#Stella writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lewis-winters · 7 months

Text

here's a smol drabble about two non-artsy dorks being soft for their artsy crushes

The drawing is hastily done, with lines that could benefit from a more thought-out weight distribution and shading that doesn't quite match the light source implied by the position of the subject. Or something like that.

In truth, Chuck hadn't been listening, when Pat had stuttered and blushed and tried to yank the paper back from him, raving about it not being good enough to be kept, much less looked at. A scandal of an idea, Chuck had thought, smoothing out the drawing and then taking extra care to tuck it nice and safe and as flat as he can get it, into the inside pocket of his jacket. It was good enough for Chuck. In fact, it was perfect, and he intended to keep it forever, just like he's kept all of Pat's other doodles, tucked safe and sound into the small crevices of his flat, as if their presence might make up for their creator's absence. But this one was extra special, and therefore would stay in his wallet. Because this one was a drawing of Chuck, himself.

Just a quick one, Pat had said, so embarrassed to have been caught sketching him when he thought Chuck hadn't been looking. He was wrong about that, by the way. Chuck is always looking. It's why he'd been itching, even more so than usual, to ask about it. There was so much concentration on that golden brow, so much calculating wonderment in those blue eyes, and a new kinda fire that had his hand moving like a blur over the page, that Chuck knew it was something special. Imagine his surprise and delight when he figured out that Pat was drawing him.

He hasn't stopped smiling since.

"That's real cute," Lieb scoffs, when he roots through Chuck's wallet to borrow a few dollars without asking. Not that he needs to. There really isn't much cash in there. He finds the drawing, instead, and stares at it while Chuck explains where it came from. Why it means so much. The way Pat captured the turn of his head, the slope of his nose. The small half-smile that seemed to be always present on his lips whenever Pat was around. The way his hair was so lovingly rendered that it looked almost soft. The way his lashes seemed to flutter, despite remaining static, long, delicate lines of charcoal pencil that lightly kissed the curve of his cheek.

Chuck thinks himself decent looking enough, but seeing that sketch, the way Pat had translated his being unto paper, was probably the very first time he'd thought of himself as beautiful.

"Cute," Lieb says again, rolling his eyes. "In a narcissist kinda way."

"Shut up, it's not about the subject," Chuck hisses at him, kicking a foot out to hit him in the thigh as he gets up to snatch the drawing (and his wallet) back to put away. "It's about how the artist sees the subject."

"The fuck what?" Lieb says in a near cackle, dodging a second kick and a pillow to the head to boot. "Where the fuck did you hear that?"

Chuck doesn't bother to answer. If he says he got it from one of Pat's rants, from the last time Chuck dared to compliment one of his sketches that Pat himself found lacklustre, then he'll never hear the end of it. Time to change tactics.

"That's fucking rich coming from you," Chuck grumbles, sitting up in hopes that it'll give him a better vantage point to bash Lieb's head in with that ugly tasseled nonsense pillow they'd stolen from Babe and Eugene last year. "How does it go? 'Dear Reader: Let me tell you about a boy' ?"

The effect is instantaneous, and a bright red flush climbs up from Lieb's neck all the way to his luscious hairline, and maybe even beyond. There's more to be recited, the lines of the anonymous memoir essay entitled "Let Me Tell You About a Boy" published to the campus paper last quarter very much fresh in Chuck's mind. He'd set out to read it after the first time he'd caught Lieb tucking it away into his bag, like a dirty little secret pleasure he wanted no one to know about. He never reads the campus paper, the illiterate snob bastard, so his interest had piqued Chuck's own. So he'd read it. And then laughed so hard he'd nearly peed himself.

After a quick check with everyone on a group chat he made for this purpose alone, Chuck had confirmation enough: Anonymous his fucking ass. Perhaps to the rest of the campus, but not to them. Most of their friend group were certain enough of the essay's origin about mid-first paragraph to comfortably guess the hand that had penned the nearly two thousand word essay, what with half of them often being reluctant editors to one David Kenyon Webster. Still, a guess was not a guarantee, and while 99.9% of them were sure of its author, Lieb still had room for doubt, and so, the (alleged) very detailed and very intimate look into their relationship and Web's feelings on the matter had largely gone ignored.

At least to the public. In private, Lieb burned, and kept a copy folded up and flattened out as best it could be in the back of his phone case.

Chuck doesn't need to look at it to recite the best parts. He continues, as the pillow finally meets its target and Lieb falls under the barrage of hits. "His wit is cutting, cunning, and sly. I find myself infuriated and charmed by it in equal measure. There's a poet in him, and while I am not so much of an egoist that I cannot admit that he is better than me in some aspects of verse, I am loathe to confess that he's quickly become my muse. It's the way he says words, I think. I like how his mouth makes shapes around them. The purse of his lips. The clack of his teeth. The rough timbre of his voice, the way it curls out his lips like cigarette smoke. He has a smart mouth. It worries me how often my eyes are drawn to it--"

"Shut the fuck up!" oh, Lieb's properly red now. And panting, sitting up to retaliate best he could by kicking his feet in a poor imitation of a cat with prey in its mouth. He makes contact, momentarily, with Chuck's stomach, and the force of it leaves him properly winded. Lieb shows no mercy. He pushes him off, and huffs; "fuck you."

"Fuck you, too, buddy," Chuck wheezes, though he says it with a smile. "Quit being a fucking coward."

"Quit being a pretentious narcissist."

"Quit being so gay."

"Quit being so sad."

The pillow comes back out. "No. You."

"No, you!"

Lieb kicks at him again. "You!"

"No. You!"

They devolve into a tussle. And it only ends when the pizza they ordered for dinner arrives with several pointed knocks on their door.

#band of brothers #webgott #pat/chuck #joe liebgott #chuck grant #they're both pining and they're being SO mean to each other about it #estrella_marie

41 notes · View notes

silverbuttercups · 1 month

Text

HAPPY SOULSILVERSHIPPING DAY!! I wrote some Silver introspection!! 🙇🏽‍♀️

#I’m happy to write them again after like a year <3 #soulsilvershipping #pkmn #Stella writes #i miss them and i hope i get to write more !!!#Stella prattles

14 notes · View notes

askyfullofgh0sts · 1 year

Text

earth to earth. ashes to ashes. dust to dust.

one of the fundamental laws of physics is conservation of energy; energy cannot be created or destroyed

the calcium in my bones and the iron in my blood were forged in the nuclear fusions of stars eons ago , i have been built from scratch from the dust of long-gone supernovas

energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another

but if i’m breaking down where does my lost matter go? because my bones are cracking and the blood won’t stop leaking and i’m crumbling back to stardust

i’m falling apart atom by atom

maybe i’m the exception that proves the rule, because i’m withering away and every part of me that i lose has no hope of ever blossoming into something else

the carbon that builds my body is too far gone to be the foundations of new life, my atoms will never live on in rose petals or butterfly wings

even black holes have mass and density, but there’s nothing left of me to give; i’m so faded that i don’t even have the strength to pull objects into my orbit of destruction anymore

every stardust cloud has its silver lining

this is how i disappear, not with a bang but by defying the laws of nature

so let them be outraged by my anomaly, because i won’t be here to bear witness

not even as a ghost in the sky

#poetry #stella writes #stella gets sciencey #i’m pete wentz and this is my live journal #defying the laws of physics n whatever #dw science bros it’s just a metaphor

12 notes · View notes

xinxiaogato · 5 months

Text

— you're dating who!?

summary. no one believes that you’re dating the esteemed duke of the fortress of meropide. that man is only ever seen locking lips with the orifice of a teacup. however, all of that changes when you and your alleged “boyfriend” are invited to a coworker’s dinner party.

love interest. gn!reader x wriothesley.

warnings. unedited, cursing, bullying, attempted homewrecking, mentions of blood, murder, and assault (nothing crazy), slight angst, lack of communication, a bit suggestive (mentions of light bdsm).

word count. 2,187

note. happy late birthday to wriothesley! this shortfic was inspired by a scene from spy x family (iykyk). you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

while loading up your plate with chips and french fontainian onion dip, you could sense the smugness of your colleagues from all the way across the dining room.

“i mean, we all saw this coming, didn’t we?” one of them piped up with a snarky laugh.

another obnoxiously chortled in return. “i won't forget the day reader told us who could have possibly given them those flowers.”

“right!? and i’m lady furina!”

that joke rocked their worlds to the point that one person started choking on their garlic baguette. your eyes flitted over to your friend, pauline, who was shaking with rage beside you and on the verge of strangling someone.

“why i oughta give them a piece of my mind!” caterwauled pauline, but you perched a hand on her shoulder so that she wouldn’t go ballistic—even if it was on your behalf.

