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lucky-clover-gazette · 5 months ago

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prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 9

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

‘So,’ Damen heard Lazar say to Jord, ‘what’s it like having an aristocrat suck your dick?’ It was the evening after the rockfall at Nesson, and they were a day’s ride further south. They had set out early, after assessing damage and repairing wagons. Now Damen sat with several of the men, sprawled by one of the campfires, enjoying a moment’s rest. Aimeric, whose arrival had prompted Lazar’s question, had come to sit beside Jord. He returned Lazar a level look. ‘Fantastic,’ Aimeric said. Good for you, thought Damen.

"GOOD FOR YOU, THOUGHT DAMEN."

Lazar made a good-natured sound of disbelief. ‘For real,’ he said to Damen. ‘Who gets a leg over, you or him?’

“for real” is just slightly anachronistic and it fits the scene very well. “for real bestie who tops”

The company was in peak condition after Nesson. The wagons were repaired, and Paschal had patched up the cuts, and Laurent was not smashed by a rock.

He could see Laurent’s tent, lamp-lit and streaming flags; it was like a pomegranate, its rich excesses on the inside.

damen.

Damen had woken from a cocoon of sleep this morning to the sound of a lazy, amused, ‘Good morning. No, I don’t need anything.’

The men were experiencing camaraderie in the face of a common enemy, and it was natural that he was feeling it too, or something similar, after a night of chases and escapes and fighting alongside Laurent. It was a heady elixir, but he must not get swept up in it. He was here for Akielos not for Laurent. His duty only extended so far. He had his own war, his own country, his own fight.

if this was a musical you just know that greek chorus would be roasting the shit out of him rn

This very morning Laurent had sent a man flying back to Nesson, with money and thanks, to return Charls his horse.

do you think he signed it as himself?? maybe we find out in book 3

But this rider was nothing like that. Dressed in leathers with no sign of crest or livery, riding a good but plain horse, and most surprising of all—pushing back a heavy cloak—she was a woman.

LET’S GOOOOO

In memory of your morning with us. And for the next time you need a disguise.

i love the implication that he genuinely charmed the women at the brothel, like, not in a horny way. like they’re just kind of rooting for him, to the degree that they got this dress to him. i need the fic about this entire grift, how he talked to them, their reaction, etc

Curious, he unwrapped another layer of cloth to reveal more cloth: blue and ornate, it spilled out over his hands. The dress was familiar. Damen had last seen it open and trailing laces, worn by a blonde; he’d felt that embroidered ornamentation under his hands; she’d been halfway in his lap. ‘You went back to the brothel,’ said Damen. And then the words next time tapped him on the shoulder. ‘You didn’t wear—?’ Laurent sat back in the chair. His cool gaze didn’t answer the question one way or another.

:-)

‘It was an interesting morning. I don’t usually have the chance to enjoy that kind of company. You know my uncle doesn’t like them.’ ‘Prostitutes?’ said Damen. ‘Women,’ said Laurent.

yeah this isn’t surprising. for multiple reasons. i do like how we get some implication that laurent feels differently—another sign that he is fit to be king

‘Vannis is our delegate. He needs her, and he resents that he needs her, and she knows it,’ said Laurent.

vannis = vannes?

They were two days out from Acquitart, and the people in this region knew their Prince, and sometimes came out to line the roads, greeting him with warm and happy expressions, which was not the way that anyone who knew Laurent greeted him.

If there’s anyone alive who can strike a blow that will bloody the Regent’s nose, it’s him.

and loyse

‘As we draw closer to the border, I think it would be safer—more private—to hold our discussions in your language rather than mine.’ He said it in carefully pronounced Akielon. Damen stared at him, feeling as though the world had just been rearranged. ‘What is it?’ said Laurent. ‘Nice accent,’ said Damen, because despite everything, the corner of his mouth was beginning helplessly to curve up. Laurent’s eyes narrowed.

“i speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart”

‘You mean in case of eavesdroppers,’ said Damen, mostly just to see if Laurent knew the word ‘eavesdroppers’.

It was of course no surprise to find that Laurent had a well-stocked armoury of elegant phrases and bitchy remarks, but could not talk in detail about anything sensible.

Damen had to keep reminding himself not to grin. He didn’t know why listening to Laurent pick his way through the Akielon language had him in good spirits, but it did. Laurent did indeed have a pronounced Veretian accent, which softened and blurred consonants and added a lilt, with stresses on unexpected syllables. It transformed the Akielon words, gave them a hint of exoticism, of luxuriousness that was very Veretian, though that effect was at least partially combatted by the precision of Laurent’s speaking.

i love this. another example of how damen’s affection for laurent isn’t just based on his appearance. he has this kind of subconscious desire to see the gap between them bridged, and is DELIGHTED when it happens in all its awkward glory. he falls in love a little more with every moment that laurent feels like an actual human person in the room with him

‘We’re done for the night. Come here and attend me.’ Those words rattled around in his mind.

damen.exe has stopped working

‘You don’t like it?’ said Laurent. He knew better than to say what he did or didn’t like. Laurent’s voice held a hint of interest at his discomfort that was always dangerous.

and we’re talking about the book 1 garden scene again! “he likes it” etc, the matter of consent and pleasure, how damen views the entire thing in retrospect. i think there is some grey area being presented by the narrative about this overall subject—for someone like laurent, with the history and reservations he has, it would have been an unforgivable violation to have been put in the position he put damen in. but to damen, enthusiastically sexually active with many partners since his teenage years, and very used to being in control, it isn’t regarded retrospectively in the same way. it’s not my place to say whether this is right or wrong, good or bad, in terms of how non-consent should be portrayed in fiction (or if there even is a hard “should”), but i do at least appreciate that pacat seems to have committed to damen’s understanding of the scene and doesn’t really compromise.

‘Perhaps if I were more authentic,’ said Laurent. ‘How does an owner command a bed slave in Akielos? Teach me.’

this is such a laurent move. fluster him, talk shit about his morally bereft culture, and half-jokingly propose roleplay all at once

‘You said in Nesson that you had used slaves,’ said Laurent. ‘Don’t you think I should know the words?’ He forced his hands to move. ‘If you own a slave, you may command him however you like.’ ‘I haven’t found that necessarily to be the case.’ ‘I would prefer you to talk to me as a man,’ he heard himself say. Laurent turned under his hands.

god they make me crazy. damen having a big moment here in reconsidering his values. laurent enjoying the fact that he’s making damen reconsider his values, because he knows damen can do better, which is different from the previous times he’s challenged damen. we’ve moved past mutual moral arbitration, because they both have started to understand each other. now they’re pushing to see just how on-the-same-page they really could be.

also, laurent would be diabolical in high school debate

also also, “i would prefer…” feels like a big moment re: damen admitting how he feels about laurent, TO laurent. even if he doesn’t fully know what he’s admitting here, he’s essentially saying that he sees himself as a voluntarily ally rather than a slave, which laurent absolutely does not expect and probably would not accept at this point

He felt rather than heard his voice change in the intimate space. ‘But if you would rather—’ ‘Step back,’ said Laurent.

yeah laurent’s having some trouble unpacking that. i forget the exact wording but this reminds me of a later quote, “i don’t have the means to defend from this,” “this” being earnest affection

They gazed at one another.

i really should be counting these but oh well. it’s less funny to document than the laurent leans and hr complaints

‘Unless you need anything,’ he heard himself say, ‘I’ll go and bring in some more coals for the brazier.’ ‘Go,’ said Laurent.

laurent braces himself on the table as soon as damen leaves. the opening guitar riff of “granger danger” from a very potter musical plays faintly in the background

The water had been bracing cold in the warm night. He had dunked his head and let it run over his chest and shoulders, then he had scrubbed down and waded out and pushed the water from his hair.

not the cold shower…

Laurent was well made and capable, and Damen was a man, as other men. Half the soldiers in this camp wanted Laurent under them. The body’s reaction could be discounted, as it had been, determinedly, at the inn. Any man would have been roused by Laurent playing pet in his lap. Even knowing what was under the earring.

damen you’re not beating the “granger danger” accusations either

After a long moment, he took his eyes off Laurent and looked back at Lazar, who was gazing at him with a rather dry but understanding smile quirking the side of his mouth. ‘All right what?’ said Damen. ‘All right, you’re not fucking him,’ said Lazar.

“but you wanna be soooo bad” 😭

#the more of this i do the more i out myself as a musical theater person #capri #sam reads capri #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #lamen #captive prince #prince's gambit

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topazadine · 4 months ago

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Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks to @the-golden-comet for the tag! I enjoyed reading your answers, especially the part about your characters!

Alright, here goes.

About Me

When did you first start writing?

I wrote my first story at age 7, started my first book at age 12 (no you can't read it, it's terrible) and published my first poem at age 15.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Despite writing fantasy, I actually don't read much of it myself. My undergrad career focused most on British literature (specializing in Victorian lit) so that's what I'm most familiar with and what I like the most.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I don't really seek to emulate anyone because I have my own unique voice, and I don't really get compared to anyone else either. If you have suggestions of what I might sound like, fire away lmao, because I don't really know who I emulate. However, I take a lot of inspiration from Willa Cather for atmosphere and Emile Zola for realism.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I exclusively write at my desk. My setup looks like this:

I need my little guys and my Emotional Support Stuffed Cow (her name is Bluebell the Moobell because she has a little bell in her). Note the knitting I'm procrastinating on at the bottom right lmao.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Funnily enough, I often get inspiration from my day job as an SEO writer, even though it has absolutely nothing to do with the types of stuff I write. Sometimes I'll just be hammering away at a Construction Accident Personal Injury Lawyer page and it strikes me that I need to kill one of my characters.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Sort of. I have this thing I do where I like to mentally walk through buildings I used to visit as a relaxation activity, like my childhood elementary school, so that's given me a good memory of how places are laid out. As for actual settings? No, most of those are just made up of pictures I've seen of different places that I've never visited.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Some of my recurring themes include: Degradation/transformation of memory Struggling against fate/the unknowability of fate Found family Abusive relationships Moral relativism Satisficing (choosing between multiple suboptimal outcomes to pick the least harmful option) None of them surprise me; I recognize where they come from. For example, my obsession with the degradation and transformation of memory comes from my own struggles with dissociative amnesia, and my interest in satisficing comes from my International Relations degree. My concerns about the unknowability of fate come from the fact that I had a premonition that I'd die of a heart attack at 42. And I'm 32 right now. You can imagine that this influences my process lmao.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

As a lesbian, I am not ashamed to say that I am deeply and passionately horny for Uileac (who you can meet in "Cachaille" or read about in 9 Years Yearning). Like how can you not go crazy for a man who thinks this is the perfect declaration of love?

He's so scary and so devoted, yet also very chill and laid-back? And funny? And athletic? And protective of his lil sis? He's just ... (screams into pillow)

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Ono. He's a Sinan royal guard who is just so sweet but also kinda dumb.

There's a scene where he has to ask Cerie what kind of menstrual products she needs for their trip, which is both mortifying and really adorable. He's just a really gentle and nice guy who I think would get along with damn near everyone.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

I think Mordrek would scare the absolute shit out of me ngl. Like ... bro just ... does this kind of shit on the regular

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Uileac, Orrinir, and Ono were heavily inspired by Uguisumaru, Ookanehira, and Omokage from Touken Ranbu and I don't apologize for that. Obviously they are a bit different, but their personalities are quite similar. Cerie was developed from a roleplay where I was playing as Uguisumaru's made-up sister, so that's why she's Uileac's sister in Poesyverse. Haniya, Cerie's love interest, was made up by using personality testing and astrology to come up with Cerie's Perfect Match. No one knows where Mordrek came from. He just kinda showed up.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

They all have daddy issues. Every single fucking one of them.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

All the art I have for my characters was made with AI before I realized AI was absolute garbage shit, so I'm not showing it, but I did commission a painting of Cerie from the amazing artist Caleb over on Twitter:

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

For me, that's kind of like asking why a bird sings. It's just what I do and what I have always done.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Definitely when someone says that my writing helped them or resonated with them. My writing gives me catharsis and it feels really good when other people say they got that same sense of catharsis.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

As someone who takes risks that pay off.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Depicting trauma without being melodramatic.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

People have told me they like how meticulous and carefully set up my stories are without infodumping or being boring. They appreciate the work that goes into planning things, how it all pays off in the end and comes together nicely without plot holes.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I think I've come a long way and continue to improve, which is what is most important.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

The last Kauaʻi ʻōʻō still sang until the end. So yes.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write whatever the hell I feel like when I feel like it. People tend to like it, but if they don't, I enjoyed making it anyway.

