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cutielando · 1 day

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we can’t be friends, part 2

a/n: the highly requested part 2 of we can’t be friends is finally here!!! again, this is super rushed because i wanted to post it as soon as possible for you guys, so forgive me 🥲

also, part 3? 👀

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Lando had never before considered himself a “lucky” man. He was always of the belief that things just kind of…happened.

But when he saw you in the paddock on that one particular day, after months of being away from you and only watching you from afar, he thanked his lucky stars.

That was part of the reason why he couldn’t resist coming up to you, introducing himself with only one thought in mind: I need to get her back.

You hadn’t known why the feeling of his hand in yours felt familiar when you shook his hand, why the tone of his voice made tingles arise on your delicate skin, or why his smile and dimple seemed like something you had seen before, seemingly in another life.

Something in your gut was telling you that you had met him sometime before, but you just couldn’t figure out where you knew him from.

Which Lando was grateful for.

He had realized he hadn’t been a good boyfriend to you before, he could see his mistakes and what he should improve now. He knew what he had to do.

After the fateful meeting in the paddock, you started bumping into him more and more.

At the grocery store in Monaco, at the museum where you were strolling with your sister, at the hair salon, at the nail salon, he seemed to be everywhere.

You didn’t think anything about it at first, telling yourself that Monaco was a very small place and coincidences were bound to happen.

But you gradually began to feel like it was not the case, and you settled for confronting him to get to the bottom of the problem.

“You’re following me” you had caught him yet again, seemingly trailing around the flower shop where you usually spend your mornings.

Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing before he settled for shaking his head.

“Bumping into me once or twice is a normal coincidence, but you’re everywhere I go. I turn around and you’re there, like a ghost. Can you please tell me what’s going on? You’re starting to creep me out” you said, making sure to keep your distance from him.

Lando’s heart began hammering in his chest, panic quickly settling in his body.

This was not how it was supposed to go down. You were meant to find it cute, endearing even, but he couldn’t have you thinking that he was a weirdo, not when he was desperately trying to make you fall in love with him once again.

How was he supposed to win you back if you thought he was a total creep?

“I’m not trying to be creepy, I promise. I just didn’t know how to approach you without being awkward” he tried to explain, realizing he sounded even more like a creep.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And you figured following me around was the solution?” you had to admit that seeing him flustered and trying to explain himself was becoming funny to you, any trace of annoyance long gone.

You couldn’t describe the feelings you had whenever you were around Lando. There was a foreign sense of familiarity every time you would talk to him and whenever you would be near him. Like your body was already used to being around him.

“No, no. God, this is so not how I wanted this to go down” he murmured the last part to himself, but you heard him nonetheless.

“Look, as much as I might find this stalking of yours kinda cute in some twisted way, what’s really going on here?” you asked, crossing your arms one on top of the other.

He sighed, hanging his head low. Should he just be honest about why he was following you? Tell you about everything you had done so much just to forget? Should he just lie and truly start from scratch?

There were so many questions clouding his judgment, dozens of ideas and excuses floating around in his brain.

But in the end, he decided that wiping the slate clean was his best bet. You would never agree to go out with him if he even mentioned how your previous relationship had ended, that he had hurt you so much that you chose to completely forget everything about him and your relationship.

He didn’t want to risk a new beginning by plaguing it with events from the past.

“Okay. Truth is, I really like you, and I wanted to ask you out but couldn’t seem to find the words to do it. You’re gorgeous and kind and nice and I didn’t think you would want to go out with me, given what the internet has been saying about me” he confessed, scratching the back of his head in fear of what your reaction would be.

Once upon a time, he could read you like the back of his hand, knowing your every little tic and every tell. He knew every single thing there was to know about you, but as you stood there in front of him, he felt like he didn’t know you.

Even while you smiled at him with that same smile he had come to love over time, you were not the person he had left behind. You were someone else entirely, only the memory of you hiding behind your eyes. But was it wrong that it intrigued him? That it made him want to get to know you again so badly?

Maybe. But he didn’t want to resist it any longer.

Finally looking up at your eyes, his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the smile he loved vibrantly shining on your face, a sense of familiarity filling his chest.

“I don’t care what the internet says about you, I want to get to know the real you. People can have their opinions of you, I want to have my own” you said, stepping closer to him.

Lando felt like he couldn’t breathe. Having you so close to him after so much time apart made him want to lose his composure and just kiss the life out of you, but he couldn’t.

No, he wanted to do it right. He couldn’t afford to mess it up again.

“What are you saying?” he asked, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t misinterpret anything.

“I’m saying that you should give me your number” you said, trying to suppress the smile that was inching towards your lips.

You didn’t know why you were acting like this. Accepting to go on a date with a guy that basically followed you around, asking him for his number? You were never that irresponsible when it came to dating, so why was he so different right now?

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was something deep within you which was screaming at you to trust him. There was that sense of comfort that you felt whenever you were around him ever since the two of you bumped into each other, but you didn’t know where it was coming from. How could you feel so at ease with someone you had just met?

It was weird, definitely worrisome if you were being truthful with yourself. But then again, what harm could it do?

Lando had never taken out his phone as fast as he did in that moment, almost dropping it in the process, which made you laugh a little.

Seeing him so flustered made him blush, almost embarrassed that he couldn’t keep his act together.

He gave you the phone in the end, and you put in your number and the name y/n💕, giving him the phone back and leaving, kissing his cheek as you passed by him.

Lando felt like he was dreaming as he felt your lips touch his skin, however briefly the contact had been. And unbeknownst to you, you were biting your lip and blushing as you walked away from him, eagerly waiting to get a text from him.

And thankfully, it was merely an hour later when your phone dinged, and the butterflies started acting up once again.

♡♡♡♡♡

The moment of your first date with Lando had arrived after texting back and forth for a couple of days, and it was safe to say that the both of you were freaking out.

You, on one hand, were freaking out because it felt like you hadn’t been this excited about going on a date in forever. Lando, on the other hand, was freaking out over wanting to make sure he didn’t screw things up the second time around.

The nerves that he felt as he waited in front of your apartment building were nothing like he ever felt before. He hadn’t even been this nervous when you two went out the first time all those years back. But as he stood there, flowers in hand and yet another gift in his pocket, he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

That was until you finally appeared, dressed in his favorite dress of yours, sandals and curly hair, smiling from ear to ear when you saw him waiting for you.

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t decide what to wear. Have you been waiting long?

Lando’s brain froze for a split second. Had he been waiting there so long that he didn’t even notice you had been late? Taking a quick peek at the watch resting on his left wrist, he realized he had been standing in front of your building for more than 20 minutes.

“Um, no. Just got here like 5 minutes ago” he lied, content when he saw the relieved smile you gave him. “These are for you” he said, holding out the flowers towards you.

You took the bouquet from him, blushing once you noticed that he had bought you your favorite flowers.

“How did you know these are my favorites?” you asked, bringing the flowers up to your nose and inhaling the sweet aroma.

He shrugged, and left it at that. He couldn’t really tell you how he knew they were your favorite, so he figured he shouldn’t say anything else.

The night went by beautifully, the conversation flowing as if you had known each other your whole lives. The laughter you shared was natural, you felt so at ease while talking to him.

As the end of the night grew closer, you were walking hand-in-hand through the quiet streets of Monaco, a comfortable silence between the two of you. You had never felt at ease with anyone else in your entire life, yet here you were, feeling more at home with Lando than any other person in your life besides your family.

“Thank you for tonight” you said, smiling sadly once you arrived in front of your building.

Lando smiled, stepping closer to you.

“It was my pleasure” he whispered, the distance between the two of you almost non-existent.

He looked you in the eyes as if he was asking for permission, and the second you nodded he leaned in and kissed you with everything that he had, making your knees go weak and almost buckle.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and started playing with the hair at the back of his head, almost accidentally letting out a moan at how good his lips felt on yours. Every inch of your body was on fire, your senses tingling as you got lost in the feeling of Lando.

Lando, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions. Even though he had been waiting for this moment for so many months, he felt guilty. There he was, using the fact that you had no memory of your past relationship to win you back. Was he being selfish?

Should he tell you the truth about the past?

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slut4thebroken · 17 hours

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Teacher’s Pet

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | After months of trying to earn your professor’s praise, he finally gives you an opportunity to prove you deserve it.

Warnings | Smut, dub con, blackmail, coercion, humiliation, anal, bondage, praise, creampie, degradation, inappropriate use of fear toxin.

Words | 6.2 k

Notes | Started this a million years ago. Finally got the motivation to finish it cause of @hllywdwhre ‘s fic that I proofread lol. Also ty to the post that gave me the fear toxin idea 🙏🏻

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

In honor of the one year anniversary since the start of my Cillian hyperfixation <3

Dr. Crane was one of the most strict and unforgiving professors at Gotham University. He graded harshly, didn’t tolerate late or incomplete work, and no one would ever dare be late— if they were, they just wouldn’t show up because an absence was better than his response to tardiness. He didn’t have any favorite students, just some that he tolerated slightly more than the rest. That was what you hated the most.

You’ve always been the favorite student for every single teacher you’ve had, whether they said it out loud or not. After the first couple of weeks, you figured he’d just be harder to crack than the rest. But after almost two months, you were starting to get frustrated. Nothing you did ever earned you any sort of praise. You were always early, always the first to turn in assignments, participated in class, paid attention— you were the perfect student. But he never seemed to recognize that. What made you snap was when he gave you a B on your latest essay.

Lightly knocking on his office door, you tried to control your nerves and push down the nausea— You’ve never had to talk with a teacher about a grade before…

“Come in.” He called out. So you opened the door and hesitantly stepped inside. He glanced at you quickly, then did a double take once he realized it was you. “Close the door.” He said, resuming what he was doing. You took in a quiet, deep breath and closed the door before walking over and sitting on the chair across from his desk.

“I’m assuming this is about your essay?” He asked, not even looking up from his work.

“Yes.. You gave me a B, I was hoping to understand why.” You said tentatively.

“Did you not read my notes?” Of course you did. But it still didn’t make any sense.

“No, I did, but-” He finally looked up at you with a sigh.

“Then you should understand why I gave you that grade.”

“This essay was practically perfect.” You argued, holding up the stapled together pieces of paper, marked up with red ink.

“Clearly not if you got a B.” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to get too upset or emotional.

“Dr. Crane, I’ve aced every single test and assignment, I’d hardly say this is a fair grade.” You frowned.

“Your argument was weak and biased.” Your lips parted in shock at the bluntness of his criticism. “And your previous assignments have no impact on my grading. If you’d like them to though, I’d be more than willing to grade them again to see if I missed anything.”

“It- it wasn’t… I spent weeks on this.”

“And yet… You still weren’t good enough for an A.” He said, making your stomach churn. Especially because he didn’t even say ‘your essay’ he just said ‘you.’ Looking down at the papers in your hands, you scanned them quickly as if it would magically give you the answer. “Review my notes for the next essay. Maybe you’ll do better.”

“What is your problem with me?” You snapped, looking up at him again, watching his brows raise slightly. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“I don’t tolerate entitled students who are used to being the teacher's pet. Whatever previous, unearned success and praise you're used to receiving is of no concern to me. It is not my fault if you came into this class expecting to be treated differently for doing the same thing as every other student.”

“I- I’m not.. entitled. I just like my work and effort to be appreciated and not.. given a B.”

“You want me to tell you that you’re such a good girl, turning in everything on time— as expected— and doing well on your assignments— as expected.” The faux praise, as well as the condescension that laced his voice, made your cheeks heat up instantly.

“No, but,”

“Then I think we’re done here.”

The next day, you almost considered not going to class, but you’ve never had an absence on your record and you’re not about to start now.

“We’re going to deviate from the lesson plan a little and talk about something else today; fear. Specifically, fear of rejection.” Your mouth dropped open at his words and if you had any doubts that this was because of your previous conversation, they quickly disappeared when he made eye contact with you.

“There are a few different causes, can anyone give me an example?” This would’ve been the time where you raised your hand. But that apparently wasn’t necessary because he called on you anyway, making you freeze.

“Um, I— I’m not sure.” You said nervously, sinking back into your chair a little.

“There’s a perfect example right there; anxiety and social comparison. Too anxious and insecure to answer a simple question. Who else can give an example?” You stared at him with wide eyes that quickly started burning with tears. Now you felt even more stupid than you would’ve, had you just answered him and potentially gotten it wrong.

