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rhysazriel · 3 months

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Meet Me in the Copy Room [CEO!Rhysand]

SUMMARY: Rhysand is Y/N’s boss but he likes his secretary more than he should. (10.8k)

WARNINGS: teasing, swearing, kissing, smut; dirty talk, fingering, oral (both receiving and face sitting), protected sex, multiple orgasms

A/N: this is a fic from my other account that I no longer use, I changed some bits around for it to fit Rhys' character after an anon had requested it!! Also, this is a Modern AU bc Rhys’ vibe screams CEO hehe

Y/N has worked in many places before Velaris LTD. She was a waitress for a brief few months when she was in college at a diner near her dorm. She was also a librarian for six months and a part-time barista in the cafe down the street from her parents home.

She’s done her share in retail and even a year working in the bank, but as of recent, the past seven months, she’s been employed by Velaris LTD, one of the worlds finest trading companies.

She’s no longer assigned a God awful uniform, nor does she have to converse with the general public and adhere to the customers' every need. No. Now, Y/N has her own little office area with a big reception desk with her own phone and separate line across her boss’ office.

Now, she has her own computer and a little fax machine and she wears heels with pencil skirts and pretty blouses.

Given, she’s a secretary, but an important one at that. She’s not the kind of secretary that runs pointless errands and gets her boss coffee while adhering to their every beck and call. She arranges meetings in the most elite of clubs and restaurants. She files the reports she’s meant to and she handles his schedule and phone calls.

He may be the CEO, but Y/N is the one behind closed doors that ensures everything runs as smoothly as it does.

And sure, Rhysand is the literal face and name of his damn company and he should ideally hire someone to run the damn business for him, but he’s also narcissistic and refuses whenever it’s brought up to let another man or woman run his business for him.

Maybe that’s what she likes so much about her job. That he doesn’t trust anyone to be by his side except her.

It’s something she’s struggled to understand for the longest time. She’s three years younger than him, barely just turned twenty-six, yet he chose to hire her over all the other highly-qualified applicants.

She hasn’t complained about it, would never. Her job is too good. As his personal secretary, her monthly wage is what four months at the diner used to get her. And don’t get her started on the other perks her position offers.

She’s thankful, and she makes that very clear in every opportunity she gets. She didn’t know Rhysand before she got the job, and if she’s completely honest, she’d never ever heard of him.

She expected him to be some stuck up prick that didn’t respect women and only cared for his company and business. She was proven incredibly wrong at her interview when he made her a cup of tea and asked inclusive questions her previous employers didn’t care to think of.

Within three weeks of having the job, she’d learned more about him than the colleagues that have worked for him since the beginning of his firm. And she doesn’t mean things like how he takes his coffee and his favourite places to go for lunch. She means she knows what laundry detergent he can’t use because it irritates his skin.

She knows his mother and sister are the most important women to him, that he sometimes misses his mundane life working with his brothers. She knows the meanings behind almost every single tattoo he has and that while the press made him out to be a cheating womaniser when his fiancee left him two years ago, it was actually her that did the cheating and left him heartbroken.

She’s always wondered why Rhysand trusts her so much. She’s never given him a reason not to, and she never would, but it’s always been in the back of her mind. But then, she supposes she doesn’t know why Rhys does a lot of things that regard her.

Like how, in the mornings, he brings her coffee on his way past her desk. How he always insists he delivers paperwork to her himself and softly apologises for how much she has to file away.

Or how he’ll send her cheeky emails from his personal about how annoying Gerione is when she tries to flirt with him. And on more than one occasion, she’s noticed him leaning in his chair to get a peek at her through the window of his office; craning his neck up to see her past the high wall of her reception-like desk.

She doesn’t say anything to him, though. She supposes he’s trying to sneakily check in on her to make sure she’s actually doing the work. Y/N knows she’s not the youngest to work for Velaris LTD, but she is the youngest to be fully employed and not as an intern.

She’s faced ageism within the company since her first day. She’s either babied by the mothers of the company, or criticised and borderline bullied by the ones a few years older and higher up. She hasn’t much let it get to her, though. She figures she’s clearly a valuable asset if the company is still running and Rhysand still wants her by his side.

Today feels no different from any other. She gets to work at 7:45 AM, a sleepy smile on her lips as she greets Amora at the front desk. He smiles through tightly pursed lips and quickly avoids her gaze, greeting another worker with a high-pitched laugh and kissing their cheek.

Y/N keeps walking, doesn’t let herself dwell and makes for the elevator. She’s alone until she gets up to the twelfth floor and the keycard clipped to her pencil skirt is gently patting against the left side of her lower tummy.

She doesn’t let her eyes take in her appearance as she walks past the floor-to-ceiling mirror that encompasses an entire 15-foot long wall. She knows her ponytail is tight enough and that her shirt is probably a little wonky because her bag that rests on her shoulder is tugging at the collar of it.

She also doesn’t let herself look to her right because she doesn’t think she has the energy to pretend to ignore the snickers and grimaces from a few of the thirteenth-floor girls this morning.

Instead, Y/N rounds the corner and gets comfortable behind her desk. Her bag is tucked underneath it and her fingers make quick work of logging onto her computer and getting started for the day. Rhysand’s office is directly opposite her, thin windows either side of the tall door and from her seat, she can see his empty desk and a gorgeous view of the city.

It’s exactly 8 AM when Rhysand greets her with her morning coffee. He’s dressed in his usual slick black suit with a charming smile on those pink lips. Y/N would be lying if she said she’s never thought about her boss in more than a professional way. She’s thought about him in many different scenarios where he has her in many different positions.

“Good morning, Rhysand,” she greets him softly, a gentle smile on her plump lips.

That was another thing that took her a while to get the hang of. Rhys doesn’t like to be referred to by his last name. The first time she greeted him as such, he waved it off and insisted she called him Rhysand or Rhys.

It’s been months since she even thought of his last time… to the point where every time she sees it on some paperwork, she struggles to pair it with him.

Rhys takes his time every morning to admire her and her outfit of the day. He’s thoroughly pleased about the tight blouse and many open buttons at the top that offer the delicious view of the swell of her perky tits.

He averts his gaze with another charming grin, and can feel his trousers slowly begin to tighten as he places her coffee on her desk. “Morning, darling. How did you sleep?” he asks, always taking a few minutes out of his morning to make sure she feels okay and slept well the night before.

Rhysand’s never really known himself why he purposely goes out of his way to ask her these things. He doesn’t bother to do much with any other of his workers, nor his previous personal secretaries.

He tells himself it’s because she’s young and new, so he wants to make sure she feels as comfortable and as included as he can. But she’s only three years younger than him and she’s been working for him for over a year.

He needs to stop feeding himself that same bullshit excuse.

Y/N gleams a pretty smile and leans forward with her elbows on the desk, subsequently pressing her tits together deliciously. Rhysand licks his lips, eyeing up her chest before gazing back at her pretty smile again. But it doesn’t go unnoticed and it stirs something that oozes confidence inside her.

She tilts her head a little, a hint of something mischievous in her eyes but Rhys doesn’t notice. Figures she’s too innocent to catch on to his somewhat advances, but little does he know.

“Slept okay, it’s just really hot in my house lately… I need to speak with my landlord about getting a new AC fitted or I’ll be stuck sleeping naked until further notice,” she tells him through a seemingly innocent sigh, shrugging her shoulders and as hard as Rhysand tries to hide his bulging eyes, she catches them, along with the bulging in his pants.

He raises his brows in amusement and a lopsided grin pulls at the corners of his pink lips. He tilts his head like she did. “Do you only sleep naked when your air con is broken? Thought that’s something people living alone normally did? Freeing and all. I do it,” he shrugs his shoulders. He’s subtly prying, trying to learn if she still lives alone in that cutsey townhouse just twenty minutes away, or if she’s got a man on the scene.

He watches the apples of her cheeks twitch and he wonders if she’s imagining him sleeping naked. She is. He smirks to himself at the thought of what she must be mustering up in that pretty little head of hers.

It’s nothing new between the two; occasional flirting and topics that definitely should not be discussed between a boss and his secretary. He likes to watch her squirm and splutter and innocently reply in a way that has blood rushing to his cock.

He’s always observed her closely during these types of interactions, knows how to read her body language. He’s come to learn when she feels uncomfortable, and she’s never shown any signs of discomfort during said topics.

“And it would be freeing if I didn’t have a friend staying with me that often forgets to knock on my bedroom door before storming in,” she chuckles dryly, wondering if her words would rile him up or not.

She doesn’t know why they would.

She figures it’s all just harmless banter between the two; a little bit of flirtatious teasing to loosen them up when things get a little stressy. She’s dead certain someone as successful as him would never actually want anything romantic with his fucking assistant.

His brows raise higher than before, can feel his hand ball into tightly clenched fists and he clears his throat, gritting his teeth behind a hard smile. “Oh? You’ve got a friend staying with you?” he asks in a soft tone that doesn’t suggest he’s pissy that her friend gets to see her naked and between her sheets.

He wonders what else she does naked between the sheets in the dead of night when she can’t sleep.

She nods, soft hum verberating in her closed mouth as she types something quickly on her computer. “Yeah, he just broke up with his girlfriend so he’s staying at mine until he can get his stuff out and move into the new flat he’s found.” She watches him inhale a shaky breath through his flared nostrils and avert his gaze to the wall behind her.

She’s got a glimmer of a smirk on her lips, eyes light and playful but he doesn’t notice that. Rhysand’s too caught up with the newfound knowledge that it’s a male friend that’s walking in on her naked.

She wonders if he’s imagining her naked in bed… or maybe entertaining the idea of her fucking her friend one night when he walks in on her. She thinks that might be it but it doesn’t explain why he looks royally pissed… dare she say; jealous?

She tilts her head when he looks back down at her, jaw still set and he clears his throat, seemingly trying to cool himself down. His elbows are bent as his forearms rest on the top of his desk, his back arched just slightly.

“Not got anyone else he can stay with? What did they break up for?” he pushes further, hopes she’ll turn around and say it’s because he realised he’s gay. She doesn’t.

Instead, Y/N shrugs her shoulders and her elbow leans on the desk, her chin sitting in the palm of her hands as she gazes up at him leaning on the second level of her station.

“Things weren’t working, he didn’t wanna be tied down just yet. Wanted to have a bit of fun before settling.” She can see the gears in his head turn and tick away as he hums absentmindedly.

She tries not to squint at him, to gauge his reaction and decipher what the meaning behind his distant gaze is. She tries not to look too closely into his blushing cheeks and set jaw. She tries not to let herself fantasise about him being jealous and wanting her to himself. She tries, but it doesn’t work.

Rhysand hums, nodding as if he gets it and maybe he does. She knows all about his one night stands and sleepless nights at the strip clubs he frequents. She also knows about the countless booty calls that tend to frequent his office, only for him to ask her to call security to escort the women out.

And she absolutely should not find great joy in watching them huff as security links their beefy arms in their dainty ones, but she does.

Y/N thinks she keeps that secret to herself, but more times than not, Rhysand’s seen the hint of a smirk tug at the corner of her lips when he leans on the doorframe of his office. He knows she doesn’t notice him watching her, he likes knowing she thinks he doesn’t see things. He sees it all.

“Well hopefully he’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” he proposes and she has a sneaky suspicion that he’s subtly asking how long he’ll be staying with her. Which is exactly what he’s doing. Y/N hums again and shrugs her shoulders.

“Actually, I don’t mind him being there, I quite enjoy the company. Gets a bit lonely in the evenings sometimes, to be honest,” she baits.

She watches with a small smirk as Rhys inhales a deep and hollow breath, bowing his head a little so his chin almost rests against his black tie, his jaw knocking against his shirt collar. She doesn’t know where this sudden confidence is coming from. Can she even call it confidence? She isn’t flirting, just baiting him to gauge his reactions.

“Don’t fancy going out with your girlfriends?” He tries to steer away from the topic of other men in her life, but Y/N isn’t finished just yet.

“Sometimes, on the weekends, sure. But it gets a bit annoying when guys don’t know how to take a hint and keep trying to hit on you all night,” she sighs in fake annoyance and she’s certain she sees red flash through Rhysand’s eyes.

She lets herself think he’s jealous, protective. The thought of her boss thinking of her in a sexual manner and hating the idea of other men being in her home or hitting on her is exciting. It’s a thrilling rush of blood that causes tingles between her thighs and has her pressing them together beneath her desk.

Rhysand’s none the wiser. His fists clench at the image of another man dancing up her but his cock bloats at the thought of her dancing on a night out. No doubt in a short and tight dress. He knows tonight he’ll let himself think he can feel the swell of her ass rubbing against his crotch, let himself think he can taste her lips on his tongue.

He doesn’t say anything else and Y/N thinks he’s thoroughly fucked in his head. “Well, I’ve emailed over your schedule for the morning. Have a good day, Rhys.”

Through the rest of the morning, Rhysand struggles to focus on anything that isn’t her. He’s had two conference calls and for both video meetings from his office, he’s been leaned over in his chair with a strained neck, trying to catch sight of what she’s doing at her desk through the thin window in his door.

He was more than thankful when the calls ended because when she sat on her knees on her chair and leaned over the top of the desk, her tits almost spilled out of her blouse and Rhysand spent the rest of the hour sporting a rock hard boner.

He thinks she’s doing it on purpose when she comes into him after her lunch break. She’s taken her hair out of her ponytail and it falls in loose waves down her shoulders.

She enters his office with her hands full of paperwork that just so happen to stop beneath the swell of her breasts so they’re able to sit on the pile; all perky and swollen. She’s got a shy smirk on her lips, too. Like she knows she’s taking her end of the teasing a little further and she lets out a little huff of relief after she plops them onto his desk.

Rhys doesn’t try to hide his stare on her chest and she wonders if he catches her staring at the thick bulge in his pants. Neither parties say anything to the other but as their eyes meet, it’s like an unspoken understanding is pieced together.

A silent acknowledgement that they both know what the other is doing and that they’re more than okay with it. Like all lines between them are completely blurred and any boundaries are ready to be pushed aside.

He watches her hips sway as she leaves his office, closing the door behind her when she leaves. His neck cranes again as he leans to his side in his swivel chair, watching her type something on her computer through the window again.

Her brows are furrowed softly as she stands and rounds her desk, meeting his gaze through the thin glass and walking past his office completely. He tries to watch her but she disappears from his line of sight and an email pings through his laptop.

Y/N: Meet me in the copy room.

He’s leaping out of his chair before he can even push himself away from his desk. His strides are long and quick as he rips his office door open and slams it closed behind him. He clears his throat and avoids the gaze of his employees, ignores the ogling looks he earns from the women he knows touch themselves to the thought of him late at night.

Rhysand sneaks his way into the copy room, kicking the door closed behind him. She stands in front of him, leaning against the copier with a flirtatiously shy smile. He reaches blindly behind him and twists the lock, his bottom lip taut between his teeth as he ogles her shamelessly. She feels shy under his gaze, knowing he doesn’t care to hide how attracted he is to her.

She doesn’t have time to feel awkward or rake her brain for something to say because he’s rushing toward her and with both large hands caressing her cheeks, his lips are smearing against hers.

Y/N reaches up and tangles her fingers in his messily styled hair, twisting the curls and tugging softly. His hands leave her face in desperation as they pinch at her hips before rounding her body and squeezing deliciously at her ass.

She tastes like strawberries; her tongue swirling against his. His mind is swimming and all he wants to do is taste her little honey pot, wants to know if she tastes as sweet down there as she does on her tongue.

She’s no better. His tongue works skilfully against her, licking into her warm mouth and nibbling softly at her bottom lip. She can’t help but suckle filthily on his tongue, wishing to God she was on her knees as he fucks her mouth.

Both of their minds are hazy; like everything they feel is overwhelming and yet not enough all at once. Y/N feels the pulsing between her thighs, can feel her little lace panties soaking up her arousal and Rhysand’s cock is painfully hard in his pants—knows his tip is fucking leaking and no doubt a delicious purple shade.

“God, I‘ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he admits gruffly into her mouth, grabbing handfuls of her ass over her skirt but it’s too tight for him to spread her cheeks like he fucking needs to.

Y/N whimpers into his mouth and he hikes her up and onto the desk, just beside the copier machine. He rolls her skirt up her thighs until it’s bunched tightly around her waist. Her clothed pussy sits against the cold wood and she shudders, tugging him between her spread legs.

“Why didn’t you?” She breathes heavily into the kiss.

His hands are gripping at her thighs; the cool metal of his rings sending chills through her body and she’s desperately stripping him from his suit jacket. He groans, hands rushing back up to her face to cup her jaw while he struggles to fight against her to keep his jacket on.

He kisses her lips and pulls away, mind foggy but he wants to take his time with her, not have a quick fuck in the copy room and never again after that.

“Didn’t know if you wanted it, too,” he breathes, warm breath fanning across her lips and she reaches up blindly to kiss him again. Her eyes are hooded, lips swollen, and Rhysand’s fucked at the sight of her.

“I do want to, if it wasn’t already obvious,” she groans shyly, a heavy heat sitting on her cheeks and he chuckles, ego inflating as his cock pulses in his pants.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he promises and her eyes light up before she lets him finish his sentence. “But not here, not now. I want to take my time with you,” he rumbles through his chest, cupping her cheeks again and Y/N pouts breathlessly, her once confident demeanour slowly shifting and she feels a little small under his gaze.

“Fuck me now and take your time with me later,” she bargains, not even the slightest bit ashamed of how forward and desperate she’s letting herself seem.

He’s no better. The second the words slip from her lips, he’s kissing her again; harder than before. It’s desperate; needy and raw. His fingers are tugging her shirt down and her breasts spill over and out of her bra.

Y/N’s head falls back as he tweaks a taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting as he continues his assault down her lean neck. She’s letting breathy whimpers slip past her lips as her head rolls against her shoulder. Y/N scratches at his back, tugging off his suit jacket and he throws it across the boxed room.

Rhys dips his head from her neck, kissing across her clavicle and nipping at her collarbones. He massages hungry open-mouthed kisses across the swell of her tits, circling her pearled nipple with his skilled tongue and she shudders as he envelopes his lips around it, suckling softly and flicking his tongue.

“Rhys,” she breathes in a wanton pant.

He feels his cock bloat at the sound of his name slipping past her lips in a desperate whimper. Hearing her shudder his name as he latches on her nipple is something he didn’t know he needed to hear.