“can’t really blame them,” you conceded. “if you told me you were in a relationship with the iudex of fontaine, i would need a minute.”

“are you saying it’s impossible?”

“i’m saying it’s highly unlikely.”

“hmph! a girl can dream.” pauline haughtily raised her nose into the air and crossed her arms with indignation, which tugged your lips into a small smile. you knew she had your best interests in mind. since day dot, your coworkers were constantly unleashing a tirade of vitriol against you. “anyway, where’s your boyfriend? did he get caught up with something?”

“probably,” you ascertained, taking a sip of red wine. you looked for a seat to settle at; you couldn’t let your chips go cold. “he warned me that he might not make it in time for the party. a new batch of inmates was processed for registration today, and allegedly, they’re unruly.”

her eyes widened after connecting the dots. “are they related to the famous case of the missing paintings? they finally caught the culprits!?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t know? it’s all over the steambird.”

as you and pauline were sitting down, the hostess of the party, anaïs, and her entourage strode over with purpose. one of anaïs’s minions was the first to start yapping, “well, if it isn’t reader, the person dating the wolf!”

“more like the person who cried wolf!” followed anaïs, which made the group howl like hyenas.

rolling your eyes at their sneers, you replied, “where is your husband, anaïs? don’t tell me he’s at the office ‘working overtime’ with his assistant again.”

all of anaïs’s friends practically broke their necks to look at her.

“h-how did you know about that…!?” anaïs spluttered, her cheeks flared red. “that’s… that’s my personal affairs you’re airing to everyone!”

a follower of anaïs cupped a hand to her ear and hissed, “don’t you remember? reader is friends with charlotte, a journalist for the steambird. she’s notorious for her intel gathering so that she can compete with others for the juiciest scoops!”

“hey, hey, does charlotte know anything about monsieur neuvillette’s type?” pauline whispered to which you were about to answer—only for anaïs to grab your glass of wine.

“you think you’re so high and mighty all the time…!” anaïs said in a shrill voice, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “at least i don’t pretend i’m the bitch of the lord of the fortress of meropide to get attention!”

“i think it would be better for you to channel your energy into divorcing that shitty excuse of a husband,” you corrected her, unfazed by the fact she was threateningly holding the drink above your head. “it’s not your fault that he’s a scumbag, so don’t stick around to see if he’ll change.”

something in anaïs seemed to falter at your words, but it was only for a moment. resentment got the best of her, and in the blink of an eye, red liquid was splashed onto your chest and dripping down your top, making bystanders gasp at the scene before them.

it kind of looked like you just got murdered.

“what is wrong with you!?” pauline furiously yelled after jumping up to shield you, who was still reeling from what happened. “how old are you to be acting like an immature brat!?”

as pauline and one of anaïs’s flunkies began to pull at each other’s hair, a different one pointed a finger into your face while cackling. “ha, serves you right! that outfit must have been dirt cheap anyway, so it couldn’t have been a total loss!”

“oh, you wouldn’t want your shoes ruined, right?” a second cooed, snatching them right off your feet and looking for the nearest window to chuck them out of. “don’t worry, i’ll dry them off for you!”

you got up to take them right back, but anaïs blocked your path, eyes narrowed into slits. “just admit it, reader,” she snarled. “you’re nothing but an attention-seeking whore for the fortress of meropide’s administrator, a goody two-shoes for our boss, and a laughing stock for all of fontaine. you’re nothing!”

“monsieur wriothesley!” a voice resounded from down the hallway, causing everyone in the dining room to freeze. “we’re so honored to have you join us! did lady anaïs invite you?”

before you knew it, a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind to give you a tight squeeze, and a pair of lips kissed the top of your head.

“so sorry i’m late, my love,” a deep voice purred by your ear. “my hands were tied…”

his voice trailed off. wriothesley, whose sudden appearance had dropped every partygoer’s jaw, noticed that your top felt weirdly damp. when he craned his neck to investigate, his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach.

he immediately questioned if it was your blood or not.

“reader!” your boyfriend shouted, turning you around and holding you by the shoulders. a fear he had only felt as a teenager flooded rapidly into his system, and it was taking everything in him to not explode. “what happened to you? are you hurt!?”

you were still stunned in the aftermath, but you quickly collected yourself and placed your hands atop his. “no, no, i’m fine, wrio. i’m not hurt. it’s just red wine.”

“red… red wine?”

recovering from his initial shock, wriothesley twisted around, his jacket fluttering swiftly in tandem. his eyes took in the sight of an awestruck anaïs holding something behind her back and a petrified person clutching onto a pair of shoes (which explained why your dogs were out).

in a calm tone more terrifying than him speaking out of anger, wriothesley said to the hostess, “i apologize for souring the mood. however…” quickly, he engulfed your body with his jacket and swept you off your feet, hitching the air in your throat as he held you close to his chest. “my partner is not feeling well, so we’ll be taking our leave. we humbly thank you for the invitation.”

“b-but you just got here!” anaïs fretted.

her first mistake was revealing the wine glass she was desperately trying to hide earlier. in wriothesley’s realm, we call this a foul.

“reader was just a little tipsy and spilled a drink on themselves!” she crooned, tilting her head up at the duke and innocently batting her eyelashes. “why don’t you stay and become acquainted with your partner’s coworkers?”

her second foul: coveting a man in a relationship.

“i mean, they can’t be unwell to the point of needing to go home!”

her third: messing with reader. and three fouls meant a disqualification.

“heavens, no,” wriothesley insisted. “my partner’s health is my main priority, and time is of the essence. besides, the longer i remain, the less time i have to file a detailed report on an assault and battery that took place here.”

it became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

“a…assault…?” even through the makeup caked on anaïs’s face, you could see the color drain from it entirely. “what… what assault…!? no assault happened here, your grace!” when his frown spoke volumes, she cried out, “y-you don’t have any proof!”

“oh, i would suggest otherwise. and i believe there are many eyewitnesses to testify.”

you peered around at the guests who had gathered to view the spectacle, and they were nodding in support of wriothesley’s claim, including pauline. even anaïs’s goons were vehemently bobbing their heads up and down, still in disbelief that the man, the myth, the legend himself had graced them with his presence.

“now if you’ll excuse me…” with you firmly in his grasp, wriothesley approached the woman still clinging to your footwear, who immediately began to quiver. “i would like for you to return my partner’s shoes,” he ordered with a look as cold as ice.

“o-of course!” she stammered, extending the shoes toward him. “it was all in good fun, your grace!”

“oh, those aren’t mine,” he said with a cock of his head at your bare toes. “like i said, those belong to my partner.”

finally picking up what was he putting down, the lady shakily slipped your shoes back on your feet for which you glanced up at wriothesley with furrowed eyebrows. he only reacted with a smile that thawed the rigid expression on his face.

“i-i can’t possibly rot in jail!” anaïs was still making a fuss nearby. “i’m so young and beautiful! can’t you look past this, monsieur wriothesley…!? i’ll do anything!”

“well, it’s not something you’ll go to prison for, ma’am,” he said, not even sparing anaïs a glance as he headed for the front door, “but this misdemeanor will forever stain your official records and reputation… just as you stained my partner’s clothes.” (mic drop.)

and that was that. with a quick kiss on both cheeks from pauline, you exited the dead-quiet house in your boyfriend’s arms.

“wrio…” you murmured as he started walking in the direction of your home. “i’m really sorry for inconveniencing you.”

wriothesley momentarily stopped in his tracks to gaze down at you, his lips pursed before sighing. “no… don’t apologize, my love. i’m sorry for not arriving sooner.”

“but that isn’t your fault,” you pointed out.

a chuckle resonated from deep within his chest. “touché.”

however, his lightheartedness faded out with that chuckle when his hands gripped onto you tighter, as if you were about to dissolve into water at any moment.

“what happened, reader?” he croaked, displaying a side of him reserved for your eyes alone. “how long have they been treating you like this? and for you to not even give them a taste of the boxing skills i taught you for these kinds of situations…”

you clutched his jacket tighter to your body. “you already have so much on your plate. i could not dare to tell you something that may weigh on your conscience.”

“please,” he whispered. “i want you to weigh on my conscience.”

after a moment’s worth of hesitation, you finally gave in, explaining that the fresh bouquet of rainbow roses he sent to your office one morning sent your colleagues into a frenzy that turned your life into a nightmare. as you spoke, wriothesley’s expression became grimmer and grimmer. he couldn’t even fathom how much of a shitshow your company was for permitting the kind of behavior he merely glimpsed this evening.

and he couldn't bear the thought that you had been suffering alone for months.

