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hanasnx · 2 months

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❝ incendium. ❞

── stephen glass x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control. NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au" WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.

When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered.

You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar.

It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list.

Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company.

Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession.

It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment.

“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”

STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken.

Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening.

Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?”

“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips.

Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?”

A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away.

It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys.

Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap.

You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears.

Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for.

The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with.

“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.” You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?”

It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact.

Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared.

Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck.

Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it.

When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were.

“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup.

He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.

“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?”

Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him.

Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.”

One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.”

We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral.

All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance.

He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well.

He never expected that it’d turn out like this.

Never expected he’d be summoned to your office.

“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text.

You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.”

She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.”

You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him.

This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself.

He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt.

“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it.

Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–”

At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”

Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.

“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”

He shakes his head.

“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.

“An NDR.”

“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”

“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”

Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”

“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”

He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.

“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”

A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit.

#indy: one shots #ch: stephen #stephen glass one shot #stephen glass x reader #stephen glass x fem reader #stephen glass x you #stephen glass x y/n #stephen glass imagine #stephen glass fic #stephen glass fanfic #stephen glass fanfiction #shattered glass x reader #reader insert #stephen glass #shattered glass #shattered glass 2003 #shattered glass stephen glass #hayden christensen

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

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isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable.

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned.

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied.

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read.

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology.

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents.

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door.

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed.

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction.

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing.

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften.

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert.

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity.

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom.

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

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ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Anonymous: Reader is in love with Miranda Priestly, and hasn't told her yet although the entirety of Runway has guessed. How would Miranda react if reader and her are stuck in an elevator together and reader ends up fainting in her arms?

I love it! I was inspired by the line Miranda says to Andy about smacking her little head on the pavement lol. Let’s get into it!

Your feelings for Miranda Priestly seem to be an open secret among the Runway staff. You… Don’t have a very good poker face. While Emily frantically scurrying behind Miranda as she rattles off daily tasks to the redhead has become a long-running joke in the office… You kind of just stare shamelessly at the Editor-in-Chief’s bottom whenever you follow her. People often quirk knowing eyebrows at their co-workers as they witness your apparent obsession with Miranda’s backside.

“Guess we know for sure that Y/N’s team ass,” An intern says to a group of her peers one morning, cracking them all up after you and Miranda walk by (And the editor is no longer within hearing distance).

It’s also not hard to pick up on the way you act like a total idiot around Miranda and trip over your words whenever she asks you a question. It’s a wonder she hasn’t gotten fed up with you and canned you yet.

Emily and Nigel just love to tease you too. “So, when are you planning to propose, Y/N? I’d like a heads up if you expect me to do a decent wedding spread for next month’s issue,” Nigel smirks as he leans against your desk.

You tilt your head in confusion at him as you try to work. “Uh… Propose?” You ask.

“Of course, Y/N. Don’t tell me you haven’t planned on asking Miranda to marry you,” He grins.

Your cheeks burn harshly at this. “Wh-what?!” You splutter.

Emily can’t help but join in. “Give them time, Nigel. They’ll have to fish out the ring from a box of cereal first,” She giggles.

The two laugh their asses off at this.

You huff and try to just get back to work. It’s not your fault that Miranda’s a literal goddess. How are you expected to not have a gay panic attack every second of the day when Miranda’s sitting no more than ten feet from your desk?

Today has been busy as hell. Well, more so than usual, at least. You’re currently on your way to pick up some crucial documents for Miranda when you suddenly find yourself tripping and colliding with the ground. Your face smashes harshly into the pavement and onlookers gasp at the severity of your fall. You black out for a second or two and feel yourself being pulled to your feet by a few people trying to help.

“You okay, kid? Hell of a fall…” One guy asks.

You shake your head to clear the stars from your vision before answering. “Honestly? Not really. That fucking… Sucked,” You manage to blurt out, making those around you chuckle sympathetically.

“I think you’d better get this checked out. Head injuries are no joke,” A woman standing beside you pipes up.

You feel a dull thud in your head, but the urgency of your tasks keeps you from agreeing. You turn and smile at her. “Wish I could, but I have to get back to work. Thanks for the help, though, everybody,” You tell the kind people who stopped to help you.

The little crowd that has gathered around you erupts in concerned murmurs, but they don’t know Miranda Priestly. Being late with Miranda’s paperwork is a much bigger threat to your health than a bump on the head.

As you navigate through the day, the dizziness and lightheadedness persist, making it challenging to concentrate. You also find yourself having to stay late with Miranda, assisting her with tasks long after everyone else has left the office. Just when you think for certain that your head is about to crack in two, Miranda miraculously decides that she is done for the night.

“That’s all, Y/N,” She says simply and waits for you to grab her coat and belongings for her.

You’re so distracted by your headache that you didn’t even hear her speak.

After you have made no attempt to move, Miranda’s head whips to you immediately. “Y/N. We’re leaving,” She snaps irritably. She hates repeating herself.

Your eyes widen and you hurriedly rush around to get her things and put her coat on her. You faithfully follow her to the elevator and she, surprisingly, allows you to get in with her instead of making you take another one.

The confined space of the elevator car amplifies the swirling sensations in your head. You bring a weary hand up to rub your eyes, trying to make yourself feel more alert.

Miranda looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seemed rather off today, Y/N. Is something bothering you?”

You attempt to brush off her question. “I’m fine… Just… A head… Ache,” You mumble. Your voice is slurred and your eyes seem so blank.

Miranda’s eyebrows shoot up at this. She’s never seen you look like this. It alarms her greatly. You don’t sound well at all. Her piercing eyes study you intently. “I think you need to get some rest, Y/N. Maybe consider taking tomorrow off?” She suggests, her fondness for you overtaking her need to put up a tough front. She likes you… A lot. More than she would like to admit.

“I’m good,” You try to to assure her quietly. You’re too out of it to even process the unbelievable offer Miranda just made you. A fucking day off? Unheard of.

Miranda sighs as she looks at the state you’re in. She feels really guilty that she worked you so hard today. She should have let you go home ages ago. She just… Likes having you around. Even if you two aren’t directly interacting. You bring her a great sense of peace and calm. Truthfully, she didn’t even need you here tonight. She was just being selfish and wanted to keep you all to herself without other people barging in and… Oh, wait. That… Kind of sounds like a… Crush, doesn’t it? Is that why she enjoys your company so much? Miranda’s cheeks flame at this.

But, before Miranda can even begin to freak out about her silent revelation, the elevator jolts suddenly and you stumble, feeling weaker than before.

Miranda tries to steady you by gripping your arm, worry etching her usually composed features. “Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?”

But before you can respond, a wave of dizziness overtakes you and the world around you blurs. You feel yourself swaying, and the next thing you know, you’re enveloped in Miranda’s arms as unconsciousness claims you.

… Unfortunately, Miranda is a very petite woman and you… Kind of just end up flopping on top of her.

If only Emily and Nigel could see you now. Falling for the boss…

Note: This was so fun to write.

Masterlist

#miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #dwp #miranda priestly x reader #devil wears prada #emily charlton #nigel kipling #meryl streep #emily blunt #stanley tucci #miranda priestly x y/n #y/n is stupid

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m-jelly · 4 months

Note

jelllyyy for the request, can i get a sulky, pouty levi? 🥺🥺🥺 with slight heartwrenching angst 🥹🥹 and a happy ending 🙈🙈 any storyline and genre of your choice 🩷🩷🩷

Almost in flames

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, firefighter Levi, being a couple, angst, happy ending.

You have to go into the office and Levi asks you to stay with him at home for a bit longer, you tell him no because you want to get your job sorted. While working, you see on the news a warehouse in flames and you recognise Levi's truck there. You hurry to the building just as a part of it explodes.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

"Stay."

You pulled on your coat and gave Levi a tiny smile. "I have to go in."

He crawled across the bed to you to show he was just in boxers. "Please?"

You adored the pout Levi had for you. "I won't be long. I just have to drop in to go over a few of my book ideas, then I'll be home."

He whined. "But I need you."

You kissed him before pulling away. "I'll only be about two hours max."

"But."

You blew him a kiss. "I'll see you later."

He flopped back on the bed and whined. "You're mean."

"I am!"

The walk to work was a nice one, you had always enjoyed it and it wasn't too cold. Not many people were at work, but that was normal for editors. It seemed there were a few meetings scheduled for today, so you would be seeing a few authors today.

You met with your editor and went over a few things with them. As you talked you did think about your lover back home in bed. You felt bad for leaving Levi. Levi wasn't due in today, but he was on call. You could have stayed with him a bit longer.

When you were near the end of your meeting an assistant hurried inside the office and looked panicked. They called your name and gulped hard. "Your boyfriend is a firefighter, right?"

A cold shiver went through you, you knew something wasn't right. "Yeah, that's right."