“Best tits I‘ve ever seen,” he mumbles as he pulls off her with a kiss to her areola, biting at her cleavage.

Y/N’s fingers are desperately fumbling with his tie, tugging it loose and popping open a few buttons. Rhysand doesn’t give her the time or chance to open more than two before he’s shoving her tiny lace panties to the side and swirling his middle finger through her dripping folds.

Rhys groans at the feel of her; soft and warm, completely fucking drenched. The tip of his finger teases at her hole, swirling around her soaked folds but she wants more, needs it. He seems to sense her desperation because, without a second longer of anticipation, he pushes his finger in and massages at her squishy walls.

He splutters pathetically against her chest, his grip on her hip tightening as he slowly pumps his digit in and out of her dripping heat.

“Oh shit, you’re so tight,” he groans, completely fucking mesmerised by the way her little pussy is clenching onto him.

He wonders if his cock will even fit. She shudders breathlessly, thighs willing to clench shut but he doesn’t let them.

His fingers are much longer than hers; hitting deeper than she’s ever able to in the dead of night when she can’t sleep. Her head falls back and Rhysand latches his lips onto her neck, pulling out so his fingertip rests at her hole before he lunges back in with a second digit.

They’re twisting in a ‘come hither’ motion, pads of his fingertips massaging at her squishy spot and she’s quivering and trembling under his touch. Her clit feels like it’s on fire, angry and desperate from the neglect it’s facing so she sneaks a hand between their bodies, holding her weight on one arm as she leans back, and offers herself a pinch of relief.

It’s a filthy fucking sight for Rhys to be privy to; watching her little fingers rub deliciously at her soaked, swollen clit. He’s painfully hard but fuck, he wants to see her cum all over his hand before he releases his bloated cock.

“Fuck, Rhysand… oh shit,” she’s gasping frantically, legs twitching and toes curling.

He can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since someone last touched her this good. He’s only had his hands on her for a couple of minutes and he can feel how close she is to her tipping point, how badly she needs to explode. He wonders if he’s about to make her cum harder than she ever has before.

She’s getting loud, too vocal for them to get away with the quick rendezvous they’re playing at. It’s when he tests the waters and scissors his fingers before picking up his pace that she falls uncontrollable with the desperate cries and filthy whines.

He has no other choice than to shove her until her back is pressed against the desk and he’s leaning over her trembling body to press a hand over her mouth.

Y/N’s muffled moans vibrate against his palm and he watches the delicious sight with a deep hunger in his eyes. His teeth are gritted, breaths and grunts seething between them at the sight of her tits bouncing across her chest.

“Cum, gonna cum!” he hears her muffled voice beg into his hand, a smug grin tugging helplessly at the corners of his lips and he coaxes it out of her.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl? My good girl?” he spurs her on, eyes rolling at the sensation of her tiny pussy spasming around his thick fingers and fuck, he’s sure he’s about to cum in his pants over it.

Y/N thrashes against the table, chasing her high as he finger fucks her through it. The sounds are obscene; muffled pleas and filthy squelching noises that sound from her messy cunt.

He slows his pace and lets her calm from her orgasm, nosing through her chest and he smears his parted lips across her tits, his tongue sitting on his bottom lip as he does so. Rhysand suckles gently on her pearled nipple as he moves his hand from her mouth and she’s tangling her fingers in his hair, deep breaths causing her chest to ripple.

Y/N’s eyes are fluttering, dazed and overwhelmed and they both know her legs are still trembling in the after-shock. She’s still desperate, though – inhibitions out the window and she no longer wants to play coy or hard to get. She wants his cock and she wants it shoved so deep inside of her that she won’t be able to walk for weeks.

“Please,” she murmurs through half-lidded eyes. Rhys’ brows furrow gently as he pulls off her chest, licking his lips and trying to chase her wanton gaze. When he finally does, he notices just how flushed and fucked she is. He’s a little taken back, if he’s honest. He knows the effect he has on women in the bedroom, but none quite like this for a quick fingerbang in the copy room.

Rhysand reaches for her face, cupping her jaw in his palm and she finally meets his eyes. She’s blinking back rose-tinted hues of arousal to try and see him clearer, but even when her vision isn’t stained with lust, he still looks ravishing and it’s painful.

“Please, what, Miss Y/L/N?” he teases.

Rhysand’s got a sick grin on his face at the way her entire body shudders at his tone and choice of words. She’s a whimpering mess again but he’s barely got his hands on her – one on her hip and the other cupping her jaw.

“Use your words,” he coaxes. Her lashes flutter angelically across her cheekbones and her lips blabber open and closed like a helpless fish out of water.

“Fuck, need you inside of me. Want your cock.” Y/N’s shuddering at her own choice of words. She’s always loved a bit of dirty talk but not once has it ever really come into play with past partners and if she’s honest, she feels way too shy and filthy. But she fucking loves it.

She loves the way he takes a deep breath – the way he growls to himself to try and fix his composure. She thinks he’s about to give into her, pound her raw and have her sobbing for more, baby, please, I need more! But what she gets is the complete opposite.

Rhysand’s lips hover over her ear, nosing at her neck on his way up before he’s nibbling his way across her jaw until his lips ghost hers.

“Not when you’re so fucked out, Princess. Let me come home with you tonight, back to your place. I’ll be your company,” he nips at her bottom lip, nosing at her jaw again and her head flutters back for a moment, eyes rolling.

“My place? But my – my friend is there…” she trails off breathlessly, struggling to keep her grip on reality when Rhys begins to suck a bruise against her neck.

He pulls away with a sly grin, eyes hooded and dark and her lashes flutter as she drinks him in. He reaches forward and nips at her bottom lip again. “I know.”

She’s nervous as she climbs into his car. He insisted he drive them home and back to work tomorrow morning, which means he plans on staying the night and Y/N is not opposed to that in the slightest.

But her nerves are getting the best of her when he reaches across the console and lets his hand rest on her thigh, squeezing generously and gnawing on his own bottom lip.

Her mind is working so hard on overdrive that she can’t even focus on one thing to worry about. Rhysand on the other hand, has one thing on his mind and one thing only. Her.

Excitement is rushing through his veins and he’s sure he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Blood is rushing to his thick cock and all he can think about is her sweet pussy and how it’ll taste when he has her sitting on his face; the only seat she’ll ever want and need.

They make it to her townhouse in no time and she’s clambering out of the car before he has the chance to switch the engine off. He knows she’s just as nervous as she is excited but he doesn’t say anything on the matter – at least, not yet.

He follows her up the steps to the door, arms shaking around her waist and he kisses across the exposed expanse of her neck, flicking his tongue over the fresh bruise that’s darkened as the day dwindled on.

Neither of them seem to care that it’s still partly daylight and wandering eyes are no doubt watching on with sickening glances and judgemental stares. Y/N struggles to unlock the front door, too busy trying not to roll her head back in pleasure and anticipation. She loosens up a little as he licks wet stripes up her neck, nibbling on the tender skin and the second the door is open, he’s pinning her against it as it slams shut behind them.

His mouth is on her neck, suckling and licking his way up to her jaw, nipping at the curved edge before he licks across the shell of her ear. “Gonna have you dripping on my cock and screaming in my mouth, Princess,” he promises. His tone is dirty, dark and raspy and Y/N’s thinks she’s ready to submit to absolutely anything he fucking wants.

She’s pathetic, really – nodding frantically – eager to please. She doesn’t make an effort to hurry them to her bedroom. She’s too caught in the moment Rhysand thinks he wants to have her friend catch her being fucked roughly against her front door, let him know she’s already being treated as good as it fucking gets.

“Please, Rhys. Need it so bad, please,” she blabbers wetly.

He kisses her quickly; hot and sticky. Their tongues are dancing a frantic rhythm but their lips still manage to mould and fit like puzzle pieces. Rhysand’s hands are hot on her waist, trailing up her body until he cups beneath the swell of her pretty tits.

“Please, what? What do you need, my love?” he coaxes, suckling on her bottom lip and she’s got half a mind to push him to his knees and hike her thighs over his shoulders. But she doesn’t have the will power or the guts and she’d much rather him dominate the absolute shit out of her.

His demeaning tone has her shaking – nimble fingers trying to tug and claw at the expensive blazer of his suit. She doesn’t know if it excites or frustrates him, but it does spur him on to tear her pretty blouse open and rip her bra in two.

He ignores her shriek of shock and latches his wet mouth to her tit, sucking her hardened nipple between his lips and rolling his tongue across it.

Y/N’s head rolls back and knocks against the front door, wanton whimpers and yelps shrieking from her throat. Rhysand spares no expense – he’s grunting and moaning, coursing vibrations and shrills through her body that has her pulsing core blazing. She feels like she’s on fire and Rhysand feels like a starving man that’s finally about to eat a three course meal.

First, he’ll make her cum with his fingers. Then with his cock. And for dessert, he’ll have her on his face while he laps up everything else she has to offer. But Rhys doesn’t take into consideration that maybe she wants to taste him, too.

“Need your cock in my mouth.”

The filthy admission takes him back and for a split second, he’s stunned. Rhys halts his attack on her chest and leans back to get a proper look at her. Y/N’s eyes are blazing a fiery red, one that screams need and touch. She’s fucked, utterly. Messy hair and smeared lip gloss across the lower half of her face.

His own eyes are hooded as he watches her very slowly slide down the door. Her knees are bending and he knows what’s coming, what she’s trying to do. Rhysand has half a mind to stop her, to remind her who’s in charge and that he just wants to taste her, to make her feel good.

The other half tells him to tear out her hair band and hold her hair and head in place with his fist, tells him to let her stuff her mouth with his length by the front door and pray and hope her friend just so happens to be home.

Her shaky hands are unbuckling his belt, tugging down his zipper. Her knees hit the entrance carpet and she reaches back behind her to tug her hair completely loose from her elastic. Rhysand watches, chin meeting his chest, as she massages out the kinks before throwing it over her shoulder.

He can’t stop staring at her as she tugs his pants down just enough to palm over the thick and hard bulge in his boxers. He makes no effort to bite back a grunt and the soft whine that follows. Rhys’ eyes are on her but she’s got her gaze focussed on his clothed cock.

Y/N leans forward, nosing at his thick length. Her mouth is parted; bottom lip dragging a wet strip across the expensive, cotton material as she makes her way up for the little strip of thin hairs that dust down to his sweet spot. When she gets to the top of the elastic, her tongue slips from her mouth and a bold, wet stripe is licked fatly up to his bellybutton.

She feels him shudder, hands on the fronts of his thighs and they creep up to the waistband of his boxers. Rhysand’s got one hand tangled in her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp and the other is leaning against her front door, supporting his crushing weight up.

“Are you gonna take all of me, baby?” he coaxes.

Spit begins to well in her mouth as she tugs his boxers down and she’s finally face to face with her boss’ thick, long cock. He’s massive, that much she’s certain of and the way his tip glistens an angry pink proves he’s just as eager as she is. She wonders if he’s been as hard since the copy room earlier today.

Rhysand’s tugging at her hair, trying to get her to focus on the situation at hand rather than ogling at his cock. He usually wouldn’t mind, but right now he’s far too desperate to be lodged down her warm throat to think about anything else. His cock twitches as it slaps at his lower abdomen, leaving damp trails of precum in his tip’s wake.

It’s standing tall when Y/N leans forward on her knees. She’s got her palms bracing her weight on his thick thighs and her tongue sits on her bottom lip, licking a bold and wide strip up the entire eight inches of his thick length. Rhysand’s grunting when her tongue swirls around his head before she’s suckling the soft flesh into her mouth.

Her cheeks are softly hollowed and gentle hums of approval sound around him at the salty taste that sits heady on her tongue. Her lips are stretched around his puffy head, the actual width of him nearly choking her but fuck, if she doesn’t love it with every ounce of her dirty little soul.

She’s got those innocent doe eyes staring up at him while she suckles on his length. Relaxing her throat to take him a little deeper, Y/N pumps in a firm fist what she can’t fit; twisting her wrist.

Rhys can’t keep his fucking eyes off her – puffy lips swollen and stretched and if he sees another dribble of saliva drip from her lips and down the valley of her tits, he’s gonna cum straight down her throat.

“Fuck, such a good mouth. So fucking good, Princess,” he goads.

He’s gnawing hard on his bottom lip, mouth salivating at the sight of his pretty little secretary on her knees with her mouth stuffed with his cock. Rhysand can’t help his ego from inflating when she lets him guide his hips until he hits the back of her throat, choking her lightly and she splutters around his length.

It’s filthy – the noises her mouth and his cock are making – but Rhysand’s living for it. Pools and dribbles of saliva and precum are spilling and bubbling from the corners of her mouth and the swells of her tits are soaked from it alone. She’s comfy on her knees now and takes her free hand from his thigh to tug his pants and boxers down further.

She’s picked up her pace, sucking harder and fisting the few inches she can’t take. Y/N’s hand snakes further down and reaches around a little until she’s cupping and massaging his aching balls, coaxing the release she knows he’s about to give her. His taste is getting saltier on her tongue and his hips are staggering with each gentle thrust he offers into her throat.

Rhys’ grip on her hair is hard and tight, knuckles bumping at her skull as he tries to drill her head closer to him, to force more of him down her throat. As much as she tries to relax herself, she can’t take him all and she wants nothing more than to bury her nose in the short hairs that lead from his bellybutton to his shaft.

“Such a good girl for me. Sucking me so fucking well, gonna cum,” he warns and praises the young woman and she comes off him with a frantic gasp.

Her eyes are watering and his cock is soaked, but that doesn’t stop her from spitting the rest of his arousal on his length and pumping him as quickly as she can.

She’s got that confidence about her again as she focuses on his tip, fisting both hands around his throbbing cock as she smears her swollen lips across his sensitive head. She smacks it against her tongue, offering hollow sucks to guide him over the edge.

Rhys’ got his forehead resting against the door and he’s grunting and groaning, biting back animalistic moans. He can’t wrap his head around it, the most sloppy and incredible blowjob he’s ever had.

“Wanna taste it. Cum, Rhysand,” she whines greedily, one hand leaving his cock to tear her blouse open just enough for her tits to spill out of it. “Cum all over my tits, baby.”

His orgasm washes over him with a heady grunt and hot spurts of white ribbons that smother her tits perfectly. She’s standing on her knees, using the tip of his aching cock as a paintbrush to smear his cum across her lustful chest. He’s smashing his head against the door, trying to blink away the orgasmic-bliss he’s been thrown in and take a grip of reality again.

When he finally looks down at her, stepping back a little from the door, he’s panting and twitching and she’s licking her lips clean. Y/N’s got that innocent sparkle sitting in her eyes again. Rhysand has to shake his head and let out an exasperated laugh. He’s smoothing down her tangled and matted hair and guiding her back to her feet.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans when he takes note of her cum-smothered tits.

His lips are smearing against hers greedily, and there’s something so exciting and erotic about tasting himself on her sweet tongue. Her hands are soaked and sticky but she still tangles them in his hair to kiss him harder.

She’s too fucking horny to feel shy or embarrassed about what she’s just done against her front door. “Gonna fuck me now? Thought you promised me you’d fuck me with your cock?” she whispers tauntingly against his lips and he grins, still completely fucked out.

Even though he’s painfully hard again, he doesn’t have it in him to sheath himself in her tight little cunt just yet. He’s got stamina, but his poor cock can’t recover from a blinding orgasm like that too quickly. He nods, hands on her ass and he’s groping like a starved man.

“And I will, Princess. But you got a taste of me, it’s only fair I get a taste of you, don’t you think?” he teases.

She’s putty in his hands, though – nodding breathlessly as her nose bumps his. She can feel his hard cock against her middle and he gives her pert ass a spank, enticing a high whine from her raw lips.

“Suppose you better show me to your room then, my love… unless you want your friend to come and watch?” he offers, like he wouldn’t be opposed in the slightest.

If Rhysand’s honest, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d gladly let her friend watch him absolutely ruin her tight cunt.

“Put your cock in your pants,” she breathes, the firm order doing nothing but coaxing dribbles of precum from his dick. He shoves himself back in his boxers but makes no attempt to button up his trousers while she covers her chest again.

Y/N’s got her hand in his as she leads him up the steps of her townhouse, hips swaying more than usual and Rhysand knows, but he’s too horny to tease her for it. All he can think about is having that ass sat on his face and he’s salivating at the thought of her taste.

He doesn’t take in the decor on the walls or the frilly rug on the floor of the hall. He doesn’t even take in the style of her bedroom when she shoves him inside and kicks the door closed. Rhysand, instead, is too busy tearing her blouse open and ignoring the buttons skidding across her oak floors.

She’s no better, eager to get him naked and claw at his tattooed chest. They’re both naked in seconds, hands all over the other in a desperate attempt to get off. She’s guiding him to her bed, tits in his face and he paws at her breasts as she straddles his lap. She expects him to pin her down, to devour her little cunt but he doesn’t.

He kisses her lips and grips her thighs – laying on his back with his head on her pillow and tugging her up his body and she starts to get the hint when she stops on his chest. Rhysand’s frowning, kneading at her thighs and jutting his chin in the air a little.

“Told you I wanted a taste, now come and sit on your throne, Princess.” She’s giddy with excitement and arousal, head cloudy and she lets him guide her up the rest of his body.

Her entire pussy is slick and swollen when her knees rest either side of his head. He loops his arms around her legs and rests his hands on her ass, squeezing and massaging her cheeks.

“Fucking look at you, baby. So wet and so soft,” he coos, craning his head up to suck bruises on her thighs. Y/N’s got her fingers tangled in his messy dark locks and when he spreads her ass apart, she falls a little and her soaked cunt sits on his face.

Rhysand’s mouth wastes no time, sucking and licking and nibbling at her hole and clit. He’s swirling wet strokes through her folds, deep and long. Her sweet scent is heavy on his tongue and he’s got his eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss. Y/N is a mess above him – head thrown back and fingers tugging at his unruly locks.

“Oh my God,” she whines, breathing erratically but Rhysand’s having the time of his life.

She shudders as he brings a hand down on her ass, her meaty flesh jiggling before he’s grabbing it again and pulling her apart and further up his face. He’s got a knot in his brow, tongue circling at her weeping hole and he can’t get enough of her taste.

“So good, so fucking good. Don’t stop,” she begs, desperate and eager.