“they didn’t believe me for a second, even when i had pictures of you and me framed on my desk. ‘oh, those must have been edited’.”

realizing wriothesley's muscles were so taut, you attempted to alleviate the atmosphere. “i guess no one can accept an ordinary office worker dating the administrator of the fortress of meropide. like, picture the tianquan of the liyue qixing with an npc.”

in any other situation, your boyfriend would be laughing, but certainly not this one. “no one can determine our relationship,” wriothesley stated with a clear veracity. “you are the light in my bleak world, reader, and nothing is allowed to take you away from me. if so, i will travel to the ends of teyvat to bring you back.”

he then grinned, showing off his cute canines. “and you bet i'll put my handcuffs to use.”

you slapped a hand to your forehead. “way to ruin the mood. i was just about to kiss you.”

in response, he grinded his knuckles into the top of your head, which made you yodel out in pain. “what was that for!?” you exclaimed.

“for not kissing me, but more importantly: for keeping a secret from me,” he clarified, his pale gray eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “no more of that, okay?”

you warmly smiled up at him and rested your head against his broad shoulder, completely wiped out from the party-turned-fiasco. “okay.”

as the two of you reached your abode, a question popped up in your mind. “were you serious about the handcuff thing?”

he smirked. “yes, and you’ll find out just how serious i am after we take a shower together. you reek of wine.”

a pink blush dusted your cheeks. “what? together!?”

“together. you and me.”

“ahhh! put me down!”

“nope. not a chance.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #wriothesley x reader #fluff #crack #comfort #angst #stella writes — !#you're dating who!?

4K notes · View notes

therollingstonys · 2 years

Text

Oh you give author comment?? You give author little kudos on their fic?? LOVE FOR READER!! LOVE FOR READER FOR ONE MILLION YEARS!!

#mod stella talks about writing #writing #fanfic writing #comments and kudos #Ao3 #fandom #fandom stuff #fandom support

35K notes · View notes

reineydraws · 1 year

Text

every time i see someone talk about a damian on my dash, it's always like, "is it wayne or desmond?"

(btw the al ghul wayne family portrait--and anya's grapple gun in the first image--is based off this forger family portrait)

#batfamily #batfamily fanart #spy x family #spy x family fanart #sxf fanart #anya forger #damian wayne #loid forger #yor forger #bruce wayne #talia al ghul #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian desmond #soz for all the writing it's just my hc's on how the bat bros would get their stellas if they went to eden #this is. is this niche? i feel like this might be a little niche.#fusion au #crossover

4K notes · View notes

aethelwyneleigh27 · 6 days

Text

Ex-Boyfriend John Price MiniFic

Thinking of your ex-boyfriend John Price seeing you again for the first time after a nasty break-up that essentially didn't go as planned by him.

You knew what you were getting into when entering a relationship with a man who was a workaholic. You knew it was always a priority but you never thought that it had to be an ultimatum between you and that, clearly you were an idiot to think you were more important.

If only you hadn't asked his friend, why was he prolonging his time with you if his decision was set to end it with you when he got the promotion? What exactly would change in that short amount of time?

That night ended in screams, no matter how much John tried to tell you he loves you, it fell on deaf ears. "Actions speak louder than words" was always the saying and you know what? That applies to this, it applies to everything he's ever made you felt and the lack of exchange.

You tried so hardly to not discredit the past, but maybe he just used you. He only tolerated your love like it's a minor convenience for him, you were already there, it's not like he could be picky on who chooses to take care of him.

But who cares right? That was three years ago and you two live separate lives now. John was out there doing god knows what with his colleagues drinking his nights away as he took another woman in bed every night in hopes to drown you out his mind.

If it wasn't for his friend's influence that one drunken night, John wouldn't have said yes to attending a black-tie event. Wasn't ever his thing really, fancy settings with stuffy clothes.

He tried to fit in as far as he could, pretending to stare at whatever painting or sculpture he can spot when in reality no thoughts or feelings except one thing.

He was never one to appreciate or understand what most art try to convey but he once knew someone who did. This was a place you would've thrived in and maybe some part of him wanted you to be there, some sick joke life was playing really.

His whole body froze right as he knew it. There you were, that silk baby pink dress that just made you glow paired with that white fur shawl that he remembers you showed off to him. How adorable you were telling him that it caught your eye and might be useful at a formal event.

Something he thought he'd only ever see in his dreams again.

Barely blinking as you stared at the painting mounted on the wall with this golden frame, you expression deep in thought yet your eyes were glassed with admiration.

What does he do? Without thinking, he stepped forward in hopes that his body would be strong enough to be able to approach you.

He was about to when.. a man approaches you, embracing you from behind. You were caught of guard but you quickly realize who it was and it was clear to John what your familiarity was with this man.

The image of the man burying his face on the nape of your neck was more than enough to cruelly twist the knife in his heart that's been lodged there for the past 3 years.

Those three words uttered by the man, loud enough for John to hear, the same one you'd always tell him but he rarely returned for a reason he himself is unaware of.

The sound of the camera clicks snapped Price out of his trance, paparazzi, who wouldn't want to capture an intimate, romantic moment between a couple who both happened to be rich?

He couldn't do anything to fix this even if he tried, for all he knew you were now in the arms of a influential, dangerous man who would destroy John's life if he wanted to. He gulps, not knowing what to do..

A/n: Was this inspired by that one scene from Twisted LIes?? Idk what you're talking about 👀 ALSO DON'T SPOIL ME, I'M ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH THE BOOK

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

278 notes · View notes

sainzinnorris · 7 months

Text

okay now that i have the information, this is a CarLando recap of Singapore gp 2023:

1. lando slapping carlos's ass and carlos's response was “ that was hard” , followed by a blush and momentarily losing track of whatever he was saying.

2. p1 and p3 in quali and cue to lando pinching carlos's boobie to lando brushing his hips against carlos's and cue to carlos following him like he's mezmerized.

3. lando replying “ vamos" under carlos's twitter post and “ CARLOOOOOOOS” under his instagram post. (we all think he's whining for carlos but alright-)

4. the carlando hug. it's beautiful. it's mezmerizing. I've seen it too many times. it's poetic.

5. the podium interviews before the celebrations with carlos and lando mentioning each other more often than they're breathing, the cooldown room where they're just “ ai , ai , ai " and “ oh- oh- oh" (sounded like their foreplay without context). lewis just walks in at the last moment without any background context and the sky commentators went like “ alright, if this is how the reporting for the race happens, we'd want this informative reporting every race weekend ;)) ” [ also cue to them recreating the “ ai ” and “ oh ” ]

6. the carlando podium. that spraying technique from lando onto carlos's mouth and carlos sticking his tongue out like that. and the way carlos's practically chugs champagne onto lando's mouth (for second one reference: check the video where fred is drowning carlos in champagne, it's for a very split moment , but you can see it )

7. the post race press conference with carlando in their married domestic bubble + third wheel lewis. also cue to CarLando sitting together far away from lewis and carlos showing lando something which causes them to smile and get giddy over idk, and carlos following lando quickly in the most babygirl way ever. 🏃🏾‍♀️

8. carlos's instagram selfie post dedicated to CarLando solely + an insta story of the same post, an insta story solely dedicated to an hd aesthetic picture of their hug, cue to lando resharing the selfie post on his own story with “ #CALANDO” as well as resharing the hug™ on his story, and posting the CarLando selfie on his p2 celebration post. a joint instagram post. 😏

9. to mclaren and ferrari admin celebrating carlos and lando. [ mclaren commenting “ vamos” and scuderia ferrari commenting “ good job lando :) ” ]

10. carlos and lando being congratulated by the mclaren and ferrari mechanics.

11. the post race interview again where carlos suggested lando and him should go out for drinks tonight and smiles whenever he mentions CarLando and tone implications of suggesting he knows CarLando works exist.

12. carlos's radio message of “ gap to lando every lap" and carlos intentionally slowing down just enough to keep lando within drs range , lando understanding the signal. when told by his race engineer about the gap (0.8) carlos goes like “ it's on purpose ”. the amount of precision, trust, teamwork and respect. freaking insane.

#in this essay i will #stella rambles #i hope i covered anything #if i did leave anything out let me know so i can make changes #and carlando fic writers...feel free to use this as a guide if you're writing fics off these moments #carlando lore #carlando #carlos sainz jr #lando norris #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #singapore gp 2023 #stella's textposts

428 notes · View notes

muppetallica · 5 months

Text

Sweet Girl

William Afton x doting!reader

Inspired by an idea from @alcoholic-emerald

You're just so sweet, so precious, so considerate. William can't get enough of you. The way you never fail to dote on him and everything he does. The sugar that drips from your words. The stars that shine in your eyes whenever you get excited about something. You're absolutely adorable, William's own personal drug.

Whenever he's working, you always try to hang off him, eager to sit in his lap, tracing over his scars gently, pressing kisses to any area of flesh you can reach.