Class dragged on slowly. He talked more about causes, what it looks like, how it affects performance— especially in school— and various treatments.

You couldn’t have been more relieved when he finally dismissed the class. You rushed to pack your things and stood up, quickly making your way to the exit.

When he called your name though, you froze, praying you heard him wrong. “Stay back for a moment.” Your peers gave you sympathetic looks as you turned around and slowly made your way back over to his desk.

“Yes, professor?” You asked, voice strained.

“I hope you found today's lesson helpful.” You gritted your teeth and gave him a dry smile.

“It was… inspiring, Dr. Crane.” You said plainly, trying to control your tone. His expression was only becoming more and more amused.

“I’m glad. Though I didn’t see you taking notes.” That made you falter.

“I- I was,”

“Great. Let me see them.” You looked away from him and shifted your weight awkwardly.

“See them?”

“Did you not understand?” Your face flushed with anger and embarrassment at his patronizing tone.

“I did. I just wasn’t aware that notes were something you needed to see.”

“If a student isn’t paying attention for the entirety of my class then, yes, notes are something I need to see.” You swallowed thickly, trying to come up with a response, and he watched you intently as he waited.

“Look, professor, you’ve made your point, okay? I don’t think you need to continue humiliating me.” You said quietly, not looking at him. He let out a heavy breath through his nose and you watched in your peripheral vision as he took off his glasses, setting them down. He slowly rounded the desk and you couldn’t help it when you instinctively took a step back.

“That’s a shame. I had hoped this lecture would’ve been helpful, but since you clearly weren’t paying attention, maybe I need to try another method.”

“I- I was paying attention…” You muttered, keeping your head down.

“Really? Then why don’t you tell me some of the ways one can overcome a fear of rejection.” He leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. The feeling of his eyes on you almost made you shiver and you took a quiet, deep breath before lifting your head to look at him again.

This is an easy enough question. You can probably figure out the answer if you just use critical thinking since he was correct about you not paying attention.

“Um… cognitive behavioral therapy?” You waited and when he didn’t out right humiliate you, you assumed that was a right answer and continued. “Exposure therapy. Self esteem enhancement… Emotion regulation?”

“Anything else?”

“…You said “some.’” You muttered, briefly looking away from him again.

“I did, didn’t I?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t care about what he previously said.

“Um, I- I’m not sure…”

“Feel free to use your notes.”

Fuck.

When you looked up and saw the almost smug expression on his face, you finally snapped. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that for one day, I couldn’t pay attention after you humiliated me in front of the entire class.” You spat, clenching your jaw as soon as you finished speaking. The longer he stayed silent, the more uncomfortable you became under his gaze, making you look away from him awkwardly.

“Tell me why this shouldn’t affect your grade.” You knew his question was rhetorical, but you still tried to defend yourself.

“Dr. Crane,” You started, but he raised his brows, silently warning you to not talk back.

“I’ll see you later today during my office hours.” He said as he packed up his belongings.

“But,”

“Five pm.” He didn’t let you continue as he walked toward the door. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave.

At 4:30 you paced around your dorm, debating what to do. At 4:35 you decided not to go. At 4:40 you changed your mind. At 4:50 you were pacing outside his office. At 4:55 you finally knocked, feeling like you could throw up at any second. He called out for you to enter, so you hesitantly opened the door and stepped inside.

“Close the door and sit down.” He didn’t even look up from what he was working on. You closed the door quietly, then made your way over to the chair in front of his desk. You tried to sit there patiently, but he wasn’t saying anything. Your leg bounced incessantly as you picked at your cuticles, over thinking more and more with each tortuous second that dragged on.

“Professor?” You finally asked.

“You’re early. I told you to come at five and I need to finish this.” He still didn’t look up from whatever “this” was and you were quickly growing angrier.

Was this some kind of mind fuck? Making you sit here, stewing in nerves that were only getting worse? You weren’t sure how much time had passed because you didn’t want to check your phone and give him another opportunity to chastise you. But after a while, he finally sighed and gathered the papers, setting them in a pile on the side of his desk.

You forced yourself to stop bouncing your leg and place your palms flat on your thighs to keep from fidgeting, trying to exude confidence you were severely lacking.

“I’ll admit, I’ve been struggling to decide what I should do with you.” Immediately your stomach churned, getting even more anxious. “I could have you removed from my class, but that would be a lot of paperwork.”

“Professor,”

“I’m speaking.” He said harshly, making your mouth immediately close. “However, that does mean I’ll have to put up with this for another few months… So the paperwork might be worth the hassle.” You tried not to cry at the thought. You need this class to graduate— getting dropped from it will set you back a semester unless you add another course to your already heavy schedule for next semester. You waited, not sure if he was done talking or not. After another few seconds you decided to try again.

“Please…” You said hesitantly, waiting for him to snap at you again. When he didn’t, you continued. “Please don’t drop me, professor. I need this class to graduate.” He stayed silent, eyes dragging over your body as you did your best not to squirm. He still hasn’t said anything… Is he going to drop you anyway? With tears in your eyes, you tried again, “Please… Please I- I’ll leave you alone— I won’t bother you about grades anymore, I swear, just please don’t drop me.” You all but whimpered, feeling even more pathetic now.

He sighed and took off his glasses, then set them on his desk before leaning back in his chair a little, still studying you.

“I’d still have to put up with you in class as well though.”

“Please! I’ll sit in the back and not talk— I’ll do anything, just please don’t drop me.” You cried.

“Anything?” You stiffened a little at the dark expression that suddenly took over his face. Would you really do anything? You wouldn’t mind fucking him if that’s what he’s implying— despite his off putting personality, you’ve always been attracted to him.

“Y-yes?” You said, unsure.

“That didn’t sound very convincing and I’m not going to force you so I’ll just go through with the drop request,”

“No! I will— I’ll do anything… Please.” He continued studying you, probably trying to gauge if you were telling the truth or not.

“Fine. We’ll call it an internship of sorts. You’ll come with me to Arkham Asylum every Friday and help me in whatever way I may need— no questions asked.”

“I- I don’t know if I’m qualified for that.”

“Good thing it’s not an actual internship then.” He sneered, the patronizing tone making you blush.

“What will you have me do?” You asked quietly.

“It’ll be easier to just show you instead. Give me your essay and after Friday if I’m satisfied with your performance, I’ll change the grade.” Your heart practically skipped a beat— all you have to do is go to Arkham with him for a day and you’ll get an A? You’d be stupid to say no. So you retrieved your essay from your bag and handed it to him. “Good. Six pm, do not be late. I’ll meet you in the main lobby to take you to my office.” He said sternly.

Since you left his office, your heart has been pounding. You weren’t sure what to wear so you just decided on a skirt and blouse that were professional, but still mostly casual. After that, there wasn’t much else you could do. You were too anxious to focus on literally anything so you just sat at home, overthinking. Friday rolled around and you left at five, just in case anything happened, and arrived at 5:25. So you sat in your car, waiting anxiously and watching the clock on the dashboard. You were too scared to even listen to music. At 5:55 you decided to go in, worst case you’d just have to wait five minutes for him, but you figured it’d be better to be early— even after what happened during his office hours.

It was only a minute before six when he showed up. The second he saw you, he gestured for you to follow, so you trailed after him on wobbly legs. When you arrived in his office, he closed the door and told you to sit in the chair across from him as he sat behind the desk.

“I want to make sure that we’re on the same page and I have your consent for anything that happens here.” The way he worded that made you nervous, but you chalked it up to the fact that you were already overcome with anxiety.

“Yes.” You tried to sound sure of yourself, but you were having doubts. What would he make you do? Would it really be worth a better grade?

“Good. Take this.” He picked up a small paper cup from his desk with one pill inside and handed it to you.

“…Why?”

“There are certain aerosol drugs that are administered to patients sometimes. That will keep them from affecting you.” He explained calmly, easing your nerves a bit. So you took it from him and swallowed it, waiting for what was next. “Follow me.” He stood up again, this time holding a briefcase, and you followed him out of his office. He led you down some hallways before stopping outside of a door and unlocking it, gesturing for you to walk in.

There was a small table in the corner and two exam chairs with restraints on them, one of which had stirrups. Other than that the room was bare. The door closed loudly, making you jump and turn around.

“Sit.” He ordered, walking over to the table and setting the briefcase down before walking toward you.

“Why?” You asked skeptically. He just stood patiently and watched you. You suddenly got hit with a wave of dizziness and stumbled to the chair to sit down. The dizziness quickly turned into exhaustion and you could barely keep your eyes open. When you started falling forward, he quickly moved closer to catch you, then leaned you back against the chair.

Your head hurt like hell and you forced your eyes open to find that you were now laying on the other exam chair, thankfully not with your legs in the stirrups, but with the restraints on your wrists. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

“The effects should wear off soon. I apologize for using that, but I figured you wouldn’t willingly let me restrain you and I didn’t feel like fighting you.”

“What… what was that?” You asked through a breath. You could slowly feel yourself getting less and less foggy.

“A drug.” He said, in the most annoyed and patronizing tone you’ve heard from him so far.

“Why?” You whimpered, closing your eyes again because they still felt so heavy.

“If you’re going to ask stupid questions then I’m just going to gag you. I already answered that.” You heard some rustling noises and his footsteps, then a hand was running along your cheek, startling you and making you open your eyes. “You remember our agreement?” You nodded hesitantly. It felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest with how hard and fast it was pounding. “Be a good little girl and if I’m satisfied, I won’t drop you. I might even change the grade of your essay.” You didn’t need the reminder, but the way he said the first part was making your stomach flutter.

“I have to say,” he removed his hand from your cheek and moved down to place it on your leg, just above your knee, “I prefer the sluttier skirts you wear to class than this.” He teased the hem of your skirt with his fingers, making you tremble. “Next week wear something shorter. And a more flattering top.” You figured by ‘more flattering’ what he really meant was more revealing. All you could do to respond was nod.

“Good. Let’s begin.”

He reached for the zipper of your skirt on your hip, making you stiffen.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked, beginning to panic again, and he paused with a sigh.

“If you don’t consent, that’s fine… There is still the matter of your seat in my class.” He said coyly. “If you want me to let you go, just say that. I’ll fill out the paperwork first thing Monday morning.”

“No,” You choked out. “No.. please.” You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack. He shushed you softly, staring at you with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Relax. If you consent to this, you’ll keep your seat in my class. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You nodded, looking up at him with teary eyes. “Good girl… Now be quiet and let me do this.” His tone was significantly darker and all you could do was tremble as he unzipped your skirt, then pulled it down your body before discarding it on the floor.

“I’ve been working on a new form of a drug.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a strangled whimper when he grabbed your leg and placed it in the stirrup, then used the restraints to keep it in place. “We’re going to try it together.” He grinned wolfishly and did the same to your other leg.

You heard his footsteps as he walked across the room for something, then back over to you, now wearing a latex glove on his right hand, holding a small bottle in the other.

“Remember, you can withdraw consent at any time…” You couldn’t though. Because you would be dropped from his class and set back months.

His hand landed on your thigh, making you jump a little, and he started slowly dragging it up. Once he was close enough, he brushed his thumb over your clothed mound, forcing a quiet sob from you.

“You probably thought this was going to go in a very different direction, didn’t you?” He asked teasingly, making you blush. Truthfully, you didn’t put much thought into your undergarments because you were too busy worrying about your actual clothes and what he was going to make you do. You cried out when he suddenly ripped the lace off your body, feeling the burn of the fabric pulling too hard against your skin. “Ready?” He asked, almost eagerly.

You saw now that the bottle was a clear liquid and when he squirted it onto his fingers, you assumed it was lube. As soon as his finger brushed your asshole, you stiffened.

“Wait!” You rushed out, chest heaving as your heart pounded in your chest. “I- I’ve never…”

“You’ve never done anal?” You almost thought he was going to give you sympathy. “Good.” You couldn’t even get another word out before he was pushing a finger in, making you tense up as you whimpered in discomfort. “Tell me when you start to feel it.”

“Feel what?” You said through a breath, trying to relax around the intrusion. Even though it wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, your heart was pounding even harder and faster in your chest, and your breathing grew ragged. “Dr. Crane,” You whimpered, suddenly a million times more anxious than only a moment ago.

“Already?” He checked his watch, “That was fast. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Anxious.” You said quickly, letting out a strangled whimper when he forced another finger inside. “M-my heart is pounding and it feels hard to breathe.”