Rhys lets his tongue trail up the length of her pussy until the flatness of his tongue is rubbing at her swollen clit, enticing moan after filthy moan to slip from her silky tongue. He wraps his mouth around her little nub, sucking and nibbling and she’s seeing stars.

Y/N can’t seem to catch her breath and she’s rolling her hips on his face like she fucking owns him. Rhysand comes off her clit with a little pop, open-mouthed kisses smeared over her dripping cunt and he sucks a swollen lip into his mouth, biting teasingly and she gasps into the dim room.

Her nipples have puckered in the cool air and one hand leaves his head to tweak and pinch at one of the neglected nubs. She’s trembling on his face, thighs clenching around his head as he kneads and spanks at her ass. Rhysand’s grunting deliciously into her cunt, sending vibrations through the woman’s core and egging her on.

He knows she’s close, knew he wouldn’t have to be between her thighs for too long after she came so quickly from his fingers earlier in the copy room, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t gladly spend hours devouring her. She’s sweet – sweeter than he hoped and expected – and it’s better than any feeling he’s ever had before. Sweet like watermelon with a tangy hint.

It’s fucking intoxicating and when she cums, it only tastes better. “I’m cuming, oh shit, oh God…” Y/N can’t think straight.

Her vision is blinding by streaking light that blocks her sight and the wanton and borderline pornographic moans are music to Rhysand’s ears. She’s shaking, body jolting and when Rhys opens his eyes to watch her unravel on his tongue, all he sees is her head rolling back and the underswell of her tits bouncing before her back coils and she hunches into herself.

He’s lapping her of every single last drop she has, desperate to have her taste lingering on his tongue for as long as he possibly can. His cock is overly bloated and sticky as precum sticks to his lower abdomen but maybe his ego is even more bloated, knowing he didn’t even have to use his fingers to get her quivering and begging above him.

“Fuck,” she gasps in a slow drawl.

Her voice is deep and raspy, like she’s seething as she tries to catch her breath and stop the shakes from taking over in her post-orgasmic state. Rhysand’s kitten licking her softly, moving his head to bite playfully at the thickness of her inner thighs and he traces over a soft, faded stretch mark with his tongue.

“Sweetest fucking pussy I‘ve ever tasted,” he groans in approval.

Rhys maneuvers them both so she’s pressed against the mattress, and even in her fucked-out, overly-blissed state, she’s still whining and eager for his cock again. She’s insatiable and Rhysand can’t help the amused chuckle that slips from his lips.

“So fucking desperate, Princess,” he taunts.

He takes a moment to admire her, take her all in. Her pussy is swollen, soaked still and he can almost see her clit pulsing as her hole clenches. Her chest is rattling in deep breaths and her eyes are lidded heavily as she creeps her foot up his thigh, reaching for his hard cock.

He hums appreciatively, spreading her bent knees open and crawling between her legs again. He’s got a hand resting by her head to support his weight – the other gripping her chin in his hold and he forces her mouth open as he lets saliva well in his mouth.

She gets the hint, knows what he’s about to do and she’s desperate to get a taste of herself from him. Y/N’s tongue falls out flat on her bottom lip, eyes a little wider and she holds his firm gaze when he spits on her tongue and forces her mouth closed again.

The sweetness of her arousal is heavy in her mouth and she swallows what he offered before her lips part again and her tongue is licking up at his stubbly chin, reaching for his lips.

Rhysand’s eyes are blazing, dick twitching against her thigh and he kisses her hard, teeth clashing and tongues dancing an uncoordinated rhythm, but it works. Y/N suckles on his tongue as he groans, pinching at her nipple before he reaches down to palm his cock some.

“Need to get a condom,” he breathes into her mouth but she’s shaking her head. He leaves his cock and reaches for her cunt, attending to her fiery clit that’s far too sensitive but she welcomes the touch, nonetheless.

“Wanna feel you,” she admits, no shame in the embarrassingly desperate statement and Rhysand thinks he’s about to fucking explode on her cunt before he even gets a proper feel of it.

He wants to, needs to feel her slick and velvety walls hug and suck him in, wants to be consumed by her heat and arousal but even in his lust-filled state, his brain is still turned on. He shakes his head painfully.

“Next time,” he offers, doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes light up at the insinuation but she nods with a desperate, laboured breath.

She reaches to her side for her nightstand, retrieving a foil packet from the top drawer and she rips it open with her teeth before Rhysand can take it from her. His eyes are wide when she tugs it from the packaging and reaches down for his cock. She pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it over his thick head, sliding it slick down his shaft and he’s grunting in pleasure over the act.

“Fuck. You’re so sexy,” he mutters gruffly against her lips and she whimpers, eyes rolling back at the sheer tone of his voice. Her legs are spread wide as he reaches for his cock and rubs himself up and down her folds a few times.

Y/N’s giddy with excitement, pussy clenching in anticipation and he slowly rolls his hips forward, his fat tip nudging through the tight entrance ring of her pussy and she shudders a gentle shriek at the obvious intrusion.

“Oh, fuck!” she gasps out.

Her chest is already heaving when he begins to sheath himself in, spreading her wide and drilling in deep. Y/N’s eyes have rolled to the back of her head and her toes have curled inwardly and just how much he’s filling her up.

Rhysand’s no better – teeth gritted and eyes clenched shut. His grip on her hips have his knuckles turning white but neither of them seem to mind the bruises that’ll be apparent in the morning. She’s tight around him, warm and slick and even with the condom, he can feel every pulse her pussy offers.

Rhys rolls his hips slowly, getting her used to his thick girth and generous length. Y/N’s clawing at his shoulders with each soft whine until his pace begins to pick up and the bed starts to rock. Her tits are bouncing on her chest, nipples hard and desperate for a good sucking.

He manoeuvres his body to lean his head down, biting on her hard nub and sucking. “Shit, you’re so fucking big, oh my God,” she praises through a strangled moan. He’s snapping his hips, grunting and smirking against her slobbery tits.

His tongue is flicking over her nipple in quick strokes as his teeth bite softly but she’s keening at the blissful shoots of pain.

“Tight pussy, baby. Tightest fucking pussy I‘ve ever had.” He pops off her breast and smears his lips against hers.

She can still taste him on her tongue and the feel of his lips on hers is overwhelming. His thick cock is brushing against all the good spots and she can’t wrap her head around how sex could ever feel this good.

“Faster, please, faster. Just like that,” she begs out through another broken moan. He’s seething through gritted teeth as he wills back his animalistic grunts, drills his hips in quicker thrusts and the wet squelches of his cock and her pussy is music to both of their ears.

“Hear that? Hear how fucking wet you are?” he teases, leaning back and shuffling until he’s on his knees between her quaking thighs. “Fuck, you fit me so fucking good, Princess.” He’s gnawing down on his bottom lip, likely drawing blood but he can’t bring himself to care.

Y/N’s got her head thrown back in her pillows, eyes rolled to the back of her head as her lashes flutter like angel wings. “This cunt was fucking made for me,” he growls through gritted teeth as he releases his lower lip. She’s nodding helplessly at his words, crying out in pure ecstasy at the filth he’s talking and she fucking loves it.

“All yours, Rhys. Pussy’s all yours,” she agrees quickly.

Her voice is broken, high pitched and whiney. Rhysand thinks it’s borderline pornographic and it only makes his cock throb in her cunt. “Fuck,” he seethes, watching the way her full breasts bounce on her chest.

He lets his gaze avert to where they meet – where his thick cock is drilling into her cunt and fucking her into the mattress. He’s completely slick with every thrust that has his dick pulling out of her. His balls are slapping against her ass, slick with her wetness that leaks from her tight hole and even both their thighs are growing sticky from her arousal and their sweat.

Between them, they’re eager messes, desperate for a hot release and it’s haunting the both of them. Rhysand can feel her cunt clench tenderly around him and Y/N can feel his cock twitching between her soft walls.

“Fuck, can feel you squeezing me baby, making you feel good, Princess?” He knows he’s making her feel fucking heavenly but the narcassist in him needs to hear that bit of praise.

She’s nodding frantically, eager to give him what he wants to hear. “Yes, fuck, yes! So good, Rhys. I love your cock, makes me feel so fucking full.” She’s moaning through every word, sentence broken by wanton cries and pornographic whines. She’s fucking filthy, dribble running down the corners of her lips as she speaks.

Rhysand’s fucked, can feel his release toppling close to the edge but he needs to feel her cum around him first. “Yeah? You like me buried in your tight little cunt, my love? Like feeling me in your fucking tummy?” He sets a firm palm across her stomach, adding just enough pressure to feel himself nudge at her lower abdomen and his head is spinning.

“More, please. I’m gonna fucking cum, Rhys. Make me cum on your cock, make me cum, please.” She’s begging through desperate tears and Rhysand’s ego is through the fucking roof. His eyes are rolling back at the sound of her broken pleads and he leans closer.

He’s got one hand holding his weight by her head, the other locking around her throat. He watches for a moment, still pounding into her, to see if she tells him to stop, tells him she doesn’t like that. But she reaches up and tightens his hold on her throat and her other hand snakes between them to rub feverishly at her swollen clit.

“Harder,” she demands, voice steady and dark and there’s a primal instinct that washes over Rhysand that tells him to fucking obliterate her. He’s choking her as his cock tears into her, weeping in the condom and Y/N’s sobbing beneath him.

Her thighs begin to tremble, eyes rolled right back and she feels like she’s floating. “I’m cuming! Rhys, I’m gonna cum!” Her body convulses under his touch and waves of bliss roll over her. She’s cumming around his cock, shaking and sobbing and whining like a dirty little girl and Rhysand’s living for it.

He fucks her through her state of bliss, grip still tight on her throat until he feels her calm down and he’s ready to explode. Even in her blissed out state, Y/N knows what she wants. She suckles on his thumb as he grips her jaw and takes her spare hand to push him back just enough to pull his cock out of her cunt.

With hooded eyes and swollen lips, she peels off the condom and tosses it to the side. Rhysand’s eyes are blown wide, brows knitted and even in her hazy state she can see how desperate his cock is for a relief.

He’s hissing when she wraps a hand around his wet length and lazily starts pumping his shaft. “If you can’t come in my pussy, I want your cum all over it.” His head falls back at the admission, cock twitching in her hand and it only takes a few futile pumps before she’s smearing his tip across her swollen clit and he’s cumming.

Hot ribbons of clear-ish cum paint her cunt, spilling across her folds and clit in desperate spurts. “Fuck, oh shit. So good, such a good fucking girl,” he’s praising in broken moans and wanton whines.

Y/N’s pussy clenches around nothing as she watches his thick cock slowly soften to one of a slightly smaller size. They’re both fucked out as Rhysand catches his breath and falls to her side, panting and heaving with a sweaty and heavy chest.

She can barely keep her eyes open, thighs still trembling from her post-orgasmic state and Rhysand’s trying to come to terms with what just happened. He’s too infatuated to scold himself for fucking a damn employee. For fucking his secretary.

He can hear her heavy breathing from beside her and he peeks a look, watching her eyes flutter as she stares up at her ceiling. He holds his breath in hopes of hearing any movement on the other side of the bedroom door but all he can hear is his heart hammering through his body.

He takes a heaving breath and looks back up at the ceiling. “You think your friend might’ve heard us?” He speaks up, breaking the silence. He hears her breath stagger and silence before she lets out an uneven sigh and he can feel her chest shaking.

Rhysand turns to her with pinched brows and she’s grinning with eyes squinted shut. “What? What are you laughing at?” She’s giggling again and Rhys sits up to get a better look at her. She’s thoroughly fucked out.

“I don’t have a friend staying with me,” she admits shyly through a broken laugh and it takes Rhysand a hot second to grasp onto what she’s just said. When he does, his eyes widen and jaw falls slack, smirk tugging on the corners of his parted lips.

Y/N turns to him, running a hand through his matted hair and she gnaws on her bottom lip, staring into his fucked out eyes. “Just wanted to try and get you in my bed,” she confesses.

They’re both grinning; Y/N letting out a squealed shriek as Rhysand pounces on top of her and pins her hands above her head, nosing and biting at her jaw and neck. His eyes are gleaming nothing but mischief as his nose knocks hers and he notices the fire in her eyes.

He nips at her lips. “You lied to me? To get me in your bed like I‘m some sort of cheap hooker?” He’s teasing her now and the banter has her stomach flipping. Y/N shrugs, feigning nonchalance, eyes blazing and she licks into his mouth.

“Worked though, didn’t it?”

Rhysand pulls away from her lips just enough to see the look on her face. She’s shy under his gaze, innocent eyes staring up at him but there’s still that flash of filth and cheekiness that’s loitering behind them and when she gnaws on her bottom lip, Rhysand can’t help but feel completely fucked.

“You little minx.”

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toxicanonymity · 3 months

Text

the green

WC: 2.4k... I guess to find a scene, I had to find a world, then I didn't want to trim the fat because I liked it 😔

PAIRING: Ezra x f!reader; ft. others.

A/N: For @iamasaddie's writing challenge 4.0. I got Ezra: Aquarius, (i decided dark) Rave AU. Some of you write Ezra dialogue so well and true to character. That is not my forte and I didn't force it, but he speaks differently than others.

WARNINGS (not exhaustive, read at your own discretion): I8+ stefon voice: "this club has everything." drugs, surrealism, dark atmosphere*, sex cult vibes, public nudity, jacking off, manhandling, cumshot (dubcon), slapping, choking, spitting. Infidelity. You have a daddy. *I'd say "mild" horror but there's a mummified body in passing. A few cameos. It gets weird. unrefined chaos.

FIC ART: Amazing visual by @aurorawritestoescape

Drawing by @romana-after-dark

The Green was the one place your daddy explicitly forbade you from going. He never said why, but you assumed because the club entrance was down in the catacombs.

There were countless urban legends of doped up partiers getting lost, only to be found years later. One was discovered in a remote ossuary curled up with a faded can of New Coke. A picture had circulated – The poor soul’s shrunken legs were bent, knees drawn to their chest, yellow leggings stiffened and soiled under a pink leotard which by then fit like a paper bag.

—

When your friend said that’s where you were headed one night, you tried to convince her into going anywhere else. The problem was, she was obsessed with a DJ at the Green.

“I don’t get it,” she protested. “I know it’s not because you’re scared.”

“I just can't,” you pleaded futilely, and then she caught on when you wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Her jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared. “Let me guess,” she spat. “Because you’re letting a married man control your life.”

“Come on,” you pleaded.

“Billy may be a slut, but he's not married,” she bragged of the DJ.

. . .

An hour later, you and your friend were both high, dancing near the front of the crowd. In the humidity, you took off your bra, leaving a snug, mesh crop top and leather miniskirt. By then about 10% of the crowd was nude or close to it.

A song faded out, and a dense fog began to billow into the crowd. The fog smelled thickly of vegetation and masked some of the body odor you had been inhaling all night. The crowd quietly murmured, and with a few scattered whistles of enthusiasm.

As the fog settled, Billy the DJ put on a soothing binaural beat and introduced his mate, Ezra. As the crowd whistles and cheered, Billy hopped down from the booth and made a bee-line for your friend.

“There she is,” he murmured into her neck and wrapped his arms around her. “Is your friend joining us?”

“No,” she answered without looking at you. “Her daddy wouldn't like that.”

“Oh,” Billy looked you up and down, impressed. “Tell me ‘bout that later, love?” Billy winked at you as she dragged him away, leaving you alone.

–

Ezra stepped onto the stage and commenced with. . . spoken word poetry.

You didn't have the presence of mind for it, but the crowd was captivated. They knew him. As he droned on, some of them dropped to their knees, including a tattooed young man next to you in nothing but a sweatband. On the floor, he bent forward in child’s pose, arms stretched toward Ezra as though in worship. Through the remaining fog, the man’s glow-in-the-dark butt plug caught your eye.

Ezra had a mesmerizing voice. “Yes,” he echoed over the beat, and you found yourself tuning in. “Yes, feel my tongue penetrate you. Feel my words inside you!” You felt him opening something in your chest.

You scanned the crowd. The effect he had on these people was — The back of your neck prickled, and your exposed nipples hardened.

And then, you felt eyes on you. Not just anyone's. Your breath hitched. In the corner of your eye, Ezra was looking right at you. His voice became more tranquil: “I am already inside you.” A zing of pleasure shot through your chest, and a tingling heat spread through your loins. “Be not afraid,” he cooed. “Look at me while I penetrate you.” Your knees felt weak with need. You slowly looked up at him. He was sweating profusely through a worn, gray T-shirt and tactical pants. He dabbed his forehead with his wrist and ran his fingers through a shock of white hair. “yes,” he nodded, not taking his eyes off you. “Let me in deeper, little bird.”

“Let him in,” a few people murmured.

Ezra nodded, and his eyes sparkled as they briefly surveyed the crowd before coming back to you. He allowed a moment of silence, and over the beat, you could hear scattered moans. In your peripheral vision, the guy with the glow-in-the-dark butt plug was sucking cock while jerking himself off.

“Eyes on your god,” Ezra sharply demanded, and your face heated up as your gaze snapped back to him. Your eyes connected and locked together. It felt like you knew him. Like he knew you. You knew each other. You had to.

Ezra wet his lips, and everyone watched as he began to rub himself through his pants, looking right at you. Your eyelashes fluttered at the sight. His presence seized your whole body. Your breaths were shallow. The low beat thumped and hummed, with you in the tightening grip of his gaze.

From behind, you felt the wind of a stranger’s breath on your ear. “it’s okay,” she reassured you. “I’m gonna hold you for him,” the stranger slotted her hands under your arms.

“All over you,” Ezra continued, “the hands of my words, sliding over your skin.” He breathed heavily over the beat. You felt him. Pressure swelled in your depths, and you could hardly keep your eyes open. “Your god’s tongue, tasting the salt of your neck.” You really felt him. Your lips parted, and your clit twitched. “Yes,” Ezra nodded as he slowly rubbed himself, and the thick outline in his pants made you squeeze your thighs. Your body went nearly limp for Ezra's voice, and the stranger held you with your back against her chest. You could feel her nipples through the mesh of your top.

Ezra continued, “Your god’s cock, in the cunt of your soul.” And oh, you felt it deep. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and the crowd cheered and pleaded, “yes, Ezra,” “please, God.” He held his cock in his hand, shapely and majestic.

Desire flooded your body, buzzing and throbbing with the beat of his obscenity. Your mind was full of him and so was your body, it felt. You had room for nothing else. Someone stepped toward the stage, and Ezra let them spit on his dick.