They gripped the door a bit. "You uh...you should come see the news."

You shot to your feet and raced through the hall to the main office where the TV was on the local news. There on the TV was live breaking news of a fire at a warehouse. The fire was massive and so hot that they said the metal framing of the building was going to melt. Panic surged through you as soon as you saw the number on the truck there, it was Levi's.

You looked to your editor with tears in your eyes. "Levi's there. That's Levi's truck."

He nodded at you. "I'll drive you there. Come on."

The two of you sprinted to his car and made your way to the warehouse. While everyone was driving away from the fire, you were going towards it. As you made your way there you were trying Levi's phone, but he wasn't picking up. Every second that went by the more regret that filled your heart.

Levi's sweet and loving smile appeared in your head, which then faded into his sad pout this morning. Waking next to him every single day was a dream come true and now there was a high chance you might never be able to do that. Focusing on a small meeting at work that could have been done over a video call seemed so silly now.

Heat blasted you when you opened the door of the car. Seat consumed your body making your panic worse. The fire was hotter than anything you'd ever felt before. Tears stung your eyes as you hurried to the boundary line put up.

Erwin stood in his uniform shouting orders and then speaking into his radio. He was covered in sweat, soot and ash from the fire. It took him a few seconds to clock you. He called your name and raised his hand to stop you. "You shouldn't be here. Go home."

You gripped the barrier. "Where's Levi?"

"It's too dangerous. I need you to get back and go home."

Your vision began to blur. "Erwin, where is Levi? Where is he?"

Erwin went to speak, but a voice came through his radio. "Yeah?" He shook his head. "Are you sure?" He looked over at you. "You need to leave, now. That's an order."

You leaned closer. "Levi! Is that Levi? Levi!"

Erwin walked up to you and held your hand. "He'll be okay. I'm sorry I can't answer questions, but this fire needs to be controlled. I'm sorry."

You shook before Erwin and felt so tiny. "Mm. I understand."

"I'll give you an update in a moment." He released you and ran over to Hange, his medical.

No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself from having a panic attack, it was too difficult. You did everything you could to remain as calm as you could. You gripped the barrier causing your knuckles to go white. Your eyes scanned all the firefighters as you tried your best to find your man, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A strange noise was coming from the building, like a high-pitched whistle that was getting louder. Before you could speak to your editor a loud boom echoed. A strong force from the blast came from the building sending debris out at you and others. You were hit at such a force that you were knocked to the ground.

Darkness consumed your vision and a ringing started in your ears. Something warm trickled on your head and your skin hurt on your right arm. There was a muffled voice calling your name and trying to speak to you. As your hearing cleared and vision returned you saw a worried looking Erwin.

You sat up with his help and winced. "Levi..." You looked at the warehouse as Erwin asked for medical for you. "Levi...he...he was in there..." It was no use holding back the tears now. You sobbed hard as regret and sorrow consumed you. All you could think about was the last moments you had with Levi. You had wished you stayed behind and laid in his arms all morning.

Erwin scooped you up into his arms and ran with you to the ambulance to be attended to. There were a few burns on your right arm and debris had caused a large cut on your forehead. As you were helped your eyes never pulled away from the burning warehouse.

You sat up when you saw a firefighter coming out of the building with a fellow firefighter over their shoulder. Your stomach dropped because all you could think about was that could possibly be Levi's body. You gripped Erwin's jacket as you felt weak.

Erwin held you tightly as you sobbed. He felt for you and your pain. He hoped for you that Levi was perfectly fine. He let out a long sigh. Your screams of pain and sorrow were something Erwin had heard before when he had to tell someone their family member, or lover had died in a fire. Erwin never imagined he'd hear that from you.

Erwin flinched when he heard his radio crackle. He stepped away from you and radioed in where he was. He looked up to see the firefighter who had dropped off a fellow firefighter was now jogging over. Erwin frowned a little, looked at the uniform and noticed who it was.

He gasped in shock. "Holy shit. Levi?"

You looked up and stared. The firefighter removed their helmet to show it was the love of your life, Levi. He was covered in soot, ash, blood from someone and a little burn on his jawline, but it was tiny. Your body moved before you realised what you were doing. You sprinted over to Levi.

Levi dropped his helmet when he noticed you in the ambulance. As soon as you ran towards him he started running too. He yanked off his jacket to remove the dirt off him. Below his jacket was his perfect body covered in sweat. He tackled you into his arms and picked you up. Your sobs in his ear made his heart sting.

Levi buried his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. He sobbed your name. "It's okay. I'm here. I right here."

"I th-thought I l-lost you."

He carried you to the ambulance and sat on the back with you on his lap. "You know me. I'm strong. Nothing can stop me."

You sniffed a lot as you tried to rub your tears away. "I'm sorry."

Levi frowned. "What are you sorry for?"

You shook a little. "For this morning. All I could think about was I made a big mistake. I should have stayed with you this morning. You're my world, Levi. I'm sorry."

Levi cradled your face in his hands. "Don't be sorry, okay? You know what I'm like, I pout a bit when I don't get you all the time." He hummed a laugh. "I'm needy for cuddles."

You giggled a bit. "So am I."

He leaned closer and kissed you. "Have you been letting this morning get to you?"

"Yeah."

He sighed your name. "I love you and this morning was me being a bit of a toddler. Please, don't regret your choice, okay?"

"Okay."

He smiled at you. "Plus, I'll always come back to you, okay? You're not getting rid of me." He kissed you over and over. "I love you."

"I love you, Levi."

He hugged you tightly. "We both need a bath."

"We do." You lightly traced patterns on his arm. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a tiny burn on my jawline, but that's nothing. You got more hurt than me. Explosions are deadly."

You lifted your head. "How did you survive that blast?"

"I found a place in the building for my colleagues and me to hide before the blast." He nodded to the ambulance. "The colleague over there just as a fucked up leg from it going through the floor."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "I should have more faith in you."

"Darling, I would have felt the same way as you if the roles were reversed." He kissed you and hummed. "We'll go home once I've run everything by Erwin, okay?"

You nodded. "Okay."

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kabukipookie · 2 months

Note

Hey I’d like to request nfsw Yae Miko and M!reader, haven’t seen many fics like this so the premise can be whatever you like :) Ty

Fulfilling a Fantasy∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°｡⁠☆

★⌒ヽ(´ ❥ SUMMARY`)

Finding yourself at a creative stump, Cheif Editor Yae Miko was happy to help you explore the assigned genre ; Fantasy

ᝰ.ᐟ ⤵ cw + genre

Dom! Yae Miko x amab! reader

use of 'baby' & 'dear' , praise, begging(reader), fem dom (miko), cunnilingus, i did my best- please leave constructive criticism!

ᝰ.ᐟ ↪ wc ####

@kabukipookie × TMBLR original work

a/n at the end ♡ (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

INTERACT AT YOUR DISCRETION ❤️‍🔥

Being a freelancer in Inazuma before the Vision Hunting Decree was abolished was a bit harsh. The state of affairs had a severe effect on your creative inspiration.

Despite this, you had to pay bills. You had a due date to get a draft for a new book to the executive editor. Miss Yae Miko.

The prompt was also so very unclear. Just what did she want? She's never been so vague. Maybe the market isn't doing good.

Once establishing yourself as a writer, god did it have its ups and downs. . . But, worries quickly dissipated after being scouted as an exclusive writer; Your works would be carried by Yae Publishing House.

Meeting her for the first time was a scene. How did she know how to get under everybody's skin? She knew exactly what buttons to press.

You received a letter from the Publishing House, and later a meeting was set to discuss terms.

You had to hike up to meet Miko, the shrine maidens were a bit more than confused however; She never had people visit above.

The meeting went about as well as it could, you didn't know it was unusual for her to specifically invite someone up to the shrine.

Work was stable, a dream you never thought would be fulfilled.

Yes, the current affairs were an obstacle, more so was the fact the Chief Editor was being so unresponsive.

There was hardly any tension between you two. Y'know, ignoring how you couldn't hold eye contact for anything longer than a glance. Or how the tips of your ears burned whenever her soft fingers glazed yours when passing manuscripts back and forth. A smooth melody played; soft instrumental. Her lips echoed the tune, humming.

It's like this world was made for her, Miko was too perfect. Her presence was perfect, and the scenery around her... Arguably created purely to extenuate her lovely features.

It did feel a little intense when you walked to the Grand Narukami shrine. The day was breezy, pretty pink cherry petals danced in the sky.

From monthly, to weekly walks to visit your boss, the scenery was always so lovely. You couldn't get too mad at the envoy, you'd be enthusiastic about living at such a beautiful peak of Inazuma.

Knuckles clacked against the pristine door, and you hear shuffling before a familiar voice said "Come in."

Sly as a fox, brimming with mischief it felt like. Recently, she has been unusually preoccupied. Stress, probably.