Open tag!

#writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #writing community #writing game #oc game #oc character #my ocs #tag game #tagging game #tag meme #my writing #literature #writeblr #writerscommunity

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mediaevalmusereads · 11 months ago

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Foster. By Claire Keegan. Grove Press, 2022.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: literary fiction, short story

Series: N/A

Summary: A small girl is sent to live with foster parents on a farm in rural Ireland, without knowing when she will return home. In the strangers' house, she finds a warmth and affection she has not known before and slowly begins to blossom in their care. And then a secret is revealed and suddenly, she realizes how fragile her idyll is.

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: use of the g-slur

Overview: I decided to pick k up this book after seeing it on a YouTuber's best books of 2023. I was in a lit fic mood, and the high praise got me interested. Overall, I enjoyed this story, and though I wish certain things had been pushed a little more, it was a quiet, understated little narrative that I no doubt will be mulling over for a while. For those reasons, this book gets 4.5 stars from me.

WRITING: Keegan's prose is incredibly descriptive yet understated and reticent at the same time. The author manages to hide little details in every sentence that reveal how her narrator views the world, and yet, she never outright says much (either because the narrator is a child with limited understanding or because Keegan is making a point about silence or both). Personally, I found this style incredibly effective; not only does it do a masterful job of "showing" over "telling," but it allows the reader to do a little brain work and interpret the story for themselves. It also does much to capture big, emotional sentiment that can't be voiced directly, and the narrator says as much at one point.

This style does, however, mean that it can be easy to miss some things. Whether or not this style works for you will probably depend on how forthright you like your books; for me, I think it withheld just the right amount, and even though I doubtless missed some things, it doesn't necessarily bother me. It just means I want to go back and read again.

PLOT: The plot of this story follows a young unnamed girl who is sent to live with her distance relatives, the Kinsellas. The narrator comes from a large, poor family in rural Ireland, and the understanding is that she is being sent away because A.) the mother is pregnant again, and B.) the family is struggling to care for all the children. While living with the Kinsellas, the girl is cared for in a way that reveals the degree of neglect she experiences at home, and over time, she forms a bond with the Kinsellas, who come to love her as their own.

This story was touching and, by the end, left me quite emotional. Through the little details we can see how the girl's home life is lacking - she is taken aback by little luxuries such as a hot bath, clean floors, etc. and all this doesn't so much criticize the poor family so much as it filled me with an incredible amount of pity and sadness.

The bond that formed between the girl and the Kinsellas was heart-warming and became especially impactful once we learn of the Kinsellas' past. Knowing that they eventually would be parted filled me with some degree of dread, but mostly, it just made me appreciate their short time together and left me wishing they could have stayed together forever.

If I had any criticism, I would say that I kind of wish there was more in this story to drive home the neglect or the sense of safety and care at the Kinsellas; but in all fairness, something so overt would probably go against Keegan's style. My personal tastes tend to go towards things that are a little more blatant in their messaging, but this doesn't mean Keegan did anything wrong at the level of craft.

CHARACTERS: Our unnamed female narrator is not much of a character in her own right, but is mostly notable for being a filter or lens through which the story is told. Her most defining feature is that she comes from poverty and is thus unused to little luxuries, including hot baths, refrigeration, and even love and affection from her guardians. I honestly didn't mind this because the narrative was so short; if Foster had been a novel, it might have been a problem, but for the purposes of this story, the narrator is just as complex (or not) as she needs to be.

The Kinsellas are also fairly simple folk and show a quiet kindness that I could feel through the page. I loved that they treated the narrator as their own child and that they opened their hearts so fully to her. I also loved that the husband and wife seemed to genuinely love each other so that the whole household felt like a safe, loving environment - a stark contrast to the home where our narrator comes from.

Side characters were fine and did the jobs they needed to do. The narrator's father wasn't overly mean or abusive, but it was clear he was somewhat neglectful or at least reluctant to connect with his children emotionally. Various neighbors or acquaintances did enough to reveal to the reader that there was something going on with the Kinsellas, and they didn't overwhelm the narrative. The narrator's mother also felt warm and kind but overwhelmed, which created some interesting tension with the father.

TL;DR: Foster is a touching short story about the bond that forms between a neglected girl and a childless couple in rural Ireland. With a reserved writing style that manages to pull back the curtain just enough, the effect is a melancholy gut punch that showcases just how wonderful and fragile a peaceful, loving home is.

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netherfeildren · 1 year ago

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hiii, I wanted to ask you some advice if you don’t mind🥺

I’d really like to start writing (and maybe even posting on tumblr). Reading Joel’s fics gave me the motivation especially because of authors as good as you are. Also I was thinking of changing my bachelor’s degree in biology in a classics studies one and after that I’d really like to get into the publishing industry and also doing books translating (english is not my first language so I wanted to translate books from english to my first language and viceversa). In high school I studied greek and latin and I’m regretting abandoning them honestly. I wanted to get into literature’s world and starting to write and I’m really inspired by works like yours so I wanted to ask (if you don’t mind answering) did you take any writing course or did you have this passion by reading or I don’t know(?)❤️❤️❤️

hello hello, apologies that i sat on this so long but i wanted to be able to sit and give you a worthwhile response. first of all, if you’re feeling the inspiration and inclination you should most definitely take the leap and post your writing!!! the hardest part is that first go and not that it’s not hard or scary thereafter, but once the first step is done then it’s done, all that’s left after that is to keep going.

as for the schooling, i’m no expert by any means much less a voice of reason, but i think translation work sounds so interesting and if it’s what you’re so inclined to then you should definitely go for it! my path was not the norm, i started with a bio chemistry degree and halfway through my first year added the literature degree and it was all absolutely terrible. i didn’t only do the majors but the full degree plans so a minor in physics as well as a focus on romanticism for the lit. now that i find myself most regrettably in the real world, i don’t use my literature degree at all in my job but i’m eternally glad i did it even though the going was hell because i truly enjoyed it like nothing else. i was also heavily discouraged by one of my parents to not pursue the lit (this is why i was forced to do the full degree paths for both) so if that’s your dilemma or what’s holding you back all i’ll say is that where there’s a will there’s a way and if you’re thinking about it and asking for advice or input then it seems to me this is something you’re considering seriously and that it’s important to you and i’m sure you’ll find the right path and answer for what you probably already know it is you want to do.

and to answer your last question, yes, i took creative writing courses in university, and i’ve always been very bookish which i suppose contributed to the interest. prior to this now i’d never done much fiction writing but i’ve always kept journals so that was really the extent of my experience besides school work. i’d say, more than anything, this fervor we’ll call it really truly came from always being a big reader. v.e. schwab said something to the effect once that you can’t be a writer without being a reader, and i apply myself to that prodigiously lol the two go hand and hand, are one and the same etc etc

#vic replies

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threewaysdivided · 2 years ago

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hi 3wd. i’ve tried to write before and i’ve never gotten far in the process, despite having many ideas im enthusiastic about. all your blogging about being a planner-writer has got me thinking i might have the same style of writing as you l- and a lot of the reason im struggling to put words on paper is because i don’t have a direction or fleshed out emotional/plot beats to write towards. what would be your advice to any fledgling planner-writers that don’t know where to start? how did you start writing with this writing style?

Hey nonnie 💜

It can be super frustrating to have a bunch of pieces you want to play with but not have them come together in a way that maintains traction. Outlining could definitely be a potential tool to help sustain momentum, so let’s see if I can get some gears turning for you.

For me personally, the outline-approach is one I just sort of fell into naturally. Part of it comes from my school days; we were encouraged to write dot-point plans to structure our arguments/ research/ storytelling for assignments ahead of drafting (some teachers even counted evidence of it towards the final grade), which set it as a habit early. Fun fact: I actually outlined this answer before writing it; I do it for most long posts. Another part of it is that I tend to come at writing from a very analytical angle - there’s a degree to which I try to solve or understand stories as I consume them. One of my earliest casual jobs was working as an English/Lit tutor for high-schoolers. I find a lot of joy in picking narratives apart, figuring out how they work and finding ones that hold up through several layers of examination, so as a writer I like to construct stories that way.

Part of it is also that, when I want to write something for release, I’m conscious of the fact that it will have an audience. A question that hangs around in the back of my mind is “if I found this story and wasn’t the writer, would I enjoy reading it?”

There’s another aspect that has to do with respect, in a way. I love the worlds and the characters that I use in my stories, and for me that means writing things that feel true to their spirit, giving significance to the times when that changes and making sure they have a meaningful journey (even if it’s not a happy one).

For me outlining suits this ethos, since having a map of future directions makes it easier to place foreshadowing fairly, identify themes, build character arcs and keep explanations/ lore consistent.

I’m also going to admit that I just got lucky with Deathly Weapons. There was a very specific emotional idea that I wanted to centre a story around, and the inspiration happened to come with both a starting premise and a concept for the ending. Then I also had wish-lists; some tropes I wanted to play with, and some existing series whose storytelling structure I wanted to emulate and pay homage to. Something I realised a few years after starting DW is that I’m a very project-and-output-oriented person. In a way, Deathly Weapons’ came to me as a project brief where I already knew the end-goal and a lot of what I wanted to work towards.

With that said, let’s talk outlining:

The value of having a plan

To me, an outline is a bit like having an itinerary for a road-trip. It gives you an idea of where you’re going, how long things will take, what key things you want to do, how much it might cost and it helps you anticipate potential problems. But, like an outline, an itinerary isn’t binding. There might be some things that take more effort to change (distance to travel, bookings you need to cancel/ reschedule/ extend - key plot points that a story hinges around or that need more preparation/ payoff to be effective) but you can adjust as you go; take extra time to explore an interesting spot, add a detour based on local recommendations, skip things that turn out to be less compelling than they first seemed, take a shorter route to get to a key destination faster, extend the trip to see a few more sights or decide to cut things short because something came up. The itinerary gives you the security of already knowing where you’re headed, letting you put down the mental burden of having to work out each stop as you go and enjoy the moment more.

Ways an outline can help:

Reassurance: if you have a tendency to be anxious/ self-critical/ have high standards about characterisation, plot holes etc. then an outline can be a good way to workshop the story and get ahead of potential challenges, as well as to concept-test whether this is a project you feel like committing to.

Scoping: blocking out an overview can help you get an idea of the size and complexity of the project, and how much time/resources/teamwork it might need.

Motivation: having a plan of future story moments that you’re looking forward to can provide a goal to help you push through the less exciting parts (e.g. connective scenes) and/or help you re-find your enthusiasm if you’re returning from a break or are feeling creatively flat for reasons outside the story itself.

Iteration: if you tend to come up with stories primarily by exploring and assembling ideas, then an outline method can be a way to quickly put a concept on paper, examine it and then decide if/how you want to use it, without the restriction of needing to write it all out as polished paragraphs first.

Splitting up the steps: useful if you tend to think faster than you can type full sentences, find that you move between ideas non-sequentially or if prose-writing/ sentence construction is something that takes a lot of mental energy or stop-and-starting from you. An outline can be a way to separate the processes of story crafting and story telling into more-distinct stages rather than trying to juggle both at once. Find the story first, then write it.

Non-sequential writing: having a roadmap of your story’s structure and direction can give you more freedom in how you choose to approach it, letting you jump ahead to work on planned future sections/scenes where the inspiration is flowing rather than waiting for the next scene to “come to you”.

For a more direct comparison, Screenwriting Bibles are a form of outline for professional TV/Film production. These “bibles” are key reference documents used by writers for information on the premise, characters, settings and other project elements, as well as to plan future episodes and seasonal arcs. (This podcast transcript, article and template are good starting sources if you want to learn more about TV Bibles.)

Much like a series bible, an outline can help you keep tabs on:

Consistency and continuity: this can be minor stuff like names of background characters or small details (running gags, item descriptions, character trivia) but can also be major stuff like character motivations, who has what abilities, event timelines or story-themes.

Direction: your outline can capture the overall arc(s) and conflict source(s) of your story and their intended resolutions, as well as mapping out how those conflicts are progressing.

Causality: whether planned events and character choices feel consistent and reasonable within the internal logic of your story.

If any of this sounded helpful to you then you might benefit from experimenting with an outliner/ planner approach. There are a bunch of different planner techiques (here’s a link for some) as well as hybrid “plan-tser” methods that you could try. But for now let's talk about the general process, starting with a focus question:

What is it that makes you want to tell this story?

This might seem like a daunting place to begin but it can help with figuring out the core of your story and what you find compelling.