“That’s good… Anything else?”

“My hands are clammy… and it feels like I'm sweating a little.”

“No visual or auditory hallucinations?”

“What?” You choked out, eyes widening. “W-why would I have that??”

“The drug we’re testing is my fear toxin. It’s a hallucinogenic that targets the amygdala and releases stress hormones, causing a fear response in the brain.” He explained, only making you feel worse. “So far I’ve tested it two ways; administered intravenously and in aerosol form.”

“I don’t understand..” You said quietly, trying to calm your breathing a little. He let out an exaggerated sigh and forced a third finger inside you.

“I guess I should really expect you to.” He almost sounded.. disappointed. The realization made the twist in your stomach even worse. “Let me dumb it down for you. In its most potent form, it causes visual and auditory hallucinations of the subject’s worst fear.” If you weren’t currently on the verge of a panic attack with three fingers in your ass, you probably would’ve rolled your eyes at his tone.

“Now I’m testing it via rectal administration. The concentration is about the same, but the effects shouldn’t be as strong. At least, that’s my theory.” His fingers continued fucking you slowly, occassionally spreading apart to open you up more. Despite the amount of anxiety you were currently feeling, you could just barely feel your growing arousal.

“W-why would you want the drug in this form?” You asked, gasping for air between words.

“I’m a doctor. Why wouldn’t I experiment?” He asked rhetorically. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the anxiety rather than the arousal, but it was only becoming more difficult. A choked moan escaped you when he suddenly dragged a bare finger through your folds, spreading the evidence of your arousal. “Are you enjoying this?” His voice sounded unnervingly clinical.

In response, you bit down harder on your lip and shook your head, denying it. You could practically feel his eyes on you, studying you closely.

“I knew you’d be perfect for this.” He suddenly said, and you bit back a moan because he almost sounded proud. “You’re just pathetic enough and desperate for my approval to willingly become my little lab rat, and now look at you… Leaking onto my hand as I finger your ass.” He chuckled wryly. A dark blush took over your face and you whined quietly, but the flutter in your stomach was unmistakable. “I bet you want my cock also… Don’t you?”

You let out a choked sob and turned your head, trying uselessly to hide yourself. When he suddenly pulled his fingers out, you whimpered quietly at the sudden loss.

“Look at me.” He demanded, in a tone that left no room for argument. As if you were in a trance, you turned to face him and opened your eyes. “You want to keep your seat in my class?” He removed the glove and tossed it aside, then worked on unbuckling his belt and opening his pants.

“Yes.” You whispered shakily.

“And you’re willing to let me fuck your ass to ensure that happens?” He pulled his already half hard cock out and started stroking slowly as you gaped at it. How was that supposed to fit inside you?

“I- I’ve never..”

“It’s a yes or no question.” He sighed impatiently. “I fuck your ass or you leave and I fill out the form Monday morning.”

“I… I’m scared.” You whimpered, looking nervously between his face and his cock.

“That’s the whole point, darling.” Right. Because he was testing his fear toxin. You blushed furiously at the new pet name. “You have three seconds before I fuck you, then fill out the form anyway.”

Your stomach dropped at the threat and when he raised his brows, you blurted out, “Yes.” Tears were brimming in your eyes and he stepped closer, but didn’t line up yet. He just used his free hand to gently rub your thigh.

“Yes, what?” Your bottom lip began trembling when you realized what he wanted from you. “Say it. Beg your professor for it.”

“I- I want…” You let out a strangled sob and squeezed your eyes shut again, making his hand stop moving on your thigh to grip tightly in a silent warning. “I want you to fuck my ass… Please, Dr. Crane.” You whimpered. You’ve never felt more humiliated, but at the same time… you were only becoming more aroused. Your cunt ached to be filled, and your clit was practically throbbing.

“Good girl.” When you let out a choked moan at the sudden praise, he chuckled quietly. “Open your eyes. I want you to watch.” He demanded, lining up. Only after your eyes fluttered open, did he finally apply some pressure, entering you with little difficulty.

“Fuck- You’re so tight.” He hissed, moving his hand to your other thigh and squeezing almost painfully. Your breath and all of your sounds were caught in your throat as he pushed in deeper, not stopping until his hips were flush with your ass. “Tell me how it feels.” He said breathily, not moving yet.

“Big.” You whimpered, barely able to get the word out.

“Does it hurt?” You shook your head, trying to steady your breathing, but the overwhelming feeling of being stretched as well as the anxiety still weighing heavy on your chest made it feel almost impossible. “You look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack.” He sounded uncharacteristically dulcet.

When he reached for your shirt and unbuttoned it to expose your bra, your breathing picked up even more as your heart started pounding even harder in your chest. He pulled your bra down below your breasts and groped you eagerly, showing little regard for your pleasure with his rough, almost painful touch.

“Your heart’s beating so fast. Is my little lab rat still scared?” He cooed, very obviously mocking you.

“Professor..” You whimpered, staring up at him with glossy eyes as you struggled to cope with all of the overwhelming feelings, both physically and emotionally. He shushed you softly and brought his hands back down to rub your thighs, trying to soothe you.

“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to take it.” He said plainly. “You try to resist at all and I’ll keep fucking you until I finish, then you won’t have to bother showing up to class on Monday. Do you understand?”

You nodded reluctantly and he moved his hands to grip the tops of your thighs. He slowly dragged his hips back, then forward again, forcing you to feel every inch of his cock stretching you open. It didn’t… hurt. But it definitely wasn’t the most pleasurable thing you’ve ever experienced.

When he suddenly sped up, you cried out and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on taking deep breaths. He was grunting and moaning quietly with each thrust, clearly enjoying this far more than you, and you couldn’t help but open your eyes again to watch him. His grip tightened on your thighs, making you whimper, and you watched his mouth fall open in a silent moan as he closed his eyes.

“Fuck…” He said breathily, letting out a low groan before opening his eyes again. “I didn’t account for transdermal administration” He almost sounded amused again, but you could barely focus on his words. “The effects are far less than what you’re feeling, I’d assume. It almost feels like adrenaline, rather than fear. Next time we’ll try it intravaginally to see if your reaction is the same or more like mine.”

You almost forgot that this wasn’t a one and done. You have to let your professor do what he wants with you every week for the rest of the semester…

“And I think I’ll try the other forms of delivery on you as well. Not so much for an experiment… I just want to fuck you while you’re hallucinating your greatest fears.” His lips curled up into a small smirk at the thought of that. “I can’t wait to hear you scream and cry for me.” He cooed, but his tone was far from comforting and your anxiety was only getting worse as he continued sharing his future plans for you.

He started bucking into you rapidly and his sounds got louder, clearly getting closer to his release. You could even feel yourself just barely starting to inch toward the edge. Your moans caught his attention and a pleased look took over his face.

“You like this, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan and bit your lip, trying to quiet your sounds. “It’s either that or misattribution of arousal... but that seems less likely.” Even though you knew his guess was correct, you were still going to convince yourself that it was misattribution of arousal instead because that was far less humiliating. When he started rubbing your clit, any chance you had of keeping quiet was gone instantly. His moans got louder too when your body tensed up, tightening around his cock.

“Oh god— Dr. Crane, please.” You sobbed, feeling the arousal steadily taking over the anxiety that had settled in your stomach.

“What do you want?” Now that he asked, you realized that you don’t even know what you want. You wanted the overwhelming anxiety and stretch to stop… but the thought of him pulling out and ending this almost brought tears of desperation to your eyes. His fingers sped up on your clit and your back arched off of the exam chair as an involuntary mewl escaped you.

“Please let me come.” You whimpered pathetically and he let out a quiet chuckle in response to your brazenness.

“How curious…” He murmured, gaze dragging all over your body. “I’ll admit, I figured some part of you would enjoy getting to please me, but I never imagined it’d be to this extent.” He said amusedly and your blush darkened in response. “You want to come?”

You were nodding eagerly before he could even finish. “Please.”

“How about this— I'll raise the grade on your essay… or I’ll let you come.” You could see the barest hint of a smirk on his lips and you let out a frustrated sob, squeezing your eyes shut. “Well?”

“Dr. Crane…” You whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you tried not to cry. When you opened your eyes and stared up at him through the tears, his smirk widened. “Please..”

“Should I choose for you?”

“No…” You sobbed, looking away from him and biting your lip. The whole point of this was so he’d change the grade… You can’t give in to the pleasure now that you’re so close to finally getting what you came here for. “I- I want you to change my grade.” Your voice was barely a whisper. As soon as he got your answer, he removed his hand from your clit to grab the top of your thigh again, bucking into you rapidly as he chased his orgasm.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, my little lab rat.” He was clearly satisfied with your choice and while part of you was almost crying from frustration… another part couldn’t help but revel in the fact that you pleased him, even if it was at the expense of your own pleasure.

His hips snapped into you rapidly, the force of it almost pushing you up the exam chair, but the restraints on your legs kept you mostly in place. As he focused on his impending orgasm, you were practically mesmerized. He looked so… pretty. The pleasure in his expression was obvious and there was a faint blush on his cheeks. His normally pale blue eyes were darker as he took you in, studying every tiny reaction to his ministrations.

When he suddenly pushed forward all the way and stayed there, you let out a whine of displeasure, knowing whatever pleasure you might’ve been feeling before was about to disappear. But the choked moan he let out as he closed his eyes made you almost forget all about it. His hips bucked forward sporadically as his cock twitched inside you with each rope of come that shot out, filling you up.

Finally his sounds quieted into heavy breathing and his body went still. You waited anxiously for what was next, not sure what to expect. Opening his eyes again, he watched as he slowly dragged his hips back until his cock slipped free, forcing out a quiet hiss from him and a whimper from you at the sensitivity.

“Push it out.” His voice was raspy and still thick with arousal. When you pushed his come out, he let out a low groan as he watched, bending down a little to get a closer look. “Good girl.” He cooed, making you whine as the words went straight to your cunt that was still aching with need.

“You can remain here until the effects wear off. I want to see how long that takes.” He said, almost clinically, while checking his watch. Your eyes stayed on him as he tucked his cock back in his pants before collecting the lube and discarded glove.

“Are you going to let me go?” Your voice was quiet and timid as submission still heavily clouded your mind. He looked over at you again, almost surprised by your voice. He glanced at the restraints before dragging his gaze all over your body for a moment. Finally, he smirked a little and went back to what he was doing.

“Soon.” You sighed in response and stayed quiet. As you breathed deeply, trying to ignore the arousal still lingering in your stomach, you noticed that the anxious feeling was starting to subside a little. Your heart was still beating rapidly, but now it was hard to tell if it was from fear, adrenaline, or your own unsatisfied arousal.

“I think it’s wearing off.” You told him and he checked his watch again.

“What are you feeling?” He finally walked back over to you and stared at your face with an almost impressive level of professionalism, given the circumstances.

“My heart is still pounding, but my breathing is better. And I don’t feel very nauseous either.”

“Next week I want to test this again so I have a control group to compare these results to. It’ll be the same thing, but I won’t finger you for as long and I won’t fuck you until after it wears off.” He reached out and gently grabbed your chin, angling your face up to look at him as he stepped closer. “Of course… that’s assuming you still want to keep your spot in my class…” He trailed off, making the statement sound like a question instead.

“I do.” You said quickly. Especially after this… you were desperate to stay enrolled in his class, but you were also— as much as you didn’t want to admit it— desperate for more after he gave you this small taste.

“Good girl.” Your cheeks heated up instantly and he patted one with his hand before stepping back again. “Keep being my little lab rat and I have no doubt you’ll pass my class… maybe even with the grade you think you deserve.”

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #cillian murphy

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 day

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I'm sort of confused on Silver's personality. I know the game typically portrays him as someone who is empathic/kindhearted/etc., but after looking through his battle lines and the Glorious Masquerade tower scene (where he's joshing with Sebek before they go to fight the flowers), it seems like he lets out a different part of his personality? Battle lines were sourced from the wiki.

I initially thought it was exclusive to when he's fighting, but in his dorm uniform vignette, he's just praising Sebek's skills during their sparring (unless sparring vs. real fights prompt different reactions from him, but he doesn't seem to have the same cocky dialogue in book 7 either).

For reference, I'm EN only.

To those he considers his allies, yes, Silver is generally cordial (if not blunt) and empathetic. If it’s a situation where he has to protect his loved ones? Then Silver has to get serious and take down those threats. At the end of the day, he’s a knight and he has duties to tend to. However, it’s not so much of a confusingly merciless aspect to his character, erasing his empathy, or showing a hidden dark side to him 8as it is just another facet of who he is and an extension of his preexisting traits.