You're always praising him. Asking to cuddle. Telling him how much you love him. Things he thought he'd never be deserving of. Especially not from an angelic being like you.

As much as he refuses to admit it, William absolutely loves your doting nature. It makes him feel wanted, needed and understood. Feelings he can never get enough of.

You're always so gentle. Pure. Forgiving. You put so much effort into taking care of him, your William. Yours. You spend so much time learning and analyzing every detail about him. He's intoxicating, but he finds the care you treat him with to be enchanting. William has never felt this way about someone before. In his own twisted way, William is head over heels in love with you. You're his baby, his little bunny, his everything, and more.

#steve raglan #william afton x reader #steve raglan smut #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #william afton smut #purple guy #spring bonnie #william afton #stella-writes

213 notes · View notes

funhouse-mirror-barbie · 4 months

Text

Nuanced and Multifaceted Conflict vs. “Good v. Evil” in fiction

So. This is another thing I’ve wanted to talk about for a while. I promise I won’t always be focusing on Helluva Boss in my critiques, and I actually have quite a few other series I want to talk about.

There’s a big chance that I’ll be saying everything other people have already said, but I can’t help but WANT to talk about this specific character in regard to the story’s conflict. I think that it’s important to recognize when a character is written to be a complex person, and when a character is written to be an enemy to be defeated, and how not following through with your set-up can affect your story.

And HB does that A LOT in my opinion.

So. Let’s get into it. This time I’ll be talking about complex conflict between characters vs. black and white conflict, and I’ll also be touching on story set-ups and audience expectations.

I want to talk about a character who could have really made some of the internal character conflicts have so much more depth and intrigue. I want to talk about Stella Goetia

*as a side note this post is MUCH longer than I intended but I really wanted to get into a lot of the background and reasons for how Stella’s character development has actually completely changed what HB’d story conflict could have looked like. I’ll try and sum up everything in the end in a TLDR for y’all

So. Most of the reviews of her character I see talk about how she’s been “ruined” by the writing team revealing that she’s always been very abusive towards Stolas

I have to start off by saying I actually don’t think that Stella or her portrayal was “ruined” by the writing direction her character has been taken in.

In fact, this critique bothers me, because it doesn’t really get to what I think the actual root of why people are disappointed in Stella’s characterization, and the type of conflict that now exists between her and Stolas.

The main reason I believe people are unsatisfied with Stella is because they believed that her character was being set up for a complex and nuanced conflict between her and Stolas, and then that turned out not to be the case.

A quick disclaimer- I do think it’s possible to subvert audience expectations about story and characters in a satisfying way. But it has to be done in a way that respects the audiences intelligence and willingness to think about the story.

If your plot-twist, unreliable narrator, subversion, or what-have-you is done well, the audience should be able to either figure out what’s going based on the little information you’ve given them, and if they don’t, the change or subversion should still make sense and CLICK in hindsight.

Otherwise, your subversion will end up feeling cheap or confusing. Or worse, like a lie.

And this is one of the MAIN issues I think people have with Stella.

As the audience, we were NOT given enough information on her or her character before it’s revealed that she’s just “evil” and always has been, apparently since she was a literal child.

Again, I don’t think it’s an inherently bad decision to have a flat or pure evil villain. I’m fine with Stella being one, even if it’s less interesting to me personally.

But it’s definitely very different from what was initially implied and set-up, and the audience can pick up on that.

Before S2E1 “The Circus” we see Stella a total of 3 times in person, with one time being a flashback.

I’m going to go over those times to analyze if anything set-up in Stella’s appearances points towards her being. Well, totally and irredeemably awful and abusive I guess.

The very first time we see Stella is in the same bed with Stolas—Octavia calls for her parents, both Stolas AND Stella. Stella grumbles and refuses to get up and tells Stolas to go. This doesn’t immediately strike me as a sign of her being a terrible person. That exact scenario is present in a lot of family comedies, kids’ movies, and sitcoms.

Nothing about this screams that Stella is a terrible parent or an abusive partner to me. It just tells me she’s tired and doesn’t want to get up, which again, is not uncommon.

The next time we see her, she’s yelling at Stolas, and she throws a servant at him in anger.

Now, there’s no excuse for this, her behavior here is not okay, regardless of her feelings. But we understand why she’s acting the way she is--she’s furious with Stolas for cheating on her. At this point with the information we have, it’s also very reasonable to believe her feelings have been hurt.

Later Octavia talks about how her parents didn’t used to hate each other, and the way Stolas’ tries to explain their failing marriage to her comes across like his relationship with Stella is one that’s always had difficulties that they have tried and failed to overcome.

None of this information is enough to really convey or hint that Stella is and has always been abusive or evil. It shows that Stella and Stolas have a very rough relationship, and that Stella most likely has anger management difficulties, but you have to do lot of extra work to come to the conclusion that Stella is completely at fault here.

The next time we see her though, things have clearly escalated, because it’s revealed that she’s one that hired Striker to assassinate Stolas.

Now. Usually. Yeah. That would be a HUGE red flag. And I mean. It still obviously is.

But, and I never thought I’d use this uno reverse card, this is one of the few times where the explanation of “But it’s hell, what did you expect???” actually makes sense to me.

Because yeah, it is hell. It’s the end of episode 5 when we learn this, and our protagonists have killed and assassinated multiple people. Taking a hit out on people really doesn’t seem to be that uncommon of a thing in hell.

Even the next scene after the reveal that Stella is the one who hired Striker makes light of how serious this is, by showing that Stella was basically yelling her assassination plot right to Stolas’ face.

This is played for laughs! I genuinely am not sure if the writers intended for this to be foreshadowing of Stella’s abuse or not because if so, they turned her attempting to kill her husband into a joke!

If you cannot keep your themes or tone consistent, how is the audience supposed to follow your story?

There is subtle storytelling, and then there’s tacking information and character points later on in your writing. And this can have two causes.

Either your audience has to do the work of story-telling for you and make up their own reasons for what’s happening to make the story coherent OR they will be disappointed and dissatisfied by the final product.

I think that’s the main reason why S2E1 of Helluva Boss felt so jarring story-wise, and why Stella, to me at least, suddenly felt like a brand new character.

Like I haven’t been this confused by a character being suddenly evil since Hans from Frozen.

(like seriously why the hell did they put this scene in if not to just trick the audience. This isn’t giving us any plot info it’s only giving us contradictory info on his character. Like I talked about before, Hans’ heel-face-turn doesn’t feel like a twist. It feels like a lie.)

Okay so, how does any of this actually affect anything? Who cares if Stella is evil, that doesn’t automatically make the story bad!

Well. Yeah, of course not. Ironically, having the main conflict your story being a battle between “Good v. Bad” characters is neither good nor bad. It’s just a story decision. And ultimately at the end of the day, the writers of Helluva Boss can choose to tell their story however they’d like.

But, depending on how this is executed, good v evil stories can be a lot less interesting than morally grey or complicated conflicts and characters.

I am more interested in the version of the story where Stella and Stolas are imperfect and messy people. I am more interested in the story where Stolas has an affair to escape being in an arranged marriage, and Stella overreacts by arranging a hit on her husband (unless calling out a hit is normal in hell, but we can’t know b/c there is no baseline for what is considered normal in hell)

I am so much more interested in the story where Stolas and Stella are both depicted as being in the wrong, as being incredibly hurt by each other’s actions, and as not knowing how to repair their broken relationship for the sake of their daughter.

That story feels very real to me. It’s one I want to engage and invest in.

I want to see if these characters can grow to accept their mistakes and learn and change for the sake of Octavia and having to co-exist with each other, or if they’ll slip back into mutual destruction and toxicity.

But that’s not the story we’ll get to see, because it seems like the writers are more interested in keeping Stolas from having to grow as a character. And because of that, Stella has been turned into an evil obstacle that must be defeated, instead of a nuanced and real person.

I also feel like I have to say. I know I would be MUCH less frustrated by this if I hadn’t seen an HB crew member talking about how their show is similar to Bojack Horseman.

Because. It’s just not. I’m sorry, I’m not saying that to be mean, or condescending, or rude, but the way characters are written in Helluva Boss is almost completely black and white at this point.

Regardless of the writer’s intent, the vast majority of the choices they have made in Season 2 come off as explanations to excuse the protagonist’s mistakes, and give them a “get out of being potentially in the wrong” free card.

Compared to the writing decisions in Bojack, which almost always has characters confront their wrongdoings, for better or worse, HB honestly feels like it’s the Anti-Bojack.

It would take a TON of character development and time to make HB’s characters as interesting, fleshed-out, and as real as Bojack’s are, and at this point that’s I don’t think it will ever happen.