You didn't however, know the days she was taking off and ignoring your mail, she spent fucking herself on her fingers.

It's never easy to be an executive editor, let alone the responsibility of the grand priestess... Once you spoke to a shrine maiden, they led you to Yae Miko's residence.

You enter the building, tote in hand. you spot Yae Miko with her knees folded on top of a tatami mat.

"Oh, Y/n. What could I assist you with ~ ?" She makes a gesture to come sit across from her.

"Ah, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Chief Editor." Timidly, you take a seat and open up your bag.

"Of course not darling. It's my responsibility to help the Inazumians of today."

Straightening out the papers, the ones with an outline as well as some ideas you had jotted down.

You stifle a small grunt of amusement.

"Hm? Something funny, dear?" Her head tilts cutely to the side

"Miss editor, I'm a coworker. I do find it a bit funny how seriously you speak to me, but otherwise.." You trail, she looks more relaxed. The atmosphere felt very tranquil.

"--Its just I'm not quite sure what you mean when you told me to write a "Fantasy" Novel. . . I don't mean to be rude, but you know I only have experience with realism."

A nervous look was etched into your features.

You see a smirk at the tips of her pink lips, as she outstretches her arm to begin looking through the papers.

"Oh dear, I guess I should've been more descriptive? I apologize, I've just been so... Busy. Yes that's it "

Her smooth voice infiltrates your ear, diverting your attention to the plain floor. The sound of papers ruffling continues.

"I can try! Do you think you could help me brainstorm? I'm unsure of how to start something like this. I won't take too much of your time, Miss."

She places the papers to the side, fingers finding your shoulder, rubbing gently. Lifting your face to meet her eyes, there's something sultry in her touch.

"Of course, I'm more than happy to."

She leans forward, your cheeks flushed.

Face felt warm and you started to stutter.

"T-Thank You. So, where should we start?"

You contemplate for a minute, restraint quickly leaving just as your resistants did. Her eyes felt like they drilled holes into your being. She's practically stripping you naked in her mind.

"Your fantasies of course. Mind telling me a few? Just to get to know what you have going on inside that head of yours."

You blink. Huh?

"I'm not sure that... Uhh..."

"Y/n, don't be shy." Her hand moves to your neck, rubbing a circle with her thumb before as she continues.

"What comes out of your mouth today is prayers. Okay, Dear? As a maiden, I'll keep your secrets." Her lips find your neck, littering your collarbone with feathery open kisses.

She quickly pulls back and stares at you as if this was a usual meeting between you both.

Hopefully, you plead with the gods to let this become a common occurrence .

"So tell me." The way she said it was so obviously a demand, could you do anything but obey?

"Uh.. I don't have many fantasies. It's quite.. Err.. fulfilling to be a writer. Especially with an editor like yourself." You toss her a nervous smile.

"Quite the sweet talker, now..."

The way she looked at you, like she wanted to just..

Eat

You

Up.

Working with Yae Miko isn't easy, the way she's so cunning makes you feel almost insignificant. . . However, Now? It just made the tightness in your briefs feel so... Uncomfortable!

She finds her way on top of you, hips straddling yours, cunt pushed up against your member.

Your hands find her hips, pulling her closer and practically high off her scent. Peachy, sweet. Every part of her overloaded your senses, every bit of you felt so weak against her.

"This is okay right, Miko?" You look for confirmation before exposing her chest. She smiles, almost too innocent compared to how she was keening to your touch, panties were damp and god, you could feel it.

"Let me tell you something, Dear." Her tongue slid up the shell of your ear.

"My fantasy is you." Her voice was airy, you felt like you were dreaming. "Indulge me m'kay? I wanna hear you beg to touch me, can you do that for me?"

"Yes!- I mean, of course, Miko..."

You pull her in for a kiss, it was so kind. Too sweet for the way you wanted to be ruined by her. Too sweet, in contrast to your mouth being invaded by her sweet scent. The way she craved her pussy to be spread with your tongue, she needed you now.

"F-Fuck… Miko…" You feel her smile against your lips as she sways her hips.

"Please let me undress you." Eyes glimmered, gaze softened, "Who baby?" Yae slyly says.

Confused, you spit out the first word that came to mind.

"Mommy please.." God... Shame ran through your veins, the kind that also runs elsewhere. A chuckle reverberates through your ears.

"Hmph, You're too precious." She lifts herself from your lap, allowing you to slip her perfectly tailored kimono from her figure.

Touches burned, everywhere. It was like a stinging; without your touch. She needed to feel you, have you bow down to her. Begging her to let her walls squeeze you.

Her supple skin was in view, your lips latching around a nipple quickly.

Her hand grips your locks, tugging slightly while a 'tsk' comes out, alongside a small moan. You look up to her while you continue to suck on her tits like a baby.

"I want you between my thighs, okay Baby?"

"There you go.." Yae Miko coos, petting your head as you are between her knees. Her kimono was undone at the front, and hair cascaded over her shoulders. Your hand finds her inner thigh, face to face with her clothed cunt.

Sliding your finger to the band of her panties, you remove the garment. Her pussy was so pretty, walls fluttering around nothing while it gushed out sweet nectar you wish you could drown in. You flick your tongue out, licking her thigh before gently biting it. Your hands had a firm grip on her thigh and waist respectively. Soothing circles were being drawn on her tummy, thighs were being gently sucked on 'till they were bruised and pink.

"Ah! So good, Baby, mhm.." Yae Miko lets out a low groan, hand holding a fist full of your hair as a dark hickey begins to form on her pale smooth thigh.

"C'mon baby, taste me." It was a command, one that made you drool.

Taking a breath, you mumble.

"You taste so good…"

It comes out messy, like the way your tongue is preoccupied with stirring up her tight cunt. You felt slender fingers grasp at your scalp again, just harder. Demanding. You take that as a sign to push your whole muscle into her hole.

"Haahh~! Fuck. Yes-Yes..!"

"F-fuck… You're doing so well baby…You're so desperate. So n-needy."

Finding her clit with your fingers, you gently rub her clit while your tongue dips into her heat.

Licking up her slit, you spread her pretty lips and look into her eyes before diving back in like a starved dog.

"F-fuck-! Haah, that feels so good~!" she moans out, breath light and thighs twitching.

"I-I'm gonna cum... More..." She keens, laying her back on the floor as you go down on her, slurping up every drop of her slick. Increasing the pace on her clit, her back arches into your touch. Her ears are twitching, you feel a fluffy tail thump under your lover's thighs. Such a display, one to savor. If only you could engrave this in your memor-

Light thumps echo from the entrance.

Clack clack clack

You pull away from her core, looking at her face. You're messy with wetness, a tent obvious in your pants.

Visibly annoyed having an orgasm interrupted, she straightens her garments and mumbles "One minute..."

Glancing at you, she leans in for a last, wet sloppy kiss. Miko practically eats you whole, she tastes herself on your tongue. It was so... sloppy.

She grabs you, hand on your cheek after quickly tying her kimono.

"You did so good for me. Did I give you a bit of inspiration?" Her eyes bore into yours, other hand grasping your arm.

"Uhh- Y-Yes. Very much so" You adjust your arms, instinctively hiding your very warm face.

"Well then, I'll let you get started with a draft. Okay? I apparently have matters to attend to..." A wink graces her face, you watch as she slips out the door.

Sitting there, you guess it's only natural for an editor to help her precious writer in need!

hi!! this is my first real fic i guess.. feel free to flood my requests! im a slow writer and im unsure on how to end smut.

either way, thank you for reading. if there are any typos plz lemme know.

much love! - vibi

#yae miko x reader #yae miko x reader smut #male reader #reader insert #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #divider by benkeibear #°^° archive #kabukipookiedookie

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inkpot909 · 11 months

Text

Rohan Kishibe Falling for an Assistant!Reader

↳ Reader’s gender is not defined/is gender neutral. Reader is in college and not a stand user.

A/n: ‘roHan KisHibE wOuLd nEveR hiRe an asSissTant-‘ Rohan Kishibe loses in fights against teenagers. He’s been famous since the age of sixteen; there’s no way he can even do the dishes properly.

Warning(s): Swearing.

Rohan Kishibe began the process of finding a personal assistant not a year after Yoshikage Kira’s death.

Not too long before, the idea of hiring an assistant was one the mangaka would openly mock. Him? Needing assistance? Not a chance. His work ethic is unreal; able to disregard what other artists would consider as valuable help. The Great Rohan Kishibe works solo at every opportunity and everyone ought to know it.

Although his reputation to many of the people around him can be rocky, one would be hard pressed to find anyone with the opinion that he needed an assistant at all.

However, the kind of aid he sought was, for lack of a better term, a glorified maid.

The Kishibe resident itself is big enough to comfortably home a family of five, and Rohan famously lives by himself. And completing tasks associated with home ownership had always been a big pain in the ass to the artist. Too much of his time was wasted on ‘unnecessary’ trivials (things others would describe as regular adult responsibilities).