Given the opportunity, Silver tends to opt for discussion first before attacking or deceiving. Notable examples of this include Fairy Gala: If (where he expresses guilt for tricking the fairies and suggests just talking with them instead) and Endless Halloween Night (where he attempts to speak with the ghosts… until his peers ruin it by preemptively attacking them). In the cases where he does have to resort to violence, it usually comes with this air of reluctance, he’s almost never the instigator (but instead follows someone else’s lead, like Jamil in Endless Halloween Night), and/or he apologizes to those he beats down (book 7). When listening to the audio for the battle lines (I’m not sure if you did this too or if you just read them), I don’t really get a sense of arrogance from how Silver speaks. They’re mostly pretty neutral and soft. Because of this, I don’t think he takes any genuine joy or pride in striking others down. It’s just… something that comes with the territory and the nature of what he does. A “necessary evil”, you might say.

I cross referenced fan translations and native Japanese speakers in my own life about Silver’s battle lines. They seem to be pretty accurate, so the explanation for the can come sown to a few things.

One idea is that the Diamonsia students just speak melodramatically; this is something that Azul and Idia remark on in Glorious Masquerade:

Having others misinterpret the meaning bc behind their words and body language is a detail that may ring especially true for Silver, as his Dorm Uniform vignettes center around a misunderstanding between him and some mob student peers. Lilia notes that while it may be easy for him, Silver’s father, to read and to understand Silver’s emotions and the intention behind them, this may not be true for others.

Let’s circle back around to Silver and his identity. Being a knight is a Big Deal for him, who wants to have the power to protect the people he loves and to “pay back” what he feels is owes to his father. He even references the fruits of his training and physical prowess in various battle lines. The pride Silver has in his own power, then, comes from that selfless desire to fiercely defend the things he cherishes—but as his Dorm Uniform vignettes show us, it’s so easy to misinterpret his aloofness as something else. Due to this + the dramatic flair of the Diasomnia students, maybe some players misunderstood Silver’s battle lines as being more arrogant than he intended for them to be.

Another idea that I think also makes a lot of sense is just how Silver perceives the situations he’s in. He’s able to be a lot more amicable when he’s fighting alongside Sebek, his childhood friend, fellow knight, and pseudo-little brother figure. They have known each other for so long that they can read each other’s true feelings and can perfectly coordinate their attacks with one another. Silver understands that Sebek lashes out because he’s embarrassed and this is how he shows affection; Sebek knows that Silver is empathetic and kind but that others fail to see if because of Silver’s stoicism, etc. They can afford to poke fun of each other while they train or do a practice sparring match—and Silver, being the older one, naturally feels a sense of pride seeing Sebek make improvements.

In Glorious Masquerade, Silver and Sebek are panting and starting to get tired from fighting the fire lotuses… and yet they’re still able to lightly tease each other, pointing out that the other is slightly faltering. This is how they communicate with each other, because they both have too much pride to show weakness in front of their fellow knight.

It is Sebek who suggests having a competition to see who can cut down the most flowers, NOT Silver. Knowing that Sebek is the type who conceals his emotions with fake bravado, it’s very likely that the competition was Sebek’s roundabout way of encouraging Silver and giving him motivation to keep fighting.

Alright, now pay attention to Silver’s face between the first and second screenshots here:

At first, Silver seems surprised. Almost immediately after, he’s doing that soft, lopsided grin while seemingly saying a really arrogant line about how he’s going to essentially mop the floor with Sebek and secure the victory. Looking at this scene from an outsider’s perspective, Silver’s weirdly being stuck-up to his friend in these dangerous circumstances… and that’s the thing, it’s the OUTSIDER’s perspective.

Given how well the two know each other and their respective communication styles, I’d wager this scene isn’t how it appears on the surface level. Again, it is Sebek who suggests the competition… after he notices that the chips are down. Silver knows that Sebek is brash in his efforts to cheer others up. That is most likely what Sebek is doing now, and that’s why Silver so quickly rebounds from shock to smiling. When he says, “I was just worried about how I’d calm you down when you inevitably lost”, it doesn’t necessarily have to read as an ill-timed taunt. It could also read as Silver joking back to try and ease Sebek’s weariness and grant him some motivation too.

Lastly, here’s the boring meta answer (booooooooo): things that are said or happen in battles/gameplay don’t always match up or make 100% sense in the context of the narrative. For example, playable characters don’t always have the same stats as when we battle them as mini-bosses, somehow you can have a whole team of the same character, etc. For Silver, the battle voice lines he has do not make sense for every battle he takes place in for the main story, and thus he may not truly be telling Silver Owls “Know your place” (which does, in fact, sound a little hostile OOC) when you deploy him to fight. You have to also consider that we have like… zero explanation for any battle lines other than they’re battle lines. This is completely unlike the main story which has tons of context and set-up.

Thinking of it like this, we can clearly separate battle lines from lines of extended dialogue shown in the main story, vignettes, etc. It doesn’t mean the Silver we see in battles isn’t “real”, it just means the Silver we see in battle segments won’t accurately reflect his current state of being at that point in the story because he doesn’t have specialized voice lines to suit each scenario. Silver has always consistently been kind-hearted and willing to hear others out; this was not changed even in book 7. It only appears that he has oddly stuck-up and out of character voice lines because our brains want to stitch everything together into a single narrative even when the gameplay meta and the story meta don’t want to align.

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brucewaynehater101 · 22 hours

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I know that when the sun is up i shouldn't;t be and all but lets ingore that and all the following typos.

so i saw the prompt about tim arranging everything before he left to go on a very long vacation in all of his identities (which is a long list) and then likely can't be contacted since he's so far away now while taking a bunch of cold files with him.

i'm just wonderin what that must look like to the bats yk? like tim got all his affairs in order then suddenly is unreachable? bats are trained to expect the worst which leads to them thinking that tim took a bunch of cold cases that are somehow connected, got in over his head, and croaked.

cue the bats trying to figure out how the cold cases were connected, solving many of them along the way, and just scrambling to figure out what happened to tim meanwhile he's just getting his cheeks pinched until they're pink by his citizens who coo at their fearless baby overlord while yj snickers by his side as body guards/consorts/advisors.

tim coming back who knows how long later and just wants to compare the results that he got on the cold cases he solved to the ones that they solved like it's a book club. he didn;t even die guys come on you didn't even have a body this time. you know death isn[t real

idk if this makes any sensse but take my sleep deprived rambles. will check back later to see if autovoored had my back or if it gave me the caesar treatment :p

Hullo!

It does make sense. I can also see all of the Bats (minus Tim), and they've pulled out multiple rollable whiteboards and corkboards. They are gathered around a table as they debate what the hell is going on.

Bruce is just glaring at one of the boards.

Duke, because they've been at this for eleven days now, is drawing mustaches on suspect photos.

Dick is standing up with his hands on the table as he tries to give the seventeenth pep talk.

Jason has his feet on the table and isn't bothering to hide the fact that he's taking a nap.

Cass is trying to balance objects on Jason as he sleeps.

Steph is working her way through the cases and is currently putting up another detail she's noticed.

Damian has somehow managed to hide batcow under the table and keeps sliding snacks to her.

#dc comics #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#bruce wayne #dick grayson #duke thomas #jason todd #cass wayne #steph brown #damian wayne #dc au #ruler of worlds au

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xuhuihuis · 2 days

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You posted some shibari pics and omg i have such brainrot with ricky and shibari!! i wanna tie him up and also for him to tie me up!!

-🐾

Baby Doll | Shen Ricky

"Such a beautiful baby" Ricky's voice was almost a whisper as he ran his long, slender fingers over the tight rope. The rope felt so tight against your skin but the pain was worth it. You couldn't see anything as the silk ribbon covered your eyes, heightening the rest of your senses. Jumping slightly as he tugged on the rope between your legs pulling you closer to him. Moaning quietly into your pillow as his erection rubbed against your bare core.

Ricky stood behind you at the edge of the bed fully dressed in his suit, the blazer was long discarded and the sleeves of his shirt were now rolled up. His shirt was tucked into his pants which outlined his perfect waist, highlighting his broad shoulders at the same time. He looked down at your naked, shaking figure so desperate for his touch. Your skin looked so beautiful contrasting with the brightness of the rope he tied around you so perfectly. It was such a shame that you couldn't see it.

"My needy princess" He said laughing as he watches your essence drip onto the bed and pooled below you. His deep voiced boomed in the tiny room catching you off guard. It was impossible to hear anything over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Desperately, you tried to grind against his bulge but he just laughed at your poor attempt.

"Sir please!" Oh you sounded so beautiful begging him like this but he wasn't going to give in this easily. Your ears perked up hearing his foot steps walking away before getting something from the drawer. Gulping in anticipation before the soft humming of a vibrator filled the room. Fuck. Your full body went limp against the pillow in front of you, pulling on the rope but you couldn't care less. The mixture of pain and pleasure was so good, the rope between your legs was rubbing against your clit.

Biting down on the pillow didn't help at all it just muffled your cries a small amount. To Ricky, your cries were his favourite thing and he would never want you to be quiet. Crystal tears started to fall down your cheeks, dampening the fabric of the blindfold. You wanted to cry even more when Ricky pulled the vibrator away from your cunt leaving you there shaking. But you were soon focused on something else when you heard him un-doing his belt.

"Work for it, doll" He held you down onto the bed using all of his strength so that you couldn't squirm away. Moaning as the head of his cock rubbed against your clit, teasing you. The white pillow is now covered in stains from your makeup, but it was the only thing that could muffle your noises enough to not get a noise complaint the next day.

"Fuck! Sir, please" Your voice broke as you screamed out for Ricky hoping he would just give in. Finally, his large hands held you by the waist rubbing the skin underneath it. He gave one tug to the rope around your legs before sliding into your dripping cunt. All of the air in your lungs had been knocked out as he stretched you out. The sounds that were coming from Ricky sounded so beautiful, hushed groans and quiet pants as your cunt clenches around him. No matter how many times he fucks you, that sweet cunt of yours will never get used to his size.

"My dolly taking my cock so well" Ricky grunted next to your ear as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. The bed rocked with each thrust of his hips filling the room with porn like noises. You could just lay there and take his cock like a perfect doll. The sweet moans that fell from your lips just motivated him more. Wincing as the burn on your wrists and ankles started to sting but the pleasure from Ricky's cock inside of you was enough to make it tolerable.

You listened to every word that fell from Ricky's lips, never wanting to disappoint him at all. Ricky took one of his hands off of your hip but it soon met your ass cheek in a slight sting. The moan that erupted from you was worth it though, laughing as you rut against him begging for more.

It was such a shame that you couldn't see Ricky in the reflection in the mirror as he looked breath taking. His dark hair fell over his face, sticking to his forehead a little due to the sweat on his face. Also, his cheeks were flushed a dark crimson colour heating up his face. The blindfold that covered your face was now sticking flush to your face due to the amount you have cried. Fine trails of mascara ran from under your blindfold and down your cheeks mixing with the dried makeup and drool.

"I'm so close" Babbling your words out, finding it so difficult to speak at this point as Ricky rammed his cock inside of you. His cock was hitting all of the right places inside of you that it ended up being too much. Shaking as you struggled to take his cock as you choked on your sobs just needing to see Ricky.

"Baby, I'm here" Ricky's voice was so soft with you trying his hardest to not scare you. His harsh thrusts came to a stop as he took the blindfold away from your eyes, letting you adjust to your surroundings. That's when you realised how much of a mess you were but you loved it. You were a doll for Ricky and didn't want anything more. He used you for his own pleasure anytime he needed and you sat there and took it like a good girl. He also took off the rope around your wrists so that he could hold your hands, keeping you close to him.

Immediately you reached behind you to pull Ricky in closer as he starts to rock inside of you again. All of the pleasure came rushing back to you, never wanting it to end. Playing with the hair at the back of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was. You could tell he was close by the way his hips stuttered against yours. At this point, none of you cared to be quiet but just enjoy the feeling of one another.

"Make a mess with me baby" His voice was laced with lust as he got closer to his high. Pushing back trying to fuck yourself on his cock to get you both there quicker but it was no use when there was no strength left in your body. Ricky covered your neck in light bruises as one of his many ways to let people know that you were his, and his only.