Again. Having black and white conflict is FINE. It is a choice in story telling that can be done very effectively. But if you are making a black and white story where one side is always terrible and evil, and one side can do no wrong, you can’t act like you’ve written something that is deeper and more emotionally complex and grey than that.

And the first time the writers gave Stella more than 3 sentences to string together, they made it very clear that any chance of her being a more complex and engaging character was being tossed out the window.

————

TLDR:

The main reason people are upset about Stella being shown as abusive in S2E1 of HB is probably because the initial depictions of her didn’t give us enough information on her character to tell that she was just evil/a terrible person.

The way the story was written in S1 to set up the possibility of a very interesting and complex conflict between Stella and Stolas, and when it was revealed that she’s just. The worst. There were people that were disappointed by this, because they expected more.

Audiences actually aren’t idiots, and when you subtly foreshadow something and then completely change things, that can be frustrating.

It’s MORE than okay to write a straightforward good v evil story, but it depending on the way it’s written and executed, it may not be as interesting to mature audiences as a more morally grey story would be.

If you can’t write characters confronting their flaws and being in the wrong, please don’t compare your writing to Bojack, I mean. C’mon.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #character critique #stella goetia #hb stella #helluva boss stella #media conversation #media critique #media criticism #writing female characters #writing critique #writing #funhouse convo

148 notes · View notes

rabbitsrams · 9 months

Text

poly! tedschlatt when you're on your period headcannons (sfw and nsfw)

nsfw under the cut, minors dni!! 18+ only.

sfw:

♡ both of them running to the pharmacy to get you tons of snacks and arguing about what to get you

♡ ending up buying way more than you'll need

♡ ted giving you a heating pad/water bottle and literally holding it on you

♡ schlatt ofc makes sure the cats are close by so you can cuddle/play with them as you rest

♡ "i need painkillers!"

♡ "i got it!" said at the same time.

♡ ted is just so sweet, always checking in on you

♡ he gives you massages if you need them

♡ schlatt giving you his sweatshirts to wear and tons of blankets and plushies to cuddle with while he and ted are working

♡ and when they're ready to cuddle? best believe y'all are not leaving your bed

♡ brings you meals and snacks so you don't have to get up

♡ you end up watching a ton of movies/catching up on a show together

♡ and you crying whenever something sappy/sad/etc happens

♡ schlatt resisting the urge to cry so you don't cry further but ted just SOBS and that has you sobbing more and he just cries more all of u are crying so much akdjskf

♡ if you're running out of period products and you need some more they buy. everything.

♡ (which one of them is "what size pussy do you wear" coded sound off in the comments)

♡ they're constantly doting on you which makes you even more emotional than usual

♡ if you get emotional over anything they're hugging and kissing you, telling you everything's okay ugh i need them ):

nsfw:

♡ apparently sex during your period can help reduce cramps so...

♡ you're constantly worried about the mess and if they'd be grossed out but they don't care, in fact they love it :)

♡ laying out a couple of towels on the bed or couch so you know what's about to go down

♡ plus your hormones make u like 10 times hornier so :)

♡ "we're gonna fuck the cramps out of ya."

♡ "ted, come on man."

♡ "no, by all means, please do."

♡ schlatt massaging your tits when they're sore to help relieve pain and totally not bc they're bigger and squishier

♡ ted mindlessly reaching into your shorts to touch you, not even caring if he gets blood all over his fingers

♡ them simultaneously touching you gets you so worked up that you come pretty quickly

♡ feeling utterly relieved when your cramps go away without needing to take a pill

♡ oral when you're on your period from your boyfriends... oh my god

♡ why does the sight of blood all over their mouths turn you on so much???

♡ so many stained towels are thrown into the laundry during that week 😉

#jschlatt x reader #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison fluff #ted nivison imagine #ted nivison fanfiction #ted nivison fic #jschlatt fanfiction #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt x you #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #ted nivison x you #jschlatt smut #ted nivison smut #ted nivison headcanons #jschlatt headcanons #how to tell stella is oh her period: she writes this

386 notes · View notes

lewis-winters · 5 months

Note

for the touch prompts: no. 3, cold hands in warm hands for winnix?

Lewis comes to just as Dick finishes mopping the sweat off his brow.

"… mmMah?" he asks, more a sound than an actual word. But it's more than he's said for several hours, so Dick will take it.

Pressing a kiss to his feverish forehead, Dick hums in reply. "Feeling better?"

There isn't an answer right away. Lew has to adjust to being awake first, blinking up at Dick and the dim light illuminating their room, before smacking his lips together and frowning at the taste. By the time he's ready to speak, Dick has a cup of water in hand, guiding Lew to sit up some and take a sip.

He does, with some difficulty. "My throat's all achy."

"Your tonsils are swollen."

"I figured," he croaks, lying back down. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Dick says, guiding him back down to the bed and tucking him in. Already, his eyes are drooping, weighed down by an acute exhaustion. But even in the throes of illness, that smart mouth remains, and it quirks a small smile up at Dick.

"I thought you were my mother for a moment there," he says. Dick thinks he was aiming for playful and sardonic with that quip, but with the infection stripping him bare it lands, instead, on the quiet admission of something almost close to grief.

Gently, Dick goes back to wiping sweat off his brow, running fingers through his hair. "Your mother, huh?"

Lew hums, closing his eyes at the sensation. "Dunno why," he mutters. "'S not like she'd ever taken care of me like this."

No. From what Dick knows of Doris Nixon, he doesn't think she did, either. But who knows, really? Dick's own mother had once said that she would always come, were he to call. Yet now, she hands the phone off to Anne on the rare occassions when he does, and barely acknowledges his existence outside of excuses she gives to her neighbours at church, when asked about his whereabouts. A mother's disposition isn't quite as steadfast as even mothers lead you to believe. Who's to say Lew's feverish delirium hadn't been drawn from memory? Who's to say Doris Nixon hadn't been so worried about her sick baby boy, in years past, that she'd deign to take over his immediate care, even just for the night? Dick hopes that she did. Hopes that it's true. It's a nice memory for Lew to have, and Dick always wants Lew to have nice things.

He tells him as much. Lew just laughs, a short burst of sound that's trying very hard to be upbeat.

"I don't think she'd've been as good at it as you," he says, earnestly, snaking one warm, clammy hand out of his blanket cocoon to grasp at Dick's. "C'mere, c'mere. Must be killer on your knees."

"I don't wanna fall asleep on you," Dick says, despite moving already, toeing off his slippers and awkwardly getting a leg up and over Nix's body because the other man refuses to let go of his hand.

"'S alright," Nix murmurs, dreamily, as Dick settles behind him, tucking his knees into the back of Nix's, and shifting closer until Dick's chest is against his back, and his arm is sandwiched between the crook of Nix's head and his pillow. All through this, he holds Dick's hand, going so far as to hold it against his feverish face and sigh. "'S cold."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," says Nix in the palm of Dick's hand, snuffling closer as if searching for more cool, more relief. "… Thank you."

Dick smiles, helplessly. "Go to sleep, Lewis."

Lew doesn't answer. Just shuffles closer and does as he's told.

#band of brothers #winnix #lewis nixon #dick winters #this is about mothers and sons as it is about dick taking care of a sick lewis #ask game #ask #estrella_marie

21 notes · View notes

silverbuttercups · 2 years

Note

40 and/or 61

“Are you mad at me?” Soul’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible.

She was responded with silence, which was much more telling to say the least.

Flinching at the sudden, sharp ache that panged through her leg, Soul bit her lower lip. She knew in the back of her mind that perhaps leaning over the tall ledges to get a good picture of the nearby Cherrygrove sea wasn’t the greatest idea, but the sun was setting so wonderfully—

Silver’s ears caught the way she sucked at her teeth when he tightened a knot around her wounded thigh. He had warned her a few times about watching her step, and it was irritating him when she would brush him off playfully; it reminded him that he was caring too much. When they both noticed the way blood trickled down her leg as she tried getting back up, he was quick to react, volunteering his black tee as a makeshift wrap.

“I’m annoyed, to say it mildly,” Silver finally muttered after a long, agonizing period of silence. Wiping at his forehead with his arm, he watched as she tried standing up, but once again failed. He approached her once again, shrugging his jacket back on. Without warning, he wrapped his arm around her, forcing her to lean into his body. “If you had listened…” he trailed off as a matter-of-fact.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek when he heard her whine. A simple sound to one, but held all the power against him—he could feel his sour mood slowly sweeten.

“Arceus, why are you always right?” Her whine mixed in with her pout only worsened this.

He couldn't resist it anymore as he blurted, “What was that?” His voice was almost comic, playful.

“Why are you always right?" It dawned on her after a few moments that she fell into his tease when he chuckled. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment and mumbled, "Don't just stand there..."

He said no more as he helped walk her toward the city. Though he was quiet, his amusement surely fed off his annoyance.