It’s okay if you don’t have a neat-and-clean answer straight away. Sometimes inspiration just strikes out of the blue, and that’s fine. Sometimes you have a vague directional pull but you’ll need to do some story-work before you can identify what’s calling to you. However, if you did have a specific itch or passion that drove you to write then thinking about what and why that is can help you understand what you want from the story – and in turn what might connect with other people.

I also want to be clear that this is not about judging your motivations or their “artistic merit”. I had a specific story to tell is fine, as is I wanted to explore this concept/theme/emotion/issue, or this was a gift/commission for someone else, and so is I wanted to try writing a specific genre, or I wanted to experiment with a specific medium, or I wanted to do my own version of [existing idea] or I am fascinated by this character/relationship/world or I needed some vicarious catharsis, or I was horny. And a whole bunch of other things.

Knowing what you’re trying to get out of a story can help you decide what type of story you want to tell, as well as the overall scope and what medium/format/genre to tell it in. Maybe it’s a single-scene character/aesthetic study, or a one-shot vignette. Maybe it’s one long story, or it could be series of connected stories, or it could be a story-anthology centring on a common idea. Maybe this story would work well as a comic, or art piece(s), or podcast, video, or something interactive like a choose-your-own-adventure or a videogame.

Understanding where you’re coming from can also help you answer the questions of what is your story about? and what happens in your story? which are related but not the same.

What is your story about concerns the themes and thesis of your story, which can help you figure out the story’s tone, main emotional or thematic conflict(s), and how you want them to resolve by the ending. Put simply, it’s the message.

What happens in your story is the synopsis of planned events, character actions, worldbuilding and other content. Put simply, it’s the stuff your story has in it.

Let’s take my Deathly Weapons fanfic as a case study:

What made me want to write this story? Deathly Weapons started with me being unsatisfied with what felt like a gap in the Danny Phantom x Superheroes crossover fanfic space at the time. There was a trend where stories would kill Danny’s friends and family to justify placing him with the crossover’s other hero team but very few of those stories felt like they acknowledged the emotional consequences of doing so; the ones that allowed him to grieve frequently using it for nonspecific angst about Loss™ or mourning the generic archetypes of A Love Interest™, A Sister™, Parents™ or A Best Friend™ rather than the specific characters and bonds from the series. There were also some smaller itches around plot construction and mysteries that I couldn’t find many stories to scratch. I wanted to try writing something to fill those gaps. What is this story about? Thematically Deathly Weapon’s central emotional arc is about grief and healing: in particular the uniqueness of the bonds between people and how grief reflects the specific hole each individual leaves behind, as well as the process of finding closure, making new connections and moving forward in the aftermath of loss. What happens in this story? A lot. In my youthful hubris and overambition I planned out basically a half-season of a TV show. For the sake of not dragging this section out by a mile, here’s an arc/mission plot teaser list I made a little while ago.

Since Deathly Weapons Arc II is deliberately structured to emulate a TV show, you can sort of see how that summary has accidentally ended up mirroring parts of a top-down Pitch Deck. But, of course, that’s not the outline I actually use when writing.

Different levels and types of outline

Like a lot of creative terms, “outlining” covers a pretty broad umbrella’s worth of stuff.

Methods-wise there are plenty of different approaches: from specific story-writing software (Scrivener, Campfire etc.), to word documents, to binders and notebooks, to honest-to-goodness sticky-notes, thumbtacks and string. Personally I alternate between a documents folder on my computer and a physical notepad/sketchpad for when I’m on the go, but you should pick whatever format feels most comfortable for how you process/visualise information.

Functionally, I think it helps to conceptualise three main levels of outline: Brainstorming, Structural and Detail. To be clear, you don’t have to do all three. A short story or one-shot might be served by writing directly from a brainstorming or light structural outline. You also don’t have to keep them strictly separate. A brainstorming document might cover some early structure notes or test paragraphs. A structural or detailed outline might have some brainstorming or research sections as you uncover and solve smaller questions. Heck, you can have detail notes inside your initial drafts if they help you keep the story flowing. These are tools you can use, not prescriptions you need to follow.

Let’s talk about the levels:

Brainstorming

Brainstorming is the least structured. Like the name suggests it’s mostly about getting concepts down and coming up with ideas – this could include early notes for plots beats/ scenes/ character interactions, sketches, screenshots/quotes and possibly research questions for stuff you want to confirm or find out about (e.g. checking source material, or researching systems and potential setting-locations). You could consider this like early research notes for a class essay – where you know what your subject is and might start with some initial thoughts or focus questions but are still learning and figuring out the broad strokes of your content and stance.

Despite that comparison, brainstorming is probably the most creatively fun step in the process. This is not where you worry about things like “quality”, “cohesiveness”, “accuracy/canon compliance” or “cliches” – this is the time for rolling with whatever inspiration strikes you, pouring out any idea you find interested/compelling/cathartic, asking questions, going down internet rabbit holes and generally just enjoying unabashed creation. This is your raw material: you’re going to cut and shape it later.

Structural

Structural outlines probably have them most utility in giving your story shape and form, especially if your story is long or has a lot of components. If you were doing an essay, this is the part where you’d figure out your thesis and start grouping each main argument and its supporting points into planned body paragraphs. For a story, this is where you start sorting your ideas and putting them in order; deciding on your arcs, conflicts and resolutions, working out the order and causality of events, your character motivations and dynamics, where to place key foreshadowing, major scenes and the like. This is the level where you’re going to try and solve potential story problems – to come up with in-universe explanations and identify possible plot-holes before you write yourself into them. You’ll likely do extra brainstorming or research in this phase too but it’ll be more targeted – aimed at filling gaps, connecting dots or serving specific needs.

For longer or more complex stories you might have multiple structural outlines tracking different levels of granularity; some providing an overview of the whole story/ series arc, while other focus on specific characters/ subplots or break things down into individual plot beats and scenes. You might also spin some of your initial brainstorming into reference or meta documents – content that you aren’t going to directly cover in-story but that will inform or add depth/consistency to other elements. If you enjoy puzzle-solving then this can be a very satisfying part of the process: there’s nothing quite like hiding a subtle piece of symbolism/foreshadowing, coming up with a sneaky red-herring or finding a rock-solid explanation to make you feel extremely clever.

It’s also worth repeating that you are not beholden to whatever structural outlines you first come up with – your outlines can and should evolve with you as you develop your story and come up with new or alternate ideas. (Just last year I re-ordered two major subplots and added an extra character arc for Deathly Weapons).

Some stuff to think about for structural outlining:

Remember that, as the storyteller you have full control of the narrative and what happens inside it. Like I said at the start of my case study on YJ: Invasion’s writing, even the rules of a fiction piece are made up: there is nothing physically stopping you from making the sky be a different colour every five minutes if you felt like it. If you want something to happen then you can work backwards to reverse-engineer a specific scenario where those things would reasonably occur. Start at Scene B and figure out what needs to happen to get there from Established Starting Point A. If you need a character to act a certain way, then you can tailor a situation to trigger that response based on their established personality/ insecurities/ flaws. You can manufacture specific story problems whose solutions play toward or against the skills and abilities of different characters, or create scenarios which situationally discourage characters from using skills/abilities/tools that might otherwise be overpowered. You can also make the call to deviate from what has been established in order to facilitate a scene or plot point - temporarily imposing a trait for narrative purposes (sometimes referred to as carrying a ball) or Rules Lawyering your worldbuilding to create a technical loophole. This risk here is that this can feel artificial, jarring or unfair if not reasonably justified within the story logic. There’s also a limit on how often/ how far you can push this before it risks breaking the story. If things start to contradict or situations arbitrarily turn on a dime then your audience can lose trust that the characters and world will follow the expectations set by the narrative – they can start to feel narratively unsafe, until it reaches a point where the only way for them to reconcile the dissonance and inconsistencies in the story is to acknowledge that it’s all an artificial construct being externally steered by the hand of the author. You can do whatever you want… provided you do the work to make audience to believe it.

That being said, try not go get too wedded to the specifics of your early ideas. Sometimes an element is just not going to fit with the direction your story ends up taking; whether because it’s not compatible with the eventual trajectory of the characters/events/lore or simply because it would be hard to include without disrupting/diverting/distracting from the flow of the story at that point. In some instances you can take the core of an idea and modify it to find a new place in the narrative; for example by repurposing a scene or piece of dialogue, repackaging information, rescheduling a conversation, fusing concepts together or deconstructing them and integrating the component parts across other scenes. But in other cases you may decide that the potential problems (whether structural or narrative) introduced by including an element outweigh the value it could add – in which case it’s time to lovingly set it aside. This is what they mean when they say kill your darlings. Having a designated document for future story ideas and/or outtakes can help with this (or you could do what I did with Defining Moment and turn an idea into its own side-story).

This can be also a good place to consider more technical story elements, like pacing. Think about the peaks and valleys of intensity (suspense, intrigue, action, character drama etc.) across the beats of your story; where you might want to ramp things up or down, and how you might use scene and/or chapter breaks to space out information, create breathing room or hold the audience at a certain level of emotion/anticipation. (For a good short primer, try these videos about Pacing and Tension Cycles in games).

You may also like to use the structure overview as an opportunity to take stock of Tropes and Patterns. Not to avoid them – you can’t really avoid tropes – but just to see if any are showing up and what they might be saying, even if you didn’t intend for that to happen. (For a topical example: consider what tropes are showing up around different minority/minority-analogous characters - either in their depictions or how the story treats them - and what message that might be sending. There’s a lot of bias to the way certain groups and issues have historically been portrayed in media, some of which have baked themselves into now-common stock plots and archetypes. That isn’t to say you should never use them; just be conscious and careful, especially if your story intends to make some sort of commentary on those topics.) On a more positive note, this can be another way to learn about what story mechanics you like, both in your own writing and others’.

Detail

Detail notes are the most granular level of outlining, getting down into the specifics of an individual scene or conversation. These are the least strictly necessary – depending on the length/ complexity of your story, the granularity of your structural outline(s) and your personal writing preference, you may prefer to jump directly from a structural outline into a first draft. That said they can still be useful, especially if you want to hammer out the fine details of action, dialogue or information-flow while staying a step back from specific prose. This is where you get things like a bullet-point breakdown of each line/action/piece of narration (for when you have a detailed idea of what’s going to be said/done but not the specific words to describe it) or script-style notes (for when you have the character voices and lines but not the narration or action surrounding it). As mentioned earlier, you can blend detail notes and rough drafting together – writing some sections out in prose as the words come to you, then breaking into note-form to keep the ideas flowing in sections where wording might be starting to stick.

An example

Let’s look at my outlining system for Deathly Weapons:

Now, I want to make it clear: this is not the standard. This is not even the standard for me. Deathly Weapons got a bit out of hand, ballooning into a half-season of a TV show: it’s more a series of 12+ self-contained stories in a trench coat than your standard fanfiction. However, it is a decent example of complex outlining. I have multiple levels of structural outline – some covering the entire story arc, some covering the individual missions. I also have quick-notes that I made as a consistency-reference from canon, and some worldbuilding meta I did as a thought exercise to develop one of the character-backstories (the one shown ended up published here on Tumblr). You can see how I blend the outline types together in my detailed notes, as well as how my approach to outlines has evolved from more brainstorming-focused to more structurally-focussed as the story has solidified. Again, this is not the standard, but hopefully it gives you an idea of what you can get up to with outlines for a complex long-term project.

Okay, so that’s the basic breakdown of outlining as a process (at least the version I use). Hopefully it’s got some gears turning.

However, I also know that it’s more of a framework through which to approach story-building; it’s an organisational tool that helps you set out current and future-planned content in a way that lets you take stock, identify things that need attention and keep track of important details. On its own it’s not necessarily going to be able to help address the challenges it reveals; in the same way that knowing how to plan an essay won’t necessarily teach you how to research one effectively.

In Part 2 of this series (yep it's a series now) I'm going to go over some concepts for story-building and editing that might help you during the structural phase. Click here to go to the next part >>

#Writing advice #Outlining #Planner writing #Story planning #Stories #Post Series: Outlining Tips #this was originally meant to be one post but then Tumblr decided it was too long so here we go #Sorry this took ages for me to answer nonnie #I moved cities again and the burnout after last year whacked me very hard. Brain go (half-hearted raspberry noise)#Hopefully there’s enough stuff in here to make up for the wait #It might amuse you to know that I did 3 different outlines trying to figure out what would be useful #Learn from my example but maybe don’t try to follow it #Outlines Divided (who lives in a state of derangement and writes over 10000 words of background notes per paragraph)#is an outlier and should not have been counted #There’s a lot of talk about DW in here. How very self-indulgent telling you all about me. me. me.#(It’s mostly because I’m the creator in its case so I can talk about the processes used to make it without making guesses)#Anonymous #3WD #3WD Answers

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f1nalboys · 3 years ago

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Hello! I absolutely love your writing and I was hoping you could do some Vincent with a touch starved and nervous s/o? And maybe some nsfw if your feeling it? <3

hi my beloved im so sorry for the wait i literally have sims brainrot this is the first time i've written in weeks :0 BUT i hope you enjoy!!!