It only took a couple more thrusts before your eyes were rolled to the back of your head. You clenched down hard on his cock, not wanting him to pull-out. Your whole body went limp underneath him, shaking as the pleasure washed over you. Laying there with your tongue hanging out panting for air when Ricky was still so deep inside of you. he talked you through your high, keeping you close to him. His sweet words mixed with the dirty scenario made the situation a dangerous mix.

He came inside of your with a deep, throaty groan as he painted your walls white. You moaned into the pillow as the thick, white ribbons of his cum painted your walls. He hid his face in your neck as a way to hide his embarrassment but you just felt too good around him. Tiny cunt so warm and perfect for him. You just had to smile at the sight of his pink tinted cheeks finding it endearing, he was still a softie at heart even after fucking you like that.

"Don't move. I'll untie you in a moment, just want to stay inside a little longer"

#hard hours #k pop smut #zb1 smut #zb1 hard thoughts #zb1 hard hours #zerobaseone hard thoughts #zerobaseone hard hours #zerobaseone smut #shen ricky smut #ricky smut #ricky hard hours #ricky hard thoughts

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theshiftingcafe · 3 days

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ shifting pick a pile ✧˖°࿐ ꒰"what am i like in my dr?"꒱

hello! welcome to the shifting cafe!

for today's session, we'll be tackling about what you are like in your dr and people's perceptions of you.

i know a lot of you must be currently curious on how you are seen in your drs, so, i hope this simple pick a pile brings you comfort and leaves you with at least a little bit of clarity

REMEMBER: TAKE WHAT REASONATES, LEAVE WHAT DOESNT

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

pick from at least one of these pictures:

∘₊✧───────────── pile 1 ─────────────✧₊∘

you are the definition of sunshine and almost everyone, if not all, in your dr agree as well! you’re seen as someone who’s so full of love and is ready to give it to anyone whenever wherever and however you can. there’s this aura around you that brings comfort to anyone who sits beside you or even confides in you. i’m seeing you also serve as a “figure” to a lot of people in your dr. whether it be parental, fraternal/sororal, or even as a child-like figure, and much more, you’re just surrounded by people who adore you wherever you go. oftentimes, you also have this relaxed, peaceful, and nurturing demeanor that makes you all that easy to approach and befriend. you make people easily feel welcomed and loved even when you just met a second or two ago.

there is a possibility that you were once a vibrant energetic person, however, you’ve changed over time due to numerous events. this resulted in you being a more quiet and closed off person. you often have times where you struggle with internal battles that not a lot of people understand. at first, people mistake you for someone who’s uninspired and unmotivated from doing anything, but you quickly prove them wrong, sometimes over time.

having a troubled past has numerous effects on someone and you are an example of it. The cards sense perhaps some familial problems (could be either familial problems in this reality or your dr.) that has caused you to be a lot kinder to everyone around you. you know what it has been like to lose your power and be voiceless, and that is the opposite of what you’ve given and continue to give to others. radiating from you is confidence and a voice that can speak for those who can’t. safety has never been given to you growing up and you took the shot in the dark of now giving safety to those who didn’t get it the same way you did.

hardworking is an understatement on how to describe you for you truly are admirable and inspirational to everyone. the cards tell me that your backstory could be a “rags to riches”-esque. you’ve built an empire almost out of nothing and that’s what most people even know you for. a sense of accomplishment is carried on your shoulder 24/7 and rightfully so. the trials and tribulations you have encountered to get to where you are now in your desired reality took a lot of time, patience, and numerous sacrifices.

many saw you as “reckless” and “naive” when you made the big decisions to get to where you are now, but ultimately, it was all for the better. you disregard what was considered the “societal norms” and embraced how different you were from the rest. now, everyone is learning to embrace you and their own differences as well. this could not only symbolize your journey in your dr, but as well as your journey in your cr (or this could be a piece of advice from the cards to stop trying to fit into a box when you’re meant for so much more.)

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 1! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

∘₊✧───────────── pile 2 ─────────────✧₊∘

a lot of people mistake you for being overly possessive and somewhat of a “snob” from how much you’re often protective of your resources. this could be due to the fact that you’re scared of getting taken advantage of, but not a lot of people understand that. you understand the concept of life and how it can be unfair most of the time so you feel as though that it is “better to be safe than sorry.”.

what they don’t know is that you are simply nostalgic when it comes to your memories and often live in the past rather than the present to bother. that does not signify that you are unlikable though. in fact, you are seen as someone with a sentimental and kind heart. materialism is something you prioritize last even if people mistake it to be the other way around. perhaps you’re “materialistic” not because of an item's value, but rather, the emotional attachment you have with it. there’s a sense of tenderness and empathy that comes from you. you help people reflect and comfort them with a sense of affection and reminiscence.

a lot of people see you as an emotionally open and compassionate individual. you have this soft empathetic gaze that easily pulls people in. calling you an empath would either be the perfect term or an understatement. you put love over everything else and that’s what sets you apart from the rest of the world. a light in the dark is a good example of how everyone sees you. you help heal those who are wounded (either physically or emotionally) and give so many people hope for the future.

you like keeping your peace and despise conflict, which is one of the things that makes you liked a lot. however, you do try your best to find peaceful ways to confront them if ever you do encounter these challenges. you also seem to despise competition, which could be the opposite nature of your dr (which oftentimes does have a competitive side.). you serve as a reminder to many that peace is always an option no matter the circumstance and almost are the reason why everyone remains “civilized.”.

overall, you’re seen as someone full of light and joy within themself and inspire those who don’t have much. you have an unwavering belief of a brighter future no matter the current situation and you share that hope to everyone around you. reflected to your appearance is inner peace and harmony within yourself that attracts people into your serene space.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 2! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

∘₊✧───────────── pile 3 ─────────────✧₊∘

if anxiety was a person, a lot of people would immediately point towards you. you struggle a lot with your inner self which could make you appear “weak” and “helpless” to many people. decision making is also not your strong suit, so people tend to underestimate your abilities. things considered acceptable normally society is something that is not your main priority for you have bigger fish to fry. i’m lowkey getting an undercover-ish vibes here, perhaps a superhero dr? like you’re living a double life in your dr. resulting in you to always be on the lookout 24/7.

the reason you don’t exactly belong with everyone else is because you know that you are meant for something more. you feel like you’re always on little quests and currently on a journey to be something greater. you’re driven by the sense of completion in achieving authentic experiences. not in the adrenaline junkie way (however that could be the reason as well if it resonates.), but more on a metamorphosis way. there is a version inside of you that wants to come out and show its beauty to everyone, and having this second identity allows you to show a majority of it.

as to how everyone sees you, everyone adores you! majority however are somewhat more as a fan rather than as someone who truly knows you. people see you as the life of the party and all eyes are on you the moment you step into a scene. from your radiant smile to your welcoming and friendly demeanor, you serve such a big influence and inspiration to so many people. contrary to what your personality truly is, the mask you wear gives you ways to further express yourself and actually feel accepted by those around you.

aside from the fact that you’re one to often socialize and be confident, another aspect of you that pulls people in is your nurturing and creative mannerisms. you always know how to soothe those who are troubled and always come to the rescue to save the day. harmony and balance is what you prioritize the most and that fits very well with your reputation. you make a lot of people feel loved and cared for and they return it right back at you.

despite all this, you still crave for more. in fact, there are times you feel disappointed in yourself for not achieving much–or rather, not achieving enough. you often compare yourself to other people in the same line of profession as you do and constantly wonder if you will ever be as great as them or more. you have millions of dreams and ambitions that you feel has “died: over time and you don’t know how to properly grieve them or get them back. this is more of a reminder to be content with yourself. don’t live long enough to become the villain.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 3! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・

that is it for today's pick a pile session! thank you so much for everyone who decided to participate/stop by and picked their piles for some guidance. i hope these resonated and i have interpreted them well for all of you.

if you have any suggestions for future pick a piles, please feel free to request through messaging me or leaving an ask!

for a personal tarot reading session, check out my carrd and order from my google forms!

thank you so so so much and i'll see you all soon! happy shifting!

・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・

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exaltedfuzz · 22 hours

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Goddammit, your last lanamia comic made me cry.. What master storytelling spirits are you channeling that make you know these characters better than the original writers?

Deepest apologies... I have worse planned. Poor Mia. (and Lana... but you'll see why I say poor Mia soon enough, I hope...)

As for writing characters, it really helps to talk to yourself in their "voices" to try and figure them out. Mumble to yourself when you're cooking, when you're walking and nobody's around, but also listen to people speak. When you put what you know into dialogue it sounds way less phony than if you're purely trying to advance plot with ham-fisted exposition... Though you need a bit of that too, if you're trying to drive something. It's good to write stuff down in a script, get a recording app out, say it all (put on a different voice for each character, why not?) and when you stumble over the sentences because they suck to say out loud, rewrite them so they don't. Your most powerful tool in writing speech is speaking.

Think about the context too, it's dead important. Surrounding events and characters are what keep things grounded... Nothing exists in a vacuum. It's really useful that AA has such a packed world, with so many characters in proximity. Makes it easier to de-vacuum things. I guess the same is true for most fan works.

Having a start and end point really helps. But, more so in a sense of "where is this character at the start of this scene, and what do they want to achieve". When you're writing "aspirationally" like this, you can get into the groove better than if you have a point A and a point B that you are looking to get to overall. And then considering the dynamics between the characters and taking that into account when understanding how those goals may be compromised, ignored, pushed for... Who has the most power in a scene generally decides what goal is pushed towards.

Another thing is focalised narrative. Usually when I'm doing these comics (at the moment), I follow Lana, and most of the emotional core is in her reactions to things. You don't want to zero in too much to one character, or you'll end up flattening the rest, but having a core character is a good way to keep things simple. It's tempting to just chuck as many characters as you can into something, but you have to remember that you're then going to have to have them all exist...

Also, honestly, going back to the source text plenty, and with an eye for specifics, is really useful. Take note of how characters refer to each other, which is a huge thing in AA specifically... And also what humanity is in them. For Lana, for instance, she's quite witty, and quick to make light of herself with that wittiness. ("Oh, this? I cut myself by accident. When I stabbed him, that is. I'm not very good at being a criminal, I suppose.") I try to put this slightly irritating joking into how I write her. With Ace Attorney characters, you're looking at them at very intense points in their "lives", so they're probably acting differently to normal, but picking up on these little things can make all the difference. Obviously, as well, there’s the “that… was probably why she was attracted to me” line. I take this as a reluctance to publicly acknowledge the mutuality of said attraction… (“Intellectually” seems like a Lana-ism to deflect that Ema picked up, to me. Lana doesn’t seem to be very comfortable with who she is in general. She wears her King of Prosecutors medals when Edgeworth seems to think the award is tacky, and even Manfred, obsessed with achievement and perfection, and apparently winner of multiple King awards, doesn’t display his medals. Obviously this is because when they were designed, it was before the idea of King of Prosecutors existed, but I think that Lana pinning her achievements to her chest where they can clearly be seen in order to convince to both those around her and, more pressingly, to herself, that she is competent is interesting.) Her own goals also always come second to Ema. I think she’s probably felt quite suffocated by having to spend her whole adulthood so far being a mother to her.I have a lot of thoughts on her as a character, both in the context of lanamia and outwith. She’s very compelling to me, and although most of the time when I'm drawing her, it's the "used to be so gentle, always smiling" Lana that we never actually see in game, I want to push some of these key aspects of her in game identity into her, so I interpret that "gentleness" as a slight nervousness, and that "always smiling" as something mostly for Ema's sake, so she doesn't have to see her rock crumble, so to speak. Anyway, that's enough on her...

I don't know if you really wanted my dialogue writing tips, but anyway. There they are. I wrote way more than I meant to, so sorry about that, haha! Hope some of this could be useful.

I don't know that I know the characters better than their creators... I only hope I'm doing them and the stories I think they could have lived in justice. Thank you very much for the ask, haha!

#ace attorney #exaltedfuzz #writing #lana skye #lanamia #ema skye

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mikedfaist · 3 days

Note

so invested in famous!reader and her lore… does she have close friends in the industry besides Mike? What does the media/general public think of her? Does she have a crazy fan base?

I love her and want to give her a hug. 🥹 thank you!!! 🫶🏻

Just call me the Drake Passage because you’re crossing dangerous waters, my friend.