#stella writes #soulsilvershipping #pokemon #love my dorks <3 #silver cant resist her lol #sirlucina

17 notes · View notes

askyfullofgh0sts · 1 year

Text

i’ll never be a saint anyway but i’m just one qualification away from martyrdom

#stella writes

11 notes · View notes

xinxiaogato · 4 months

Text

— love at first thrust

summary. as an ambassador from mondstadt, your goal was to persuade the duke of fontaine’s underwater fortress (who reportedly had a herculean physique and an absolute bakery) to agree with your plan on improving international relations. the last thing you anticipated was for him to agree to you getting his rocks off.

love interest. fem!reader x wriothesley.

warnings. unedited, 18+ content (mdni), nsfw, cursing, masturbation, voyuerism, size difference kink, cunnilingus, fingering, name calling (slut), slight orgasm denial, skin biting, almost a handjob, angst (somehow) and comfort, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy, porn w plot, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, fondling, rough sex, impregnation, bdsm (handcuffs), soft dom!wrio.

word count. 5,303.

note. my first time dabbling in smut… to whoever is reading this that somehow knows me irl, pls turn straight around ! you are referred to as “reader” by the way.

romance schmomance. how did anyone expect wriothesley to allocate time in his schedule for a lover while properly running the fortress of meropide? his grace was perfectly content with teasing his two tsundere subordinates, who refused to face their feelings for each other. besides, love appeared too complicated of a matter, as evidenced by the prisoners he overheard lamenting on a day-to-day basis about their marital affairs and unsuccessful endeavors in flirting.

but sigewinne thought otherwise, pestering him recommending that he seek a partner because not only would it fulfill his social needs but also satisfy his sexual urges (he scrunched up his nose every time she made that point). frankly, all the duke needed was his right hand, some lotion, and a thirty-minute break of privacy.

…so what was a pair of eyes doing from the staircase to his office, staring incredulously at him fucking his cock into his curled fist during the thirty-minute break of privacy?

keyword: privacy, meaning no one was supposed to be in his office during this time!

a few minutes earlier…

“ah, ms. reader, right this way!”

an eager guard ushered you to an imposing set of metal doors to which your house back in mondstadt paled in comparison. as the guard, who appeared to be a rookie, fumbled with the keys to the administrator’s office, you turned your attention to the rest of the surroundings that seamlessly blended together due to the lack of decor. rusting pipes ran from the bottom up in austere grandeur, and warm lights were scattered across the stronghold, illuminating the faces of the few dozen or so prisoners wandering around the open space.

although the conditions weren’t all sunshine and rainbows (literally, since the fortress is hundreds of feet under the surface), serving time in the fortress of meropide was bearable enough to the point that some convicts continued living there even after their sentences were up. this was the piece of information that piqued your interest during extensive research into the nation of justice, as access to rehabilitative programs while incarcerated had reduced the crime rate there.

thus, there you stood, prepared to present the ultimate strategy for promoting bilateral relations to the administrator of fontaine’s correctional institution. in exchange for advice from monsieur wriothesley on how to reform mondstadt’s prison system, the two neighboring countries could collaborate on an event similar to that of the “neighboring nations congenial poetry gala” between mondstadt and liyue.

it made sense since both fontaine and mondstadt were renowned for their romanticism, and the only other thing you could offer from your hometown besides poetry and artistry was… wine, which you knew wouldn’t fly. no government wanted more drunkards bumbling down their streets than they already had.

finally, the guard pushed the doors open (not without almost popping a vein) and gestured for you to enter monsieur wriothesley’s office, and once you did, you averted your gaze to the spiraling set of stairs.

however, prior to making your presence known, strange… grunting noises from the upper floor sent a shiver down your spine and planted you firmly to the ground. rapidly, your mind swirled with a million possibilities of what the source could be. although the duke was allegedly benign, he was still a warden through and through. was he personally punishing someone for their misconduct?

it frankly sounded quite painful, and you were getting worried that you came in at a bad time. after all, you did arrive an hour earlier than scheduled.

…one peek couldn’t hurt, right?

then you’ll be able to determine whether or not he needed a minute.

curiosity killed the cat, and that cat was you. because after gingerly ascending the staircase and stopping to be able to peek just above the metal floor, you chanced upon a scene that not even your wildest dreams could conjure.

the black-haired duke’s coat was popped open, with the hem of his dress shirt stuffed between his lips to muffle groan after groan that flowed past them. for several long seconds, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scars running down his neck and heaving pectorals, gleaming in a slight sheen of sweat.

and when you did manage to tear your eyes away, they instantly flitted past his abdomen (which needed its own place in a museum) to the sight of wriothesley’s large—and you meant large—appendage thrusting desperately into his calloused hand between his gargantuan thighs. a bit of precum dribbled from the tip, trailing down his length only to be pushed back up by his fingers and creating a frothy ring near the head of his cock.

you had to stifle a gasp behind your clipboard, trying to process what the hell was happening. the prison administrator and his little friend definitely needed a minute, so you quickly swiveled around to give them just that—only for the sound of his chair screeching backward to freeze you in your tracks.

“who goes there?” his voice boomed throughout the office.

shit!

your heels weren’t doing you much of a favor as you bolted down the staircase, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins overrode every inconvenience to get you to the doorway as fast as possible. however, you didn’t have the strength to budge the doors open (what were they made of? tungsten!?), and before you could even blink, wriothesley had you trapped between the only way out and his bulky figure.

“you thought you could get away?” he snarled, grabbing you by the shoulder (with the hand that was just wrapped around his dick, mind you!) to twist you around and get a good look at your face. your clipboard clattered to the floor, and you nearly screamed when his cock—which was somehow more enraged than he was—prodded against your stomach, making your insides feel like they were doing backflips.

you tried your best not to look at… it… as you spoke up to defend yourself. “sir, it isn’t what it looks like—”

“i think it’s exactly what it looks like,” he interjected angrily, thick eyebrows furrowed above a pair of piercing blue eyes. “what? did one of your fellow inmates dare you to snoop on the warden for blackmail? how many coupons did they offer? hmm?”

“inmates? coupons?” now your eyebrows were furrowed. “monsieur, if you could please let me explain!”

it took a second for wriothesley to regain his senses, and after noticing your foreign attire and trembling form, he retreated at once. “archons, i…” he stroked his face with his hand and covered his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. “i’m terribly sorry. i thought you were one of them.”

“them?”

he nodded dejectedly in response before dropping his hand to the side and meeting your eyes, but this time, it wasn’t with indignation. “yes, a group of ill-intentioned people recently formed in order to unmask my secrets…” he had to look away for a moment before continuing. “...one of them being what i do in my office during lunchtime.”

“...oh.”

“as for you…” over his broad chest, he crossed his arms that could crush watermelons with one flex (okay, maybe you were overexaggerating.) “how did you gain entry into my office? it should have been locked.”

you cleared your throat. “a guard let me in.” wriothesley parted his lips to question that, but you were already one step ahead. “he seemed new.”

the warden managed to put two and two together, and a sense of dread began consuming him from head to toe. “you’re… the envoy from mondstadt,” he realized, a taste in his mouth more bitter than the tea he oversteeped this morning. “i must say: you’re a bit early.”

you replied with a light shrug, “the cavalry is expeditious.”

“right. that’s… great.” he gave you a tight-lipped smile. “could… could you give me a minute? i would like to make myself presentable so that i can give you a proper introduction, and… again, i want to apologize for having you walk in on something so vulgar. i’ll be sure to compensate for it in any way possible.”

your original plan from the beginning was to give this man a minute, but… the longer you stood in his presence, the more aroused you felt. he was really handsome, standing many heads taller than you and practically oozing with sex appeal. the tidbits about his appearance that you heard through the grapevine in mondstadt couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. watching him jerking off earlier, there was definitely a moment when you wanted to replace his hand with your cunt.

pause.

this might be the only opportunity for you to break away from the perfect image you were constantly upholding. throughout your adolescence and young adulthood, you had trained to become a professional in your field and garnered copious experience in diplomacy so that you could obtain a high-ranking position in government. this caused you to miss out on a lot of the joys in life, including sex. that was the first time you had seen a penis in the flesh.

“did you say any way possible?” you inquired.

“of course, i’m a reasonable man. i doubt i’ll be opposed to anything during today’s negotiations.”

after a moment of hesitation, you braced yourself for an eternity’s supply of humiliation and let your last thread of sanity snap in two. you fell to your knees right in front of his throbbing member, which was still as hard as a rock.