The stranger holding you pushed you forward, bringing you closer to Ezra. Ezra pointed at you with his free hand. As you arrived at the stage, a familiar darkness fell over his eyes, and your heart skipped a beat at the weight of recognition.

You snapped out of the spell. There was something off about this, something wrong about him.

He had someone else's face.

Someone you loved.

Your stomach turned as you stood there beneath Ezra, and he pumped his cock, with the crowd cheering him on. His eyes froze you in place. You willed yourself to move, as though stuck in a nightmare. It was just a bad trip, you told yourself. This wasn't real. It was the drugs.

“It's okay,” the stranger reassured you, and somehow, it helped you breathe easier.

Ezra breathed heavier, and his hungry eyes settled on your chest, making your nipples harden nearly to the point of pain. Goosebumps erupted from your chest and spread over your body.

“The seed of your god,” he panted, chest heaving.

“The seed of our god,” a few voices echoed.

Ezra bit his bottom lip and stroked himself faster.

“Especially for you,” Ezra spoke the words right into your soul, and your body throbbed out of control.

If it was a nightmare, if it was the drugs, you had nothing to lose by surrendering yourself to pleasure.

“Open your mouth,” the stranger urged you. And you did. You opened your mouth and closed your eyes. Ezra's sounds of pleasure became more pronounced. You couldn't be sure how long you stood there with your mouth open. The sound of Ezra growing ever closer to climax had you drawing in a deep breath through your nose and shuddering.

Soon, you smelled his musk and felt the humidity of his loins near your face. He groaned, and a thick rope hit the back of your throat. The warmth and tang of it was too much to bear. You squeezed your eyes tighter shut and saw stars. As your body spasmed, the stranger tried to hold you steady, but the cum that followed went all over your face and chest.

“Good,” Ezra praised when he finished emptying himself onto you. “Good,” he repeated.

The crowd cheered.

You opened your eyes and your body cooled with a wave of guilt. This is what Daddy wanted to protect you from. The spell of another man who bore a striking resemblance to him. You weren't yourself, it was the drugs, you repeated in your mind.

“You okay?” The stranger asked and you nodded.

“Now let them feast,” Ezra concluded and stepped down off the stage, his dick tucked away but his pants unbuttoned. People reached out to touch him as he came through the crowd but kept enough distance that he proceeded coolly, slowly toward the cave entrance.

Soon, you had hands all over you, too. Hands and tongues. People swiping at your skin, licking your face, desperate for a taste of him. You shut your eyes as they drew aftershocks of pleasure from your depths. After a minute, the stranger shooed them away. “Congratulations,” she said, and let you stand on your own.

Meanwhile, Billy and your friend had returned for him to resume his DJ duties. Your friend was dumbstruck by the scene. Billy looked more impressed. “Your first night? Alright, wow,” Billy marveled. “You must be special, love.”

It wasn't lost on you how this annoyed your friend. You pushed past both of them without a word and spotted Ezra's silhouette against the cave wall.

—

Ezra was uncharacteristically silent as you approached, simply taking in the vision of you, disheveled from the touch of strangers, unraveled from his words. He looked pleased with himself.

As you opened your mouth to speak, you hesitated, unsure you wanted to know the answer to your question, or how real this was. You asked him anyway, “What's your last name?” and your heart raced in anticipation.

“I don't have a last name,” he claimed.

“Bullshit. Is it York?”

Ezra drew in a deep breath through his nose and observed your face. “Mmm.” He glanced at the ceiling with a chuckle. “Well heavens, little bird.” His eyes turned regretful. “I surmise you belong to a particular agent of the federal variety.” He raised his eyebrows. “And if my calculation is correct, I sincerely–”

“--Apologize,” A handsome black man with short, greying hair interrupted. In an exaggerated motion, the man pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch. “A little late,” he stated with a glare, punctuated by a pout and raise of his eyebrows. Then, his hand engulfed Ezra’s neck with startling speed and precision. Ezra choked, and the man calmly held firm, beginning to explain, “In approximately 30 seconds, the blood flow to your–”

A different man snatched you by the arm from behind. The grip of his large hand was a familiar, painful comfort. You could feel the bruises forming on your bicep as he physically dragged you away.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “I'm sorry, I–”

Mr. York didn't speak a word to you until he had you well into the catacombs, away from the club. You could only faintly hear the music start up again. He put you against a cold, rough wall, rolled up the sleeves of his powder blue button-down, and put his hands on his knees as he looked you in the face. His gaze was soft but ominous. It unsettled you.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” tears welled up in your eyes.

Still nothing from him.

His nostrils flared with a deep breath. You'd prefer if he yelled at you, smacked you around. As though reading your tears, he slapped you across the face. Your hand flew up to your cheek instinctively but he swatted it away and simply looked at you as the sting faded. He didn't have to ask the question: What the hell were you doing there?

“I didn't want to come,” you cried. “I didn't wanna–”

“You shouldn't be here,” he stated firmly, and you nodded.

“I know, you said not to come, didn't know it was cause, I didn't know about–”

“Who knows best?” He asked.

“Daddy,” you answered earnestly, “Daddy always does.”

He gave a short nod, then grabbed your jaw and studied each of your eyes. “High off your ass,” he grumbled. Then he sniffed the air. Still firmly holding your jaw, he brought his nose to your cheek, then dragged it down to your neck. There was nothing like your daddy’s touch, even when he was mad. Sometimes especially if he was mad.

He growled and stood upright, bringing his other hand to your neck so he had one hand on your jaw and the other firmly but gently on your throat. He demanded, “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing, he–”

He slightly pressed his finger and thumb into the sides of your neck as a warning, then released them.

“He masturbated and–”

“Did he touch you?”

“No.”

Your daddy brought his face almost to yours, just far enough away to still look in your eyes. When he seemed satisfied that he had the truth, he squeezed your jaw and said, “open.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and opened your mouth. He spat on your tongue and you swallowed it gratefully. His hands released you and he cupped your cheek for a moment before looking back behind himself, getting ready to leave.

“I'm sorry,” you repeated.

“McCall will take care of him,” he muttered.

He pulled you off the wall and led you out of the caves with a firm grip on the back of your neck.

–

In the back of the SUV, Mr. York was sitting on the driver's side, and you were face down sprawled across the whole bench seat. You put your head on his lap, facing his crotch. He laid a hand on your forehead for a minute, but you kept crying and rubbing your face on his pants, and he was tired. He stared out the window, despite that your microskirt had ridden up to where your ass was half covered. “Daddy,” you whined.

“Stop,” he commanded with a spank. Then he squeezed his hand between your legs and your thighs opened for him. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his middle finger into your cunt. “Be quiet.” He wedged his other hand under your cheek and fed you his thumb. He closed his eyes and held you still.

For the rest of the ride, you laid still and drifted off with his finger inside you and his thumb between your lips.

--------

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Thank you for reading 💚

#ezra x reader #iamasaddie game #writing challenge 4.0 #ezra prospect #toxicanonymity ☠️#cw infidelity #cw drugs #cw dubcon #cw horror #dave york #dark fic #dark!ezra #writing challenge 4.0 team #pedro pascal x reader

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keepingsecretstokeepyoutk · 5 months

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This is going to be very long and sound a little crazy at first, and maybe a little mean but please hear me out…

I’m convinced that Taylor sometimes purposefully includes one line or multiple lines of poorly written or clunky lyrics in specific songs to make a point.

We all have seen some version of this with bearding songs like London Boy, a simple bop whose lyrics were immediately detected as sounding disingenuous, even with the general population (the locations she was signing about were the most touristy and too far away from each other to visit on the same day, etc, basically implying that she doesn’t actually have a long term local bf there that she spends a bunch of time with exploring the city with, etc).

But just like everything else on the album, I think she’s doing maybe a more in your face version of that. No holds barred.

So High School is an obvious example of this, with all of the early 2000’s hs imagery, she seems pretty blatantly to be mocking the idea the public has of her “living out every American girl’s high school fantasy” of dating the tall popular football player. With lyrics like “touch me while your friends play grand theft auto” (barf), etc, shes being clear enough that this is not a serious song.

This is the possibly controversial part, but I’m so curious to see what others think about this - I think another iteration of this on this album is the title track, The Tortured Poets Department. Hear me out.

(First, I want to reassure you that there are lines in this song that I really like and think are well written, like: “you’re in self-sabotage mode/throwing spikes down on the road” and “but you awaken with dread/pounding nails in your head/but I’ve read this one/where you come undone/I chose this cyclone with you”. And I fully agree with the idea that these sentiments are from Karlie’s perspective. Basically, when you take out the chunks I’m about to talk about this song makes way more sense and has a beautiful sentiment of undying love behind it - which makes the following parts stick out that much more!)

The first time I listened through the album, and this was the second song, I got terrified because I didn’t understand its place in the whole narrative and when I heard the first clunky line “scratch your head like a tattooed golden retriever” I got the ick. Then the bridge with no structure and no wit and no clever turns of phrase, no metaphor, just “you put my ring on the finger people put wedding rings on” and “that was the closest I’ve ever been to my heart exploding”. So over simplified and cheesy, and doesn’t sound anything like her writing, especially the caliber of her recent lyrics

I know art is largely subjective, but I insist there is no way that the same person who wrote Cowboy Like Me wrote these lines into her title track if she didn’t have a reason and a point to make. To make it clear that this isn’t a matter of genre personal taste, because I know CLM is a very specific sound and a style that music snobs often take more seriously - I love SO many of her candy pop bangers, they are infinitely more clever, articulate, and overall works of art by a true wordsmith than this. Karma, The Very First Night, etc are all a master classes in clever words and tight writing being tucked into an “unserious” pop song.

The lyrics I cited above to me sound like what haters believe her writing sounds like, even fans who make little jokey TikTok’s about her and make up a spoofy something to sing while in character - that’s what these lyrics sound like.

Im worried im being too harsh, but please stay with me because the more I think about the more genius I think it actually is.

In the context of the themes of rest of the album, (her being trapped, miserable, manipulated, ready to burn it all down, screaming to be seen) this theory became clear to me. I think she’s leaning into her public persona (in more ways than one, we’ve already seen it with the stunting), in a way setting a “trap” for her fans and the public, that will essentially call them all out on how they ignored the real her in favor of her pr narrative, making the album about paternity tests, etc, all of which I’m guessing will become very clear in retrospect, possibly after she comes out? (Of course it’s already clear to us now, which is another purpose of the beard songs including clunky writing - to signal to us that these are not serious and that she knows that we know that she knows (like Phoebe on friends lol))

Ultimately, this is (along with So Highschool) a classic beard song. When she writes in this voice, she embodies the most extreme versions of her public persona, not just the one she has cultivated on purpose, but also the one that people have of her that don’t know her (as she did in Blank Space), including those that don’t take her seriously - because her identity as a boy crazy psycho ex girlfriend is directly tied to people dismissing her art as vapid because, they’ve only ever heard her singles, they don’t know the full her.

That voice is the straightest, the most boy crazy, the most one note, and sometimes the most unsophisticated writer version of her that people have in their minds, including her fans - the fans that refuse to see her as a whole person, the real, that believe she is head over heals for big football boy, that believe “he knows how to ball, I know Aristotle” is a romantic line about how opposites attract, the fans that say they don’t “get” some of her most beautiful and well-written songs, the fans that don’t see her and haven’t been seeing her.

They didn’t see giant Taylor on the eras tour, they refuse to see all of her queer signaling, etc, and I think she’s making the bearding songs obvious to underscore the difference between her Taylor(TM) and Taylor(person) personas.

She knows that despite the fact that the lyrics don’t even come close to measuring up to the rest of the album, the public, and many of her fans, will make this song one of the most listened to simply because they are looking for evidence of her relationships from the past year. We’ve all commented on how insane it is that this layered, complex, devastating album is being reduced to the usual paternity tests. This is currently one of the top songs precisely because it is “about Matty”. And of course, So High School is one of the tops songs along with it because it’s “about Travis”.

The juxtaposition of the bearding songs alongside her beautifully written poetry of Prophecy, Peter, Whose Afraid of Little Old Me, Cassandra, How did it end, The Albatross, etc mirrors the juxtaposition of her two selves during the Midnights era.

She has proven the point that if they think she wrote every line of this song completely in earnest, then they see her largely no differently than her haters do, as a subpar writer who writes absurdly cheesy love songs praising trashy to mediocre, problematic men. By eating it up they tell her that’s what she’s good for, for being the subject of tabloids and warring fans who make this entire album about two (purposefully) mediocre songs and the men who “inspired” them.

She has proven her point - that a subset of her fans will be distracted by a lesser song simply because they think it’s about one of the greasy men that’s she been seen holding hands with. That they will ignore once again all of her pleas to be seen, that she’s in pain and caged, and has been driven insane by their willful ignorance. That they don’t appreciate her full potential and talent, that they don’t even see it, and just want to be confirmed in their ideation of her.

This song is essentially the “forget him(her)” pill at the beginning of the fortnight mv, but it’s a sedative for the fans, who are addicted to her straight narrative. Similar to Willow’s 13 chants of “that’s my man” that started off evermore, casting a spell of heteronormativity over everyone who wanted it, so that they could choose to just completely ignore the following 14 gayest songs ever written. Don’t pay no mind to her singing directly about women with zero male perspective - she said “that’s my man!” We’re good! She’s still straight!

Taylor in the fortnight mv had to a take a sedative to be able to go into the next room and write her bearding songs - ie she self medicates to deal with keeping up the straight persona and to get through having to release dumbed down songs to feed the masses. (I also see the pill as something forced on her, I think it represents both layers)

From the first time I watched the music video I thought the writing Taylor looked so miserable and the bearding songs are why.

In this room she’s trapped, churning out the songs that her fans expect of her, the songs that make her team money, the songs that make her money, but that she has to compromise her truth to create.

But when she frees herself she’ll burn the stories that weren’t true, the filler that doesn’t represent her.

I’m curious to hear other’s thoughts on this - have you ever felt like Taylor purposefully inserts off-sounding lyrics that are written in a different voice to make a point?

I want to reiterate that it’s not the entirety of either song that I think is terrible, I genuinely love bopping along to both So High School and TTPD (track). Like I said above, when you remove the clunky lines from ttpd (track), the song has another layer and likely gives voice to some Karlie insight that is beautiful and tragically profound. It’s the red herrings, the pieces specifically meant to tie this song to a bearding narrative, that I’m dissing, and the only reason they are suspicious in the first place is because I know how gifted Taylor is with the written word.

Taylor is such a skilled writer that she can embody the voice of the bad writer that dismissive ignorant idiots believe her to be, just to make a point!

I even wonder if maybe there is a second version of this song locked away in one of those drawers in the fortnight writing room that leaves out the red herrings and is a thousand times better than the bearding version we got.

I hope one day we get to hear it.

#gaylor #kaylor #bearding #closeting #ttpd #so high school

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syoddeye · 5 months

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more reading recs

because one post isn't enough. we are hashtag blessed with fic.

as requested, i've highlighted fics with noncon and/or dubcon elements in orange. beyond that, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated, although these may change or may not be established yet.

there is no method to this madness, no specific order. these are listed here as my brain remembered them.

i've checked all the links maybe three times, if they're broken, i blame tumblr's formatting.

without further ado...

Slasher Handler by @dragonnarrative-writes - Ghost x Reader

"Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!" Another fantastically written Simon, with wonderful dashes of Gaz and Price. It's put the term 'romance knives' in my vocabulary. There are many quotable bits and moments that made my blood run cold with how normal the ~situation~ feels, but everything has to be experienced firsthand.

The Far Shore by @deadbranch - Soap x Reader

DB's fic collection is rich, and The Far Shore is no different. I fucking loved Pacific Rim, so when I saw her first mention a PR AU, I did imaginary backflips. DB's Readers are some of my favorites because of how complex and realistic they feel, and when combined with the visceral depth of the neural handshake AND Soap? Compelling. The dynamic between them is fascinating. I almost can't wait for it to be finished so I can go back and dissect it.

Falling into Place by @mortuarywriting

Morg's brought the first COD Isekai AU I've read, like a little treat, with A/B/O to boot. The first chapter hooked me and cracked me up. Their dialogue reads so well, it truly feels like I got sucked into the universe. The panicked ramblings, the over-explanation, the 'oh shit, we don't even have a shared cultural touchstone' moments. I cannot wait for more.

Carvings by @femalefemur - Price x Reader

Cyn's got this amazing thing going on called 'Top Quality Worms' where she takes me by the hand and leads me down a rabbit hole I didn't know I'd find so cozy. Carvings is one piece from her incredible list, featuring a bloody, possessive Captain Price. Somehow, out of this entire piece, Price snapping a pen really did it for me. Did someone say loss of control? Oh no, not my kryptonite!

Under Your Spell by @groguspicklejar - Gaz x Reader x Soap

This fic had me at the pairing tag. Lured me right in. No hope for me, and I'm not mad about it. The way Gaz and Soap play off of each other in Under Your Spell is spine-tingling in more ways than one. The definition of scaroused. Kelsi writes a wonderful Gaz. The first two paragraphs in part two, Split My Skin, describe him perfectly to me.

Chokehold by @ccrites - Soap x Reader

Chokehold is a chef's kiss read. Starts off as a cute and sweet gym read, and uh, well, it does get sweeter, in a way. Without spoiling anything, there is a brief cab ride that made me take a lap before things got really going for Reader. CC's Soap is a delightful tease that is tender all at the same time. I'd join his gym in a heartbeat.

Knight/Princess AU by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world - Price x Reader

I've read and re-read this AU series a dozen times. It's so gd cute, I might need to see the dentist about how it's rotting my teeth. Seriously, it makes ME want to be a princess. Specifically Price's princess. Bear writes such a sweet and gruff Price, catch me holding a hand over my heart and just sighing. I'm also a big fan of multiple POVs and the insight into each character.

Martyr in the Making by @eilidh-eternal - Ghost x Reader

I had a tattoo touch-up the other day, and while waiting, I thought about this fic: the dream and nightmare of being tattooed by Simon and the rest of the 141. It's a dream for obvious reasons (probably unhealthy for me) and a nightmare because of, well, you'll have to read the story. Getting a tattoo can be such an intimate experience. You put yourself into someone's care and get something permanently etched onto your body. When Reader sits for Simon, you're right there with her, the two of you on an altar.