She does have many close friends in the industry. To name one, Kathryn Gallagher, who was on Broadway for Jagged Little Pill. Lauren Patten was also in that production, and she worked with Mike in Days of Rage, so everything is connected in some way it seems. Victoria Pedretti, Lili Reinhart, and Florence Pugh are just another few. She also has ongoing beef with Kendall Jenner that seems to resurface once a year.

In her younger years, the media pinned her as a big party girl, and it was common for her to make headlines when she was seen having dinner with a guy or leaving a bar with friends. As she’s gotten older, and she’s retreated from the media, it seems they’ve changed their attitude toward her, but they’ve always been supportive of her, but not always the most respectful…but that’s Hollywood, baby.

As for fans, she’s blessed to have fans that aren’t too much. They don’t crowd her and overwhelm her – though, I will say they were guilty of that in the past, but people grow. Fans who spot her in Ohio are very reluctant to approach her, but if they do, it’s a very polite and quiet exchange, and she’ll sign whatever they want signed, maybe even take a photo, and then she’s on her way.

Here’s a story: She, Mike, and their friends are all at a bar one night, and a couple fans are sitting at the bar top when they notice her sitting in a booth. She’s sitting in the inner part of the booth, and Mike has his arm strung over her shoulders, so she’s hidden well, but she’s nevertheless seen. They don’t want to bother her; she looks so happy and carefree; they figure they’ll just watch her from afar for a while and then talk about their encounter on Twitter.

Mike ends up going up to the bar to get more drinks, and this is when the girls see their shot. They had quickly written little notes for her, how much she means to them, and the songs and albums she’s done that have resonated with them deeply over the years. They hesitantly ask Mike if he can give them to her, because they don’t want to bother her, but he’s insistent they come to the table to meet her. If she wasn’t in the mood to meet fans, he would know.

The girls are shaking as they follow Mike back to their table, and they swear they black out during the encounter. She signs the inside of an Agatha Christie book one of the girls had in their purse, and the back of a Dollar General receipt. They also take pictures, thanks to Mike’s immaculate photography skills, and the only request was to post anything after midnight to guarantee she’s left the establishment.

Just met [reader] and Mike at a bar in Columbus… I haven’t stopped shaking. She signed my Dollar General receipt and became visibly upset when she noticed I paid $3 for my sunglasses. “What’s the fucking point being called Dollar General if you’re going to extort your customers?” She smelled so good, and complimented my Pedro Pascal shirt. Mike looked so good and he was so nice. It makes perfect sense why she likes him. Literally saw him kiss with my own two eyes so anyone who says it’s a stunt can suck my fat dick. Homeboy isn’t down bad with bedroom eyes for you to be saying they aren’t in love. Eat it.

Our famous would later like this post.

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x famous reader #mike faist x reader #mike faist talk

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clockwork-ashes · 3 days

Text

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XVI

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Witches and Their Source of Power…

Elain read the chapter title with a sigh, closing the ancient book and setting it on the low table, deciding she would revisit the text again in the morning. At some point, the words had started to lose much of their meaning, each paragraph making less sense than the one that had come before.

Elain clenched her eyes shut as shadows danced along the sides of her vision, citing her lack of sleep for the tricks her mind had been playing for the last few pages. She had no one to blame but herself for the sleeping arrangements anyway, stubborn as she had been to give Lucien the bed and commit to her choice.

As Elain adjusted her position in the armchair, tugging the blanket around her shoulders so that she could rest her head against her pillow, she was glad Lucien had stepped out of their shared chambers for a moment. Elain had spent the entire day with him, and she loathed to admit how awfully nice it had been.

Lucien had shown her around the Forest House, the memory of his hand on the small of her back as courtiers had walked by replaying in her head every time she had a moment to herself. She could barely stand to look at Lucien without feeling the sudden urge to simply touch him,

Elain shook her head at the thought, attempting to push Lucien from her mind. Instead, she considered the Lady of Autumn’s book. Being a witch in Prythian seemed to have many meanings, some more negative than others. In Autumn, their reputation was generally good, Elain was surprised to find, but she was growing frustrated as the pages went on and she could relate to nothing within them.

Elain wondered if she should ask Eris about getting her a book on seers, but thought better of it immediately. Eris would ask too many questions, and Elain had yet to see the Autumn heir since the celebration Beron had thrown to lift Lucien’s exile.

She would see Eris at dinner the next day, Elain remembered. Lucien had told her about their invitation to join the High Lord for a meal, quickly declaring he had to speak with his brother before leaving Elain alone in their rooms. Lucien had not expressly told her which of his brothers he had meant to find, but Elain figured the most likely option was Eris. She furrowed her brows, tilting her head to watch as the shadows along the carpeted floor flickered strangely in the light of the dying fire.

Elain was nervous about having to spend more time with Beron Vanserra and his sons. She did not know what to expect, and she assumed that Lucien was just as worried about how the night’s events would unfold. She hoped to fall asleep quickly, and that no dreams would wake her, so that she could be well-rested. Elain knew she would have to play her part perfectly, that the smallest misstep could have disastrous consequences.

Just as Elain’s eyes began to droop shut, she felt a shiver travel along her spine. Instinct had her jolting upright, the room seemed dark, her hands clenched into tight fists as she searched for whatever threat her body was warning her about.

Elain blinked as shadows seemed to slither on the floors, as they darted down the walls and collected in a spot next to the open window. In her panic, Elain grabbed the object nearest to her, the golden candelabra on the coffee table heavy in her small hands.

I will not scream.

Elain silently vowed, determined to handle whatever might be coming her way without assistance. She stayed tucked against her armchair, raising her makeshift weapon as the shadows slowly took shape.

The darkness took the distinct form of a man, and Elain yelped embarrassingly in recognition as his facial features became clearer.

Elain had never seen a phantom, although she had read about the creatures. If she had not known better, she would have assumed that Azriel was one such monster. She could see right through him, the carved pattern of the window sill filtering through his shadows, like he was in the room, but somewhere else at the same time. There with her, but not entirely.

“Oh gods,” she mumbled, kicking at her blanket, eyes widening in disbelief. She put the candelabra down with a resounding thunk, her words a hiss so that no one else could possibly hear. “Az, what are you doing here?”

Had she been in Velaris, Elain would have rushed to pull a robe over her sleeping clothes, but the ones in Autumn were modest. The material was thick, meant to keep her warm as the sun fell and the temperature dropped. She still felt an embarrassed blush creep its way onto her cheeks.

“Were you…” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper, it rattled like dead leaves in the wind, odd and unnerving. “Were you going to hit me with the candlestick?”

Elain was close enough to Azriel that she could have touched him if she wished. “You can’t be here,” she stated, anxiety leaking into her tone. “Why are you here?” Elain knew the answer to her question, but she listened closely as the shadowsinger responded.

“Rhysand and Feyre could hardly come themselves,” his lips tilted up at the corners as he continued, “and Nesta was moments away from storming Autumn to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine,” Elain snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose, quickly swallowing any of her frustration. “Tell everyone I’m fine.”

Azriel frowned, his shadows whirling at his shoulders, nearly blocking him from sight. “We got your letter—”

“But you didn’t believe me?” Elain interrupted, fighting the urge to cross her arms. She had written days before and given her note to Cora who she hoped might be able to pass it to Eris. Elain was careful not to alert anyone of what she was planning in case they thought she might run off, especially since Beron believed that she was staying in Autumn with the Night Court’s knowledge.

Azriel shook his head sharply. “Of course we did,” he reassured. “We just don’t like—”

“What’s done is done,” Elain interrupted once more, her voice easily cutting off his throaty rasp. She had said the same words to Lucien when he had questioned her decision to come for him, although it felt like a lifetime ago. “Me and Lucien are handling it, so unless you’ve come with advice, I don’t want to hear about whether or not you like any of my choices.”

For a moment, it was as if the world had stopped spinning. The silence was heavy, the tension between her and Azriel thick. She had had a complicated history with the Illyrian, but enough years had passed, and his friendship was important to her. Elain hoped at the very least he would understand where she was coming from.

With a sigh, Azriel said, “Right, of course.” He looked at her with furrowed brows, an unspoken apology in his eyes. “You’ve been alright?”

Elain’s shoulders dropped in relief and she realised how tense she had been. “Lucien has been a perfect gentleman, so tell everyone not to worry.”

“I think we’re all more worried about his family than we are him, Elain.”

She waved a hand in Azriel’s direction as if to say she did not care. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said with a shrug. She hoped desperately that Azriel could not read just how scared the High Lord of Autumn made her.

Azriel raised a dark brow, his expression knowing. “And the wedding plans?”

Elain groaned in response, toying with the laces of her sleeping gown. “If anything, Rhysand can always winnow me away right before we say our vows.”

“Not funny,” Azriel said with a smile. His shadows frantically rushed to envelop him, and Elain wondered if they could sense someone approaching. “I should go,” he said, confirming her thoughts.

“You shouldn’t have come at all,” Elain clipped, taking a few steps back as more shadows whirled past her bare feet.

Azriel ignored her comment. “Good luck, Elain. We’ll see what we can do on our end.” His form became more faint as he spoke.

“Stay out of Autumn,” Elain warned one last time, eyes never leaving the shadowsinger.

Azriel gave her a little bow of his head and she waved in response, a dark cloud covering him entirely. “And Elain?” She hummed, ears straining to hear him. “If you want to keep up the act, the bed should really smell like both of you.”

Azriel disappeared suddenly, no trace of his visit left behind, and Elain could do nothing but stare at the empty space where he had just been. Almost as if she were in a trance, Elain faced the bed with wide eyes.

Lucien always made the bed perfectly, covers tucked into place neatly, pillows organised. She walked slowly to the one side, her fingers trailing along the thick fur blanket. Elain could hear her own heartbeat, blood rushing to her ears as she gripped the edge of the covers. Her knuckles were white around the fabric and Elain had to remind herself to stay calm. She pulled the sheets loose, flipping them over to reveal the comfortable mattress beneath.

Elain closed her eyes, knowing that she would lose her nerve otherwise. It was better that Lucien was not there to watch, she thought, blowing a stray curl away from her face.

“Fuck,” she mumbled as she laid down, “fuck me.” If Nesta and Feyre could hear her now, Elain thought, they would surely think she had gone completely mad. Her behaviour was improper, and entirely out of character, but she could not be bothered to care.

In the bed, Lucien’s scent was overwhelming, just as she had feared. Instead of cringing away, like she had expected, Elain simply tucked her face deeper into the pillows, unable to stop herself from breathing in.

He is mine.

Elain was so tired, she did not even take the time to examine the possessive thought. For the first time since she had arrived in Autumn, Elain was comfortable. Her body was instantly grateful, relaxing quickly, eyes falling shut easily.

Elain could feel sleep claiming her, slowly but surely. She barely stirred as the door to the suite opened and she became aware of Lucien’s presence. When he paused at the foot of the bed, Elain tried to pretend she was asleep, but when he whispered her name, he captured her attention fully.

“Get into bed, Lucien,” she simply mumbled, hoping he would not ask any questions.

“With you?” He whispered back, sounding unsure of himself.

“D’you see another bed in here?” she responded. Lucien said nothing in return, but Elain heard his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom, and she heard them once more as he approached the opposite side of the bed.

When the mattress dipped with his weight, Elain felt a strange sense of triumph at how little effort it took for Lucien to simply listen and accept the decisions she made.

Lucien stayed on the edge of the bed, frozen in place for longer than Elain figured was normal. When the time stretched on, she lazily opened an eye to look at him. His broad back was to her, the shirt he wore pulling across his shoulders.

“We can share,” Elain said softly. “There’s more than enough room on the bed, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Lucien did not look towards her, but Elain could hear the smile gracing his features as he spoke. “Guess I won’t have to worry about my virtue?”

Elain snorted, unladylike but uncaring. “Our scents haven’t mixed,” she added, hoping that would be explanation enough for her sudden change of heart when it came to her sleeping on the armchair.

Lucien’s back straightened, like he had just realised their mistake. “And the dinner tomorrow…”

“Exactly,” Elain wondered how they had both missed such a small but vital detail. She was even surprised that Cora, or even Eris, had yet to mention it. Perhaps the scent of the mating bond had been enough to redirect everyone’s attention, Elain considered.

“I like the way you think, Elain.” His tone suggested he was so impressed with her that she decided not to mention Azriel’s influence.

“Did you speak with Eris?” She mumbled, still wanting confirmation that she had been correct in her assumption. She shut her eyes as she felt Lucien shift.

