a big wedding,” she replied, trying to lower her hips. His grip was firm though, and she only managed another inch, teasing herself just as much as he’d been teasing her.

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she tried to rock her hips, wanting more of him inside of her. He still held firm.

His smirk was devilish when she looked up into his face. “I never said you were done being punished.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. She squirmed and his grip on her hips tightened, his smile growing. “Az, please.”

“Hmm?” He leaned up again, capturing her lips with his and his thumb found her clit. Her body gave a jerk and her thighs burned with how hard she was trying to lower herself onto him.

Pulling away, she pressed her forehead against his. “Please… I’ll be a good girl for you. I won’t come until you tell me to. I just need to feel you inside of me.”

He nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth and released his hold on her hips.

She sank down onto him, not gently in the slightest, and moaned as he filled her in one rough stroke. She bucked her hips, not rising but needing the friction as her lips crashed against his.

It was thrilling. There was always a rush that consumed Elain’s body the moment he filled her. A spark of excitement that never grew old, never faded.

Azriel knew it, too. There was a look that crossed her face that only showed itself the moment he entered her.

It was beautiful.

Consumingly gorgeous.

Elain’s head fell back as she rocked her hips - her hips that Azriel’s fingers were digging into, yet again, but he didn’t guide her.

She did that perfectly well on her own.

With his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, Azriel’s eyes scanned Elain’s body, from her tilted back head, to her breasts at eye level, then to where they were connected.

“Better?” Azriel asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” she breathed, eyelids fluttering shut.

He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and brought her lips to his. The kiss was not gentle, but he knew that wasn’t how she wanted it. Sure, they had sweet, soft sex sometimes, something they both adored on occasion, but nothing drove Elain wild as much as rough sex did. He had never dreamed she’d be as submissive as she was but gods, he was so glad of it. She was the other half he’d been waiting for and the fact that she was his for the rest of his life…

He growled quietly as he pressed his other hand to the small of her back and rocked his own hips up into her. She gasped against his lips and braced her hands on his shoulders as they found a rhythm that had her groaning his name.

There were very few things that pleased Azriel more than hearing his name on Elain’s mouth while they fucked. It broke him, unleashed something unearthly.

His hips thrust harder up into her, and each time he did so, his name grew louder and louder on her lips.

Azriel felt that magnificent, familiar feeling rising within him but he didn’t move his eyes from Elain. Her face was still close to his, her breath hot against his mouth. He cursed before kissing her, yet again, bringing her lip between his teeth and gently tugging.

Before she could anticipate it, he flipped them so they were laying on the couch, his body covering hers, and lifted one of her legs so it rested on his shoulder. It opened her up, allowing him to thrust harder, deeper, and she began clawing at his back. She cried out, and he groaned as she screamed his name.

His fingers gripped her chin and her lust-filled gaze found his. That hand slid between them and found her clit. The next thing he said wasn’t a request. It was a demand.

“Come for me.”

Elain did. She shattered, her body shaking with the force of the orgasm that slammed into her.

Azriel couldn’t hold on much longer, the feeling of her coating him, spasming around him, having him meeting his own end.

He came, one hand digging into the couch cushions, the other gripping her ass. His fingers would surely leave a mark.

Elain didn’t mind.

He fell onto her body, breathing heavily, sweat coating his skin. As Elain caught her breath, her arms wrapped around him.

His face was buried in her neck, and she felt his lips moving and heard him murmuring before she could understand what he was saying. But then she heard him, clearly, and she wondered how it had taken them years to realize it together.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His words weren’t just a quiet praise and reminder, but also a promise, as strong as the one that she now wore on her finger.

He pulled back, his eyes finding hers, even as his chest was still heaving as he caught his breath. Reaching up, she ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “I love you, too.”

His gaze was soft as she leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. They stayed like that for a few minutes, slowly kissing each other, not in any hurry to start anything up again, but just enjoying the taste and feel of each other.

When Elain’s stomach growled, however, Azriel pulled back and looked at her with a raised brow.

“Work up an appetite?”

She laughed, quietly. “Maybe so.”

“Well, Rita’s is gone,” Azriel muttered, “but, there’s pie.”

Elains laughter grew louder, and even Azriel couldn’t help but smile down at her.

“It’s a little burnt, but I’m sure it tastes alright,” he went on. "Maybe."

“Pie sounds good,” Elain said, eyes bright. “Even if we can only eat the filling.”

Azriel scoffed. “That’s the best part.”

“True,” she agreed, and rolled off the couch from beneath him. “I’m going upstairs to clean up. Meet me in bed.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked over her shoulder. Azriel's eyes scanned every inch of her body as she said, “You bring the pie.”

Azriel was off the couch before she could finish her sentence, doing just that.

#elriel #part 5 #NT&P #acotar #fanfiction