Vincent Sinclair x Touch Starved!GN!Reader

WORD COUNT: 445

WARNINGS: brief nsfw mention, not proofread

Being touch starved in Ambrose is the norm tbh, the brothers feel the exact same way

Being nervous is also the norm especially for someone in your situation

Out of the brothers, Bo is the most understanding just because of his childhood

Vincent understands, of course, but not to the extent of Bo

NOW

Being in a relationship with Vincent while simultaneously being nervous and touch starved makes for an interesting dynamic

He notices you hang around him a lot, like you’ll be down in the basement even though he knows you hate being down there for long periods of time

He also notices the way your heartbeat speeds up when he wraps his arms around you at night when the two of you are going to sleep, or the way your breath hitches in your throat when he rests his hand on the small of your back while he passes by you

Vincent can tell you crave physical intimacy but he doesn’t want to make you even more nervous so he goes slowly

This man is going to hug you every chance he gets for real, he loves holding you

Let’s imagine standing in the kitchen with him late at night, candles lit and music playing on the radio, and just slow dancing with him

Your head on his chest and arms around his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist, your bodies pressed against each other and moving in sync

I love him your honor

He really likes holding your hands too

Hes often busy with the figures so any down time where he can feel your skin against his hands and not the hot wax is welcomed

Vincent does the thumb thing

Yall know what im talking about <3

He also likes cuddling like to an insane degree

The two of you are sitting on the couch? You’re cuddling. Laying in bed? Cuddling. You sat down to tie your shoe laces? CUDDLINGGGGGG

If you’re touch starved he’s literally the best person to be in a relationship with

He understands your nervousness and tries to soothe your anxiety

It works btw

Also

Sex with him?????????

So romantic

Lots of body worship, his hands are on you constantly, so are his lips

Is he perfect? Yes very much so

When yall are sitting on the couch and aren’t cuddling, he’s going to make sure at least some part of him is touching you

Like his foot is going to be stretched out so it’s tucked under your leg, his arm is against your own, his heads on your lap, literally anything to be close to you

Its cute

And i want to experience it

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair fic #HOW #how 2005 #slasher #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher fic #slasher headcanon #slasher oneshot #f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works

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xxx-wounded-angel-xxx · 2 years ago

Text

Just Like Heaven - Felix Volturi

Felix Volturi x gn! reader

I decided to continue my campaign to convince everyone that Felix is husband material, so I wrote this little thing. Kind of a continuation of Adore You in the reader's characterisation (and self indulgent as usual), and inspired by Volterran Wine like most of my Volturi work.

AO3

It was such a long day to spend on your own. Your beloved Felix was really busy as usual, but you did not hold it against him. No you could never ! You were proud of your mate.

But time was becoming very long. Everyone was busy, and Demetri wasn’t even in the castle: he was away with Afton retrieving something for Aro. Without your favorite book friend, the library felt terribly lonely. But even if the tracker wasn’t here with you, he left you his favorite book to read, Manfield Park, when he learnt that of all the fantastic work of Jane Austen, you had only read Pride and Prejudice. How sacrilegious of you, who proclaimed to have a degree in Library Science (which you really had, but in France) and had only read one Austen novel! His enthusiasm about it had made you smile, and the fact that he was ready to let you read one of his favorite books made you happy, for it was a way for two rats de bibliothèque to feel closer. You knew he was more than a brother to Felix, and it was important for you that Felix’ two mates got along. And to your pleasure, it was really nice to be friend with Demetri. The two of you were both quite anxious, so it would be a slow process, but neither of you minded much.

Sprawled on Demetri’s favorite sofa by the fireplace, a forgotten glass of vine by lit candelabras, a Cure album playing in your music player, you were deep in the reading. So deep that you had been here for so long that it was now closer to the beginning of a day for the vampires that you thought it was. Completely immersed in the book, ravished to get closer to Demetri as reading one’s favorite book could be oh so personal, you did not notice the silhouette leaning in the doorframe, watching you with softness in his eyes.

Felix, for it was your loved one that was looking at you with such adoration in his eyes, was waiting for you to notice him. But you were far too engrossed in your story, so after a few minutes he decided that if he did not want to waste the few hours he had with you today, he would have to bring you back to earth if he wanted to see your pretty smile turned at him. He approached you slowly, and then softly touched your shoulder. It was enough to bring you back to the world, and you jolted, only relaxing when you realized that it was only your love. The way you said his name with such affection made him shiver, you loved him as much as he loved you: he couldn’t wait to turn you so you could spend your forever together.

You got up, blew out the candles, before grabbing Demetri’s precious book and leaving with your beloved to your shared place.

“How was your day mon Coeur?” Felix gladly answered your question, talking about his day and the training of the guards, then asking about your day. “How about you, Sweetheart? Did you spent your day reading again?” To your defense, there wasn’t much to do in the castle as a human, and reading was a respectable way to occupy your free time. Books had been a huge part of your human life before Felix, and even after rejoining ton amour’s world this passion would remain. Felix liked to indulge you in this passion, and had added bookshelves to the room you both shared for all the books you brought with you.

Reaching said room, your gentleman held you the door, before closing it behind him. The two of you ended up indulging in one of his pastimes, which was movies. You had never been one too interested in movies, but Felix definitely had a good taste and managed to chose movies that you would both enjoy. Sitting on his lap, with his arms holding you tight against him, it was feeling just like heaven. But it’s what Felix was, your beloved for whom you were ready to give up all humanity for was the best thing to happen in your life. And you wished it would last forever.

mon coeur : my heart

ton amour : your love

#felix volturi x reader #felix volturi #the volturi #Spotify

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jarofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Crush

A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut. FILTH.

word count: 9.7k

Harry felt a bit creepy.

It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty.

Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.

Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous.

Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line.

Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying.

“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.

Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit.

“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.”

Great. Already rambling.

Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm.

“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.

“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.

She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised.

“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”

“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name.

This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.

“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”

“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.

“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.

English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it.

“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.

“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.

“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.

“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit.

He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited.

“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.

“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little 📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?

“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.

-----

Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as.

‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’

Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down.

‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’

‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’

She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to.

‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’

That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.

——

Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more.

He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.

If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note.

‘I like your cardigan :)’

It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.

He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her.

‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’

He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!

‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’

She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends.

Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.

Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.

Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting.

Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.

‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’

She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.

——

When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful.

“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.

“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to.

Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—

Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already.

“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.

“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.

“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.

“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.

“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.

“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.

“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.

Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out.

“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.

“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault.

“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it?

“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.

They were meant to be studying.

That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story.

The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy.

Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery.

This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?

Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.

“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.

Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek.

“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”

Harry blanked.

Oh. fuck.

He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit.

“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this.

“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”

“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.

“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”

“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”

Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck.

“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.

“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.

“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”

“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal.

Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.

“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”

Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.

“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.

“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.

Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing.

“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.

“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”

He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion.

“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”

“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”

Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up.

“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”

Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.

“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.

“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this.

At least, that was until the doorbell rang.

“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”

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

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masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #college!harry #harry writing #college!h

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sailorhyunjinz · 4 years ago

Text

~ ℙ𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕖 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕀 ~

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: SMUT! Dom!Minho x sub!reader criminal!skz, gang!au, angst(?), criminality, mentions of scars, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, explicit language, mentions of robbery, mentions of police, mentions of cuts, alcohol consumption, mentions of fights, public sex, PIV, fingering, unsafe sex (STAY SAFE), orgasm (m/f), cum, slight bulge kink, squint to see the degradation.

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS SINCE THIS PIECE CONTAINS VIOLENCE!

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.6 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: EEEEP part 2 of purple hearts that is more of a background story to the first one so if you haven’t read the first one please do so here!~ (also jesus fucking christ did i struggle with this sooo... don’t expect much lmao)

OH if you want a song recommendation; A good song never dies - Saint Motel (fits this fic heheh...)

A loud bang erupted through the room alerting the 7 other boys. Bangchan’s fist was firmly planted on the table as he looked at the shoked faces off the seven boys.

“We can’t go on like this anymore”

He spoke in a raspy voice, his breath quivering as the other boys avoided eye contact with both Bangchan and between themselves.

“Did you see what happened out there?!” Felix flinched at Chan’s loud shout as Changbin smirked, spinning in the office chair and staring at the ceiling.

“It’s not that serious, Chan! Just a couple bruises tha-” Changbin started speaking but was soon cut off.

“Nonsense!” Chan growled out. “All of this because that son of a bitch won’t get a job, we included you because you were a detective. You were useful once, Minho”.

The entire room glanced over at Minho. His cheek scarred, a droplet of blood desended down from his knuckles as he swept his hair back with one hand.

“Not my fault, you wanted me to plan the different robbing schemes so how the fuck can I work, huh? Ever though about that?” He spat on the floor as his gaze was locked with Bangchan’s. The leader getting visibly annoyed by Minho’s tone.

“Calm down everybody” Seungmin said, carefully nudging at the curtain infront of the window and looking down at the blue and red lights that was flashing all over town. “Continue like this and we’ll all be dead meat for the police”.

Hyunjin was sitting across from Changbin, only the big white table seperating them as a lonely lightbulb hanged in the middle.

“I agree with Chan, Minho used to help by getting access to information only the detectives had but now... well, he’s not doing much” he scratched the back of his neck while talking.

Minho was aggrivated by his words, ready to lunge at anyone that dared to open their mouth about how he wasnt helpful after he’d been fired from his job as a detective.

“I-I’m gonna find a job, not like you fuckers sitting here and living off others pain”. He tried to defend himself but only earned a scoff from Felix.

“Please,,, don’t try to judge us when you’re in it yourself” Felix remarked snarkily, sitting on the cold stone flooring. A first aid kit was laid out infront of him as he treated a big wound on his forearm, wrapping bandage over the cut and hissing as the material stinged against the raw wound.

“I’ll find my ways, don’t worry” he devilishly smirks, many of the boys sighing and rolling their eyes. All except one. Bangchan. His blood was boiling. Did Minho not see how the whole groups future was hanging on by a thin red thread? The red representing how much blood has been shed by these boys in order to survive in this vile world.

Silence filled the room, only the faint sound of police sirens could be heard from outside. Minho clenched his jaw, looking around at the silent boys before grabbing his coat from the wobbly coathanger and exiting the mobs headquarter, shutting the door loud enough to startle both Jeongin and Jisung. Confused glances were exchanged while Bangchan just stood at the end of the table, staring out into the dark night.

---

The nightlife was well and alive in the big city. Music blaring, people chattering and cars humming. The neon lights were all around him as well as the vast crowds of people enjoying the night. Minho walked into a bar that was a couple of blocks away from where he and the boys had been moments earlier, robbing a jewely store and beating up the owners until puddles of blood formed around them. Most of the times it was easy but today the police were a step ahead and bad planning by Bangchan almost led to the boys in handcuffs. Luckily, all eight managed to escape, leaving the bodies and the spray painted SKZ mob logo on the old fashioned walls of the jewerly store.

The bar reeked of alcohol as the lights were low, only a couple of silhouette visible. Unsteady bar chairs decorated the dim bar along with a wall of fancy liquor bottles and as Minho sat down he looked down at the bar table before croaking out;

“One boulevardier“

He licked his lips as he looked cockily at the bartender that quickly nodded, intimidated by the wound on his cheek. Minho rubbed the back of his neck whilst comtemplating his life choices. Graduated with a law degree, once being a well respected detective but what was he worth now? He was just a dirty criminal, ruining lives in order to survive. The drink was placed infront of him, a coaster on the bottom of the wide glas as the drink condensed, forming beeds of liquid on the rim. Just as he lifted the glas to his chapped lips you tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me”

You stood behind his hunched figure and met his gaze as he turned around, drink in hand. You show your detective badge before speaking.

“y/n, y/l/n. Happened to see any commotion here tonight, sir?

He scoffs which makes you confused as you look him straight into his cold brown eyes.

“Detective? At least you got to keep your job”

Minho turns back and you stand there, wondering if he’s drunk or just refusing to cooperate.

“Sir, I asked you if you’d seen anything that could lead us to the SKZ mob? I’m pretty sure you know who they are. You know, the ones that makes the entire city shake of fear.”

“Sure, I know of them.” He smirked with his answer.