Liquid Smooth by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Bodyguard!Gaz save me, save me, bodyguard!Gaz. Ugh, Gaz is fucking incredible in every flavor, but there is something that hits different about the guy when he's flexing those 'VIP protection' skills. There are several tiny moments in Liquid Smooth that made me audibly whisper, "God, I wish that were me." If you have a conifer tree allergy, you might not be able to handle the god-tier pining. (I'll see myself out.)

pornstar!Gaz by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Gotta include the series that I drop everything for whenever I see an update. Another fantastic depiction of best man Kyle Gaz Garrick. The charm, the jealousy, the care...My personal favorite installments are Whispers and Threesomes.

plus size puppygirl!reader / Simon & Reader / Punishment by @secretsynthetic - Price x Reader x Ghost

Ghost gets his Captain a puppy, and Synth gives us a tasty Price x Reader x Ghost story. I've linked the intro and a Simon x Reader snippet, but my personal favorite is Punishment. Punishment is a deeper dive into Price the disciplinarian: "how the hell do i get a mutt like you to fuckin’ listen?" I'd gush about it, but again, this is another one to read and experience firsthand. One of my favorite recent explorations of a PriceGhost dynamic.

i'll probably cobble another one of these together in may 2024. my fic backlog is something else. i blame it on all the massive talent. mwah.

#sy fic recs #fic recs #i am a deeply corny person so we're gonna roll with my bad jokes and declarations of love and admiration if that's cool #if there's a typo i'm going to lose it #authors if i've mislabeled please let me know!!#dropping this like a bird at the door and skittering

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froggibus · 3 months

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Pride - Soldier 76, Pharah, Baptiste, Tracer, Venture & Lifeweaver

Pairings: Soldier 76 x gn! reader, Pharah x gn! reader, Baptiste x gn! reader, Tracer & Emily x gn! reader, Venture x gn! reader, Lifeweaver x gn! reader

Genre: fun fluffy hcs

Summary: how it would be going to pride w your queer fav

CW: nonspecific relationship w the heroes, canon sexualities/genders, lots of fun pride stuff, pride festival, Soldier being an old man

sorry hi i know pride month is over but i really wanted to include it in our event so here it is! i really wanted to include lucio & other fun characters here but it was so much writing i only did the ones who are canonically queer!

This is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Soldier 76:

not his first Pride, won’t be his last

he’s probably a little wistful the whole time, since he last attended with Vincent

his grumpy old man demeanor drops for a day and he actually lets himself enjoy it

all the young people there LOVE him and he ends up ‘adopting’ at least three kids

reminisces the whole time and probably says “back in my day” at least once

you may have to convince him to actually indulge in fun stuff like temp tattoos and flags

but then he gets SUPER into it and drags you around to get as much stuff as possible

gets hit on at least once by someone half his age and his face is an INFERNO for like ten minutes afterwards

wants to get drinks and appetizers at a bar after and chat about your day

will let you take one (1) picture of the two of you to commemorate it

(he’ll definitely keep the picture in his wallet—but he’ll never tell you)

Pharah:

not her first Pride either, but she doesn’t go very often cause she’s married to her work

wears her sexy ass leather jacket even though it’s probably boiling outside

“Fareeha you’re going to boil in that”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is my summer leather”

gets one temp tattoo of the lesbian flag on her cheek and that’s it for her

shows it off in every single picture the two of you take together

doesn’t take many of her own pictures but will indulge you for every one of yours

her strong ass will let you ride on her shoulders to see any performances you want

or if you’re not cool with that, she has no shame and will body her way through the crowd to help you get a better view

loves fruity rainbow drinks and will always have one in her hand

wears her aviators even after the sun goes down

definitely checks if Baptiste is doing anything & tries to set up a rendezvous with him at a club later

she is THE most fun to party with if you’re able to pry her away from her work

Baptiste:

more than likely his first Pride (at least, since he’s been out of the closet)

probably ended up attending a few before and hanging out in the med tent as an ally

if he wasn’t going with you, Pharah would’ve 10000% taken him with her

super excited to be taking you with him this year

and to actually be partaking in the celebrations

covers both of you in those cute rainbow temporary tattoos

like they’re EVERYWHERE

total mom friend—he has water, tylenol & advil, wet wipes, snacks, sunscreen & anything else you could possibly need

that doesn’t mean he’s not indulging in any fun colourful drinks at the bars later tho

indulges in any free things offered with him

and totally ends the day with like ten different friendship bracelets

wants to take pictures of EVERYTHING and ends up with a million selfies of the two of you

you’re out from 11am to 3am & you bet your ass he’s waking you up at noon the next day for brunch

wants to go next year & hand out little care bags to everyone you meet

Tracer:

her and Emily insist on taking you with them

they go every year so long as Lena isn’t working (rare)

they (Emily) have got everything figured out, so you can just chill and come along with them

Lena totally goes all out with her outfits & insists you all match somehow

they bring a digital camera to take lots & lots of pictures of everything

prepare to be outside from dawn till dusk

Lena probably gets recognized a few times and takes pictures with every person who asks

she buys a TON of memorabilia and will absolutely buy anything you look at for you

even tho she’s probably tried everything they have to offer, she wants to make sure you also try it

Emily has to stop and remind her to slow down and to eat/drink

they have some cute tradition where they go to the restaurant they want to on their first date & have some drinks and appetizers

even tho it’s their thing, they’ll gladly invite you along & make sure you’re included

and if you’re into it, Lena will absolutely try to play matchmaker for you so you’re not lonely

Venture:

huge dork ass LOVES Pride

they’re a little awkward cause of the big crowds & stuff, but deep down they thrive on it

not nearly as out there with their outfit as Tracer, but they’ll definitely dress according to theme

makes their own little bags of crystals to give out to friends they make there + coordinates them according to different pride flags

makes an extra special one for you too to thank you for coming with them

buys ice cream whenever they see a stand & offers to share with you

at least one child asks them if they’re a boy or a girl

Sloan just shrugs at them

despite their awkwardness, everybody you meet there LOVES Sloan & they end the day with a million different pins + friendship bracelets

anytime there’s something cool, they want to take a pic with you in front of it

even just random fountains and stuff

if someone’s performing, they HAVE to go and at least check it out, but you’ll probably get dragged into watching a long ass magic show

they might take you for a drink and a snack after, but they’re not the type to go to a club or anything

more than likely they want to have a game night or marathon some movies at home to unwind afterwards

Lifeweaver:

not his first Pride, but the first one he’s been able to enjoy since leaving Vishkar

the most well dressed & insists on dressing you as well

weaves flowers & plants through his hair to make a pretty rainbow (and will do the same for you if you ask!)

lots & lots of biodegradable glitter that he made himself

wants to get there super early to offer his aid to any of the med stations set up & give them his number incase they need him

brings his own biodegradable confetti and gives bags to all the stands to hand out

loves live performances & wants to attend each one

he WILL be dancing and expects you to dance with him, no matter how awkward you feel

usually the best at remembering his sunscreen & water but probably forgets until he starts to feel the effects

wants to stay until everything shuts down and make sure everything is cleaned up correctly

so many pictures that your face will hurt from smiling for the cameras by the end of the day

his Instagram story is probably filled with those same pics

if anyone compliments his hair, he WILL offer to braid theirs with flowers for them on the spot

takes you out to a nice dinner before you guys go home

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Overwatch Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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We’ll Be Fine -14- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns + female anatomy

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, swearing, eye contact, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, over-stimulation, multi-orgasm, creampie, soft Ghost, anxiety, scars, tattoos, fluff

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost shows up at your room late at night, he just got back and has been gone longer than expected. You missed him a lot and things get out of hand (≖ᴗ≖)

Part 14

~UNDONE~

You’ve been trying your best to keep the negative thoughts at bay, it's not abnormal for missions to take longer than expected. But Ghost's vague estimate of a few weeks left you unsettled, even more so as time started to pass. A few weeks had turned into a few months, as life slogged by on base around you. Keeping yourself weighed down with busy work while your mind drifts.

Things take time, hell, you know that from experience. Even so, you’ve been worried about him, it's started affecting your already inconsistent sleep schedule. And dammit, you missed having tea with him in the morning!

You'd been brooding in your room since completing your work for the day, curled up in bed wearing Ghost’s hoodie. You're thankful he never asked for it back, in moments like these it was one of the only things that kept you grounded. Snuggling into the garment and taking a deep breath. It's been a while but somehow his scent still lingers in the fabric, or maybe it’s just some wishful thinking on your part.

Fuck, you're a wreck…

A sudden knocking on your door startles you from your position on the bed. Staring perplexed, why would someone be here this late? There's a sudden spark of fear that shoots through you, with the odd hour, what if it's bad news? You're frozen there for a moment, feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Anxiety sitting cold in your gut as you just stare blankly through the darkness.

Until another knock erupts from the other side of the barrier, louder this time. You spring from the bed, the fear overtaken by curiosity. Whoever it is better have a good reason for waking you… Well, you technically weren't asleep, but you should be. You hastily unlock the door to peek your head out, only to be greeted by a broad chest.

There in your doorway, looking a little worse for wear is Ghost.

You're struck by the view of him standing there clad in that worn mask with the skull face plate. You've seen him wearing it on more than a few occasions, usually when he's on his way off base for work. It's rather intimidating, you're sure it serves its purpose out in the field. But if you're being completely honest, it's always left you feeling a little heated.

“You’re home,” dazed words escape you, feeling foolish at your choice of phrasing.

“Did I wake you?” He's grasping the door frame with a gloved hand, peering down at you with mild concern. Did he strip his gear off and immediately come looking for you? When did he even get back?

“No, I couldn't sleep… You can sit down,” you mutter, turning on the light and motioning him in. Taking one last glance out into the vacant hallway before closing the entry after him. Leaving you alone in the quiet of your room with Ghost, who's stripped off his jacket and taken a seat at your desk chair. Your frazzled mind is racing while you try to keep your rapidly slipping composure. The space grows quieter by the moment as he sits there staring at the ground between you.

“Everything ok?” You ask, but his mind is somewhere else, “Simon?” Stepping forward you stand in front of his seated form. The sound of his name coaxes his gaze up to meet yours, and fire erupts in his dark eyes.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“I was worried about you,” the words fumble from your lips as you take another step forward to stand between his widened legs.

“That why you're moping about your room… In my clothes?” He's smirking beneath the fabric of the mask, very obviously taking in your form before him. You can’t help but feel naked under his heavy gaze despite the oversized garment.

Observing wordlessly as he removes his gloves, and rests a now bare appendage at the hem of the sweatshirt. Your eyes are locked, as he searches for any sign of hesitation. Caressing the delicate skin of your thigh before trailing up to halt at the waistband of your shorts. Heartbeat hammering away in your chest as he dips a finger beneath the thin fabric. Dragging it down till the garment slips, pooling at your feet. A shaky breath escapes you as his lingering touch skims back up your leg to rest on your bare hip.

“Nothin' under those, you waiting up for me?” He murmurs darkly, eyes burning into yours.

“I missed you,” the words slip out as he lazily pulls you down to settle into his lap without resistance.

You reach out to caress the side of his face, thumb brushing over the rigid material of the weathered mask. He's watching you, curiously eyes meeting yours. Embarrassment creeps in as he catches your dreamy stare. Looking away with blushed cheeks and shifting restlessly.

“You seem to like this one,” he coaxes, tugging you further against him, putting an end to your weak attempt at retreat.

“I never said that,” you mutter defensively, caught off guard by his accusation, not that it wasn’t true…

“Don’t have to, I've caught you staring at me,” he pauses, “guess I never thought that was why.”

The dry words only further your embarrassment, as your head slumps against his shoulder to hide your feverish complexion.

Suddenly you’re hoisted upwards, choking down a shaky breath as the stiffness of him presses against you. Your legs braced around him as he makes his way over to your bed, lowering you onto the cot and caging you beneath him. As your body sinks into the thin mattress pad your mind is suddenly plagued with doubt, insecurity sparking in your chest.

“You're sure?… You were gone a while” you murmur awkwardly, propping yourself onto your elbows as you peer up at his looming figure.

“I’ve been waiting so patiently, love,” his words drip with desperate sincerity, that fire smoldering in his eyes as he descends upon you.

His hands work their way up your sides to snake beneath the material of the sweatshirt. Pulling the garment over your head and tossing it onto your desk chair. Your bare state would have felt unjust if his own shirt hadn't followed suit immediately after.

Leaving you laying there trying not to gawk, while nimble hands make quick work of his belt. Freeing the beast that's clearly trapped within the confines of his pants. To say the scale was daunting would be an understatement, but lying there beneath his toned figure, you were more than willing to accommodate.

“You ready for me?” He drawls, stroking his hard cock as he gazes down at your exposed form, like he's about to devour you.

“I’m all yours,” you coo as he brushes your entrance. Slowly teasing his head in and out of your already dripping slit, taking care to drag across your needy flesh till your thighs are twitching with building anticipation. A tightly coiled spring ready to burst, trembling and desperate for more.

The impatience quickly takes hold, hooking your knee over his hip to pull him deeper into you as he hisses out a curse. Consumed by the satisfying pleasure of being filled to the brim, his name uttered as a breathy sigh escaping your lips. Glazed eyes half-lidded as he admires your blissed expression, all for him.

“Fuck, you're tight” he rasps, the pressure building as your release begins to spill over. Gripping your knee, he pushes your leg up to split you open for his greedy length.

Gasping out in desperation, you arch to meet the friction of his rhythmic thrusts. Chasing that perfect angle, body tensing as you pulse with crackling pleasure. Riding out your orgasm all the while swimming in his murky gaze. The feeling of unraveling in his hands, fallen apart and at his mercy.

It's overwhelming.

Catching notice of your unrest, his pace slows as you try to catch your breath. But your eyes are downcast, suddenly afraid to meet his stare.

Icy doubt licking at your chest.

“Keep your eyes on me love,” hushed words murmured against your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, swallowing down a whimper as his heat leaves you. He grasps your chin with a firm hand, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze. Expecting to face the reaper, only to catch sight of his bare stumbled jaw. Your eyes lock for a long moment, the mask is gone. You're left gaping at him, eyes wide and startled.

“You alright?” His words are short, concern sparking in his stare.

You're so used to anonymity, it's easy to never see someone's face when you're sitting behind a computer all day. There was always that sliver of secrecy with Ghost until this moment, and it had always felt normal. Even so, it's still his eyes that draw you in, his trust in you is so blatant now. Every ounce of anonymity was stripped away, Simon caging you beneath him.

“I’m good,” you mutter through a sigh, leaning into his touch as his hold relaxes to caress your flushed face. His tense features unwinding at the view of you smiling up at him.

“Bend over for me love, I want to look at you, all of you,” he murmurs, your eyes held in his tender gaze.

Pulling you from your lying position, to bend you over the bed before him. Anxiety creeping in again as he admires your form from behind, feeling utterly vulnerable under his heavy gaze. But this heat washes over you, like he’s engulfed you in the fire smoldering in his eyes.

“Pretty little thing,” he breathes, running a hand down the length of your back, thumb tracing along the curve of your spine. He can feel the scars that lie beneath the white of your tattoo, a reminder of where you've been, how you got to him.

“Look how easy you’ve come undone for me,” he teases, an evident smirk in his tone.

Your back arches as he drags the head of his cock over your already sensitive flesh. Entering you again from your position bent over the bed. Your leg lowers to the floor to retain your balance as he presses deeply into your soaked folds. Simon letting out a low grumble of a moan as he thrusts to bury himself completely within you.

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he groans.

A strained wine escapes your lips at the friction, vision losing its focus momentarily. Craning your head to the side, catching his dark stare out of the corner of your sight.

“Your eyes… Do something to me,” you gasp breathlessly, your heated words gripping him as he continues relentlessly thrusting into you.

“Sensitive,” you sputter, bucking against him as the walls of your heat twitch with building pressure. Rough hands pulling you by the waist to meet his pounding length.

“Good,” he pants, “let go for me.”

Snaking a hand around you to rest the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. The action alone causes your hips to spasm involuntarily from overstimulation. Trembling wrists nearly give way as he circles the tender flesh.

Biting back a gasp as you're pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching around him as another orgasm rolls through you. His large hand cradles your breast, arching your back further as his thrusts grow frantic, cock pulsing as your heat spasm.

“Fuck,” he rasps, groaning as he jerks stiffly within you. Release spilling over, your body pressed against him, his breath hot in your ear. You shudder as his cock throbs, filling you with warmth, and you're unable to suppress the soft moan that escapes your lips.

His fingers curl into your side as he buries his face into your shoulder, thrusting sharply into you once more, completely drained.

You knew he'd eventually have to leave, but you couldn't help but drift off to sleep nestled against him. Simon's back to the door as he gazes down at you, keeping watch over your resting form.

The mask has returned when you wake sometime later, to a hand brushing the stray hair from your face. He murmurs something but you don't quite catch it through the haze of your slumber. In your foggy state, you completely miss him nabbing the mug off your desk before heading out the door.

The sound fully rips you from your stupor as you sit up in your cold bed, realizing you're once again alone in your room. You contemplate letting sleep take hold, but instead get up to re-clothe yourself in the sweatshirt he'd discarded on the chair. You feel kinda pathetic laying there sulking again in his absence, missing the furnace of a man in your bed...

But your thoughts are halted by a firm knocking on the door. Before you can second-guess yourself, you're already yanking the entry open. And there he is standing outside your door again, but now holding two cups of tea. Changed out of his dirty clothes from earlier, but still wearing that mask…

What a fucking tease.

“Told you I'd right be back,” he states plainly, making his way back into the small space and taking a seat at your desk.

Watching amused as you settle back onto your bed. It's quiet as you sip your tea, mask left discarded on your pillow. His short-cropped hair lay disheveled, pressed against his head from the long hours of wear. Calling your name softly, he looks so tired but there's this levity in his eyes.

You might have made a lot of mistakes in life, but meeting Simon Riley wasn't one of them. Looking at you with that tender gaze, it felt like home. Somewhere to return after the horrors of the world take their toll, hands to guide each other through the darkness.

WELL then, I hope you enjoyed (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

Thank you so very much for reading, this is all I have planned for this section of their story. I've got a few related fics/oneshots mulling in my brain so be on the lookout for those and more art!

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01 @ramadiiiisme @embers-of-alluring @enfppixie

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edibleashell · 27 days

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TUA S4 feels

Pretty sure that Umbrella Academy S4 finale left a permanent scar on my psyche. Still one of my favorite shows but I might just end after season 3 in future rewatches. So many issues with S4.