“...then you won’t be opposed to this, right?” you murmured. in a bold move, you leaned forward to press your cheek against the side of his cock, all while maintaining eye contact with him.

wriothesley sharply inhaled through his teeth, blood rushing to his face as he took a step back. “what… what are you…!?”

but he wasn’t dumb. he knew what you were intending. however, this felt more like you were doing a favor for him when he was supposed to be doing one for you.

and do one he shall.

in one frame, you were hunkered down on the floor in front of his grace, and in the next frame, you were being carried to the second floor of the office in his sinewy arms. you were in no danger of being dropped, but you clung onto his shirt regardless, squealing your head off and flailing your legs like a feral animal, which only added to wriothesley’s amusement.

“are you regretting your decision?” he asked, his lips curled into a smug smile. “i can always stop. just say the word.”

your heart was racing at a mile a minute as he kicked a coffee table out of the way and plopped you onto the couch. when he crouched between your legs, a sheepish you batted his greedy hands away and hurriedly shoved your thighs together. “wait, i… this is escalating way too fast!” you quavered. “are we about to…” do the devil’s tango? the pickle in the jar? the train into the tunnel!?

a gruff chuckle rumbled from his chest. “you were the one who initiated it,” wriothesley pointed out with a wolfish grin. “i’m just finishing what you started, mondstadter.”

“but i just wanted to help you with your… ‘problem’!” you shot back, cheeks rivaling the red of a tomato. “why am i suddenly on the receiving end!?”

“ah, that’s where you’re wrong, because this will help me with my problem,” the duke replied, tugging your pants down your hips to reveal your drenched undergarment. you instantly convulsed and buckled your knees as he pressed his thick fingers against your clothed pussy, and when he drew them back, a string of wetness extended from your underwear to his fingertips.

remember when wriothesley convinced himself that all he needed was self-love?

fuck that.

“your grace!” you cried out as he dove forward and, with his hands anchoring your thighs, began ravaging your clit through the fabric, his tongue swirling and swiping against it ruthlessly. you had not even a millisecond to breathe as your vision blurred from tears of unmitigated satisfaction. with little strength, you reached out to wrench at his dark locks of hair, which only spurred him on further to attack your quivering folds.

archons almighty, what would it feel like if he—

as if he was reading your mind, wriothesley peeled your panties to the side, and the roughness of his tongue along with his pointer finger sliding in sent your body into another realm of pleasure. if accidentally smacking the back of your head against the couch’s gilded crest rail wasn’t the reason you saw stars just now, then it undoubtedly had to be the duke’s skillful ministrations.

“you’re so responsive,” wriothesley murmured, his hot breath deliciously fanning your skin. you were going crazy from his nose nudging against your sensitive bud as he flattened his tongue to completely coat each and every taste bud with your essence, and his digit continued to slide in and out at an inhumane speed, coaxing more and more of your whines and moans. “fuck, and your slut pussy is taking my finger so well. how many people have gotten the chance to see this pretty view?”

pretty view? you mentally scoffed while struggling to keep your wits about. says him! not every day did a tall, dark, and handsome man lap at your arousal like it was his last meal! you questioned how he could even breathe down there.

“no, i… j-just… just you…” you managed between labored gulps of air, your cheeks flushed of color. “i… i’ve never… d-done this… before.”

in the midst of leaving a bite mark on the side of your thigh, wriothesley abruptly extricated his finger, which made your pulsating hole very unhappy. “are you saying this is your first time?” he asked in disbelief.

you nodded timidly. when he didn’t respond right away, you grew worried that he got turned off by your admission, but weirdly enough, he snickered.

“looks like we’re in the same boat,” wriothesley stated to your bafflement. having withdrawn his finger, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean of your fluids before returning to lightly thumb your clit using circular motions. you had to scoot away because how else were you going to speak clearly with him doing that!?

“y-you’re a virgin!?” you spluttered, ogling down at this man like he had just grown a horn on top of his head.

“way to rub it in,” he jeered at you in a mocking tone. “yes, i’m a virgin. what’s so surprising?”

“because… you’re you!” you stressed. “have you seen yourself in the mirror? it’s a crime for you to look like a sex god without having had sex!”

once again, wriothesley found himself enlivened by your visceral reactions. when an advisor informed him of a diplomat’s advent this week, the warden was ready to be bored to tears by another mundane businessperson. and could you blame him? a few weeks ago, an ambassador hailing from sumeru went on and on about an invention that they wanted to promote to the fortress of meropide’s inhabitants.

…that invention boasted a 41% success rate.

so imagine wriothesley’s gaping jaw when, the moment you bent your knees and voiced your offer, all of his expectations were chucked out of the window.

“‘crime’?” he echoed, followed by a husky chuckle. “i see what you did there. how does it feel to be in love with a criminal?”

a frown weighed down the corners of your lips. “hold on. i may or may not be succumbing to a criminal, but who’s saying i’m in love with one?”

“your body is telling me everything i need to know,” rizzley wriothesley crooned as he rested the side of his head against your thigh. “well, except for your name.”

“…reader,” you answered breathily. “my name is reader.”

“reader.” he nodded in approval. “well, reader, let me show you how we do it in fontaine.”

with newfound vigor, wriothesley mounted the couch so that he was now towering over you and interlocked his hands with yours, pressing them into the vermillion back cushions on either side of your head. as if he was communicating to you that you could no longer escape his advances, even if they became too much.

for some time, he gazed intensely at your blushing face, committing each detail to memory, before he bent down and connected his lips to yours. you tentatively reciprocated his tender kisses, moving your mouth in ways that were unfamiliar yet exhilarating, and shutting your eyes slipped the ground away from your feet and made you feel like you were floating. he let go of one hand to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, which grew into him absentmindedly caressing your cheek like you were made of glass. your neck tickled. your ear burned. every single touch felt like fire on your skin. every kiss was slowly melting your body into mush, melding your body with his. there was no longer a distinction between where you ended and where he began.

after you parted your lips to impart the permission wriothesley’s tongue frenziedly sought, it wasn’t long before the kiss spiraled into a battle for dominance—a battle you lost in the blink of an eye. you could taste remnants of yourself on his tongue from his previous indulgences, which successfully heightened how aroused you were tenfold. your free hand crept up and started kneading your breast through your blouse, your moans swallowed by wriothesley’s mouth.

when he noticed you began touching yourself, he pulled away to your dismay.

he really liked how you craned your neck toward him at the very end of the kiss when he disentangled from you, as though his and your pairs of lips were opposite ends of a magnet. he liked seeing you craving more.

he didn’t like that you were getting ahead of yourself.

“nuh-uh, love,” he whispered, pulling your wrist to the side. “that’s my job.”

wriothesley tugged the hem of your blouse up to expose your bra, and he whistled at the sight. “beige?” he just had to point out with a smirk, bearing a canine. “you really know how to rile me up.”

you internally facepalmed at morning you’s choice of wardrobe. “i was walking into this expecting to have a proper conversation, not to get laid.”

he cocked an eyebrow and suddenly went into business mode. “what was your proposition anyway?”

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud before grasping his large hand and placing it on your chest. “are we really about to do our meeting now?” you chided him.

“you and i are already ‘meeting’ in every sense of the word.”

an affectionate smile broke through your face, and you tugged the man forward by his red tie. “come here, you big hunk.”

wriothesley mirrored your warmth and captured your lips in a searing kiss before traveling down to pepper smooches on your neck and suckle along your collarbone, his teeth the paintbrush and your skin the canvas. he slithered his fingers into the confines of your bra and pinched your nipples to elicit more r-rated sounds from your mouth, and in the corner of your low-lidded eyes, you became very conscious of the reality that his dick would twitch every time you moaned.

anemo archon, forgive me for mine own sins.

“reader,” he gasped. he hunched forward and almost smothered you with his chest as you began to stroke his cock, a bolt out of the blue. you weren’t expecting him to display such a visceral reaction, so you halted at the base of his manhood (which your hand couldn’t even fully wrap around…)

“did i do something wrong?”

“no, not at all,” he affirmed strongly. “i think the problem…”

…was that the sensation of your touch felt astonishingly different to him greasing the pole. it was a shuddering ecstasy that sprinted along his body and unlocked the carnal desires he had kept stowed away.

the key to his dick heart was supposed to have been eternally lost at sea. that was something he was sure of. that was something every person who tried to get close to him was sure of. so he ignored sigewinne’s recommendations, he ignored the rumors of his impotence among the prisoners, and he tried to ignore the hot flashes that jolted him awake in the dead of night, reminding him again that he had always been devoid of love since the start.

but then you came prancing into his office, swinging that key around your finger.

wriothesley’s breathing became shallow, and he pressed his lips firmly into a thin, white line as he stared down at you. how were you shining so splendidly in contrast to the dull lights of his office? how did your frowning lips still look so kissable? how were you looking at him like you were seeing right through him?

he didn’t even know you.

was he deluding himself?

did sigewinne spike his tea?

should he keep going?

what if he hurt you?

a gentle tapping on his forearm hauled wriothesley out of his rumination. he realized he was sweating a lot.