He patted the empty bar chair next to him, signaling for you to sit which caught you off guard. You were hesitant since he didn’t look like the friendliest type but you nodded, slowly sitting down next to him.

“Look, I might even surprise you about how much I know” he remarked, steadily raising the glas to his dry lips.

“Is that so? How do you know so much?” you asked, geniunly interested in him and that scar on his cheek.

“Former detective” he stated simply.

Your eyebrows jerked at his words. ‘Former detective?’ you thought, losing his job must have been hard on him judging from his scruffy appearence and by the way he waved his finger at the bartender, ordering another drink.

“Then why did you lose your job?” Curiosity was going to be the death of you.

“Aren’t you asking too many questions, baby?”

Who was he calling baby? The two of you had met minutes ago but something in the way his voice rang through that word caused shivers to descend down your spine.

“I’m a detective, that my job and you should know that” you replied sassily, not knowing what to do with the butterflies in your stomach upon hearing him call you baby.

“I could help you but it comes with a cost.”

He moved his hand in a circular motion, swirling the liquor as the floating ice cubes bumped against eachother, the sound being completely masked by the distinct chattering of other guests.

“Well,,, what do you want me to do?” You looked at him as he stared straight ahead, his silvery earring swaying as he turned his head towards you, grinning.

“A job and you.”

His deep brown eyes seemed to draw you in but you had to resist, you were on a patrolling shift after all.

“I’m s-sorry,,, This is not appropriate behaviour” you say as you try to get up before being abruptly pulled back by your wrist, the purple heart on your bracelet reflecting in the minimally lit bar.

“I know damn well that there is a promotion looming in the air” he said, not breaking eye contact with the bracelet on your arm. He was right. If he had valuable information it could change your career, make you climb higher in the ladder of success and peer down at all your co-workers that were once laughing at your lack of skills.

“H-how’d you know?” you said, flustered at his big hand that was still tightly gripping your wrist. He flashed his devilish grin before yanking you by the arm, dragging you to the bathroom.

“W-wait,,, what are you-”

Pushing the door to the bathroom open, he slammed you against a cubical as he crashed his lips onto yours. Luckily the bathroom was empty leaving Minho without any hesitation to fuck you so hard that you’d be longing for more, fuck you so that you’d be left with no other choice but to hire him. You melted in his touch and as much as you knew how wrong this was something about his mysterious aura had you answering his kiss, pursing your lips and slipping your tongue inside of him. The kiss quickly got heated, sparks flying as his fingertips lightly nudged on the band of your jeans. Minho tilted his head, cupping your warm soft cheek with his brittle and bloody hands as you moaned into the kiss, adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of getting caught at any moment.

Minho pulled you into a cubical, your bracelet jingling from the sudden movement. Locking the door, he put his hand by the side of your head and towered over you making you feel helpless. You needed him inside of you.

“Deal?” he leaned over to your ear, his hot breath tickled your ear and all you could do was nod as you desperatly clenched around nothing.

You reattached your lips on his, the bitter taste of liquor spreading in your mouth as your tongues fought for dominance. Minho stroked your hair until his hand slowly moved to peel off your shirt, exposing your bra strap. His touch on your bare shoulder made you shudder and your core quivering in anticipation, feeling a wet patch on your underwear. His hand unbuttoned your pants causing you to gulp loudly, holding the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. Without warning his cold fingertips slid down beneath your panties, grazing your sopping folds and feeling himself get painfully hard, not wanting to admit the effect you had on him.

“Already this wet, babygirl?”

He broke the kiss, looking at your pained expression as he inserted a finger into your dripping pussy. Your eyes tightly shut as your hands wrapped around his arm, needing something to hold on to before your trembling legs gave up on you. You quickly stripped yourself from your pants and underwear, the fabric pooling around your feet and touching the surprisingly clean bathroom tiles.

“Needy I see” he scoffed, inserting a second finger and sending you over the moon with pleasure, your hands still wrapped around his wrist.

“s-shut up, you m-made me like this” you stutter back at him, trying to impose some sort of dominance but Minho only swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, looking at you with hungry dark eyes. A broken moan escaped your lips that glistened from saliva, Minho curled his fingers upwards, grazing your g-spot with every move. Before another strained moan managed to escape your lips he retracted his fingers, lapping off your juices from his long fingers with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Turn around”

His cold voice pierced your eardrums and as if you’d been hexed you complied, your body moving to his command. Your hot cheek pressed up against the cubical door as Minho’s body was dangerously close to yours, his clothed bulge rubbing against your bare ass. The sound of his belt unbuckling echoed as you pressed your ass up against his bulge, desperate for his cock.

In a swift motion both his pants and underwear dropped down to the floor, his erect veiny member springing out, the tip shining with precum. He pumped his length a couple of times before rubbing the tip against your dripping heat making you mewl out in suspense, the burning feeling in your core growing stronger. Minho alined himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in the tip to which you hissed, a momentary sting hitting your senses. He teased you by dragging his fingertips across your buttcheeks and up your spine, goosebumps erupting.

Not being able to control yourself you pushed your butt out making you sink deeper on his length, earning a groan from the dark haired boy.

“Desperate much?” he cooed from behind you.

Your hands formed into fists as they held you body up from the door.

“F-fuck,,, hurry, I’m still on my shift you know?” you spat out at him, your legs shaking from how his dick stretched out your tight walls.

“Whatever you say”

He laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing a fistful before turning his hand and yanking you towards him, your back arching as his hips slam against yours causing your butt to jiggle. You choked on your own moan as Minho’s hand tightly held you by the roots.

The movement repeated and got harder by each thrust causing you to bite your lip in order to stop from screaming out in pleasure. Heat rose to your cheeks as your eyes rolled back into your skull, stray pieces of hair landing infront of your hair. Sweat beaded on Minho’s forehead, his groans getting louder as he neared his sweet release.

“S-so tight,,, fuck.” He spoke haltingly, hating the fact that you made him weak. In order to hold on for longer you clenched around him not knowing that he’d grunt loudly.

“Now you’re c-clenching around me like a little whore?”

A string of moans ensued from your delicate lips upon hearing his new nickname to you. How did he know that you liked it? You could only nod, your speech all slurred from the impact of his dick burrowing deep into your cervix. The knot in your stomach tightened, your head dazed as Minho’s thrusts became uneven, the grip on your hair tightening. Not feeling your legs any longer the knot unraveled, your body shivering from the orgasm that washed upon you, your juices coating Minho’s dick that was still pounding into you at an immense speed.

“A-aah,,,s-shit!” you screamed out as he rushed after his own orgasm, overstimulating you in the meantime. Tears prickled in the corners of your watery eyes as Minho’s last moan echoed in the room, the moan being high in pitch. He pulled out of you leaving your cunt dripping as he pumped his length a couple of times, throwing his head back before his white cum spurted onto your butt, feeling the warm substance drip down your leg. The two of you panted, chest heaving as your forehead made contact with the door, legs weak.

In your peripheral vision you see the boy stretching out a paper towel, his chest heaving as he wiped off the small sweat beads with the back of his hand. You shake your head in order to come back to earth before taking the paper towel from his hand, muttering a small “thank you”.

“So what you say, babygirl?” His dick turning flaccid before pulling up his pants, looking at you wonderingly. You wipe off the cum and discard the paper in a small waste bin before you reach down to grab your panties and pants, pulling them briskly up. You reach for your back pocket, holding out a business card between your pointer and long finger with one hand, the other hand messing with your hair, making it look presentable.

“Call me on Monday” you say before stumbling out of the cubical, leaving the grinning boy behind you.

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koba-baboba · 3 years ago

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I can’t tell- chapter 1

Chapter summary: Andrea Gardner and Spencer Reid learn they’re going to be working undercover as a couple. What will this entail?

Spencer Reid x OC!Andrea Gardner

Warnings: graphic criminal details. Classic criminal minds type stuff. This series will contain language, smut, and other things later in the series

A/N: I’m so happy with this. I hope you enjoy it. My requests are open. At 100 followers I’ll take as many requests as I can and shit out some stories!

“Everybody welcome dr. Andrea Gardner. She’s going to join our team” agent Hotchner announced to the bullpen, pulling everyone’s attention to himself and the meek woman next to him. She looked around the room and looked over her new team: two kind looking women, a man who could possibly kill you, another taller than everyone in the room, and a pipe cleaner with a gun.

“Another doctor huh? You and Reid should get along well. Derek Morgan, nice to meet you sweet heart” the tall man stuck his hand out towards her, a grin on his face. Andrea looked down at his hand with an awkward smile, silently explaining that she’d rather not shake his hand. “Yeah you and Reid will love each other” he snorted retracting his hand smoothly.

Reid she though, trying silently to figure out which one that would be. Her eyes fell on the tall skinny man and silently guessed it was him. “Emily Prentiss, nice to see another woman here!” The black haired woman exclaimed excitedly, beaming at Andrea. She offered a meek smile in response, her anxiety evident across her face.

“I’m JJ, that’s Rossi, he’s not one for introductions, don’t worry about that” the kind woman explained softly, her face soft and loving. Andrea felt safe around JJ, she looked understanding.

“Dr. Reid”

“Oh dr? What is your degree in?” Andrea asked quietly.

“Mathematics, chemistry, and psychology” he counted off, eyes brows furrowed. “I’m working on one in psychology currently” he added.

“Oh I have one in psychology. And a masters in practical medicine” Andrea explained excitedly, hands gesturing with her words. Reid’s eyes lit up, hurriedly asking her questions about psychology, quizzing her.

4 years later

“I have a case everybody!!” Garcia singsonged as she sauntered into the bullpen, waving some files. “It’s extra special” she added. Andrea popped her head up, pulling her earbuds out as she eyes Garcia.

“Extra special? Not sure about that one penny” she deadpanned. “Well any case could be extra special. Just depends on how you approach it” Spencer cut in, eyebrows furrowed as he thought over his answer.

“Sure Reid” Morgan chuckled slapping his hand on Spencer’s shoulder roughly. He muttered a soft ow as he took his seat next to his friend Andrea. This two became quick friends, trading knowledge and interests. Spencer had always been there for her, and vice versa. Andrea and Spencer both being the resident genius’s at the BAU.

“Alrighty guys and gals! Pay attention because this one will be fun! 2 weeks ago Brittany Vince and her fiancé Jason green were murdered and found dumped in a field in rural Illinois. Brittany was stabbed 20 times in the chest and her genitals were mutilated. Jason was shot in the back of the head. The ‘interesting’ part of this case is that… Brittany was um well raped after she was killed. The mutilation most likely happening after that” Garcia finished off with a grim look on her face.

“The fun part is that the sherif requested this be an undercover case. Since it’s such a small town they’ve already narrowed some things down and don’t want to scare our killer off.” She explained looking far too excited about this.

“The sherif has a point but what have they narrowed down exactly Garcia?” Hotch questions seriously.

“Good question my dear. In the past few months there’s been 5 grave robberies, each time a week later the body would turn up looking like miss Vince. Then there was a rest period, unprompted. The sherif believes that our unsub works at the local morgue. He has barley any evidence but if he starts a full swing investigation he risks the unsub going dormat.”

“There’s also evidence our couple was stalked for about 3 weeks prior to dying. So he’s thinking if it’s undercover one of you guys will have enough time to figure it out.” Garcia finishes off, taking a deep breath.

The whole team is quiet, they’ve done undercover work before but this, this was different.

“I’m assuming it’ll have to be a man and woman? Considering it was a couple.” Prentiss speculates. Garcia hums in affirmation. Andrea and Spencer lock eyes, confusion written across their faces.

“Andi, Reid, Morgan, my office, now” hotch sighed pushing himself up and walking out without a passing glance. Andrea felt anxiety run through her body, she had never done undercover before but hotch obviously wanted her to work this. Spencer trailed behind her nervously, sending questioning looks at Morgan.

Upon the three entering and reluctantly sitting hotch huffed and rubbed his face. “Andi I know you’ve never worked undercover but you have enough medical knowledge to work undercover in a morgue without being suspicious. I want you on this case. Reid, Morgan, you’ve both done this kind of work before and know what you’re getting into. However, you both need to act like Andi’s partner and I need to know which one of you would be comfortable with that. Andi you get an opinion here too” hotch explained dryly looking between the trio.

Andrea opened and closed her mouth, not knowing what to say. She settled for looking over at her friends expectantly. “I’m gonna cut this short.” Morgan started. “Look Andi baby I love you but, you and Reid have a better dynamic. Reid also knows more about this stuff that me, he’ll be more help on this one.” He explained, throwing his hands up.