In like episode 1 we got Ben and Jennifer touching and that started a countdown to the end of the world and the whole season was just junk to fill that time. So many good ideas that weren't done properly at all. Shuffling their powers? Alternate timelines? Hargreaves owning pretty much everything? Abigail just being alive? Pointless.

Luther was just a repeating loop of stripper and home decorating jokes.

Diego should have been a martial arts instructor or something not a depressed delivery guy. A bunch of jokes about him getting out of shape only to reveal that he's still jacked. He throws a potted plant and misses. His arc is just Big Sad for no reason and the relationships he built in the first three seasons were apparently irrelevant, if anyone would have been taking care of Safety Klaus it would have been him.

Allison's character was just an accessory to Klaus, after three seasons of her trying to reclaim the family she lost she ended up spending more time as a tool to Klaus's arc than she did with Claire. And Ray just being casually written out was so disrespectful.

Klaus, oh poor Klaus, my favorite character, what did they do to you? He should have been a nurse or something but instead he was paranoid, then pissed off because the writers decided that Klaus would equate marigold with drugs and just fall right off the wagon? And then he goes to some sketchy guy he owes money to even though S1 Klaus is shown just buying drugs from random people? All to justify his prisoner plot, none of which had any real impact. And he can fly for a second for some reason. Okay.

Five working for the CIA was bad. He should have been the retired fun uncle to Claire and Grace. After spending fifty years trying to get back to his family why did he keep leaving them? Why did he hook up with his brother's wife after only six years? And am I supposed to believe that in every timeline he has the same haircut? That none of the other Fives lost their arm? How did he never notice his boss's blatant umbrella tattoo? He just casually strolls through "his" apocalypse as though he doesn't have ptsd, and why were he and Lila living off sewer rats when they had infinite timelines to scavenge?

I was so excited to see Ben witg the family but one episode in he becomes a bomb and fucks off with a girl who can hardly be called a character.

Viktor was the only character I thought got some form of authenticity and justified growth, his arc kind of seemed like a ripoff of S3 Klaus though. And we missed out on what could have been a really beautiful scene of him drawing the upside down umbrella on his arm.

Lila went from "I don't want to be like my mom" to a motherhood cliche. And what was the deal with her family? She just found her parents and they immediately accepted her or something? Was there another Lila in this universe? That made no sense. If anyone would have joined the CIA it would have been her. Her and Diego should have been weird parents teaching their kids how to fight and kill but instead they got some domestic life that those characters never belonged in.

And there's so much more! Abigail is alive? Hardly relevant. Why did she body snatched Gene, it didn't really seem to change anything. The Keepers existed only to be a minor obstacle in the last episode. And are her and Reggie aliens? Why? How? What's the point?

AND DURANGO? THAT'S A CAR! Harland named marigold and for a farm kid that makes sense (though the retconned acceptance of that word into Umbrella vocabulary was irksome) But Durango? Abigail is a scientist and she names The Bad Dust after an SUV? Why?

AND WHY WAS THERE ZERO QUEERNESS? Each of the first three seasons had some sort of queer arc but not this one. I still wonder if some higher-up didn't intentionally assassinate the show as backlash for the immense respect S3 gave Elliot Page.

One last thing, music is a big part of the show, they've always put such thought and care into the soundtrack and it makes sense knowing who the creators are, so why, of all songs, was Baby Damn Shark the first song to be featured in like three episodes? It seems intentionally disrespectful.

I'm done, rant over, I'll never recover from this.

#Tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella acedmy #Rant #klaus hargreeves #tua s4 spoilers #tua season 4 #tua s4 #tua spoilers

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sweetbillwriting · 3 months

Text

In The Dead of Night

ONE

Description: Delilah is on sick leave from her job and doesn't have much to do in the days. Her life has always been safe and a bit boring but everything changes when she falls in love with her best friend's dead brother.

Characters: AU Eric, played by Bill Skarsgård, from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, especially because I haven't seen the movie.

Warnings: 18+. I've stopped writing out specific warnings. All of my stories are 18+, have heavy themes and are NSFW.

Notes: This is really just inspired by Bill Skarsgård's looks and the atmosphere of The Crow, nothing else.

You can find the prologue here

Green eyes.

Green, big eyes looked at me intensely but more than that I couldn't see. It was like everything around was eaten up by complete darkness but the eyes were its own source of light. It didn't look like they floated around like two planets tossed out in space, no, it was obvious they were attached to a face, but a face I couldn't see. I tried to reach my hands out to touch the face, the shoulders, touch something belonging to the person with the intense green eyes but I didn't succeed. It was me who was the one who was bodiless, or at least I didn't have any contact with my body. Was I paralyzed? How could I know?

Maybe I was no substance anymore, maybe I was just the air in front of the person with the green eyes.

Eric. Even if I had just seen his eyes one time in a photo I knew it was his eyes in front of me. The big, sad eyes. In that moment he looked at me with searching eyes, like he wondered who I was or how I was feeling. Nothing with his eyes were hostile. I felt seen. Seen for real, in that way you probably just get to be seen a few times in your life.

×××

I stretched out in bed after waking up slowly and pleased, like you do when you've got the sleep hours you need and didn't have anything that rushed you to leave your bed's warm sheets. I didn't even have Odin to think about because he was living with his dad that week so I could stretch a bit more.

I left my bed when I felt hunger growing deep in my belly. I rose up from bed with a smile and on my way to the bathroom I started to hum an old kids song I hadn't thought about for years, it wasn't until I saw myself in the bathroom mirror I realized how abnormal my behavior was. I wasn't a cheery person and I was definitely not the person singing for myself.

My cheeks glowed of redness and my eyes were shiny. It looked like I've been out running in cold, crisp weather. I looked healthy. I wouldn't say I had looked unhealthy before, just a bit tired and paler than others because I rather stayed inside in front of a series than walk out in the warm weather, but now I looked like such a person that did pilates in the morning. I smiled for myself but it wasn't until later when my tongue met the bitter taste of coffee I understood why.

Green eyes.

I remembered my dream I had and felt his eyes crawl into my chest and built a nest in one of the ventricles. My blood turned warm and shot out in my body and made my cheeks heat and even more flushed. It was embarrassing. It was really painful, sadly, embarrassing.

I had seen one picture of him and now I dreamt about his eyes like they were two pools made of love and happiness.

It was five days ago I was at Lotti's and saw the big photo of him together with my best friend Robin, his brother. Robin was always well groomed, clean and bright in a Instagram friendly way, his brother looked like the complete opposite. Tall, dark and scribbled with tattoos that looked washed out on his pale skin but he was beautiful. Robin was attractive but he didn't have that thing Eric had. As I said, I saw one picture of him but it was obvious his beauty was mysterious and dark, like a night sky in December. Robin was more like a morning sky in May.

I had thought about Eric a lot since that day. I had stood next to Lotti and looked at the portrait in silence and didn't dare to ask anything. It felt like a religious moment when we stood there, like we had a wake for him and I didn't want to disturb her in her grieve by asking about his age or occupation. I was also a bit afraid I would say something that would confuse her. I had no idea how her brain worked after her stroke. She maybe would get violent if I asked about his death.

I left when a nurse came and said Robin was waiting for me but I took a last look at Eric's sad eyes and then turned my eyes at Lotti with a small smile:

“Is it okay if I come to get the dress another day? I really, really like it but I have some things to do now so it would be better if I could pick it up next week?”

Lotti nodded a little and then took my hand in hers:

“Of course, Delilah. Maybe we can take a cup of tea then and I can tell you a bit about Eric? It would be so nice to talk about my boy.”

It wasn't my plan that she would invite me to talk about Eric. I wanted to know more but my plan were just to be able to visit her again and ask some simple question. I didn't need to know much, just a few things I just wanted to know out of pure curiosity, he was dead after all so there wasn't much to say about him today.

It felt strange Robin hadn't told me about him but I also knew how sensitive he was. If you got him to cry it took ages for him to stop. He had opened the faucet and they wouldn't close until he had cried out everything he had inside of him. He probably hadn't told me because of the wounds it had created in him and how talking about it would feel like putting needles in an open wound.

That was why I didn't tell him that I went to his mom two days later. He didn't need to know we would talk about his brother's death.

×××

I rarely dressed up. It didn't really feel like there was a point doing so when I didn't have so much to do and the last two weeks it had been so hot I would have been most comfortable just walking around in a big shirt and panties. To meet Lotti again felt like a moment to pull on a dress tho and I chose one with care. I wanted to show her that her dress would get a good new home but also that I was a good, reliable friend to Robin and someone also she could trust. I thought about bringing something with me that we could have to the tea but the time disappeared, I couldn't say where but it probably had something to do with the green eyes staring at me from the inside of my chest.

I hoped it would be okay the time I had picked to go to her. It was a Wednesday, 10 am. It felt like a good time to come, she would probably have lunch by 12. I went into the entrance with the colorful birds also that day but had time to see more than that this time. It was a desk to the left when I got in, a simple wooden desk that didn't seem to be used so much because it looked empty. Behind it was a door to a smaller room. I could see a glimpse of a dask with a laptop.

From the corridor from my left came a younger nurse in her blue scrubs and smiled at me questioning.

“Hi, I'm here to see Lotti… Ehm, I'm a friend to her son?”

The nurse stopped some steps from me and nodded a little.

“I think you met Fiona yesterday… I will find her to see if she can let you in, we just want to know who's visiting,” she said carefully and looked out one of the windows at the yard, probably looking after Fiona.

“Oh, sure, of course,” I answered and played with the voluminous skirt of my white polka dotted dress.

The young nurse left and a few minutes later Fiona came back. She wore a smile then she looked at my ID and wrote me on a visitor list.

“The morning have been a little rocky so you know… She didn't recognize the nurse who came into her this morning.”

I nodded a little and looked around nervously but still followed the nurse to Lotti's room. I was more or less preparing myself for her to have forgotten me.

“There is no real pattern in her memory, it can even feel like she remember new people better than us others,” said Fiona before knocking on Fiona's door. I didn't have time to answer before Lotti's round face peaked out from the door. She smiled brightly and gave my dress a big eyed look.

“That's an amazing dress, Delilah!”

The nurse gave me a pointed smile then she left me to Lotti. I smiled surprised at her and followed her into her apartment.

“Thank you, you can call me Della, that's what everyone calls me.”

×××

“Della, Della, my Della…” sang Lotti sweetly while she looked through a big bag with her old clothes. I stood in her bathroom with the door a jar trying a skirt with big roses. I smiled a little for myself. I had a good relationship with my mom and would never complain on her but Lotti had a much more typical motherly way and made me feel like a child again.

“I think the coffee is done now,” she said and I heard her light feet walk to the kitchen. I let my own dress and the clothes I've tried from Lotti hang in the bathroom and went to her little kitchen. She was on her way to pouring coffee in two green, ceramic mugs and I sat down by the table, still with her rose skirt on and a white blouse. I felt blessed being able to look through Lotti’s colorful 80’s clothes but I felt even more blessed that I would hear the story about her son. Her son, who had passed away at a young age. Eric. To my surprise and worry, Lotti left the kitchen after putting down the mugs on the table but came back with two photo albums in her arms. I felt my heart crawl up my chest to my throat and I took a sip of my coffee to try to cure the burn that had spread throughout my air ways. I gave the picture by the bed a fast look. I would know his story now and silently in my head I asked for his forgiveness. If he was alive it would be his story to tell, now his mother chose to share it with me, just like that.

“Are you Robin's girlfriend?” Lotti suddenly asked while putting down the albums on the table. “I can get his albums too if you want to see? This is just Eric's but there is pictures of Robin in them too of course.”

“No, I'm not Robin’s girlfriend… We aren't really ‘each other's type’,” I said, without going into the subject too much. Lotti nodded a little and looked at me with an examining look. Maybe she felt I should be interested by Robin's albums anyway but I weren't if I was honest. I wouldn't have been interested in anyone's childhood pictures in normal case but Eric… I looked at his photo again. It was hard to understand and even harder to explain.

“They're so different from each other your son's… It's sweet,” I said with a little smiling, watching Lotti drag her fingers over the album, she continued to do that for a moment and I started to wonder if I already said something hurting.

“Eric… Eric came to us when he was two years old. We had some problems getting more children and we wanted to do something good and opened our home for a foster child… We never thought we would start to love the boy like he was as much our own as Robin.”

Lotti have me a sad little smile then she opened up the light green album so I could see little Eric in a woman's lap. He looked like any other baby but his eyes were bigger and looked into my soul just like he did on the other picture, just like he did in my dream. The woman were Lotti, in her thirties.

“And you named him after your husband,” I said with a nod, like it was obvious.

“No, no. It was just coincidence they had the same name but it was sweet, he didn't share our last name but he could share his first name with the man he would call ‘dad’.”

Lotti's eyes got shiny but she smiled big. It was sweet, that Eric could be a part of the family, even by name. I felt my own eyes get shiny and Lotti took my hand in hers.

“I've talked with some of the nurses about him and they all got so uncomfortable but it feels like you understand. Eric was so special…” The tears run down her cheeks but she continued to smile. Bot of us looked at the portrait again then down at young Eric. We looked at every picture. Big, sad eyes looked back at us, even if his smile was bright. In his pre teens you started to see him change, his hair became black, a simple silver ring in his ear. The older he got the darker his appearance became and the green hypnotic eyes became framed with blackness.

“Was this just a style for him, or was it something more?” I pointed to a picture of him sitting in the grass, looking away with squinting eyes and a spider web tattoo behind his ear. He was probably just eighteen or something but looked sad like a man meeting years of struggle.

“Eric… We did everything for him. He was liked by everyone he met even if he looked the way he did but…” Lotti sighed and looked down at her hands. She still had on her wedding ring even if she was a widow.

“We really thought we could change his faith… But his inheritance was rooted in his, much deeper than we thought and the depressive tendencies sneaked up on him even before his teens. He probably searched for the darkness because it was a place he fitted in… And then came the drugs… The same problems his biological parents had, that had made us be blessed with his presence…” Both she and I cried now and hugged each other's hand like we've known each other for ages.

Drugs. As soon as she said the word it was also more or less obvious that was his murderer. I had never even met a person taking any serious drugs and I felt mixed feelings about Eric's problems. In some way I couldn't believe her, because the man looking at me from the picture over the bed looked healthy and strong but I could also see that intense sadness in his eyes.

“Was it the drugs that..?” I asked carefully and dragged my thumb over the back of her hand. She just nodded and dried her tears with her other hand.

“An overdose. We don't know if it was on purpose or not.”

Both of us sat quiet, holding each other's hand. I could feel Eric's eyes on me and I think Lotti could too because she looked up at the framed picture with a smile then she browsed the pages of the album to the last pages. Their was newer pictures of Eric. A grown man, heavily tattooed but with the same eyes. It was more or less professional pictures of him, sweet pictures of him dressed in Adidas joggers and a loose tank top in a couch. He looked boyishly handsome even with the tattoos crawling all the way up to his face and down to his fingertips. I couldn't even count the tattoos in his face, so full of them was his skin. I thought to myself that he probably did them for the adrenaline rush, something to give his sad heart a kick but then I saw the picture of him smiling big. He had a deep dimple in his flawless cheek and straight white teeth. He looked happy, even if his eyes had a hint of something dark.

“It was his girlfriend who took the pictures and I'm really glad for that today. They were just taken some months before he died and she sent them to me.”

I looked at the smiling picture again. He was in love. That's why his eyes had changed.

As a hairdresser I couldn't stop myself from furrowing my brows while watching his hair. He had a short mullet, something he didn't have on the picture by Lotti's bed. His hair in these pictures was cut in different layers and angles and I couldn't decide if it was made by an experimental hairdresser or a wild amateur. It didn't look so bad for being a mullet but it still was a mullet.

Lotti giggled a little amused when she browsed to the next page and I understood why. Their was four pictures in the same style as the ones before but with another sort of Eric.

“I thought it was odd she sent these to his mother but never would I put pictures of Eric away.”

My cheeks heated when I watched the pictures of Eric in bed. He laid in just a pair of silky boxer shorts so you could see all his tattoos, both the good ones and the horrible ones. You could also see his incredible body. I never thought he would look like that. Everywhere it was lean muscles and defined lines. His abs were taken from a underwear model, his shoulders from a swimmer. I could feel Lotti's eyes on me and knew what kind of look she gave me. He maybe wasn't alive but he could still make every woman blush. I cleared my throat but continued to look at Eric, his body but also his beautiful face.

“He must have been a heartbreaker…” I joked and put my hands on my glowing cheeks.

“Oh no. No. Not my Eric,” said Lotti. “He was a shy boy. He probably knew he was handsome but he was still shy and didn't talk just to talk. Such a sweet, humble boy.”

I looked at her with a warm smile. It was a sweet thought, especially because his brother wasn't at all like that. Robin liked attention and talked most often loudly over others.

Lotti give me a smile and stood up.

“I'm just going to the bathroom, you can continue to look in the albums,” she said and then walked to the bathroom.

I continue to look through the albums. Cute baby Eric, him as a bit older doing martial arts, his style changes to goth but then changed more to an eclectic style. His green big eyes, the tattoos, the abs. He was magnetic in all shapes and I grieved in silence his death. If Lotti was right he was a great, sweet, shy guy that looked like that. If it wasn't for the drugs he seemed to be so wonderful. I was rarely impressed by men but this one… Why was he dead?

“Excuse me?” Said Lotti behind me and I turned around. “Who are you?” She said suspiciously and pressed the emergency button so staff would come to her room. I heard my heart in my ears. It felt like I had done something wrong even if I hadn't. I had been invited in, she just couldn't remember that.

“I'm Della, Robin's friend?” I tried and stood up. Lotti looked at me up and down. She didn't look scared, probably because I was just an ordinary young woman. It was nothing weird with me, I would even say I looked sweet and kind.

“Robin's girlfriend?” She asked and smiled unsurely.

“No, just friend.”

Just when Lotti smiled and was on her way to answer, Fiona came in.

“Lotti, are you okay?” Asked Fiona and patted her arm calmly.

“Yes… Yes… When did you let the girl in?”