Getting under the covers and adjusting the pillows, Lucien’s warmth was like that of a fire as he lay down next to her. Even with her eyes closed, Elain knew that he was near, the distance between them small. She felt a warm blush travel from her neck to the tips of her pointed ears, knowing that sharing a bed with a man she barely knew was improper. “Eris was with Callum.” Elain hummed softly and he continued. “They both had some good advice,” he admitted, and she could tell he had not been expecting it.

Elain yawned, exhaustion taking over. “Tell me in the morning,” she murmured, opening her eyes to find Lucien entirely too close. She wanted to rake her fingers through the dark red strands of his hair, to tuck her face into the crook of his neck.

My mate.

“And move, just a little,” Elain added, her words a breath. Unthinking, the pull of the bond clearly affecting her ability to be reasonable, she pressed her palm to his chest. She felt him tense beneath her touch, he was solid muscle under the thin fabric of his sleeping shirt, leaving very little to the imagination. Elain was glad for the darkness, knowing in the light he would have been able to see her blush.

Elain could have moved her hand quickly, but she chose not to. She felt his heartbeat just beneath the pads of her fingers, letting her hand linger for a moment. “Good night, Lucien.”

Elain did not hear his response, instead her mind was fixed on the steady beat of his heart, the sound a comfort as she eased into a dreamless sleep.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #azriel acotar #the autumn court #ashes writes sometimes #all you have is your fire #i cannot get the tags to work :(#BUT elain and lucien are finally getting somewhere #thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment and reblog and like <3

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aibremlk · 1 day

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Nothing.... just me thinking James Potter with BPD after the prank so fucking mad with Sirius like he never been so angry before. James always the happy person, the friend when you need advice or a shoulder to cry to, the friend who even if you're completely shit will cheer you up or crack a smile to your face, the platonic soulmate of Sirius Black never leaving his side and never getting mad at him, being so fucking mad and specifically to Sirius Black none has ever saw him like that before. Him having a fucking breakdown or an episode and everyone is so shook by it, but also not figuring out anything because it's "probably" just a big fight. James Potter threatening Snape that if he opens up his little fucking mouth is fucking dead. James Potter who has a fight the first few days with Sirius in public that the skittles happen to be around, and one second he's yelling at Sirius pretty bad, saying so many things he didn't actually mean while the next Crouch out of nowhere grabs him physically and takes him to an empty classroom to shut him up and calm him down because he's noticed Potter before. After so many hours listening to Regulus talking about him he picked up stuff, noticed the man and realized before anyone that Potter had BPD just like him. At first James is shook and gets way madder at Crouch but Crouch is not getting really mad and James gets confused. That day the talk for a long time. Crouch understood. They didn't talk after that for quite a long time but they knew they had eachothers back if some sort of episode happened again. Crouch paying close attention to the marauders because James understood him.

Don't get me wrong, James forgives Sirius sooner than later at the end and Remus keeps telling him that because he is still mad at him and hasn't forgiven him yet doesn't mean he and Pete can't hang out with him. But the first few days, not to say weeks, even if James is Sirius brother is more angry than he has ever been in his life -the only exception when Sirius came to the in Christmas after walburga almost killed him- and that's when some of his friends realize they never have seen James like that before.

Also thinking about how Remus after the prank starts to spend more time with the skittles to piss off Sirius and Regulus playing along to piss his brother off too and the rest just following. But at the end of the day the end up liking eachother a lot and end up becoming friends. Also that's when Remus realizes the little crush the younger Black has for his best friend. And because of Remus and how he's been doing James starts asking Regulus questions and following him around till he gets over heels for him and that how sunseeker started seeing eachother. Barty and James become instantly friends and none figures out how and why they get so defensive for eachother. Slowly Regulus realizing that James has a disorder and because of Barty he connects it.

That's it thank you.

(Sorry for my English idk if I make sense at some points I hope you get what I mean)

#marauders #dead gay wizards from the 70s #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter x regulus black #James Potter bpd #James Potter #remus lupin #regulus black #barty crouch jr #Crouch and Potter friendship #barty crouch junior bpd #Sirius Black #the marauders fandom #Please make this a fic if it isn't already #I need this fic please someone write it

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 2 days

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CW for historically-typical violence.

The Roman Republic practiced total military conscription, the dilectus. Everyone fought, and even those who did not go on to further service as part of their political careers would serve several years.

Ancient warfare was brutal at every level. “Foraging”, as a military term, means the wholesale theft and violent extraction of all available grain and food nearby. This usually involved sexual assault of peasants as well as kidnapping them into slavery. Even in friendly territory, towns and cities were willing to spend massive amounts of money to keep armies from being billeted in them (Cic. Ad Att. 5.21, Plut. Luc. 29.8). After foraging, Romans would then fight in battle, and sometimes afterwards explicitly ordered to carry out genocidal and mass-punishment actions of slaughter and torture.

My question is: This seems like a recipe for massive, society-wide PTSD. Is that supported by our sources?

I haven't looked into the sources for the evidence. So this is just my best guess:

War-related trauma was probably extremely common for all the reasons you describe. Some researchers argue that the traumatic impact of inflicting violence varies by culture - e.g. if it's socially acceptable to kill outsiders, you probably won't feel very traumatized by killing an outsider. The Romans weren't raised with ideals like equality, peace, and multiculturalism, ideals which often make modern soldiers horrified when they have to kill. But that's only one part of all the trauma war creates, and we have records of ancient Assyrian soldiers struggling to reacclimate to civilian life, so I suspect some Roman soldiers encountered that, too. Generational trauma would also continue to impact populations for decades after a war ended.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a 20th century concept, previously called "shell shock" to describe soldiers in World War I who became too emotionally paralyzed or overwhelmed to fight. Like all disorders, it contrasts with what we've defined as "healthy." Would the Romans have thought it unhealthy to be on guard for violence every time you left your house (hypervigilance), or just good sense in a dangerous world? Would they think it mentally unhealthy for a girl to hate sex after she was enslaved and raped, or perfectly logical?

Conversely, they might be harsher on some things than we are: a veteran who startles and hides under his desk whenever he hears a loud noise might be seen as a coward rather than a man having flashbacks. It might be seen as a character flaw rather than a symptom of illness. The girl who was raped might be expected to get over it because she's married now, and if she doesn't have kids, who will care for her when she's old?

Forgive me if this sounds like I'm quibbling over definitions. I suspect the widespread trauma you imagine was very real, but that cultures have different ways of conceptualizing it, and different ideas of what "healthy" and "unhealthy" behaviors are. It's one of several reasons why we can't diagnose historical figures with mental disorders.

Mark Antony would've probably been offended by Adrian Goldsworthy's suggestion that he was suffering from something as "weak" as PTSD after Parthia. He'd much rather be called an asshole!

(Anyone who knows more about this topic, feel free to chime in!)

#trauma #psychology #rape cw #genocide cw #torture cw #just roman asks

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arcielee · 2 days

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Interview With a Writer

It is that blessed time when the wonderful and talented Miss Maggie, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, gives us some behind-the-scenes insight to her latest brilliant narration. [Feel free to check out the Spotify playlist of all the songs mentioned and let me know if I forgot one!]

Here is masterlist to my Interview With a Writer series and the other talented individuals who allow me to continue this self-indulgent series! 💜 Picture(s) source.

Name: inthedayswhenlandswerefew

Story: 1968

Paring: modern Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, modern Aegon Targaryen x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ mature themes. Be mindful of chapter warnings.

Where did the idea for 1968 come from?

I am a high school social studies teacher by trade, and my absolute favorite class to teach is American History. The 1960s and 70s were actually one of my weak spots when I got my first teaching job back in 2020, so I ended up researching a lot about that period of time and got absolutely obsessed with it. In my American History class, I spend a whole lesson on JUST 1968, because so many important events happened in that year that are emblematic of broader trends and tensions.

One day I was re-reading one of my favorite books, The Other Mrs. Kennedy by Jerry Oppenheimer, which is specifically about Bobby Kennedy’s wife Ethel, but also gives a lot of insight into the Kennedy family generally and what it was like to live through that era. The idea of using this setting as a fic AU occurred to me, and I ruminated on it for a few weeks while finishing up Napoleonville.

Eventually, I had a revelation of the ending of 1968 (true to my usual pattern), and then knew I’d have to write the fic! I was actually really worried about all the political and historical details being too boring and/or confusing (especially for non-U.S. readers), so I was relieved that so many people gave it a chance. 🥰

Honestly, it was brilliant with the similarities to the Kennedys and Targaryens in the story. Were there any historical cameos in 1968 that you enjoyed channeling? Or perhaps struggled with?

I find LBJ super fascinating, and I feel that because of the Vietnam War he really doesn’t get a fair assessment when people look back on his presidency. His work for civil rights and the Great Society (SNAP, Medicaid, Head Start, Job Corps, PBS, etc.) was truly revolutionary, and as someone who grew up in poverty and benefitted from a lot of those programs, I don’t think LBJ’s contributions get the recognition and praise they deserve. I perceive him as a haunted sort of figure, and I really enjoyed his cameos. (To be clear, he was also super problematic and bizarre personally, and I don’t mean to excuse any of that 😂).

As for someone who was difficult to write about…honestly, the George Wallace research I did was super depressing, so while he was necessary to include, I didn’t really enjoy working on those parts!

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader portrayal?

Io is a bit of a composite sketch. Ethel Kennedy was known as doggedly committed to her husband’s career above all else (despite eventually being the mother of 11 children!!), and I think that inspired Io’s single-minded determination to help Aemond win the election in the first few chapters. Ethel was traditional in the sense that her husband was the center of her world and made all the important decisions, as was expected of women of her social class in that time period. But Io is also a manifestation of the counterculture of the late-60s. She is young, educated, genuinely progressive politically, and likes to party. She tries to reconcile the expectations of her family/time period and her actual personality by intentionally choosing a husband with whom she can have an equal partnership making the world a better place. And…we all know how that worked out.

[Photo Ethel and Bobby Kennedy, m. 1950]

Can you explain your interpretation of Aegon? How does he compare and contrast to Aemond? What drives them? Why are they the way that they are?

In 1968, Aegon is 40 years old, and so his role in the Targaryen political dynasty is very well-established: once his family realized he couldn’t be weaponized for their purposes, he was largely disposed of, and lives this aimless, uninspired, self-loathing sort of existence. He does have some genuine love for his family—missing Daeron and feeling guilt over him being sent to Vietnam, a vague sort of fondness for Mimi and the kids, distress when Aemond is shot in Palm Beach, an apology of sorts to Alicent by performing “Mama Tried” at her birthday party—but Aegon exists on the periphery, and he knows this, and while he doesn’t want to be a politician the rejection still stings.

At first, he perceives Io as yet another person who makes him feel inadequate and unloved; and in fairness, she is cruel to him, in fact more so than Aegon is to Io in return. It is noteworthy that in Chapter 1, she viciously criticizes Aegon in front of everyone in the waiting room (“if someone had to get killed tonight it should have been you”), but he doesn’t return fire until they are alone (the infamous cow comment), and even then he seems to regret it immediately.

Aegon, fundamentally, is more sad than mean. When in Chapters 2 and 3 Io abruptly reveals herself to be someone who is vulnerable, wounded, abandoned, and kind of a hippie lowkey, Aegon begins to perceive her differently, and she becomes an opportunity for him to be truly understood, protected, and loved for the first time in his life.

I think we would all describe Aemond as ambitious and ruthless, determined to prove that he is the best to compensate for deep, lifelong insecurities. He is a progressive politically because he sees a path to build a winning coalition, and perhaps in small part because of the whole Greeks-being-despised immigrants thing. But in 1968 there is a sense that you never fully understand who he is as a person. This is intentional! 1968 is Io’s story, and she never gets to see the whole Aemond. She sees parts of the picture, but never the full image. As awful as he is to Io, there is also a side of Aemond that truly (even if in an…unorthodox way 😂) loves Alys and their child, and there are clues that Alys understands him like no one else can (that Ouija board message… 👀). He’s by no means a good guy, but he is multifaceted. I think the stress of the presidency, and his long separation from Alys, ends up softening Aemond a bit, hence him defending Io’s reputation and ultimately letting her go.

Did anything inspire your other OCs? Specifically "The Ones Who Married In" club?