Hotch looked over at Spencer with raised eyebrows. Spencer looked around like a deer in headlights, not quite sure how to respond. “Hotch I’ve barely done undercover work I don’t think-“

“Reid I wouldn’t have called you in here if I didn’t think you could do it” hotch interrupted. Spencer huffed looking distraught. “Reid I have no other options. I need you to be confident you can do this” he said softly, trying to reassure Spencer. He mutter a soft alright and looked at Andrea wryly.

“Good. You two head home and start prepping your backstory and some scripts. Get your stories straight by tomorrow. Garcia and I will set up your living arrangements as well as your jobs.” Hotch rushed, looking pleased. He ushered the three out, ordering Spencer and Andi home.

“This should be fun” Andrea snorted, looking up at Spencer with a sly smile.

Tag list

@rollnoyaa @missvelvetsstuff @develin13 @indigo123789 @disneyloversforlife @reidsgublerwife @wntrsnat @crystallinewritings @kk-kaiaw @lokigodofmischief27 @luckysuitcaseheroroad @saturn-elixir @pinkrighthand @scorpionchild81 @yeseniaadairsblog @forevernah @janadiamond @nurenciye @miniaturebearhoagiepersona @weasley261192 @obsessed-bxtch @maddi-slytqre @n3bulas-and-satelites @ihopesomeonewouldmakeyouhappy @damienhaaslover2001 @standbyplacesplease @cockk-dealer @zoeygraygubler @mrsobrien888 @machine-yearning-comics @sammyimpala-67 @yagirlashii @angelica128 @19agbrown @angeredcrow @spnmemelord67 @cheezbot

#criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #series

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zukump3 · 4 years ago

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fixated ✰ s. aizawa

aizawa takes interest after you, but he doesn’t really know how to go about it.

genre: fluff, some smut in the second part! fem!reader

warnings: two parter!! aizawa has a CRUSHHHH, he pins after you heavily, counselor!reader. zawa used to have a thing with ms joke, black!reader

a/n: this idea was super cute so i had to write it. i hope you guys like it!!

requested: yes!!

part 2 (coming soon)

Aizawa has never been one for dating. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a relationship.

Back in high school, when he sat in the very desks his students sat in, he was often teased at by Mic about getting a partner. The hero tried to set him up on dates, give random people his number and all types of other methods, but Aizawa was just never interested. No one really caught his attention that way... until Fukukado came along.

She was everything he despised. She was loud, she talked too much, and she never took anything serious. But somehow she made her way into his cold heart and he indulged in her.

He enjoyed his time with her. Underneath all that goofiness she was a sweet woman who cared deeply for her job and her students. Aizawa felt emotions he had never felt with her, and was a bit peeved when they split. However, they remained friends. Since then, he hasn’t bothered dating with anyone.

“Have you seen the new counselor?!” Aizawa opened one eye to see Kaminari and Sero gushing as they entered the class. “She’s sooo hot. And she’s foreign!”

“Doesn’t she speak English and Japanese fluently though? She’s smart and attractive, jeez.” Sero huffed, and Aizawa furrowed his brow, zipping down his zipper on his yellow sleeping bag.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Miss L/N!” They both yelled, making Aizawa blink. “She’s our new counselor. She said parents were complaining that the students mental health wasn’t being cared about enough, so U.A hired her. She’s from America too.”

“America.” Aizawa groaned. He already had an image in his own eyes—a stereotypically one, but oh well. You probably had blonde hair and blue eyes. There was probably nothing special about you at all. His students weren’t as used to foreigners, so of course they would find you attractive.

Throughout the entire day he kept hearing his students chatter about you. About how kind you were, how pretty your voice sounded, how you looked so unique. He was getting peeved—why was everyone so hung up on you?

He carried the thought with him until the end of the day, when he headed down the hall to what seemed to be your room, just as you were leaving.

And—wow. He really understood why everyone was talking about you.

You weren’t blonde haired, blue eyed at all. Your hair was in a fluffy afro, like Mina’s but kinkier. You had the most supple brown skin and dark eyes that lit up when they caught his. His eyes widened a bit at just how radiating you seemed, your multi colored lips raising into a smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Aizawa! I’m L/N,” you spoke, your hand pushing out to shake his. He shook your hand silently, noting at how warm your palm was against his cold one. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your students!”

“You’ve met them?” he asked, voice deep with shock.

“Ahh, well, they kind of pranked me earlier,” you said sheepishly. “They came banging on my door and said there was a fire, and that I needed to leave as soon as I could. But then they said they were just joking when I was about to jump out my window,” you laughed, shaking your head. “They’re pretty goofy huh?”

Aizawa couldn’t help but note at how good your Japanese was. He knew English and Japanese were two different languages—you must’ve been pretty smart and hardworking to learn it.

“Well, I have to go do paperwork at my apartment-hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” you smiled once again. Aizawa only nodded and then you were off, with his eyes burning into your back.

His fists clenched. You were much more attractive than he originally imagined. But he wasn’t going to indulge—he knew that would only end badly.

Right?

The next day, Aizawa heard the same chatter about you. And the next. And the next. He didn’t see you again until about a week later, when he saw you chatting with Midnight and Mic in the lunch line. He cringed—the two were notorious for gossiping and he really hoped they weren’t telling you anything stupid.

“And then I—aye yo, Zawa! Good afternoon! Have you met L/N?!” Mic screamed, and Aizawa’s eyes went to meet yours ago. Your hair was styled differently to the point where he could see your eyes better, and it framed your face so nicely. You waved at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“We were just talking about our high school days~” Midnight’s voice rang out. “American high school is reaaaally different from Japanese high school, according to L/N.”

“The students here are really well behaved, especially in Aizawa’s class,” you smiled at him. “You’re doing a damn good job with them. They’re some of the most charming students I’ve seen! The ones in American high school can be really rude and nasty... I haven’t experienced any of that here. It’s nice.”

Aizawa breathed shakily. Thank god his students weren’t embarrassing him.

“L/N here’s got a degree in psychology and all that mental stuff!” Mic yelled once again as you all moved down the lunch line. “She understands da brain! We really needed someone like her here, with all the breakdowns our students have!”

Aizawa huffed. Teachers, too.

“I’m here for everyone,” you spoke. “Students, teachers, even the Recovery Girl if she’s got a lot on her mind. I’m just here to help everybody as much as I can.”

“Aizawa needs some of that help fo sure!” Mic yelled, smiling so hard all of his long, white teeth showed. “Motherheffa never talks to anyone about his feelings, keeps em balled up! That’s not healthy!”

Aizawa’s ears turned red. “No, I don’t need-“

“I’ll help ya!” you offered, moving so your body was right next to his. He couldn’t help but inhale your scent—it was strong and sweet, something he’d never smelled before. “Don’t worry—whatever we discuss in my room stays in my room. It’s something I pledged to do when I became a therapist.”

Aizawa laughed nervously, shaking his head. “I really don’t-“

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna have a session immediately, no worries,” you shrugged. “But I’m here whenever you need me. I have more work to do later, but I’ll see you guys later!”

And then you were off, with Aizawa’s eyes still on your back.

“You’re staring pretty hard Aizawa,” Midnight raised perfectly done eyebrows. “She’s pretty—I would stare too.”

“Be quiet.” He spluttered, his ears still red as he made his way back to his classroom to eat.

Another week had passed of Aizawa admiring you from afar. You always came into work with a smile on your face, greeting students with handshakes and hugs—the hugs threw him off a bit, but Kaminari told him it was an “American thing.” He didn’t know how much he would daydream about it until he started to long for hugs from you, thinking of how your arms would wrap around his middle before class.

He wasn’t obsessed with you, no, but rather infatuated. You were intelligent and easy to approach, and your appearance matched your personality. He was attracted to you but due to him not having a relationship in years and also not having the best social skills, he had no idea how to approach you. He didn’t even know much about you. His students knew you more than he did and you were his age! It made no sense.

Time after time during the third week of you being here he tried to talk to you. During lunch, when Midnight and Mic would force you all to sit together, he would want to open his mouth but he couldn’t. He’d come by your room to start conversations after school but the most he’d say was “have a good evening, L/N.” and leave you alone. He even found your social media and took a quick look through your pictures—leaving your page when he saw you in a bikini, his cheeks red.

By the time the fourth week came around, his students and his work buddies were noticing his changes in behavior. He was getting distracted much more than before and whenever someone would mention your name he’d go scarily silent and look deep in thought. It wasn’t until Mina chatted with the rest of the Bakusquad that his students actually began to do something about it.

“Miss L/N!” you heard Jirou’s voice rang out from your doorway, with some other students from Class 1-A coming in behind you. “Good evening~”

“Good evening Jirou! Hey everyone,” you smiled warmly at the students that were entering your classroom, confused as how many of them were coming in. “What’s up...?”

You had formed a pretty close relationship with the class of 1-A during your short time here. You had sessions with most of them and got to know their personalities and feelings pretty well—even Bakugo, who was closed up and rude at first, but eventually shed a few tears in your room.

“Mr. Aizawa said he needed your help with planning lessons today—he said he’s asked everyone else and they’re all busy,” Mina told you, and your brows furrowed in confusion. Aizawa needs help from... you? That was odd. “He needs you to come by as soon as possible!”

“Oh! Well, alright,” you laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stood up and grabbed your phone. “Thanks for telling me—you all get to your dorms and don’t cause too much noise okay?”

You heard rings of “yes, miss l/n’s” as everyone left your room and you locked it behind you. You started to make your way to Aizawa’s classroom, your palms a little sweaty against your notebook. You hadn’t talked to Aizawa in a while and it was weird that he had requested your help, but you didn’t mind getting closer to him. Truthfully, he had been on your mind a lot the past few days—you found him pretty attractive despite his quiet demeanor. Although, you were a new teacher, and didn’t want to be involved with anyone too early in your school year.

Aizawa jumps a bit when he hears sudden loud knocks on your door, and sees your face come into view. “Good evening, Aizawa. You needed my help?”

“Huh?” Aizawa asked, his face twisted in confusion.

“Jirou and Mina came by and said you needed my help with lesson planning—I’m not the best with planning stuff to teach but I don’t mind offering my assistance,” you offered him your normal, gentle smile. “So where do we start?”

Mina and Jirou? Ugh. Of course they would tell you that.

“Um-um-well,” he stuttered, his face already starting to heat up. “I just need a new quirk training game... yeah. That’s why I need help with.” Fuck. He hoped that sounded believable.

“Okay!” you nodded, suddenly taking a seat that was in the corner of the room and sitting right. Next. To. Him. He had to clench his fists to keep his cool, not used to such an attractive woman being so close to him at all. “Where should we start?”

He spent two hours with you discussing new games to play with his students that would also train their quirks, and those were some of the best two hours of his life.

He so enjoyed the time he spent with you. You were so easygoing and natural to talk to—he didn’t feel awkward or nervous talking to you which is what he feared he would feel in the first place. He cracked more smiles with you in the span of two hours than he did the whole week.

“You can’t just make them play dodgeball with their quirks! They’ll get hurt!”

“We have a Recovery Girl for a reason.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, smirking at the glare he got from you.

“Still! You know some of them—Bakugo—are going to take out their anger on other students,” you huffed.

“But it’ll be fun to watch?”

You were quiet for a moment, but inevitably started smirking along with him. “...you’re right. It will be.”

Together, the both of you planned for Class 1-A dodgeball, with you and Aizawa as the referees. You two even planned to go by the outfits together—and now he was out at a sporting store with you, looking for a fucking black and white striped shirt. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’ve never worn one of these before—you think I’ll look cute in it?” you asked him, raising your eyebrows repeatedly and he couldn’t help but chuckle gently at your antics. “I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you will F/N,” he told you, not even noticing his slip up until a few moments later. “I—I meant-“

“So we’re on second base huhhhh? Don’t worry, I’ve accidentally called you Shota a few times to Mic and Midnight. I’m not used to calling people by their last names, we don’t do that in America.”

“You talk about me?” Aizawa couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the fact.

“What?! Of course not, no.” you quickly shook your head, and he grinned at the flustered look on your face. “The only thing I tell them about is how you need more sleep. Your brain doesn’t function correctly on a small amount of sleep.”

“My brain doesn’t function correctly at all.”

“Wrong. You’re pretty smart, Aizawa. Pretty understanding too,” you hummed, you two walking through the aisles so you could get whistles. “Your students are always telling me how much you care about them, even though you don’t show it. They really appreciate you you know?”

He was expressionless, but his heart did warm a little bit at your words. “I know.”

You two bought the items and soon enough you were back at the school. You got out of his car, sending him a wave and a quick goodbye before heading to your own car, and Aizawa let out the longest sigh of his life.