Not only does he lose precious work time to maintaining a house, but also to grocery shopping, sending messages to his editors, and even cooking.

In short, he independently searched for someone to take care of his home and busybody tasks on the regular. Releasing an ad, he felt confident that he’d find someone. Even if the job itself turns a handful away, a generous payload would be sure to entice a fair amount of people.

Trudging through resume after resume, interview after interview, Rohan eventually came across you.

A young college student, taking a small yet steady stream of classes. Your resume was average to many your age, but stood out to him for other reasons. Namely, your application was well-written and to the point (something he had increased appreciation for at that stage in the interviewing process). Not only that, but the specific experiences you have had in the workforce was good insensitive as well. The final nail in the coffin was a general feeling of honesty pooling from your written words. Judging by how it was written, he could sense genuine realness. In short, you didn’t bullshit.

Amidst your educational endeavors, you searched tirelessly for a stable income. Spotting Kishibe’s ad, you resolved it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. And as fate would have it, you were contacted in order to set up an interview.

Unsure of what to expect, you dressed yourself up and swallowed your nerves. The interview itself was to take place at a tiny coffee shop in Morioh Cho and you were thankful for the short trip.

Meeting one another at the agreed time, Rohan’s character quickly confused the hell out of you (as much as it was intriguing). He’s certainly the type to leave a lasting first impression, while seeming careless to your own thoughts on him.

It was intimidating, overwhelming, and admirable all at once.

Also, he made it clear his work’s extremely important to him, the sole reason behind why he searched for help in the first place. More time to work; more time to dig for inspiration.

His dedication is what truly sold you, finding it weirdly motivating. Within just fifteen minutes of speaking to him, you’d forgotten that he’s only a year or two older than yourself.

That was, until the interview went on longer and he let it slip that certain worries plague him. Especially between chapter releases. The prospect almost made you sad; both his ego and anxiety possibly due to being a well-renown artist from a relatively young age.

Your personal response to the questions plaguing your brain was to disregard them, and instead focus on an expectant Kishibe. His eyes were sharp, looking down at you and impatiently awaiting a response to a question you completely missed.

You didn’t need to hear the exact words, though. Smiling sheepishly, you reached out your hand and shook his own. In the back of your mind, it was assumed any answers to your questions would eventually arrive one way or another.

They were bound to, considering Rohan Kishibe was- from that moment onward -officially your boss.

And to say it was a rough start for the both of you would’ve been an understatement.

Initially, you were a little shy about making any more assumptions or even observations. Hell, you were shy in general. Adjusting to the new job became a top priority over any curiosity about your peculiar boss. But when working with a man like Rohan Kishibe, it’s difficult not to hang over his every last word despite yourself.

However, time brings with it familiarity. Not only with a usual work routine, but with Rohan himself. His initial sternness made meeting his expectations all the more satisfying. Without a doubt, you were proud of how quick you got into the swing of things.

He prioritized quietness and swiftness, but was also surprisingly fair. Even after accustoming to the work environment, he always comments on a job well done.

Except for when he’s deeply invested in his work. To you, it’s difficult to tell if he even notices your presence upon entering the art room. However, it’s not as if you slipped into the background, but he simply grew used to you being there on occasion.

Months passed. You grew to have less and less questions about a man you no longer called Mr. Kishibe, but instead by his first name.

The two of you don’t necessarily need to speak in order to be communicative. You’re at a point in your relationship now where you found reading into his actions to be surprisingly easy.

That’s an aspect he certainly wasn’t expecting either, not used to such things.

Just the smallest shift of his facial expression- just a lift of a brow -and your eyes light up with understanding. Sure, he can ‘read others like a book,’ but you’ve seemingly mastered the language of Rohan Kishibe’s demeanor without any stand power.

Then he notices that you’ve started doting on him. An extra selection of sugar with his morning tea. Always taking an enthusiastic intrest whenever he shares his art. And a specific kind of contentment or pride you put into your work that he honestly would have never foreseen.

For the longest time, he was adamant that he wouldn’t use his stand to peak at your past and present. His power had grown considerably, and became more selective of who he investigates. However, his curiosity overcomes a sense of restraint on his own abilities.

He couldn’t help but take a peak. Besides, he could find something usual for his writing. Regardless of whether or not he did, he found something else as well. Written in on your second page, his name was the most recent in a list of people you harbor (or have harbored) feelings for.

Rohan can move on after that. No problem. It wasn’t the first time he’s found his own name written down in someone’s book as a crush. It’s nothing to pester you about; nothing to even ponder. Nope. Just go back to work. Not a hint of romance is going to suddenly appear in his manga (it’s psychological horror, why would it be?) out of thin air.

A week passes. Two weeks pass. He’s become a little more silent as of late, but it’s nothing you care to mention at all. Rohan gets absorbed in his work often, and you figure you’ll get the chance to ask him about his work a later time.

Your patience is respectable; it’s downright endearing. But the lack of investigation on your part made his teeth grind together in frustration.

He doesn’t think of you that much. Not really; don’t flatter yourself. His mind just lingers on your memory when you leave. Rohan’s thoughts merely turn to you when introducing a noticeably beautiful character in Pink Dark Boy. And it’s nothing special that he gets agitated when he doesn’t see you for a few days.

While you put him out of your mind (the thought of him is far too flustering), Rohan’s lingers on your more and more. The glances he throws at you dwadle, observant in the way you’ve been for months.

Standing in the front hall of Rohan’s home, your body is leaning against the wall while you pull your shoes on. The sun hangs low in the sky, kissing the horizon line. A pinkish blush spreads across Morioh Cho, dusk signaling the end of your work day. While making your effort, footsteps travel from the top floor and down the stairs.

Lifting your head, a smile spreads across your face when meeting your boss’s gaze. He’s made his way to the bottom of the stairs, stopping a comfortable distance in front of you. “Taking a break?” you ask gently.

“For a short while,” he confirms, before adding in a mumble, “Although I know you’d lecture me about working late.”

“You said it, not me,” you jest, straightening your back upright after slipping on your shoes. You fold your hands behind you, long coat softly swaying as you momentarily rock back and forth on your feet.

“Only so you don’t say it yourself.” Rohan crosses his arms, shifting his weight onto his right foot.

“Because you prefer the sound of your own voice?”

Rohan opens his mouth, only to close it anticlimactically a moment later. His brows furrow, and eyes dart away from your person. Biting the inside of his cheek puffs out his lips subtly.

It’s times like this that you wished you were the artist. He’s so insistent on capturing reality, in all it’s forms. But he’d be your muse of choice. Yet he neglects that he’s a work of art himself, you mentally note with an audible giggle.

Rohan’s demeanor changes, his pondering expression morphing into a curious one. It merely strengthens your smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rohan,” you finally speak.

“Yes, of course,” he replies dismissively, as if it was redundant of you to mention.

Chuckling once more, you move forward. The mangaka’s breathing catches in his throat when you wrap your arms around him, and forehead collides with his chest. The hug is short, but noticeably warm.

You pull away far too quickly, waving him ‘goodbye’ and going on about buying him a St. Gentleman’s sandwich for lunch the following day while walking out the door. Rohan merely nods, watching the front door delicately shut behind you.

He’s stunned. Unmoving in his spot, only his eyes blink dumbfoundedly. Is he really going to head upstairs like nothing happened? Even now? Just continue working a few more hours of the night away? Maybe he should mull you over in his mind for a moment or two. Maybe for a couple of minutes. The way he’s starting to feel around you may not be a problem, but it certainly is something isn’t it?

He bites his lower lip, silently cursing your name. He attempts to ward away the rising heat on his cheeks with a shake of his head. For once, he’s glad he cannot use his stand to read his own mind. Because even without such ability, he has no doubt it would clearly state that The Great Rohan Kishibe has grown much to close to his assistant.

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kalamity-jayne · 1 year

Text

Seriously, I love John Wick so freaking much. Like, the plot is incredibly dumb and kind of silly but the plot is very much besides the point; the point of the film is the exquisitely choreographed fight scenes and expert stuntwork, playing out on stunning set pieces and executed with impeccable cinematography.

It's the kind of traditional blockbuster that no one really makes anymore. There's no confusing fights scenes composed of messy CGI and VFX, it doesn't look like a video game, it's long but doesn't feeeeel long, there's no quipy bullshit making my eyes roll out of my skull, and just doesn't have that artificial, screen tested to death feel that other blockbusters just ooze these days. Like, the only cgi I really noticed was during certain scenes with the dog, which is for obvious reasons (I'm sure there was some other cgi when it came to the people but there's just a whole lot more you're not allowed to do with animal actors).

Like, it's a movie that doesn't try to please everyone and yet with a fairly restrained budget manages to deliver a level of entertainment that none of the really big tent poles could even hope of achieving, even with their bloated budgets.