I didn’t sit down and plan what sorts of characters would be in the “The Ones Who Married In” club. I was possessed by these random visions of them: a perpetually drunk Mimi, a perhaps not too bright but very sweet Fosco, and Malibu Barbie but make her Polish Ludwika, and I was thinking: “These people are ridiculous, this will never work!” But then when I thought about it more, I realized that Mimi, Fosco, Ludwika, and Io all serve strategic roles to help advance Aemond’s career, and so it would make sense that Otto and Aemond cobbled them together and shoved them into the family portraits. I ended up really loving them, but they weren’t a big part of my original outline for 1968. 🙂

How would Io rate them based on her friendship with each of them?

Fosco is definitely #1; they connect on an emotional level that is deep but also largely unspoken. Ludwika is a close #2; she’s Io’s shopping buddy but also witty, supportive, and very feminist in her own way. And then Mimi is a distant #3. Io pities Mimi and feels loyalty to her as a fellow Targaryen, and goes out of her way to try to protect Mimi from her own self-destructive tendencies. But Io, as a collected and self-reliant person, also has difficulty understanding and dealing with someone as messy as Mimi. And of course, once Io realizes she is super into Aegon, that creates some one-sided resentment of Mimi!

Do you have a feeling of what happened after chapter 12? What is the ending you vaguely see with Aegon and Io? What about Aemond and Alys?

Where I end a fic is really the last clear image I see of the characters, so I sadly don’t have a lot of specifics to offer. What I do feel is that Io and Aegon have children of their own (like, several children, maybe even 5+ children) and Aegon is present for their early years in a way he wasn’t able to be for his kids with Mimi. Io is a stepmom to Aegon’s OG kids and has a good relationship with them, but she’s only really close with Cosmo.

I also sense that Aemond has basically no contact with Io or Aegon, which makes sense considering his abuse of Io and the lifelong fury Aegon would therefore have towards him. Aemond is happy with Alys and their son (as happy as someone like him is capable of being); he does the ex-president thing and settles into a largely ceremonial role and advises Democratic politicians, although he is not very friendly with President Reagan.

And then my wild theory is that a Daeron/John McCain ticket ends up winning the 2000 election and the War On Terror plays out completely differently!

And finally... 1968 seemed to pour from you like a fever dream. Does this mean something else might be coming to continue the Maggie's Suffering Sunday tradition?

1968 did seem to fly by, despite it being a longer fic at 12 chapters! I do have something planned for this Sunday... 😉 All I can say for now is that it is very weird, totally unexpected, and tonally a mashup of Comet Donati and When The World Is Crashing Down.

Does that seem impossible?? Think again 😏 I will be reblogging hints until Sunday! I hope you enjoy this new journey 🥰🐍

#interview with a writer #iwaw 25 #bts #of their brilliant writing #writing community #writers on tumblr

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irisintheafterglow · 3 days

Text

of daisies and collisions

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: thelonious monk - "green chimney's"

summary: nanami kento felt a little out of his element, with a small bundle of flowers sitting in his lap and brooding in the dark corner of the jazz bar. yet, you play that song he likes again, and nothing else matters. (nanami x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: strangers to lovers (??), first meeting, banter-driven fluff with a little bit of angst at the beginning, gojo cameo

note: FIRST TIME WRITING FOR NANAMI RAHHHHHH. thank you to @yutaleks for donating as a part of @ficsforgaza !!! also,,, threw in a little reference for @mididoodles my og nanami lover. i hope you like this :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Nanami Kento considered himself a simple man.

A week ago, he would have clocked out of work and driven home alone, maybe throwing a baking show on the TV while he made pan-fried dinner in solitude. Nothing got past Nanami’s walls because he didn’t let them. Simple, easy, boring–that was his life since leaving Jujutsu society. Nothing exciting and nothing new, life passed him by and he allowed it to slip through his fingers like water, letting himself become pulled into the mundane pushing-and-pulling tide of everyday life. He wasn’t a sorcerer anymore; just a working man with too much time on his hands, seeing shadows no one else could. Yet, the thought lingered in his mind: who was benefiting from his efforts?

That was his existence, up until a week ago when a novice driver scraped the hood of his car in just the right way to make the engine go completely kaput.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“I am aware of your remorse. Kindly give me your information so we can handle this in a timely manner.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir!” He exhaled through his nose. The boy couldn’t have been older than eighteen and any other decent adult would have sympathy for the kid. Nanami, however, couldn’t be bothered and took down the teenager’s license and registration with as minimal words as possible. Soon enough, his phone was pressed to his cheek as he called a cab, the nearest one being at least fifteen minutes away. Before he could slip his phone back into his pocket, he senses a body rushing toward his seconds until an inevitable impact. He tries to pivot so that the figure brushes past his arm instead of colliding, but it’s no use. Your shoulder rams into his and you stumble, briefly aware of his hand brushing your forearm to catch you.

“Sorry about that!” You’re giving him an apologetic smile, still continuing in your current direction. You’re clutching a small stack of papers and you grasp at them as they start to slip from your arms. He gapes unexpectedly, meeting your eyes from over your shoulder. His silence seems to concern you and you take a few steps back toward him with drawn eyebrows. “A-Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he forces out after a moment, taking a disorienting amount of time to regain his bearings. Why was he so startled by you? “Are you–”

“Okay, great! I have to,” you stutter, gesturing the opposite way, “I have to go. I’m so sorry about running into you, again. Have a good one!” Nanami finds his hand acting on its own, stretching out to grab your attention before you’re gone. He’s a millisecond too late and realizes with a weight in his stomach why he couldn’t stop staring at you. There was something attached to you, something inhuman. It was nearly imperceptible because of your normalcy and any other sorcerer would have missed it, but he saw it, the grotesquely snake-like Curse winding its coils around your neck. The question comes into the forefront of his mind again: who was benefiting from his efforts?

Shit.

He trails after you without thinking, without any regard as to whether he would miss the cab or get home after the sun disappears. You’re texting someone frantically while still shuffling around your papers, checking street signs every so often before taking a sharp turn right into a brick building Nanami had never entered before. MIDI’S: JAZZ AND DRINKS, read the neon yellow sign, and he pushes through the door without another moment’s hesitation.

“How are we feeling tonight, ladies and gentlemen?” Cheering, a few hoots and hollers. It’s comfortingly warm in the dark space, dimly lit by a few dandelion lanterns and a tasteful amount of plain candles. There’s a bar tucked into the left wall with two bartenders chatting up distinguished-looking customers. Crowded tables and attendees lounging in creaky chairs litter the space, sipping from honey-colored bottles and crystal glasses. It’s homey, Nanami thinks. Not necessarily his usual crowd, but he could find solace in it. “We’ve got a lot more music up for you tonight, featuring our very own pride of Midi’s.” Nanami’s eyes are drawn to the circular stage at the center of the room, where the announcer gestures behind her to a person seated at the piano. He blinks once, then twice, before realizing that it’s you. You smile into the darkness, wincing a bit when the snake Curse around your shoulders squeezes tauntingly. You had no idea of the danger you were in, which Nanami figured was the reason he orders a glass of bourbon and finds a less-crowded corner of the club.

Your fingers dance on the keys of the piano, gliding and crossing over each other lighter than touching a paintbrush to a canvas. Your movements are smooth and unrestrained, flawless except for the momentary constriction of the Curse attached to you. The Curse’s eyes find Nanami’s and it seems to smile, constricting harder than it had previously while maintaining eye contact. You cough hard enough that your song is interrupted and the other musicians around you quickly cover for you as you struggle for a drink of water. The Curse was restricting your ability to play, and his body again reacted before his mind.

He focuses a significant amount of Cursed Energy into his balled fist–not enough to be noticeable to non-sorcerers, but enough to serve as a warning for the Curse blocking your airway. It recoils like a vampire caught in direct sunlight, slinking away into the darkness behind the piano. It was still attached to you, but he knew it wouldn’t pester you for the rest of your performance. Exorcizing the Curse himself was risky, since you’d recognize Nanami as soon as he was in close proximity. As the last step in his quiet plan to keep you safe, he opens his messages and scrolls through the endless amount of heart-emoji texts he left unanswered, sending his location to the one contact in his phone that isn't involved with being a salaryman.

> LOCATION SENT - NANAMI KENTO TO GOJO SATORU

—

“That’s them? That’s why you send me to a jazz bar at 7:00 P.M. on a Thursday?”

“Don’t call them ‘that,’ Gojo. It’s crass,” Nanami mutters, another sip of bourbon burning down his throat. The blindfolded sorcerer beside him shrugs indifferently, considering you again. You’re playing with more life than you were the week prior, when the Curse was snug around your neck like a deadly scarf. He might have imagined it, but Nanami could have sworn you caught his eye and winked at him. Gojo insists those winks were for him, though. “But, yes. They are the reason I sent you that message.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you follow them and get involved, anyway? It’s not like you to get concerned with things that don’t benefit the collective. At least, not since you left,” Gojo replies. It’s harsh, a little blunter than Gojo’s usual lackadaisical comments, but he’s right. Nanami hadn’t been worried about a single person besides himself in a long while, however much he didn’t like to admit it. He was fine protecting his own simple, boring existence, until he realized just how much he wanted to protect your existence too. Nanami Kento was a selfish man, inside, and he considered his actions to keep you safe not altruism, but an extension of his selfishness. That’d be too hard to express to Gojo, though, so he settles for mirroring his former colleague’s indifferent shrug.

“Felt like the correct path to follow,” he answers. The small bundle of daisies sitting in Nanami’s lap weighs heavier than a dumbbell, and it occurs to him just how out of his element he was. He was used to things being clean-cut and easy, but his recent interest in getting to know you had thrown off his entire livelihood. “We are to keep people safe, are we not?”

“I’m supposed to keep those people safe. I don’t really know what you’re doing anymore,” Gojo drawls. “Though, I will say, they’re really pretty. You think I can pull them?”

“The only thing pulling you is my arm out of this establishment if you don’t be quiet,” Nanami deadpans. “Plus,” he looks down at the stray flower petals sprinkling his dress pants, “I have first dibs.”

You smile at him when he approaches you sidestage after your set, visibly more relaxed without the Curse on your back. Gojo was long gone doing who-knows-what, leaving Nanami to deal with the unwanted fluttering in his gut.

“You’re back again. Enjoy the show last week?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “You are incredibly talented.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes flick down to the flowers in his fist, comically small in comparison to his large hands. “Those for me?”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he sputters, handing you the bunch more stiff than he planned. A silent understanding hides behind your expression; you can see through him like glass. Somehow, he doesn’t mind. “Were you–”

“Are you–” You both speak at the same time and abruptly trail off, insisting that the other goes first. “Please,” you concede with a wave of your hand, “go ahead.”

“I was going to ask if you were playing here for the first time when we ran into each other, last week.”

“Was it that obvious?” You rub the back of your neck with your hand, your smile turning playfully embarrassed. “I had this weird cough that was messing with my health, so that’s why I was running late. It was also probably why I collided with you on the sidewalk,” you chuckle.

“I am unbothered,” he admits. His thoughts slip out from his mouth without thinking. “I wouldn’t mind if you collided with me again.” Your eyes widen and Nanami can feel his face begin to burn, Gojo’s devilish grin at the back of his mind accusing him of being terrible at relationships. “I-I’m not sure why I said that–��

“It’s Kento, right?” You’re peering at him curiously, as if you were trying to hold in a laugh. The sound of his name on your lips is more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol from the bar.

“Yes, how did you–”

“The blindfolded guy came up to me during my break and said he was with you,” you state, the corner of your mouth still quirking like you were hiding a secret. “You have weird friends.” You didn’t know half of it.

“Right,” he forces out. You didn’t seem to mind how goofy Nanami was acting; in fact, something in his head told him that you liked it. “Well, I-I apologize for such a bold–”

“You know,” you cut in as the back of your hand delicately brushes the tiny flowers in your hand. “My set tomorrow night ends early and there’s a really good sandwich shop just up the street. Maybe I could collide with you there?”

“That would–Yes, I would like that,” he barely replies. You tear a corner from your sheet music and scribble something onto it. You press it into his palm as you head backstage, your touch electrifying every single nerve you made contact with.

“See you tomorrow,” you wave with that same small smile he was losing himself to. For better or for worse, something about meeting you made Nanami unwilling to go back to that simple, easy way he was living before.

GREEN CHIMNEY’S (PG. 3)

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

here’s that song you like, it’s the one you smile at every time <3

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#fics for gaza #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #kento x you #kento x reader #kento x y/n

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