“now i’m sure i did something wrong,” you said worriedly.

wriothesley swallowed harshly before shaking his head, his tufted black hair swaying from side to side. “no… the problem is that… i don’t think i can hold back.”

…

“then what are you waiting for?” you deadpanned. “are you into blue balling?”

wriothesley blinked. “uh, not necessarily…”

“then let’s do it on your table.”

…

“reader…” wriothesley covered his blushing face with the back of his hand. “has anyone told you how… forward you can be?”

a giggle bubbled from your throat. “i’m pretty sure my field requires me to be forward. is it a turn-off?”

“i couldn’t be happier,” he reassured you gladly, and you were soon swept up into another bridal carry. “i will warn you though. if you make a mess of my documents, there will be punishment.”

you smiled. “looking forward to it.” (hopefully, wriothesley didn’t notice he was already going to need new seat cushions after this.)

wriothesley set you down onto his hardwood table, your back toward him, and had you prop one leg up onto the edge, putting your pussy on full display for his enjoyment. he watched in a hypnotic trance as your fluids dripped like a leaking faucet, and he wanted nothing more than to plug you up and fill your needy cunt to the brim. the warden soaked his fingers in your juices to lather them over his shaft, but while he had one hand gripping your hip and the other lining his member up with your entrance, his muscles stiffened. you peeked at him from over your shoulder.

“blue balling bastard!” you almost shouted, but he appeared too distraught to be badgered.

“i don’t have a condom,” wriothesley moaned, falling forward and smacking his forehead against your shoulder. for the first time in a long time, he really wanted to cry. “i would have to walk over to the infirmary and grab one for us, but—”

“—i can’t wait much longer,” you two finished in tandem breathlessly, eyes fixed upon each other. in a matter of seconds, this became a pressing matter that left you and wriothesley in deep contemplation. two strangers—total virgins at that—were literally about to raw dog it. honestly, your parents would be bouncing off the walls over this since they always lamented their graying hairs yet shortage of grandchildren.

but wriothesley… you knew a man of his status was much too preoccupied with handling prison affairs as opposed to prison "affairs". although the iudex of fontaine would be anyone’s first thought at the word “justice”, the administrator of the fortress of meropide delivered his own fair share of justice to maintain order when fights broke out in corridors, to overlook the production of gardemeks, and to protect the peace he had fostered in this very structure.

these things were what made you hurriedly request an audience with wriothesley in the first place. his impressive accomplishments as the new leader of the stronghold were what brought the you from mondstadt to the him in fontaine. however, you now found yourself in a sticky situation that would burden wriothesley further if you two took this risk. a child between you and him… that hadn’t been in your agenda.

plus, the steambird would really get a hoot out of this. “breaking news: mondstadt ambassador walked into the fortress of meropide and walked out with a baby lump.”

so, you made up your mind.

“wrio—”

“will you let me come inside of you, reader?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, making your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. your vaginal walls automatically clenched around nothingness at the thought as you gasped and gaped back at him in bewilderment.

“what…? are you sure!?”

wriothesley nodded. “i-i promise, reader, to be a loving partner to you and devoted father to our child,” he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve dreamt of having kids with the person i cherish so that they can grow up in a household where they feel safe, but… my greatest fear in life is becoming the monster that… th-that my foster parents were to me and my adoptive siblings.” his face went white. he could feel himself on the verge of vomiting, which he swore he had rooted out long ago. the scars on his body had never felt more painful. “i know that that belief is unfounded, but… i’ve been a violent person since i was a teenager. since the day that i… i killed them.”

“so if you do not wish to bear a child with a person like me, i understand,” wriothesley avowed, his eyes turned down in shame. “i can find other means to make you feel good, and i’ll just… go to the restroom to finish my business.”

you were finally learning about the warden's haunting backstory, sealed behind his assertive exterior. immediately, tears sprung to the corners of your eyes. you twisted your torso to cup his face with shaking hands and look him square in the face.

“wriothesley… you are so much more than your past,” you insisted earnestly. “are you not aware of how incredible of a person you are? of how many lives you have changed for the better? you couldn’t change the past, so you made it your life mission to change the future of every person who’s living and breathing in this stronghold right now. you converted your suffering into something that led to the liberation of many others’.” you gave him a wobbly smile through the tears streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls. “that’s why i wanted to meet you, wrio. i wanted to meet the man behind the operations, behind the smiles on these prisoners’ faces. so please… don’t ever think badly of yourself.”

as the color returned to wriothesley’s cheeks, the duke couldn’t look away from the eyes that sparkled up at him so brilliantly. it was mesmerizing. his heart had never felt this full, and he wanted it to be as close to yours as possible. without missing a beat, his arms wrapped around your body, lightly brushing against your nipples in the process and causing them to harden on contact. he pressed his entire frontside against your back, and you could clearly feel his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage (and his dick saying hi from between your thighs).

“you’re so good to me, reader,” wriothesley mumbled. “what did i do to deserve this?”

you laughed and caressed the side of his head. “i just told you, idiot.”

his signature smirk returned in all of its glory, and he trailed his hands down to rest on your hips. “hold onto something.”

“what? agh!”

your body lurched forward once wriothesley drove his cock into your sopping heat, every inch dragging along your walls until he reached your cervix and his pelvic bone was right against your ass. a guttural moan escaped as he remained perfectly motionless, reveling in the feeling of your pussy rippling along his length, and you clamped a hand over your mouth to mask the embarrassing noises seeping through. the pain was unexpectedly minimal, but now you had to deal with this enormous object penetrating you to your very core. and not a moment passed before he started pushing in and out of you, squelching noises rebounding off the metal surroundings as your bated breath was yanked from your throat. throughout wriothesley’s grunts of exertion, a moan poured past your lips at each thrust, his balls slapping against your puffy lips and the table legs screeching in reply. his hands slid up to mercilessly flick your nipples with his thumbs at a rate that engendered tightening sensations to build up inside of your lower abdomen.

“wrio!” you exclaimed, writhing in ecstasy. you didn’t think you could handle the pert beads on your chest being fondled in unison with him pistoning your cunt from the back for another minute. “wr-wrio…! hnngh… ah! i feel so w-weird… ah! nngh…!”

“it’s a good weird, yeah?” growled wriothesley amid nibbling on your earlobe. “i can tell by the way your womb is descending to meet my cock, just begging for my seed. and that’s exactly what i’ll give you.”

“nngh, i… i’m… a-agh!” you pathetically blubbered. a stream of saliva ran from the corner of your lips as he pounded into your tight channel with savage intensity, the whites of your glazed eyes beginning to show. “i-i think i’m gonna c-come…!”

“shit…” he rasped, noticing the telltale signs of an orgasm building up in both of you. “me, too…” he roughly grabbed your chin, fingers digging slightly into flesh, so that he could witness your expression contorting with bliss as you reached your cusp. “i want you to take every drop of my cum, reader. every fucking drop until nothing but my essence flows from your depraved hole.”

you nodded and pursed your lips, overwhelmed by the persistent and passionate onslaught on your pussy that was utterly molded into the shape of his velvet-wrapped steel. “yes, p-please…! wrio, please shoot it inside of me!”

finally, wriothesley bit down on your shoulder and slammed home into your depths, burying himself inside of your womanhood while releasing thick ropes of semen. your muscles convulsed and clamped down onto his cock with a vice, milking it until he had emptied his balls completely. the light humming of the industrial fan above commingled with the heavy panting of the two bodies that have become one, drunk on the languid atmosphere.

“you’re so obedient,” he cooed, nudging aside a lock of hair that was clinging to your sweaty forehead, whereas you were still reeling from wave after wave of endorphins. as you endeavored to muster the strength to respond, wriothesley glanced down at his files freshly marinating in your juices. “well, for the most part,” he added. “what did i say about my documents?”

“i…” you scowled and snapped back at him haughtily, “i wasn’t trying to ruin them!”

his mellow chuckle resonated in your ears, and in the ensuing seconds, the sound of clinking metal pivoted your attention.

“well, you can’t argue that they’re illegible now,” he said, effortlessly restraining your wrists in handcuffs from archons knew where. you also came to the startling realization that his member hadn’t softened one bit since he came within your spongy walls. “and as the duke of the fortress of meropide, i must carry out punishment where i see fit.”

“…lord barbatos.”

“haha, i love you, too.”

(several days later, charlotte got her big paycheck after spotting another “meeting” between you and wriothesley behind café lutece.)

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #wriothesley x reader #fluff #crack #comfort #angst #smut #stella writes — !#love at first thrust

830 notes · View notes