#an assistant editor speaks #film #movies #John Wick #cinema nerd

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lucky-clover-gazette · 1 month

Text

Mask Off 🍌

Traysi, head editor of the Lucky Clover Gazette, has been kidnapped by the Yiga Clan! Will Link be able to save his friend before she falls victim to his not-greatest-but-still-somewhat-frustrating enemies?

Chapter 1/? (2096 words)

“It’s those guys,” Penn mutters, more to himself than anyone else. He motions to his own face. “You know, the ones with the…” “Noses?” asks the stablehand. “No, the masks! They all wear masks!” Link’s blood goes cold. The Yiga Clan has kidnapped Traysi. What in Hyrule did she write?

Read the rest on ao3 or under the cut:

Rumor Mill: Volume 2

Greetings from Traysi—your source for the best gossip and news!

Have you been hearing any good stories on your travels? I've got a great one for you today!

The Sword that Seals the Darkness

The only one who can wield this sword carries the blood of the hero in their veins.

That's what they say about this special blade! Rumor has it the blade has been hidden away in a forest somewhere...

I have to admit that this rumor really has me interested, but sometimes you have to face reality.

My reality is... There isn't any hero in my bloodline, so this sword would just be a big paperweight to me...

Traysi's Recommendation: ★☆☆☆☆

- The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

─────────────────

“HEEEEEEEYYYYY!”

Link pockets a brightbloom seed and sighs. That voice is unmistakable—there must be trouble up above. His journalistic partner Penn has a knack for placing himself in newsworthy situations.

He raises his hand towards the ceiling and ascends to the surface, right beside the cooking pot and a light brown Hylian Retriever. Penn, an unusual-looking Rito, speaks frantically to the stable attendant Kenyo.

“She’s gone!” Penn exclaims, waving his wings in the air. “The boss, she’s been kidnapped!”

Link’s frown deepens. Penn’s boss is also technically his boss, and she’s not the kind of boss that leaves a heart container when she’s killed. If Traysi, lead editor of the Lucky Clover Gazette, is really in danger… well, she isn’t exactly a castle knight. He’s not even sure she knows how to use a sword.

Wait. Kidnapped?

“I’m sorry, sir,” says Kenyo, “but I’m not sure how I can help.”

Penn groans. “Where’s a hero when you need one?”

Link isn’t surprised by Penn’s obliviousness. He tends to go relatively unnoticed while traveling, due to his small stature and typically casual dress. Sure, some people recognize the sword on his back and his magical arm, but they’re few and far between. And in Penn’s case, their boss has intentionally kept him in the dark about Link—for ‘journalistic objectivity,’ she’d once privately explained.

“It’s those guys,” Penn mutters, more to himself than anyone else. He motions to his own face. “You know, the ones with the…”

“Noses?”

“No, the masks! They all wear masks!”

Link’s blood goes cold. The Yiga Clan has kidnapped Traysi.

What in Hyrule did she write?

He clears his throat, but Penn remains fixed on Kenyo. Link sighs, grabs a nearby wooden spoon, and hits it against the side of the cooking pot.

“Link!” Penn exclaims, darting over to the familiar face. “My faithful reporting assistant! Something absolutely terrible has happened to our esteemed editor.”

Link nods. Penn glances behind his back, suddenly suspicious. “Do you know a place we can talk… privately? They could be anywhere. I trust you with the details, but everyone else…”

Penn eyes the Hylian Retriever suspiciously. Link would find his wariness rather silly, if not for the fact that the Yiga Clans regularly disguise themselves as random Hylians, cuccos, and even trees just to ruin his day.

He leads Penn to the well and climbs over the edge.

“Wait!” Penn whisper-yells. “You expect me to go down there?!”

Link meets his eyes, willing him to understand. Our friend is in danger. We don’t have time to waste.

Before the Calamity, Link had restrained himself from speaking out of duty. He’d been a rather gregarious child, but took a voluntary vow of silence just before his assignment as Princess Zelda’s knight. Over time, he’d grown comfortable enough in her presence, and her presence alone, to occasionally speak. But it usually felt like a favor to her, more than anything else. As a very vocal person herself, it made sense that she’d see his speech as a sign of growth.

After his century of restoration, Link had traveled the world for nearly a year. Not with his father, not with the knights or Champions, not even with Zelda herself—just him, alone. And he didn’t really have a reason to speak. Most things were on a strictly need-to-know basis, and he’d ultimately freed the Divine Beasts alone. He’d found other ways to communicate with his newfound allies, people from a time that wasn’t even his. He was a visitor in their world, send from the past to save them all.

So he did save them all, and Princess Zelda too. But then time... just kept passing. And they all just kept living. Distant allies became close and treasured friends, and all the places he used to just visit became his home.

These days, Link occasionally does talk, mostly to keep other people safe and informed. The fact that he can do this without issue is a great improvement to the way he’d silenced himself before the Calamity. Especially after the Upheaval, his voice has served him well.

But mostly, when he is given the choice, Link still prefers to remain silent. He often finds that words only complicate the world’s simple truths anyway. His friends do their best to respect his unique communicative habits, although it occasionally causes some frustration. Eventually, even Zelda came to understand that his silence is a choice, rather than a limitation. Link has always admired that quality of hers—the willingness to change.

He pictures the Light Dragon soaring through Hyrule’s skies and winces at his own poor choice of words. Yet another reason he prefers silence.

“Fine,” Penn groans, glaring distastefully down the well. “But only because the boss is in trouble.”

Link gives him a thumbs-up and slides himself inside. The fall is brief and broken by a small pool of water. Several hot-footed frogs scatter as he wades over to dry land.

Penn drifts downward into the small cave, skipping the water entirely. He regards the moss and lichen with mild disgust. “Do you spend a lot of your time in these kinds of places, partner?”

Link shrugs. He rather enjoys the sound of rushing water, and the quiet stable music from above. A sticky lizard falls onto him from the ceiling and he doesn’t even flinch.

“What was that?!” Penn exclaims, as the yellow creature skitters away. “Oh, forget it.”

Link gestures to an imaginary mask on his face. Mimicry, he’s found, can be an incredibly effective method of communication.

“Right,” says Penn, nodding his determination. “Okay, I’ll give you the scoop.”

Link plucks a nearby brightcap and bites into it like an apple.

“Ever since the Princess Zelda case went cold,” Penn tells him, “the boss has been searching for new leads to follow. First it was the disappearance of the Guardians and Sheikah technology, but when we sent investigators to Kakariko Village they were all turned away. But we both know that Traysi never gives up, so she kept digging on her own.”

Link raises an eyebrow and points to himself. Why didn’t she ask me?

Penn bursts out laughing. “Sorry, pal, but I think all that Sheikah stuff might be a little above your pay grade.”

Penn may be oblivious to Link’s true identity, but Traysi isn’t. She knows exactly who he is, although he supposes he’s not exactly the easiest person to track down. He should visit the Gazette more often, to give her the opportunity to check in. He still enjoys her company, even though he’s already earned the Froggy Armor and learned Zelda’s fate.

Which… maybe that’s why Traysi hasn’t asked him for help. When she’d asked what happened to Zelda, Link just teleported himself away, hoping that she’d run with the Demon King story instead.

“And there’s always the Demon King,” Penn continues, “but all we have on him is history. Traysi says people don’t care about history, they want current events. And we can only run the headline ’Demonic Demagogue Does Dastardly Deeds in Desolate Depths’ so many times before people start to complain. Although maybe it’s the alliteration, not the repetition, that really gets under their skin…”

Link takes another loud bite out of the raw mushroom.

“Anyway,” Penn continues, “the Guardian stuff was a no-go. But she found something else while looking into the Sheikah, a story she seemed even more excited to chase: the Yiga Clan.”

That surprises Link. He had no idea that the Yiga were connected to the Sheikah—although in retrospect, their symbol literally being the upside-down Sheikah symbol isn’t exactly subtle.

“We’ve mentioned them before in the Gazette,” Penn explains, “but only while debunking rumors about the Princess. They do like to disguise themselves as Zelda, huh?”

That, they do. The worst time was on the Great Plateau, where a not-Zelda had been waiting for Link at a fire near the Cave of Resurrection. For just a second, he’d let his guard down and hoped it was her. But then he looked up at the sky and saw the Light Dragon overhead.

Like all Yiga footsoldiers, not-Zelda had managed to teleport away before Link could land a final blow. Normally Link is fine with that—he’s not exactly eager to take Hylian lives—but in that specific instance he would have been very tempted to make an exception.

“I’m sure it drives her swordsman crazy,” says Penn. “Poor guy.”

Link nods sympathetically. Penn proceeds.

“After learning about the Yiga Clan’s history, Traysi started digging into their present operations. She sent a few brave reporters to the Great Plateau, but they all returned empty-handed. All they found were some perfectly nice travelers and researchers and a few weird frog statues.”