“Shit.”

#bnha x poc!reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha #bnha fluff #mha fic #bnha fic #aizawa #shoto aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa x black!reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa fic #aizawa fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #aizawa fluff

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linearao3 · 3 years ago

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Hi Linear LA, ask game time! 3. incorporating romance, 4. plot bunny, 8. relationship w/constructive criticism, 19. writers who've influenced you, 25. revision process, 45. 3 fave fanfic writers, 80. lit elements. Thank you in advance <333

Thank you for playing the ask game; I appreciate it! I'm sorry if these answers are unhelpful or cantankerous-sounding -- I really do appreciate the asks!

#3 - On a scale from 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

Hmmm. I mean, in stories which have romance, I tend to regard the romance as fairly integral, and plot it out as part of the story, since it governs motivation, which is a chief driver of plot. If the question is, do I like writing stories of which romance is a part, the answer is hell yes, 9/10 at minimum.

#4 - What's the plot bunny you've been carrying longest? Do you wonder why you haven't written it yet?

I don't think I have any plot bunnies I haven't written, but I have lots I haven't finished. The ones I feel greatest existential dread over are original works, but the fanfic one I haven't got complete enough to publish is an omegaverse Reylo fic where they're both betas but they're trying to pass themselves off as an alpha and an omega for career reasons. I like this partly for the opportunities to torture them with the false assumption that they will disappoint the other if the truth comes out, and partly for the chance to deal with the way omegaverse fic often engages with the idea of betas as inherently dull or lesser.

#8 - What's your relationship with constructive criticism?

There are people from whom I will accept it and people from whom I won't. If someone is a stranger to me, or if their work or taste doesn't display interest in the kind of things I'm trying to work with (e.g., if they write or endorse exclusively three-act living room dramas while I'm doing contrapuntal hyper-anachronistic drama or whatever the fucking trip I'm on this year), I'm generally not going to be super-interested in their criticism of my work. I have a dramaturg that I work with as a playwright, and I trust that she knows me and gets what I'm going for and will tell me frankly if I'm not doing what I'm trying to do, or doing it badly. In fanfic I work with Bombastique a lot; frequently she is too nice to me but usually I feel I can rely on her to tell me if something is seriously wrong or if my intentions aren't coming through. There are lots of other people I can and will accept it from, though I don't always agree. It's a complicated question, but it comes down to trust, I think.

#19 - What are some books or authors that have influenced your style the most?

Oof, pal, I don't know. I typed up a long list of authors I love and then deleted it, because all I could imagine was someone staring incredulously at my prose and being like... "you want to blame them for this?"

#25 - What's your revision or rewriting process like?

Hack and debug? It varies a lot, honestly. I am lazy, so I often bring a lot over from previous drafts.

#45 - 3 favorite fanfic writers

Destinies, englishable, and Yahtzee (Ao3 account tragically deleted!), but many others besides! Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard, Whitherward, lucymonster, slipgoingunder, SaintHeretical, TourmalineGreen, whose reylo fic may someday come back from the wars...

#80 - Do you try to put themes, motifs, messages, morals, etc. in your writing? If so, how do you go about it?

Oof. Yes. I mean, to a certain degree I don't so much "go about it" as "fail to stop myself." I have some obsessions, and they show up, a lot, because I can't help it. If you've read my stuff you may recognize cross-cultural and multilingual communication and miscommunication, environmental disaster, intergenerational harm, and the question of how crimes can ever be paid for as shit I simply. Cannot. Let. Go. Of.

#asks #anonymous

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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HASO, “Ash.”

A couple people were showing some interest in other Alien characters aboard the ship, and I thought I would give you all some insight into that. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you all have a great day.

“You have ruined this family.”

“What have you done!”

“The war is the only thing left for you now, so make yourself useful and die.”

Etium slowly lifted his head from the computer where he sat staring blankly at the accounting spreadsheet on the screen. Beside him, the other two Tesraki’s chairs were empty. He sighed, and slowly turned back to the accounting. They had likely finished their half of the books hours ago, leaving him to sit in the darkness alone with his own strange thoughts. His four fingered hands clicked at the keys of the human made keyboard,

He was good at typing, pretty fast for someone who was missing two requisite fingers, but he was nothing in comparison to the others.

He was nothing in comparison to most Tesraki.

Etium was slow when it came to doing the books, repeatedly checking every line and ever string of numbers for any possible mistake that could have been made. The process took him hours longer than it should have, but finally he stood, pushing back his chair and hopping down to the floor. The human ship whirred softly in the distance. It was a comforting sound, but he had always found some measure of comfort in humanity.

Etium had been hit the hardest by the huminization phenomenon. It didn’t surprise him all that much. He had fought side by side with humans since the Drev war, and the changes in him had taken a long time to develop. They ran deep now through his body as sure as his blood. WIth skills honed in human war, and being one of few survivors, he was quick to react to sounds, followed movement more easily, and could read body language better than almost any other alien he knew.

Dr Krill wasn’t even as good as he considered himself.

That’s what war did to a person.

He reached up to his torn ear and shivered at the smell of smoke that seemed to waft up from his fur. He could never get the smell of ash out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

Etium knew there was something wrong with him, but he kept that to himself. The others tended to avoid him, and that was alright. He was friends with the Finnari, and while they were a bit sensitive, he supposed that was ok. He didn’t need anyone asking questions about what he was doing and why he was there.

He ducked through one of the maintenance corridors, and into the hallway behind the rec room.

He could hear humans and Drev talking and laughing on the other side, but when he passed through the next door, he found the hall opened into a large-ish storage room that was lined in boxes and crates. Inside was what remained of the Omen crew. Tesraki, Finnari, Celzex and Yeb. They had a little place here for those aliens who found it difficult to constantly interact with humans.

Yeb was a bit of a special case as she seemed to hop between both without much trouble. She lounged on one of the crates, her tail swishing back and forth against the box below her, bright green fur along her back, waving slightly in the air currents.

Etium leaned against the wall making no noise, and interacting with no one.

He wouldn’t have minded hanging out with humans, and drev, but….. Every time he did he just couldn’t shake the smell of smoke.

Why was he here?

Because he had seen a human boldly risk his life for two wounded alien soldiers.

Etium remembered the red sky above and the ash covered ground beneath. He remembered the wounded Rundi soldier at his side as the creature stalked towards them from the darkness. He remembered the flash of blue, and then an animal howl as the human came charging from nowhere.

When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the blood curdling scream of pain the human had given off as his limbs were ripped from his body.

He shook himself trying to shake the smoke away.

“Clan is more important than anything else.”

Etium lifted his head, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Then mean nothing.” Yeb was saying, “My parents abandoned me in an ice cave when I was just a cub.”

“Not our fault your species is defective.” Lord Avex was saying.

The burg lifted his hands in an attempt to keep the piece, technicolor wings flickering behind him, “Not now, all of you we must remember that as different species we all have different beliefs and needs. He pressed his hands together. The Burg do find clan very important, but it was for our survival for the longest time. There are plenty of other species that don’t need such things, like the Vrul or the Gibb for example, who are solitary creatures.”

The group of three finnari huddled close together and nodded.

They wouldn’t be likely to argue, they hated conflict and tried to keep the peace as much as it was possible.

He glanced over to the side surprised to find Waffles, the dog, lying with her head on her paws, around her neck, the snake creature Jeffery hung like a boa scarf.

He supposed she had any right to be here like the rest of them, she wasn’t human and neither was the snake. Though neither of them were classified as sentient and didn’t have the intelligence to speak. Waffles licked at her paws and Jeffery lifted his head turning to look at the speakers as if he was listening intently.

“This is not about biology, this is about the facts. There is strength in numbers, and numbers can win out over force anyday. Humans are the best example of this and you all know it. They managed to survive on a death world by making packs.”

Lord Avex did have a point, but lord Avex was also known for being an egotistical asshole.

That was sort of the defining feature of Celzex.

The furry little creatures were very proud, and very loyal, so they were both a blessing and an absolute pain to have on your side.

Most of the time they just liked causing problems for the sake of causing problems.

“There is nothing wrong with a solitary existence. My species has been living as single occupants inside a distanced society for a very long time.”

Lord Avex snorted, “Might I also point out that you society is a fascist Authoritarian dictatorship recovering from a pandemic crisis and refuses to join the GA to control their own citizens?”

The hair on the back of her body stood up, “Oh like your planet is any better. Roving warring clans who eat their own children.”

“Please, Peace.” THe burg was saying.

“You have no place in this. The burg have lived under a corrupted monarchy for ages.”

Etium sighed and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he had sighed much louder than he intended, and when he opened his eyes the entire room was looking at him,

“You got something to say.” Avex growled, “Anything to offer from a corporate capitalist hellscape.”

Etium pushed himself off from the wall, “No, I have nothing to say.”

Avex bristled, and when he did he got even fluffier, “I don’t think we are done here. I want to hear what you have to say.”

Etium sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this one, “I think that all of our societies suck, they just all do it equally.”

The room bristled, but he kept going. He had stuck his foot in it and now he was going to have to deal. He looked at yeb and Avex, “Both of you are true about the other, same with the burg sorry to say.” He nodded over at the winged creature, “But think about it, all of us suck in some way or another,. My species destroyed our own natural habitats in the name of progress, He looked at the Finnari, No cohesive leadership, and a societal wide inability to make decisions. The Vrul live under a corrupted communist system and the Rundi are all politicians, so guess where that leads us. The Drev are a fractured group of clans bent on killing each other for no other reason than the fact that it is honorable. And don’t even get me started on humans, they are the worst of us all, since they can do everything we can and more.”

He sort of expected the uproar that followed, but kept his head low to avoid having to deal with it. He brushed a hand through his fur, attempting, mostly to brush the ash from it, and despite being able to feel it with his fingertips, he saw none break loose.

The room grew louder and louder until a sharp bark broke the silence.

The room went very quiet very suddenly.

He turned to see waffles had risen up into a sitting position, her hackles raised.

She growled low in her throat , and the entire room calmed down very quickly after that, Jeffery opened his mouth and turned his head like a periscope around the room.

Waffles slid back onto the floor and rested her chin on her paws ears sticking straight up as she sighed.

The room was only slowly able to return to its former discussion, though everyone remained mostly quiet.

Etium slumped back against the wall. He could see the other Tesraki across the room staring at him. He tried to ignore them for the most part, he didn’t really fit in with them to any sort of degree. He didn’t blame them.

He wasn’t particularly good with finances.

He didn’t have to be though, most humans were pretty poort at it too, so any ability whatsoever was considered good. That was another reason why he was here. If he was slow and ok at handling money, then he was going to be fine. If he tried to work anywhere else as a Tesraki….

He'd be fired

Or disowned…

Etium quietly slipped from the room, out and down the hallway. He knew where he was going, and followed his own memory down through the hallways until he came to a door. He knocked once.

“Come in.”

The door slid open and he stepped into a room lit by soft yellow light. Dr Adric was sitting at his desk, skin glowing a pale yellow in the dim lighting. He looked up, and when he smiled his teeth flashed white.

“Etium, it is good to see you. I didn’t expect you till our session tomorrow.”

Etium wandered into the room glancing down at the diagrams on the wall, and the large books on the shelves beside the desk. “Do you want me to leave.”

“No, of course not, take a seat.”

He did and stared up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Etium was quiet for a while, but finally opened his mouth to speak, “I can still smell the ash sometimes, Feel it in my fur when I go to bed. It…. doesn't really bother me most of the time, and I know it’s not real, but it certainly feels that way.”

Dr Adtric leaned on his desk and nodded, “Did you know somatic hallucinations are extremely common In Tesraki.”

He rubbed his fur, “Really?”

“Yes, at least one in twenty report small things. Feelings of items brushing over their fur even when nothing is there. If it starts to bother you, come to me and we will look into helping it. Otherwise just remember the exercises I taught you.”

He shifted in his seat and absently looked at the wall, “So if Somatic hallucinations are common in Tesraki….. Than what about everyone else?”

Dr Adric smiled at him. His expression, both charming and calming at the same time. He had an eir about him that just seemed to make things slow down and relax. It was a nice feeling to have.

“Well both Vrul and Gibb are prone to psychosis with obsessive and grandiosity characteristics. Most Vrul I know could be classified as having some sort of anxiety. Rundi are commonly seen with OCD. Celzex presents with characteristics of Antisocial personality disorder. Finnari can commonly be seen with dependent personality disorders. Both the Drevb and the Starborn, have a high rate of narcissism. In the case of the starborn, they have a 100% rate at this time…. Though to be fair we only have one starborn”

Etium couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Humans have all of those things I guess, since you have a name for all of them.”