“That was earlier, maybe you need to rest a little?” Asked Fiona and steered her towards the bed. She gave me a resurging smile and said lowly that Lotti needed to sleep a little. That was my sign I should go. I felt awful, even if her memory failed her often and I changed to my own dress. I left her dresses because it felt wrong taking them when she didn't feel well. I gave Lotti and Fiona a finale look and when I saw that they were busy I did the unforgivingly thing. I couldn't take the dresses but I stole three of the pictures of Eric. I took them out from the album and held them against my heart when I sneaked out from the entrance door.

×××

In the dead of night I walked. It was much darker than it usually was in May and at first I couldn't tell where I was. The anxious feeling of being stalked I've felt since my teens crept up on me and I walked faster, more determinedly even if I didn't know where I was going. Odin was attached to my hand with the leash, much longer than it usually was but I didn't feel that uncomfortable feeling in my hand when he pulled, but he did pull. He pulled so hard I could hear his strangled breath but he continued to try to run like he was in a hurry somewhere.

I finally recognized the place I was in. It was in the park lying close to my childhood home but completely dark, otherwise it was lit up with light poles. I looked around at the familiar but also unfamiliar place. It was like experiencing it all again. The jungle gym, the slide, the silly lady bugs to ride and the swings.

A tall dark silhouette sat on one of the swings with its feet dug into the sand. They swayed on the swing back and forth slowly and it gave it even more a spooky feel. I wanted to go back, go to my parents house but Odin had other plans and pulled so hard in the leach I dropped him.

“Odin!” I shouted after him when he ran towards the silhouette. I felt my heart beat in panic, catastrophic thinking about losing him completely took over my head. Odin barked happily and ran up to the silhouette that stood up and bent down on its knees to greet the dog. It was obvious now it was just a tall man, a tall man with broad shoulders and his hood pulled up over his head. Odin greeted him like he was an old friend, in so much joy he didn't seem to know what to do with himself but the man took the leach in his hand and with just a light movement with it he got Odin to lay down in the sand and look up at him while he himself stood up on long legs. I walked carefully towards the man and got a stronger and stronger feeling I knew who it was. He was taller than I had understood and it was intimidating to walk up to him. He pulled down the hood of his dark hoodie and revealed his striking feature and the dark mullet. Suddenly one of the light poles by us was turned on and a warm, but dimmed light spread out over the park. It lit up his face and made me see plump lips and facial tattoos but also his most distinctive facial feature. The big green eyes.

I walked up to him with a beating heart and felt the anxiousness and fear transform to overwhelming happiness to see him. I never thought I would see him but there he now stood in front of me, healthy and handsome. When I had come up to him I didn't know what to do and even Odin seemed to react to my awkward behavior where I stood looking at Eric like I had never seen a man over 6 '0.

“I believed you wanted to see me,” he said with a shoulder shrug and a shy smile. He looked sweet when he lowered his eyes in a timid way but with a contagious, dimpled smile.

Suddenly it felt like I was on a first date with a guy I already was madly in love with. Like when I was fifteen and met in secrecy one of my older sister's classmates to make out in the play house by the daycare.

“Of course I wanted to, Eric,” I said with an embarrassed giggle and he looked up at me with those mazmirazing eyes. I giggled again just by meeting his eyes.

He smiled and reached out Odin's leach towards me.

“Do you want to take a walk?”

I looked down at Odin who just looked at Eric without acknowledging me. I gave him a smirk then I looked at Eric again. He was dressed in the black Adidas joggers he had in the photos with a black hoodie.

“I would love to take a walk but I think you can keep the leach…” I nodded down to Odin and Eric looked down too on the dog worshiping him by his feet. Eric made a low chuckle that warmed my chest and made me giggle.

“I can keep it…”

He looked at me with an embarrassed smile and big, boyish eyes.

He may be a dead man but he made me feel more alive than any other man had.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #writing #fan fiction #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #Eric #the crow #in the dead of night

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dunmeshistash · 4 months

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Dungeon Meshi FAQ

Before you send an ask consider checking this FAQ! I'm trying to compile some of the most common questions I see in my notes and inbox. Feel free to send me an ask anyway if you find anything confusing!

But first just some things about asks... I read all of them and feel kinda bad when I don't respond but I can't really respond to everything so:

Most likely will respond:

Requests for sources/images

Requests for links to other posts

Questions about the story or characters (as long as they haven't been repeated in a short while)

Questions about my opinion on canon content/speculation based on canon

Most likely won't respond: (usually cause idk what to say to it)

Headcanons/Shipping

Jokes

Discourse/Rants

Questions that have been repeated in a short time

FAQ under the cut (there's spoilers)

FAQ

First of all just a disclaimer that I don't actually know everything I try to put sources on the posts but if you see anything wrong here please let me know!

Q: Where is this extra/information from?

A: Dungeon Meshi has several worldbuilding details and extra comics in different publications. You can check this post with the places where the extras/information sources

If you wanna know the source for a specific extra don't be afraid to ask!

Q: Have you ever posted about [subject]

A: I haven't posted about everything related to dungeon meshi but please check my pinned post! I have a list of tags there, if you don't find specifically what you were looking try to search for it on my blog, I do my best to tag stuff so it can be found. If you still have trouble just send me an ask and I can link you the tag!

Q: How old is Thistle?

A: Who knows! Mostly likely he's under 80 (16 in tallmen years) my best guess is that he's 14.

Q: Is there a post Canon Melini Map?

A: Not really (Spoilers)

Q: Isn't Izutsumi a cat that was transformed into a human?

A: That's not a very accurate description, Izutsumi is a beastkin who was created using ancient magic by fusing the soul of a 6 year old child with the soul of a cat monster known as a greater cat. She's not "A cat that was turned into a human" nor a "human that was turned into a cat" as my understanding goes she was both and now she's still both, spoilers but the plot twist of the Lycion extra is that she can never be fully human again (there's more monster than human so she can't transform between the forms like Lycion)

I made a few posts about it

Q: Are fairies made of Jizz? How do females make them? How come Mithrun's doesn't look like him? Can other races make them?

A: Yes. They probably borrow some. Another person feeds it blood. Probably? For better answers please check the fairy tag LOL

Q: Are there monsters outside dungeons?

A: All points to yes, dungeons just seem to have a higher density of mana which allows more monsters to survive in a higher population.

Q: Is resurrection possibly in any dungeons or only in The Island?

A: According to the adventurer's bibles most man-made dungeons have the revival magic active. Here's a post all about resurrection and healing magic:

Q: Why did Fleki get brain damage when her Familiar got destroyed and Marcille didn't?

A: Probably has something to do with the complexity of the familiar and the strength of the connection, lots of people sent some theories pleas check the familiars tag if you wanna read up.

Q: What does the tattoos mean? What do Magic Tattoos do? Only beastmen have tattoos?

A: Those are Magic Tattoos, they work as a supplement for magic, I assume similar to magic circles or magic runes they use in other places in the anime, they aren't necessarily only for beastmen

Q: How does Mana/The Winged Lion/Dungeons work? (and related questions)

A: I made a post about dungeons you might wanna check, haven't done specific posts for the greater demon/winged lion but you can check the tags for some theories/other asks!

I think that's it for now? I'll add more things later if I see more common questions

Mini FAQ about the person running this blog (cause I get a couple of questions sometimes)

Q: Whats your pronouns? Are you brazilian? What do I call you?

A: There's a tiny about me section at the end of my pinned post I'd rather you use she/her or he/him, but they/them is fine, I'm very brazilian and you can call me whatever, Cyan is just a suggestion. You can also check this side blog, it's me

Q: What do you think about [headcanon]/[ship]

A: I probably think it's neat but cant elaborate cause either I'm being socially anxious or I'm afraid of saying something that will generate discourse on my notes LOL

Q: Could you tag [thing]

A: Yes! Please tell me if you'd like me to tag something, both cws or just something you think would be useful to search for. I'm very unaware of what can be upsetting ngl so I often forget to tag 'obvious' triggers, I'm also forgetful and have trouble expressing myself, so feel free to tell me if I said something weird but be nice pwease

#FAQ #dunmeshistash #long post

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leavemebetosleep · 5 months

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do you have any good fluttercord fic recs?

OH BOY DO I. In no particular order (except of when I thought of them):

1: Non-Entity by Captain Wuzz: An AU in which, instead of being turned to stone, Discord was shot in the head with a magic arrow that takes away his sentience and magic for a 1,000 years. Fluttershy mistakes him for a wounded animal and brings him home. I loved it so much.

2: Chaotic Neutral by C-Puff: The magic is starting to fade from Equestria, and the Main 6 and Discord go on an adventure to find out why, and reverse it. A bit of AU, in the sense it was written before the show was done, so it diverts in some places because of that. Super sweet, and I love the character development here.

3: Time is Taller than Space is Wide by Dott. Can also be read on Ao3 if you prefer. Soulmate AU (?) fic with a Groundhog Day style twist. I rarely see fics play with the idea of what if Fluttershy and Discord's friendship had started when they first met, so this is fun.

4 & 5: Blank and it's sequel Reconnection by @geekcat. Can also be read on fanfic.net. AU in which, before Discord can choose friendship over ruling Equestria, Twilight remembers a "reformation" spell. He is stripped of his free will, and Fluttershy does her best to bring him back. If you don't like the idea of Twilight being a villain, you might not like this one, but I think her villain arc in this is done in a perfect way for her character. It's super heart wrenching in many places, but in a good way.

6: Our Fair Lady of the Chaos Lord, also by GeekCat Can also be read on fanfic.net. Fairy tale inspired AU in which Fluttershy is a princess who's father is pressuring her to marry noble knight Sir Big Mac. Wanting to be sure he's a good person, she makes a deal with the Chaos Lord, letting herself be "kidnapped" so she can test his character. You can guess who she falls for instead. Honestly I've enjoyed all of GeekCat's fics, so they're getting an extra mention. Check out the rest of their fluttercord fics if you like any of these.

7: The Draconequus with the Dragon Tattoo by A M Shark This is a major case of, strange premise, kick ass results. Basically an AU based off Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson, with Discord as Lisbeth, and Fluttershy as an amalgamation of Mikael and several other characters, but focusing more on the murder mystery aspect of that book, and less on the...everything else. If you're familiar with GwtDT, don't worry, there's no rape scenes. Again, it's more about the murder mystery part. If you're not familiar with GwtDT, then don't worry again, because you don't need to know the original to enjoy it. It's just Discord and Fluttershy playing detective and solving a murder together. It has two sequels, but I haven't read them yet, and it didn't feel right to rec something I haven't read.

8: The Corpse Bride by Bad Horse. Dark fic. No relation to the Burton movie. Fluttershy dies in a tragic accident, and Discord brings her back from the dead as his zombie wife. Her friends (sans Pinkie) are horrified. Has a fantastic twist ending. If you like some of the darker stuff, def worth a read.

Bonus: Comic rec: The Last Adventure by Eveeka. Taking place after the final defeat of Tirek, Cozy, and Chrysalis, Discord gets into a depressive funk after shouldering the hatred from Ponyville citizens for his latest actions, but also because his friends seem to never be available anymore. He starts to think maybe Equestria would be better off without him, as he can't seem to exist with out making everyone miserable, and decides to hide away in the Everfree forest. Fluttershy, worried when he doesn't show up for tea, asks her friends for help, only to discover there's a monster running lose there he and the rest of Equestria might be in danger from. This fic has two endings, so keep reading even when it seems like it's over. You've got one more ending left. This one nearly made me cry.

#fluttercord #fanfic recs

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brigidfromthecelts · 23 days

Note

Do you have any specific headcanons for characters? Specifically lawbin or sanami? Like do you hc them w certain hobbies or ethnicity’s? Just curious I have lots for different characters!!

Hiii @laoise222! Thank you so much for another wonderful ask! You truly make my day! 🥰 Huff, okay, I needed to think this one through for a bit, because, for SaNami, I have a few of them I make reference in my fics, but for LawBin I have fewer! Here it goes:

Sanji likes to spend time at the aquarium bar just staring at the different species of fish they have there and thinking about the All Blue.

Sanji likes to hear Nami speak about anything and everything. He can listen to her speak for hours on end! But he's especially attentive when she's speaking about navigation as he knows it's a subject she's very passionate about.

Sanji and Nami are very good friends and they spend a lot of time together offscreen. They often spend time in silence, each doing their own thing and Sanji isn't so over the top with his silly demonstrations of love (and pervertedness) when it's just the two of them.

Nami asks for Sanji's help in picking tangerines a lot of times because he reminds her so much of Bellemere-San. Especially when the tobacco scent mixes with the tangerines.

Deep down Nami loved the letter Sanji wrote to her in Water Seven. She kept it just to remind herself that there's enough in there to be loved, that people want to be with her not just because of her worth or usefulness.

I firmly believe that Sanji thought about Nami a lot on WCI.

Sanji most definitely fell in love with Nami at first sight.

They are each other's counterparts in whatever universe. Even in a dog-verse or a cat-verse.

Nami goes to Sanji for protection and comfort. He's the one in the crew who brings her the most genuine feeling of safety, especially because of his resemblance to Bellemere-San!

Law is much more of a nerd than what is implied. Think of what we know about him and multiply it by a thousand - rows, and rows of comic books, collectibles, you name it! He's got it.

We know Law likes to collect coins, but how far does this need to collect things go? I personally see him as a bit of a hoarder! Not of trash, but things that mean something to him.

We see Robin reading a lot, but often more intellectual books. I believe she loves to read horror short stories and sappy romance novels. She hides it from everyone because she's ashamed the crew will make fun of her.

Robin knows everything about everyone! But she's super discreet.

Robin learned about Law's coin collection when aboard the Polar Tang and now every time she sees a rare coin, she can't help but wonder if he already has it in his collection.

Law can't get the scent of flowers that accompany Robin out of his head.

I also see Robin being fascinated by Law's tattoos and by his hands, but I might be just projecting on this one!

They most definitely spent time together in Wano. How could they not? I mean, if you find someone with the same shared interests and keen intellect, you'd want to know more about them, right?

Anyway, these are just a few that I have at the top of my head. I'm sure I got many more! 😅 Tell me if you agree with any of them! Also, thank you again for making these fun asks! They make my day!

#brigid answers #one piece #one piece headcanons #sanami headcanons #lawbin headcanons #lawbin #sanami #sanji #nami #black leg sanji #cat burglar nami #trafalgar d. water law #nico robin #op

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thoughtfulchaos773 · 1 year

Text

"There's a lot being done subconsciously to push the audience in different emotional directions."

-Andrew Wehde -Cinematographer, The Bear

The creators of the show are so thoughtful and precise! Since I wrote about colors and lighting in The Bear. I want (from a cinephile perspective) to observe the lighting and camera choices for 2x08 Bolognese and 2x09 Omelette.

After writing my meta, I listened to this podcast that focuses on The Bear's cinematography; I did this to see if I needed to be more analytical instead of a hardcore shipper. I've pondered on the similar blue lighting of Sydney's tattoo reveal and the love scene, and it's worth noting since there's more Syd & Claire scenes where you can compare the lighting and camera choices.

I interpret the two scenes as high-key lighting. The choice of a well-lit scene sets the mood for more openness and optimism. The visuals give the audience direction to focus on the script and what the actors say in the scene. This lighting choice is in romance and comedy genres. Think wedding scenes as the lighting helps the audience pay attention to the romance happening between two characters.

We can catch everything when it comes to high-key lighting, every expression, movement, and every prop in the scene. The golden sunlight gives the audience a sense of peace, romance, and a dream-like state. The two scenes suggest the warmth the main character feels for the other character on screen.

Notice the scenes where Carmy stares at Sydney? It's primarily high-key lighting. The scenes ask the audience to take notice of Carmy's perspective as he takes in Sydney.

Oh, and remember this quote from Molly (Claire):

The well-lit moment for Claire and Carmy-The lighting and camera movement at the beginning of the scene suggest the morning after, In 2x08, we get this far-away shot where we can see the window as Claire enters the kitchen.

But suddenly, we're zoomed in on Carmy and Claire's faces - this closeness feels overwhelming. It tells of the hidden dread in their relationship. The dreadfulness is prominent when Carmy gets lost, staring at Claire as he talks about the test.

This reminds me of @currymanganese reblog on the subject of color:

The pink hues overlaid on Claire's scenes(2x09 omelette) in Carmy's panic attack can also represent him trying to look at her with rose-colored glasses/rosy retrospection, and ultimately failing to do so because of the way she reminds him of his family

The exchange of looks is so interesting. Notice Carmy's worry, and Claire's smile drops for a second. The camera's movements tell the audience that Carmy looks at Claire differently. As an artist, he catches every detail of the person. The focus on Claire, what used to bring him peace, disappeared when his family ruined his inspiration and sense of joy.

Now, the table scene:

The sun is beaming through the large windows and lingers around Syd and Carmy. It's the brightest the audience has seen from this season; as the camera moves closer to Carmy and Syd, the table disappears and It's a smoother transition, and we barely notice that the table disappears from view as we're closer to the characters.

Like the scene with Claire, Carmy gets lost in staring at Sydney, but there's no sense of dread. Instead, there's almost a dazed look in his eyes as he takes her in.

Well-lit scenes focus on the dialogue, and we can compare the discussion 2x08 and 2x09- both are about sharing their worries and fears. The difference is that the light remains on Carmy and Sydney, and Carmy is completely focused on Sydney rather than what's happening in his head. The scene gives the audience this soft direction to only focus on Sydney and Carmy's few moments together. The lighting asks us to view Sydney like Carmy sees her- bright, warm, and peaceful. I consider this a positive outlook on what's to come for Syd and Carmy.

Sidebar: Another thing to make note of with cinematography- Andrew Wehde said they make notes of the lighting they want to reappear in episodes- so I'm not too far off in this meta.

Watch more:

The Bear Cinematography

Season 2 panel - this interviews mentions that scenes that's anxiety ridden uses zoom ins* -cue the Carmy Claire scenes.

#messy and platonic #but romantic #the bear meta #thoughtful chaos posts #sydcarmy #the bear #the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy #chefs kiss #the bear spoilers #the bear 2x08 bolgenese #the bear 2x09 omelette #cinematography #carmy berzatto

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anangelwhodidntfall · 1 year

Text

Picasso II: Dad!JakeSully

Avatar Masterlist

word count: 1.4k

Request: Part Two of Picasso Part I, about how after they leave and arrive at the reefs. Like how would they react when they see Y/n's style and dyed hair? How they start living, adapting, and how both chiefs are with them and stuff. Just everything, let your imagination run wild!