Link points to Penn. Why didn’t you go?

Penn shake his head. “Way too dangerous, partner. We’re writers, not fighters. I have no idea how you managed to survive so many scuffles while we were in the field. And Traysi… she’s mentioned looking after herself during the Rumor Mill days, but it’s been years since she’s been on the beat.”

Link remembers meeting Traysi during his post-Calamity adventures, when she’d been kept out of Gerudo town despite her gender very much being female. From the conversations he overheard between Traysi and the guard, it seemed that they’d simply found her annoying.

“I came into work today and she was gone,” Penn recalls. “I searched the entire stabl—uh, base of operations—but the only thing I found was…”

He pulls a familiar red talisman out of his messenger bag. Link is all-too-familiar with the Yiga Clan’s literal calling card.

He points to his own eyes. Did anyone else see anything?

“Juannelle spent the night in Rito Village and Douma is chasing down a lead in Goron City,” Penn reports. “Really, what’s the point of running a newspaper with your sisters if they can’t even save you from kidnapping?”

Link wonders if anyone in the history of Hyrule has ever said those words in that order before.

“Oh, and Galli’s on paid leave because he threw out his back chopping wood.”

Link finishes his mushroom and takes the Yiga talisman from Penn.

“Good idea,” says Penn. “Find a hero and pass that on to them. It might be a hard ask, though—it seems like most people are completely unaware of the Yiga Clan.”

Penn might be surprised that most Hylians haven’t noticed the Yiga Clan, but after eight years in this post-Calamity world Link has accepted that most people experience life in a very different way from himself. They have no reason to pay attention to mysterious assassins or giant bleeding chasms, because those things aren’t their duty to confront. Most normal Hylians spend their time thinking about what to make for breakfast, or admiring the sunset over the sea.

Link often reminds himself that he, too, deserves to indulge in life’s simplicities. It’s why he took the job at the Lucky Clover Gazette, instead of simply investigating Princess Zelda’s disappearance on his own. It’s why he spends hours a week transporting koroks to their friends, even though Hestu has already fully upgraded his weapons capacity. And it’s why even now, long after he solved the mystery of Zelda’s fate, he still occasionally stops by the Gazette’s headquarters in the old Rito stable. Because Penn and Traysi are his friends, and he likes to make sure they’re okay.

It’s nice to remind himself that most of his friends are okay.

“I’ll hold down the fort while you search,” Penn tells Link. He seems quite relieved to have someone else on this specific case. “SOAR LOOOOOONG!”

Penn salutes, as he always does, and then he flies directly into the ceiling. Link offers him a mushroom to offset the damage.

#my writing #loz #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk #traysi totk #traysi botw #totk link #totk penn #yiga clan #yiga clan oc

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xsweetcatastrophe · 7 days

Text

You Broke Me First

Part 17

Zoe had a smile on her face from the second she got that text from Cillian, all throughout the hot shower she took, picking out clothes, getting dressed, picking up coffee and driving to work.

She picked out a white sleeveless bodysuit with structured shoulders, black pleated dress pants and some mules. She put on her gold bracelets that her grandmother passed down to her when she died (they were in her jewelry box collecting dust) and put on some gold necklaces and earrings. Instead of straightening her hair or putting it in a messy bun like usual, she decided to add some product to it and let it stay wavy, blow drying it upside down and scrunching it so it had volume. Zoe's hair was naturally very wavy and normally she hated it, but she decided to embrace it today.

I look like a lion, she thought to herself as she took one final look in the mirror.

Zoe arrived at work and walked in with her head held high. She walked down the long hallway towards her office, past the cubicles of junior writers that once stared her down. She felt confident, she felt happy, she felt wanted. Cillian had transformed her entire mood. If she knew one blackout night and a sloppy facetime call to him would change everything, she would of done this a long time ago.

She closed her office door, set her bag and coffee down, and sat at her desk. First things first - music. She opened her spotify and shuffled her "liked songs" playlist.

She took out her notebook and opened to the most recent page. She always made a "to do" list for the following day at the end of her day. Since she didn't get anything done on Monday, she wanted to speed through her to do list for Monday and play catch up for today:

Monday:

schedule Emma Stone interview- get talking points and questions

try and get contact info for wardrobe assistant for Poor Things - check with Casey from accounting?? cousin was a PA on set or something??

follow up with editor for Cill article --- where is it haven't had any feedback in weeks?????

see if can get invite for new PR firm party next month - Jlo should be there with Ben

speaking of ben - see if i can get a contact for jennifer garner, want to do segment for her Pretend Cooking Show and possibly do ina Garten collab -- pitch to Donna first

Zoe didn't get a chance to get started on anything before there was a knock on the door.

"Come in-" Zoe started, but the person had walked in anyway. "Oh, hey Mia"

Mia was one of the junior writers at Zoe's job. She latched onto Zoe as a mentor and always asked her to proofread her articles and, in turn, became somewhat close to Zoe.

Mia closed the door and sat down in the chair across from Zoe.

"Something is going on and you're not telling me" Mia said.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem... happier... well no shit, you're dating a movie star, I bet you jetted off to San Tropez for the weekend and spent it on a yacht" Mia said.

"Mia, you couldn't be more wrong" Zoe said, laughing while reminiscing of her spilling out of the dive bar Sunday night. Not exactly San Tropez.

"Ugh, I hate you so much," Mia said, leaning back into the chair and looking up at the ceiling. "How does it feel to be the envy of every girl ever?"

"Oh, stop it" Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

"Zo, you're dating Tommy Shelby. Girls have wet dreams about being with Tommy Shelby."

"I'm not dating Thomas Shelby" Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

"He still has the haircut. So at least you can pretend" Mia pointed out.

"Do you need help with something?" Zoe said, half jokingly and half serious. She felt uncomfortable talking about her relationship with Cillian, mainly because she still didn't feel comfortable lying about it. She rather avoid the entire topic all together.

"Just tell me one thing, please" Mia said, leaning forward in her chair, elbows on her knees and lowering her voice, "Is the sex good at least? Tell me it's mind blowing"

Couldn't tell ya, Mia, Zoe thought.

"Its... it's indescribable" Zoe settled on. Not exactly a lie, right? You can't describe what you don't remember.

"Ugh, I bet!" Mia said, standing up. "I'll tell you one thing" She continued as she walked towards the office door, "If he ever comes to visit you and I'm alone with him the elevator, i can't make promises I won't keep my hands to myself" She said, sticking her tongue out.

"You're a creep, close my door" Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

Before the door could click shut, it swung open again.

"Hi Honey!" Donna said dramatically, walking in.

"Hey Donna" Zoe smiled sweetly.

"Listen, sweetie, about your Cillian article," Donna paused, "I think it's best if we shelf it for the time being."

Zoe was heartbroken. "What???" why? it's with the editors, I was actually going to follow up so I can get it to publishing"

"Actually, I pulled it from the editors last week and it's been with me on my desk all this time" Donna said, looking out the windows behind Zoe's desk.

"What? why?" Zoe asked again.

"I just think... We, the partners feel that with your current 'relationship' status that an article written by you about him wouldn't exactly go over well" she stated.

"So it's a dead interview?" All that work for nothing. She's in a fake relationship because of this interview! well.... not fake feelings... I think.. Zoe thought, started to spiral.

"We are thinking about how to proceed, we might shelf it, or we might re-do the piece with Cynthia conducting the interview instead"

Zoe saw red. "Donna" She started

"Oh Zoe don't start. Enough with this rivalry. You need to bury this" Donna said, walking towards the door. "Again, no decision has been met yet, I just wanted to keep you posted. Lets do lunch later this week sweetie, i'll see you later" She said, leaving just as fast as she arrived.

Zoe sat there in silence, trying to figure out how she felt about those two interactions.

On one hand, she liked that she was the envy of the females, according to Mia. Even though it's technically a contract relationship, the feelings are real... right? right.

As for the piece... that flat out pissed her off. Cynthia and Zoe got hired at the same time, but where Zoe had to show a lengthy portfolio of articles she's done, Cynthia's father "donated" new Mac computers to the entire building. Her heart wasn't in the storytelling part of journalism, she wanted to be close to celebrities and be one. Granted, Zoe was the one who was now dating one..... but Zoe didn't intend for that to happen. Cynthia tries to date everyone she interviews - what if she makes a move on Cillian??? No, she wouldn't. She knew they were in a relationship... right?

Zoe threw her pen on her desk and leaned back in her chair. This day started off so promising, so positive and happy, and now she had a knot in her chest.

Just then, her phone went off, a text.

From Cillian.

Dinner tonight? your place? unless you're sick of me xx

Zoe smiled.