“Yes. Though, I would say that I work most closely with Post Traumatic Stress.”

“Like what I have?”

“Similarly yes, though yours presents differently.”

“That’s what the Admiral’s dog is for? He said she was a PTSD dog.”

“That would be correct.”

Etium leaned back in his seat and stared out the window behind Adric. The man said he presented with listlessness, difficulty concentrating, and emotional detachment. He didn’t have flashbacks or stress associated, which is why he couldn't be entirely diagnosed, bu7t the two of them were pretty sure whatever he had was similar. They had thought about depression on one or two occasions, but he didn’t have trouble getting out of bed, or doing things that he enjoyed. He just got listless and distracted a lot.

Adric thought it might be an entirely different issue from what humans could get, but as of yet, there wasn’t enough research to determine that. They were working on it in their own right now, and he had been feeling a little more present, but he still wasn’t really there yet.

He hoped that soon he would be out of the rut he was stuck in.,

“Have you managed to tell the Admiral, like we had been talking about.”

Etium picked at the fur on his arm, “He seems…. Too busy to talk to me and I…. well I don’t know what it would accomplish.”

“I think it would be good for you to talk to someone who experienced the war.”

Etium sighed, “I didn’t really do much in the war. I sat there and just… was scared. The humans did everything.”

“I think you might find there are humans that feel the same way you do. I encourage you to talk to him. Knowing the man myself, I have no doubt that he will be accepting of your story.” He held up his hands, “I don’t want to push you, but I do encourage you to let him know.”

I think it would be good for both of you

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ibijau · 4 years ago

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I saw a post about, not sure where god!lxc fic goes next? I assume nhs insists on going back to the cave to make a proper offering. Lxc accompanies b/c nhs is still a little sick and nmj is busy. Nhs continues panicking about this uber-powerful god. Lxc enjoys the offering, it's nice, but not the panicking, and hey he committed to being honest? so he tells nhs he's the god. This does not have the calming effect he was hoping for --the anon who got super excited about god!lxc can't read sideplot

ok so, didn’t quite use all of that, but big thanks anon for giving me a way to at least write a little more on that AU which is very dear to me

Price of Wishes on AO3 (can’t remember my tumblr tag for it... orz)

Lan Xichen stares at the altar.

It is a small one, hurriedly installed among others inside the Unclean Realm. Its only decoration is a bolt of pale embroidered fabric from which Nie Huaisang apparently once wanted to have a robe made, and a portrait of Lan Xichen that Nie Huaisang personally painted, as promised in the temple. It doesn’t look like Lan Xichen does in this mortal form, and it probably doesn’t look the way he once did as a god, but the main attributes of his last remaining statue are there.

How long has it been since he was granted a new altar? Not since before this Nie sect even came to be, he thinks.

And now not only was he given this altar, but there are offerings on it. Nie Huaisang put incense to burn and offered flowers and rice, yes, but surprisingly others did the same, and thanked Lan Xichen for keeping their young master safe when he ran away. Even the stern Nie Mingjue, who clearly didn’t share his brother’s certainty about a godly intervention, still lit up some incense and bowed before the altar, simply because he realised how much it mattered to Nie Huaisang.

It had been a flight of fancy to help that boy and get him into the temple, just a sudden impulse to feel like a real god again, but Lan Xichen finds himself more than rewarded for this kindness. If he can keep this up, if they continue honouring him, he might well survive a century more.

Lan Xichen had forgotten what hope feels like.

But hope or not, Lan Xichen knows to whom he owes this. As days pass, he sticks close to Nie Huaisang, who is currently his strongest believer. Even the old lady, dear to Lan Xichen as she is, never had such unwavering faith in his power. She prays to him mostly out of habit, while Nie Huaisang does so out of conviction. Being near him feels like stepping into the sun after an eternity in darkness, and Lan Xichen cannot get enough of the sensation.

Besides, if they are to be married, he needs to know more about the young man whose life he will share.

Nie Huaisang is an interesting person, Lan Xichen thinks. He acts a little spoiled, but of course he is young, and Lan Xichen vaguely understands that the Nie family has gone through rough times in the recent past, and Nie Huaisang’s childishness might be how he dealt with it. At his core, Nie Huaisang is more serious than he lets on. For example, he is determined to fully repay the debt he contracted toward Lan Xichen. The altar he set up is but a first step. In spite of his brother’s warnings, Nie Huaisang has inquired what it would cost to have a safe road to the mountain temple, just as he promised to do. In fact, he goes beyond his promise, determined to find every possible detail about Lan Xichen so that he may be worshipped properly. To that end, he spends day after day in Qinghe Nie’s immensely rich library, reading through books with a speed which astonishes Lan Xichen, writing letters to make inquiries as if it is the easiest thing in the world.

Lan Xichen thinks Nie Huaisang might just be the cleverest person he has ever met, and the most stubborn as well. Both are qualities he appreciates in a follower, and in a person.

It’s quite funny to Lan Xichen to realise that Nie Huaisang is considered lazy. Perhaps he only puts efforts into things that interest him. Lan Xichen, of course, is glad to be one of those things.

In general, he’s just glad to be around Nie Huaisang. The steady warmth of belief is quite nice, of course, but that’s not the only reason. Nie Huaisang, although he apparently realises to some degree that Lan Xichen shouldn’t exist as a mortal, still tries hard to be kind to him. He gives him delicious foods, and tries to find subtle ways to look for gaps in Lan Xichen’s knowledge of the mortal world so he can fill him in and help him fit in better. He is a pleasant person to talk to, a pleasant person to silently spend time with, a pleasant person to look at even, his youthful face showing every sign that he will develop into a handsome man someday.

In just this little time, Lan Xichen finds himself quite fond of this little mortal. It won’t be unpleasant to marry him as agreed.

First, though, Nie Huaisang must mature. And part of that means heading out toward the Cloud Recesses, where Lan Xichen himself is supposed to come from, according to the narrative Nie Huaisang demanded in his prayer. It is a stressful perspective, since Lan Xichen isn’t sure he is quite strong enough to shift reality around people who have much stronger reasons to refuse his intrusion into their life, but he will try his best. It is the deal he made with Nie Huaisang, and he will see it through.

To Lan Xichen’s relief, just before they are set to head south toward Gusu, Nie Huaisang begs his brother for a full ceremony at the mountain temple, with incense and prayers and everything that can be done to honour Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue grumbles and complains and even gets angry, but he eventually gives in, as seems to be common for him when his brother makes a request. Nie Mingjue is a wise man, and he apparently understands that little can be done when Nie Huaisang is in a mood to be stubborn about something.

So the three of them head out into the mountain, followed by a few Nie disciples who carry food offerings and some tools to clean the temple.

The temple’s floors are swiped clean. Rubbles are removed. The nearly faceless statue has its layers of dust carefully cleaned away by Nie Huaisang who climbed on its pedestal so he can reach every part, revealing details that Lan Xichen himself had forgotten. There are even some traces of colour here and there.

“I’ll have to make another portrait,” Nie Huaisang notes. “Mine isn’t accurate at all after all.”

“I’m sure this god is already more than happy with what you have given him,” Lan Xichen says, lifting his gaze from the altar he’s wiping clean. It is a struggle to keep himself from crying from joy, and his voice comes out a little strangled, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t appear to notice.

“I need to do better,” Nie Huaisang says with a shiver. “I cannot risk offending him.”

He sounds almost afraid, and his hands tremble slightly as he carefully dusts the statue. Lan Xichen stares at him a moment more, and sighs.

However pleasant everything else has been, this is one thing that doesn’t sit right with him. For whatever reason, Nie Huaisang seems to be afraid of his god self, and it taints his every prayer. This doesn’t change the value of those prayers, it doesn’t make his belief any less strong and valuable, but Lan Xichen can feel that fear almost constantly and he doesn’t enjoy it. He is too used to the old lady’s belief, simple and companionable. She treats him like an old friend to whom she can make requests, and he wishes Nie Huaisang would do the same. They are set to be married, it is the deal, and Lan Xichen doesn’t like the idea of a union set in fear.

“I am sure that god would not be offended,” Lan Xichen quietly insists. “You haven’t found anything about him in all your books and your letters, have you? So he must not be a very important god, and your efforts are sure to have been noticed and appreciated.”

“But it’s not enough,” Nie Huaisang retorts, gritting his teeth. “It can’t be enough. Nothing I do is ever enough, there’s got to be more I could do!”

Lan Xichen frowns, and looks around until his eyes land on Nie Mingjue. He heard this, and is staring at his brother with some concern.

From what Lan Xichen understands, the reason Nie Huaisang took refuge in his temple a few weeks ago was because of a great argument with Nie Mingjue regarding his capacity to do… nearly anything, really. Nie Mingjue, taking Lan Xichen as the confident Nie Huaisang asked that he be, admitted to him one day that he is terribly worried for his brother’s future. There might be a war, he said, and Nie Mingjue could die in it and leave Nie Huaisang alone to lead their sect before his time. Nie Mingjue confessed he is terrified that the elders of their clan won’t respect Nie Huaisang because his mother was of lesser birth, that some of their cousins will attempt to rob him of his birthright, that even if he becomes sect leader he will not be respected and some people will try to take advantage of his inexperience. So Nie Mingjue pushes his brother as hard as he can, demanding more efforts, more results, but it is all in vain because Nie Huaisang has stubbornly decided he isn’t good at anything that matters, and refuses to try anymore.

It was a terrible argument they had that day, Nie Mingjue said. And then, proving all his fears right, Nie Huaisang nearly died after running away and catching a fever, showing to all his future enemies how vulnerable a target he would be without Nie Mingjue to protect him. At the same time, that Nie Huaisang was ready to run away showed that he took it to heart every time he was scolded for not doing more, and now Nie Mingjue doesn’t know how to handle him anymore.

After Nie Mingjue confided in him this way, Lan Xichen promised he would look after Nie Huaisang, no matter what. It is part of the deal, as far as he’s concerned, because spouses must support one another, but also…

Lan Xichen is quickly becoming quite fond of this pair of brothers. Having been lonely for so long, he finds joy in the closeness they share, no matter how strained it might be at times. It is clear to him that Nie Mingjue loves his brother, though he struggles to show it when he has so much on his mind, and Nie Huaisang feels the same, to the point it was inconceivable for him to marry someone who wouldn’t be friendly with Nie Mingjue.

“Nie gongzi, you’ve done all you could for that statue,” Lan Xichen says, grabbing Nie Huaisang by the waist and pulling him down from the pedestal.

Nie Huaisang squeaks in surprise, fighting for a second before going rigid with fear as Lan Xichen puts him down. His face is a bright crimson when he looks up at Lan Xichen, who wonders whether that’s anger at being manhandled this way, but the other Nie just start laughing at his expression.

“Don’t seduce my brother like that, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue scolds, more of a joke than a real warning. “Look at him, he’s two heartbeat from asking for your hand now.”

Amazingly, Nie Huaisang manages to blush an even brighter colour, and leaps away from Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue laughs again, apparently content with his brother’s perceived crush. Perceived, or real. Lan Xichen isn’t really sure what goes on in Nie Huaisang’s mind. He can feel is never ending flood of belief, the undercurrent of fear, but no particular affection so far. Then again, with fear that strong, it would be hard for any other emotion to flourish. Lan Xichen hasn’t wanted to talk directly about their situation yet, assuming that Nie Huaisang might want the illusion that this is all perfectly normal, but he’s rethinking that strategy. It is clear that Nie Huaisang, for whatever reason, is immune to the narrative that Lan Xichen created for his sake, so why not talk about it openly? If it can make Nie Huaisang any less afraid…

That is a problem for later. Right now, the temple is as clean as can be achieved with what little time they have available, so Nie Mingjue conducts the ceremonies necessary to consecrate the temple again, and invites Lan Xichen to inhabit again this place dedicated to him. Incense is put to burn for him, offerings are left on the altar, thanks and prayers are presented to him. Even Nie Mingjue, so openly reluctant to believe that there was any divine intervention to help his brother survive in the mountain, does provide a small stream of belief, hinting at a mind just as strong as his brother’s. Lan Xichen hopes that they can truly become friends over time, though he is unsure that’s possible with the lies he’s had to weave so he could fulfill Nie Huaisang’s request.

Still, there’s no harm in trying. If Lan Xichen is to spend one lifetime as a mortal, he wants to make the best of it, not only as a god in need of believers, but also as a person left alone far too long.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #that's not the tag I've used before but it'll do until I can find the right one again #Anonymous #xisang wishes au

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