A/N: This was supposed to be Ao'nung x reader, but I could help but think about what if Daughter reader fell in love with an original character from the Metkayina clan who loved her for how different she was.

OC: Äeka Te Veha Toi'itan

After nearly weeks of traveling on their ikrans, y/n's family had finally arrived in Awa'atlu, desperately seeking Uturu to get away from war. With an inaudible sigh, she shuffled closer to her twin, his heavy arm immediately coming to wrap around her tense shoulders, effectively grounding her as she wondered what was going to happen here. As she listened to her parents trying to plead for their sanctuary when her eyes landed on a boy about her age staring at you and your family. Y/n had to admit he was very pretty, he offered her a small smile as she smile back at him before turning back towards her family, hoping she would get to see more of him soon.

"These children aren't even true Na'vi." The Tsahìk said harshly as she held one of Lo'ak's hands in the air making y/n and Neteyam glare at her.

The following weeks had been a struggle for the whole family, but especially you and your siblings as some of the clan kids liked giving you guys a hard time for being different from them but not Tsierya she had become your best friend and the beautiful boy that y/n saw during their arrival was named Äeka he was a warrior in training like Neyetmam and he was so kind to them especially her. He would often seek her out during chores, or after training loving to sit and talk with her while she painted or drew, he has a lot of her artwork.

Speaking of her artistic abilities, y/n more often than not was in the artist's tent working on her drawings or learning about their styles and how they do the tattoos that they have. One day y/n had been in there after her chores roughly sketching a tattoo when Ronal saw it.

"That is very good my child, would you have any interest in learning how to do the tattoos on the skin?" She asked the young girl.

"I would love to actually." Y/n said as Ronal motioned for her to follow her over to her station where she already had a client.

A few days later Äeka had been searching all over for y/n, the young warrior had grown quite fond of the girl since her and her family arrived and not to mention how pretty she was and how different she was from the other Na'vi. He finally found her playing on the beach with her younger sister Tuk, who was building a sandcastle with a bucket of shells sitting by you two and as he got closer to you guys, he noticed that the pink was missing from your hair which made him frown.

"Hi y/n, hi Tuk. What are you girls up to this evening?" He asked as you looked up at him with a smile.

"Hi Äeka, we're just working on building a sandcastle and we're gonna decorate with these shells. Would you like to join us?" You asked him as he nodded his head taking a seat next to you.

"No pink today?" He asked you as you guys worked on the sandcastle.

"Uh no, I took it out. Not many people here are fond of it, as they like to remind me." You said quietly as Äeka frowned wondering who dared to say anything to you about your hair because he loved it.

"That's a shame, I always thought it made you the prettiest girl here." He said as y/n felt her cheeks warm at his word making her lower her head.

"Really?" Y/n asked him.

"Really, don't listen to what others say. They fear what they don't understand." He said brushing some of her hair out her face.

"You know my dad said the same thing to me." Y/n said.

"Well, he's right, so please consider putting the color back in your hair." He said as y/n nodded her head.

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing with Tuk and talking with each other until the eclipse started to happen and the two girls had to head home much to their dismays but Äeka offered to walk them home just to squeeze in a few more minutes with y/n.

Meanwhile, Jake had been outside the Mauri waiting for his kids to return when he saw y/n and Äeka laughing and talking while they walked home with Tuk a few steps in front of them, while it made him happy to see his baby girl smiling...it also stressed him a bit to think about her dating already.

"So you and Äeka?" Jake asked y/n not so subtly making Neytiri shake her head at him.

"Relax Dad, we're just friends nothing more. So please calm down." Y/n said making her mom laugh as she entered the Mauri.

"Hey, Mom?" Y/n asked her mother as they cleaned up from dinner while her dad was out of the home.

"Yes, sweetheart?" She asked.

"I was wondering if maybe tonight or tomorrow you could help me put the pink back in my hair? If you don't mind." She asked.

"Of course dear, we can work on it tonight while your dad is asleep, so it just stays between us and we don't have to hear how right he is." Your mom said making you laugh.

That night after her dad went to sleep, her mom helped her put the pink back in her hair promising not to out to let her dad know that he was right and that Äeka may or may not have played a hand in it as well. Y/n woke up that morning and ate her breakfast feeling her father’s eyes on her as she ate.

“Babygirl, I’m glad to see you put the pink back in your hair.” He said.

“Thanks dad. I just missed having it there and plus it’s kinda annoying how many times people have thought I was Nete.” She said as she finished up.

“So this had nothing to do with what I said?” He asked her as her and her siblings shared a look.

“Umm not really no! Look at the time, I got chores to do! Bye mom, bye dad!” She said running out laughing as Jake shook his head in disblief.

“Nice try! You know I was right about your hair!” He yelled after her making her laugh.

"Y/n." Tonowari said causing the young girl to turn and look at Chief and bow her head at him.

"Tonowari, how may I help you?" She asked wondering what the chief wanted from her.

"Your father and Äeka have both come and told me about your artistic skills and I was coming over here to see if you would have any interest in becoming one of the clan's artists?" He asked shocking y/n.

"You want me to do the tattoos and everything?" She asked making sure she was understanding him right.

"Yes in addition to your father and Akea, my wife has always told me about how you have been studying the art of our clans and learning how to tattoo. I think you would excel in this area if you wish." He said.

"I would love to. Thank you so much for this opportunity!" Y/n said shaking his hand.

"Of course. Tomorrow morning just head to the artist's tent and they will get you all set up." He said before leaving.

Äeka had been finishing up his daily chores when he heard footsteps approaching making him look up and see y/n approaching him making him smile as he greeted her.

"You put the pink back in your hair." He said with a smile.

"Yeah I did...turns out you and my dad were right..but don't tell him I said that." She said making him laugh as he agreed.

"So Tonowari offered me a job today." She said making him listen with interest as he had been speaking highly of her art skills to the Olo'eyktan.

"He did? What kind of job did he offer you?" He asked her softly holding her hand.

"He offered me a job as an artist for the clan, thanks to recommendations from you, Ronal, and my dad about my art." She said with that smile that he swore he never get tired of seeing on her face.

"That's amazing sweetheart! Congratulations, I know that you are going to do so well." He said hugging her.

#jake sully x daughter #dad!jakesully #dad!jake x daughter!reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #sully!reader #sully!reader x oc #tonowari x reader #neteyam x sister!reader

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abiiors · 1 month

Text

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 — 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚒

✧ — 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✮ a/n: this might turn out to be slightly anachronistic, but can we ignore that guys? just focus on matty okay?

✮ cw: not much really, just...fire...

✮ wc: 2.7k

unknown: i know you never want to hear from me again unknown: but happy anniversary juliette unknown: i know what i did was absolutely horrible babe but talk to me once please. just once. it would have been four years together today. unknown: don’t throw us away like this. unknown: - max <3

jules fumes as princess peach lands a solid kick onto donkey kong’s chest. the ape goes flying and off the platform. matty winces on the phone, right into her ear.

“ouch…”

“yeah, well, it’s a fighting game,” she snaps, “again.”

on screen the match starts again. the characters start at their designated spot, moving a little in place and waiting for either jules or matty to make the first move.

she goes on the offensive, blindly kicking and punching without giving much thought to it.

matty curses on the other end of the line. he moves a little slower than the last time, more focused on dodging her blows than landing any of his own.

“are you going easy on me?” she accuses, her tone almost threatening. there’s a little bit of noise on his end. donkey kong stops moving completely.

“what’s up, jules?”

“is that why you stopped the game? to ask me what’s up?”

matty sighs. she has a distinct feeling he’s just rubbed a hand over his face. the thought somehow makes her angrier.

“you sound annoyed…”

“yeah,” she snaps, “annoyed that you won’t play.”

“jules…” his voice is a low warning, and she swears under her breath.

she’s being really unfair to him. she isn’t annoyed at him, she’s annoyed at all the messages currently sitting unanswered on her phone. not that that’s going to change at all. max can go die in a ditch and rot for all she cares. the audacity he has to imply that she’s the one throwing them away!

“can i come over?” matty asks, his voice cautious.

maybe he should, jules thinks. maybe he can fuck the frustration out of her. then again, she’s really not in the mood. she doesn’t think this is the kind of anger that can be taken care with sex.

maybe by bashing max’s head into a brick wall…

jules resists the urge to groan and kicks the wii u away like a petulant child.

“i’m not in the mood—”

“we don’t have to fuck,” he adds quickly. “i just… would like to come over anyway.”

is that… concern she hears in his voice? his voice is much gentler than before, softer around the edges. she wonders if he’s nervously gnawing on his lip, crossing his fingers in hopes that she would let him. despite her sulky, sour mood, that thought brings a tiny smile to her face.

“alright…” she bites on her nail, a little nervous, “carly’s home though.”

matty snickers. “window it is.”

jules plops on her bed, a tiny smile on her face and scrunches her eyes shut. “i’ll see you soon.”

it’s only the second time he’s climbing her window, so jules waits with bated breath, her hand hovering mid air as if she’d be able to catch him if he fell. matty succeeds though, jumping into her room like the last time.

unlike the last time, he doesn’t immediately go in for a kiss. he leans, his back pressed to the window and arms crossed in front of his chest, scrutinising her a little. jules notices he has a thin sweater on today, sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal forearms sparsely covered in tattoos.

“hi,” she whispers, a little awkward. he’s looking at her like he’s trying to figure her out. like she’s a specimen. and it’s not necessarily in a bad way, but she’d rather he didn’t figure everything out about her within a month of knowing her.

“you alright,” he tips his chin up, greeting her like a frat bro as opposed to his usual sing-song version of hi jules. she realises she misses it a little.

“yeah, why?”

“on the phone it sounded like you were going to throw that controller across the room.”

jules groans and turns, dragging her feet back to her bed.

matty follows suit, his brows scrunched up as he keeps looking at her. when she gets in bed, sitting on top of the covers, matty does the same.

“what were you playing?” he motions to her 3ds. jules holds it up for him to see.

“majora’s mask. i restarted it.”

“can i see that?”

wordlessly, she hands it to him, watches him figure out the controls and move link around a little on the screen.

“have you played this one before?”

“what, zelda?” he raises a brow and jules realises that it was a stupid question after all. still she grumbles. grabbing pancake the bear and practically squishing him tight enough to pop an eyeball.

matty winces. “will you talk to me?”

“i am talking to you.”

“jules!” he sounds stern, which is very much out of character for him. a second passes and matty snatches pancake away from jules, holding the bear hostage. “you’re not getting him back till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“noth—”

“i’ll take him home, jules,” he threatens, holding the bear high above his head. she tries to swat at it, almost landing up in his lap in the process, but matty refuses to give up. so finally she huffs and gives up, pouting like a grump and refusing to meet his eyes.

“it’s max.”

from the corner of her eye she can see him raise an eyebrow. the expression on his face is a little cautious, a little guarded. he looks like he wants to say something but is trying to find the right words for it.

“here,” jules holds up her phone for him, the screen flashing the five messages from the unknown number that are still unanswered.

matty drops pancake next to him and takes her phone, still a little hesitant. jules wait.

he frowns while he reads, mouthing the words along and pausing at all the places she had when she first read those messages, stopping completely when he reaches the penultimate message.

don’t throw us away like this.

jules feels anger bubble up inside her once again. how fucking dare he?!

“right…” matty hands the phone back to her. “should we go set fire to his house?”

the question is so sudden, so serious, that she has no other choice but to blink at him in surprise. a second passes, and she bursts out laughing. it’s a laugh that comes from deep within her, leaving her giggling for a good few seconds while matty stares at her.

he smiles, his eyes softening and the corners of his mouth just barely lifted. it’s the kind of smile that has her feeling self conscious all of a sudden, and not necessarily in a bad way.

“so violent,” she teases. “there’s something we can burn though…”

he cocks an eyebrow, staring at her with renewed interest.

she can’t lie and say it’s a new thought, but in this moment it feels solid, real. as if she needed matty to breathe life into it.

“i’ll show you.” jules gets off the bed and walks towards her wardrobe, looking at him in warning. matty follows her, hovering right behind her but not quite touching.

there’s a whiff of decay the moment she opens the door to the spare wardrobe, stronger than the last time. matty swears.

“fuckin’ hell, what have you got there? his body?”

she rolls her eyes. “the flowers he sent me.”

he hums behind her, coming a little closer to peer over her shoulder at the dead and rotting bouquets.

“‘s a good time to finally get rid of them, don’t you think?”

“burn them you mean?” he bumps his hip into hers, teasing slightly, “so violent.”

her words echoed back to her. jules giggles a little.

“would it make you feel better?” matty asks. his hand is on her waist now, gently turning her until she’s facing him and looking right into his honey coloured eyes. she has to crane her neck a little to properly look at him. she tries not to steal a few glances at his lips (and fails, ultimately, but matty doesn’t tease her about it at least).

“i think so, yeah.”

“then that’s what we’re doing,” he declares. jules nods, determined now, and gets a bag out for the flowers.

there’s a heap in front of them. a heap of dried flowers on the ground in a clearing. if jules didn’t know better, she would have suspected matty brought her here to murder her, that’s how isolated it looks in the dying light of the sun.

“you’re worried,” he points out.

“don’t wanna set fire to the woods!” jules points out the obvious, hesitant to light the match and throw it onto the heap. it’s not like she’s going to need much of kindling for this. she knows it will catch the moment it comes into contact with that first flame.

still the nerves in her stomach don’t let her do it as easily.

“you won’t,” he traces his knuckles down her spine, leaving her shivering from the simplest of touches, “trust me.”

“and you know this… how exactly?”

jules turns to look at matty fully.

the absurdity of the situation almost makes her laugh. here she is, in the middle of the fucking woods with another man on her anniversary with max. here she is, burning the flowers max gave her when once upon a time she would have desperately tried to keep them alive for as long as possible.

“thoughts,” matty taps her head, “what are you thinking?”

“about how weird this is. maybe in a parallel universe i’d be with max having a nice dinner somewhere.”

matty’s face changes a little then. some of the warmth in his eyes leaves, replaced with an expression she can’t quite put a name to. he clears his throat. “and do you wish you were doing that still?”

“no,” jules turns away again, back to look at the dead flowers. “i’m glad i’m here instead.”

saying it out loud makes her realise just how true it is. i’m glad i’m here with you instead of max, i’m glad it’s somehow come to this.

she closes her eyes and shakes her head a little. she can’t be thinking these thoughts. she can’t.

just sex. it’s just sex.

outside of that, they’re friends and nothing more.

“should we set them on fire?” her voice trembles a little, so does her hand. she can hear matty’s heartbeat with how close he stands to her—his chest just barely brushing against her back.

the space between them is full of electricity.

“they’re yours to burn,” he whispers, a tad dramatic if she’s being honest but his words still skitter over her bones. jules smiles a little.

“right.” she holds up the match, a little more confident now, and strikes. the flame burns steady. before she has the chance to overthink it, jules throws the burning matchstick into the pile of flowers.

for a moment nothing happens. she thinks maybe the fire went out, maybe she should give up and go home. and sure it might not be as satisfying as watching those flowers burn, she would have at least gotten rid of them. until a small flame rises from under the heap.

it licks at the petals, growing hungrier and consuming the leaves and the stems until what jules is looking at it a blazing bonfire. behind her, matty whoops, arms thrown up in the air, and his face stretched into a wide grin.

jules mimics him, whooping a second later.

“they’re burning!” she shrieks, her voice full of awe. “i did it, i got rid of them!”

“you did,” matty laughs with her.

she stands there for a moment, looking at the flames, at the way they turn each flower to ash slowly. the more she watches the lighter she feels. the more the flames burn the easier it is for her to breathe. maybe she’d let the rot stay in her life for way too long, let it consume parts of her that should have been blooming.

“are you crying?” matty stands in front of her, partially blocking her view now and with concern etched on his face. it’s then that she realises her cheeks do feel a little wet.

“no, i—” she tries to come up with something only to be stopped by the lump in her throat.

matty moves tentatively, hand coming up to her face. his calloused thumb swipes at her cheeks, so tender and gentle that her heart swells in her chest. one by one he wipes the tears away.

“sorry for being a crybaby,” she lets out a watery chuckle, “i’m having a moment or something.”

“clearly,” matty teases a little. “come here.”

before she has a chance to say something more, his arms are around her, holding her in place. jules rests her cheek against his chest, right over his heart so that she can hear his heart beating in her ear. she wonders why it’s so loud and fast. she wonders why hers feels the same.

she tries not to inhale deeply and make it obvious. but his scent is all around her, comfort and safe and so fucking familiar that she wants to stay here and keep breathing it in until her veins are full of it.

she hugs him back, her arms squeezing him and holding him so close, holding onto him so he won’t step away from her. not that he does… a second later, she feels his cheek rest on her head, feels his thighs touching hers.

the fire burns steady next to them.

her heart feels so full then, she feels like she might just explode. but jules does absolutely nothing to move away from him, to put some distance between them. even when this feels… so much more intimate than any kind of sex ever has.

she doesn’t move even when matty hums a soft little tune and sways them, not when she follows his lead and sways with him.

“what are we doing?” she asks, so softly that it’s barely even a sound, but jules doesn’t want to startle him and break this moment.

he stops humming for just a second. “dancing.”

that’s obvious. she knows they’re dancing, moving side to side while he hums and she tries not to bury her face deep in his t-shirt.

“and friends dance like this?” she asks, her voice thick.

matty keeps on humming for a second longer. “we do a lot of things friends don’t.”

and right now she wants to do something even their rules forbid. she wants to kiss him, just… kiss him. she wants to stand there by the fire, swaying in his arms and kiss him until she can’t breathe anymore.

but jules banishes the thought so quickly that it barely registers. instead she pulls away a little, still in his arms and looks up at him. he’s already looking at her, his face a strange, calm mask.

“your place is closer,” she points out.

matty nods. “it is.”

“should we go?”

he smiles at her a little crooked, almost like he’s figured her out—figured out that if they’re fucking she’ll get to kiss him, at least. if not by the fire, swaying in his arms, then half-naked in his bed.

“if you want,” he tips his head, looking away from her to the fire that’s almost done consuming the flowers. it’s almost on its way out, burning steady but on a dying path.

“i do,” jules nods.

matty steps away from her, takes her hand in his like he had that day in the big tesco and pulls her along. jules follows him and swallows the lump that’s curiously still in her throat.

#✮⋆˙ - when i knock at a hundred and two #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x oc #matty x reader #matty x you #102!matty

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