-My to do list got cut in half, i'm leaving here at 4. Gonna stop at the store first, meet at my place at 5? -sounds good love. xx

Okay, that's something to look forward to I guess. Zoe thought. She'll pick up a bottle of wine and relax with her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend.... her"boyfriend"? Her contractually obligated boyfriend?

Cillian. She'll relax with Cillian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoe pulled up to her apartment to Cillian sitting on the front steps. She parked and hopped out of the car carrying the bottle of wine.

"Hey you" Cillian said, standing up and immediately pulling her into a kiss. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you" Zoe smiled. She looked behind him on the steps and noticed the pizza box. "Pizza night?" She asked.

"Yea, I didn't know what to get last minute, and didn't want to show up empty handed, and I figured it's a safe bet" He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Of course pizza is a safe bet. Lets go upstairs" She said, silently thanking god that she straightened up her apartment before she left that morning.

They went up the stairs and entered the apartment, placing the pizza and wine on the counter.

Zoe turned around, half expecting Cillian to pounce on her. She knew there was sexual frustration since last night, and she wanted to continue what they started.

But, much to her dismay, Cillian began to get the wine glasses out of the cabinet and uncork wine, pouring Zoe a glass first. He carried the pizza box and his wine to the coffee table, placing them down and sitting on the couch in front of it. He opened the pizza box before yelling back to her "Hey, can you grab napkins for us?"

Hm. okay. a little bit too domesticated for me tonight, but okay, Zoe thought, grabbing some napkins. She kicked off her shoes and sat next to him on the couch, accepting a slice from him.

They made small talk about their day, and Zoe asked how the house hunting went. Cillian's mood suddenly changed.

"It's turning into a nightmare" He said, shaking his head.

"Why?"

Cillian sighed. "because now that she signed the papers, she wants this done, like yesterday. As if she wasn't the one who dragged this out for so long. She wants me out of the house in the next couple of days or else the buyer is gonna walk away. So I need to be out of the house by Thursday"

Zoe stopped chewing. "Cillian... its literally Tuesday"

"Yea, no shit" Cillian huffed. "I found a house, put in an offer, but no way it'll be ready by Thursday. It's fine. I have my assistant looking for an airb&b for me in the meantime, but I have to board Scout, which I don't like"

Zoe had an idea.

"Well... you can stay here" Zoe said.

Cillian looked at her. "I don't know, love, I don't want to be in your way-"

"This sounds like a conversation we had last yesterday, except roles were reversed" Zoe laughed. "But I'm serious. I'm assuming all of your furniture is going to storage, correct?"

Cillian nodded. "They started today actually"

"So pack a bag for a couple of days, bring Scout, and stay here. Stay for as long as you need. I know it's not much, we have ubers here, the streetlight outside flickers all night, the hot water takes a minute to get luke warm, if you want hot you gotta wait about 5 minutes, and the walls are a little thin, but it's not that bad. And you're more than welcome here" Zoe said, standing up and heading into the kitchen.

"Are you allowed to even have pets here?" Cillian said, standing up and following her.

"Yea it's fine, there are dogs here. And this way if the house falls through, you can look for another one and not have to worry about extending the airb&b or finding a new one"

Zoe was drying her hands on the dishtowel when she felt Cillian wrap his arms around her from behind, nuzzling into her neck. "But where would I sleep?" He teased.

Zoe smiled. "Scout and I already claimed the bed. You sir are getting the couch" She teased back.

"mhmmm, and I bet you'll be on the couch with me before you fall asleep" He said, starting to kiss your neck.

Zoe rolled her head to the side, making it easier for him to kiss her neck. He squeezed her tighter in his arms, making Zoe sigh and relax into him. He suddenly stopped and spun her around; she was now facing him, nose to nose, still trapped in his arms.

"Ok," He whispered. "But you gotta let me help out"

"Help with what?" Zoe laughed. "It's not hard to manage a 900 square foot apartment, I assure you"

"I could be a pain, you could end up hating me by the time this is done" He said softly, hands traveling from her back to her hips, right where the hem of her jeans sat.

"I could handle you" Zoe responded, which prompted Cillian to raise an eyebrow and smirk.

"Alright love," He said, fingertips gently dipping into her jeans, rubbing the soft flesh of her stomach.

"You wanna play house? Lets play house."

tags: @lau219 @shopgirl6us

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy

16 notes · View notes

taylors-fourth-cat-meow · 1 year

Text

Answering this ask because my clumsy ass deleted the draft of the ans as well as the ask idek how that happened

HERE'S THE COMMENTARY ON ACOFAS CHAPTER 11: THE ONE WHERE RHYISE VISITS A SUICIDAL TAMLIN AND TELLS HIM TO ROT IN HELL 🥰

A tomb.

This place was a tomb.

How can someone be proud of doing something cruel to someone? If they are the saints they claim to be why do this to Tamlin bro? Istg i will NEVER to this understand how on earth did the editors agree to the plotline of the destruction of Spring Court?

Lucien had not come here to make amends during Solstice, I realized as Tamlin opened the door to the dark library.

Lucien had come here out of pity. Mercy.

Bruh why? why? wud he underestimate their bond like that? he speaks as if they hadnt been each others only family for centuries

Tamlin claiming an ornate cushioned chair on one side of it. The only thing he had that was close to a throne these days.

oh fck u little shit atleast tamlin doesnt OPPRESS his people!!

“If you’ve come to gloat, you can spare yourself the effort.”

Tamlin is so non-combative here and people still have the audacity to say Rhysie is the bigger male????

“Do you see any sentries around to do it?”

Even they had abandoned him. Interesting. “Feyre did her work

thoroughly, didn’t she.”

THATS NOT SOMETHING TO BE FUCKING PROUD OF RHYSIE

ISTG this asshole someone needs to kick him in the balls. HARD.

I smiled. “Oh, no. That was all her. Clever, isn’t she.”

No sir she is a dumb teenage girl who taught to destroy a court DURING WARTIME?

tbh if Spring wouldn't have fallen the war would have never gone down i said what i said.

I didn’t smile as I countered with, “I suppose you think I should be

thanking you, for stepping up to assist in reviving me.”

“I have no illusions that the day you thank me for anything, Rhysand, is the day the burning fires of hell go cold.”

my boi tamlin is so savage like??

SLAY

Tamlin deserved what he’d brought upon himself, this husk of a life.

He deserved every empty room, every snarl of thorns, every meal he had to hunt for himself.

Seriously? Tamlin, sweetheart, for the love of good kick this man and his bat dick pls.

Tamlin had burned them long ago, Feyre had told me. It made no

difference. He’d been there that day.

I really want to emphasize that Tamlin DID NOT take part in their death.

Had given his father and brothers the information on where my sister and mother would be waiting for me to meet them. And done nothing to help them as they were butchered.

BRO????

U expect a boy to go against his evil, physically abusive father? NO, strike that.

U WANT A BOY TO GO AGAINT A HIGH LORD?

No tell me? how was Tamlin supposed to fight a HIGH LORD and his brother??? Three against one??

And even if he tried to help them? we will never know? we get only rhysie's side of the story never tamlin's pov

“You brought every bit of this upon yourself,”

Yes yes lets go tell a suicidal person he brought every bit of his misery on himself

Yeh lets all applaud him

“You won,” he spat, sitting forward. “You got your mate. Is that not

enough?”

"No."

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???

MANNNNNNNNNNNNNN

I WANT TO SCRATCH MY EYEBALLS RHYSIE'S EYEBALLS OUT AT THIS POINT

"You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don’t care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don’t care if you still love my mate. I don’t care that you saved her from Hybern, or a thousand enemies before that.”

THIS UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH?!?!?!?!?

PLSSSSSSSSS

Why doesnt he care that tamlin has saved BOTH their lives on MULTIPLE occasions???

at this point 50% of the IC owe their life to tamlin

“I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It’s a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.”

well he isnt even strong enough to keep his people in line and not a hair's breath away from rebellion, i doubt he'll be able to slaughter the HL who tore apart Amarantha, who fought a hundred of Hybern's monsters and soldiers in their camp ALONE, at the same time helping feyre escape AND was able to "drag" another highlord to war

*Drops mike*

But Tamlin only stared. And after a heartbeat, his eyes lowered to the

desk. “Get out.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the bigger male

Tamlin didn’t have shields around the house. None to prevent anyone from winnowing in, to guard against enemies appearing in his bedroom and

slitting his throat.

It was almost as if he was waiting for someone to do it.

This breaks my heart so much. No, Tamlimn doesnt deserve this. NO ONE deserves this. Imagine being OKAY with someone being suicidal?!

#anti sjm #anti acotar #tamlin #anon asks #anti feyre #anti rhysand #anti feysand #pro tamlin #anti sjm stans #anti acowar #anti acofas #rhysand slander #fck rhysand #bigger male my ass #tamlin deserves better

357 notes · View notes

eviesaurusrex · 2 years

Text

Harry Styles x Singer!Reader

Faceclaim: Marina Diamandis

author’s note: Don’t mind me doing another Harry smau. I really tried to keep this one shorter, but obviously, I’m not capable of doing such a thing because I always get carried away. Sorry? :x This one will probably get a pt. 2. And don't mind the gap at the beginning - the tumblr editor still hates me.

Please keep in mind that reblogs are super important for creators/writers (even more so than likes bc that’s just how tumblr works), so please, consider reblogging things you like - it only takes a second or two longer, and we as writers can reach more people who maybe would like the things you already love <3

pt. 2 is here!

;

dailymail YN LN was spotted arriving in Paris today! Later this early afternoon, she was seen on her way to an event location in the 1st arrondissement. She interacted with the crowd of fans, who waited impatiently for the loved and praised singer-songwriter.

Click the link in our bio to read more about YN’s whereabouts these past couple of months in preparation for her Love + Fear Tour!

Liked by yourfan1, yourfan2, yourfan3, ynandharry and 214,687 others | 16,729 comments

yourfan1 my one true queen

yourfan2 She is sooooo preeeeettyyyyyy

yourfan3 I MET HER AND SHE IS THE SWEETEST

↳ yourfan1 Was she as happy as she looks in the picture? 😍

↳ yourfan4 More details please!!!!

↳ yourfan3 She was super happy to see us, and she took so much time to talk to everyone and to take pictures with us and sign CDs and photos and all the stuff even though her manager (or assistant?) always tried to push her to leave because they didn’t have much time. But YN only shook her head, grinned, and went to the next fan. Only thinking about her kindness makes me tear up again 🥹

↳ yourfan1 😩🥰

↳ yourfan4 I’m even more in love now

ynandharry I know that these two will probably never meet, but Harry is in Paris as well (my shipper's heart does things to me) 🫣

↳ hsfan1 You are not alone, dear Harrie 👀

yourinstagram Thank you for having me, vogue! It was an immense honor. And thank you, gucci, for providing the most beautiful necklace I ever had the pleasure to wear (do I have to give it back tho? Just kiddin’. Am I? 🫢 Maybe you should check its authenticity and call James Corden to find the real one 🤫 I exposed my current favorite film, oooops.)

Liked by yourfan1, yourfan2, vogue, harrystyles, gucci and 132,691 others | 48,320 comments

vogue The honor and pleasure was all ours!

j_corden I heard my profiling skills are in need?

↳ gucci Do you mind coming to Paris? 👀

↳ j_corden I can’t. Arsenal is playing this weekend 🤷🏼‍♂️

liked by yourinstagram and 324 others

↳ yourinstagram Don’t mind me hyperventilating over James Corden under my post, referring to one of his lines in my current favorite film bye.

liked by j_corden and 99 others

↳ j_corden You need to practice that if you intend to survive our little chat 👀

↳ yourinstagram Don’t remind me of that dream come true, okay???? (Am I allowed to hug you?)

↳ yourfan1 YN will be at the James Corden Show!!!!!! 😍

↳ j_corden You are. But only because it’s you!

↳ yourinstagram You’re saying that to every single one of us 🤓

↳ j_corden Maybe 😇

ynandharry CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT HARRY LIKED HER POST????

↳ hsfan1 he did???!!! 😱

↳ ynandharry YES 🤯

↳ yourfan1 yes hello hi i am screaming right now bye (and you look like a literal goddess, YN)

liked by yourinstagram and 13 others

↳ yourfan1 and now i’m dying

niallhoran Looking gorgeous, gorgeous. A fairy queen🧚🏼🥰

liked by yourinstagram and 4,232 others

↳ 1d4ever Niall knows her??????? + he speaks the truth

↳ yourfan2 They’re kinda besties 😌

↳ yourinstagram Stop that right now, hubby! ☝🏼

liked by niallhoran and 88 others

CelebrityUpdates Harry Styles followed YN LN on Instagram and other social media platforms!

Liked by hsfan1, hsfan2, yourfan1, yourfan2 and 2,771 others | 879 comments

ynandharry Is it really happening? 🥹

hsfan1 uuuuh i love her!

↳ hsfan2 omg same! Her music is awesome 🤯

yourfan1 When they realize that she is a Harrie… Their screams will be heard on the ISS 😂

↳ yourfan2 Same thought, bestie 😌😅

↳ hsfan3 Excuse me, WHAT??? 😍

↳ hsfan1 your honor, I need them to meet, thank you.

↳ yourfan3 I have the vague feeling that they shortly met during the Vogue/Gucci collab shoot. Just a feeling 👀

liked by hsfan1

↳ hsfan1 Let it be true please!!!

CelebrityStoryTracker yourinstagram via her stories!

yourfan1 I love her.

hsfan1 That’s the proof that she is a true Harrie.

hsfan2 We need Harry to meet her 😩

yourinstagram A story in two and a half acts: Went in, found it, took it.

Now I’m singing to Harry Styles while cleaning the house, and my neighbors have already come over twice, asking if I could turn down the music. I would love to, but I can’t find my headphones, sorryyyyyy.

(There aren’t any neighbors around here. I just wanted to feel cool and rebellious once in my life.)

Liked by harrystyles, yourfan1, niallhoran, selenagomez and 89,771 others | 28,081 comments

selenagomez That’s why you aren’t answering anything, Miss I am rebellious.

↳ yourinstagram I’m texting you know? 👉🏻👈🏻

↳ selenagomez Shame. Shame. Shame. Di-ding! 🔔

↳ yourinstagram I hate you but I love you

liked by selenagomez and 901 others

↳ selenagomez ‘course you do ❤️

liked by yourinstagram and 672 others

↳ SelAndYN I want what they have.

harrystyles I hope my humble album can change the cleaning into something more fun x H.

liked by gemmastyles, niallhoran, yourinstagram and 786 others

↳ hsfan1 HARRY!!!! ❤️

↳ yourfan1 She will go crazy

↳ niallhoran I’m waiting for that scream now, which I probably can hear here in London

↳ yourinstagram *drops dead to the floor*

↳ niallhoran That was the other, also very likely, possibility.

liked by harrystyles, selenagomez and 54 others

↳ yourfan2 You need to sing with her, Harry 😌😩

liked by hsfan1, hsfan2, ynandharry and 8 others

↳ yourinstagram I will mark this day in my calendar.

↳ yourinstagram You gifted us (but more like me personally bc I only can speak for myself) with something very beautiful and ethereal, and I cannot comprehend for the love of this planet what I’m listening to. I’m bowing before your talent and craftsmanship, Mr. Styles x

liked by harrystyles, gemmastyles, taylorswift and 664 others

↳ harrystyles That’s too kind of you, thank you. But I can return that compliment right away x H.

liked by yourinstagram, hsfan1 and 3,331 others

↳ gemmastyles I like you, YN

liked by yourinstagram and 14 others

yourinstagram I’ve arrived in New York City after a nine-hour drive (because my flight got redirected and then there wasn’t a connecting flight), and I can’t wait to see everyone tomorrow night at Central Park! Let’s hope the weather will change for the better and that my scratchy throat is only the symptom of the AC in my car and the 9h long talk with a lovely human to keep me company. But I will be in good hands later this day.

See you tomorrow! x

Liked by yourfan1, selenagomez, yourfan2, ynandharry and 231,080 others | 76,482 comments

yourfan1 Get well soon!

liked by yourinstagram and 3 others

yourfan2 Can’t wait to finally see you tomorrow. I’ve waited so long 😩

↳ yourfan3 I was so lucky to get the ticket of a friend because he can’t go 😭

ynandharry I desperately want that the 9h long talk was with Harry. I’m just gonna imagine that now byyyyye

liked by yourinstagram and 6 others

↳ hsfan1 same. you wanna share some ideas? 😍

↳ ynandharry sure! I’m thinking about writing a blurb about it 👀

↳ hsfan1 Did you see the like…? 😦

↳ ynandharry … i did O.O SQUEALING!!!

selenagomez Why do you always turn the AC so low???? You know how sensitive your throat is! 🙄

liked by niallhoran, taylorswift and 358 others

↳ yourinstagram Sorry mom 🤷🏽‍♀️

↳ selenagomez Whatever. Drink your tea!

↳ yourinstagram 👌🏻

niallhoran Don’t you dare getting sick now 😠

↳ yourinstagram Naaaaah. I’m fine! 🤙🏼💜

yourfan4 i can’t wait for your Toronto show! and your new merch drop!

liked by yourinstagram, yourfan1, yourfan2 and 22 others

↳ yourinstagram The merch is almost good to go. Stay tuned for a couple more weeks! x

↳ yourfan4 YN 🥹❤️

pagesix Harry Styles today in New York City shortly before entering the backstage area of YN LN’s concert!

Liked by dailymailuk, hsfan1, hsfan2 and 15,988 others | 11,763 comments

hsfan1 handsome as always

hsfan2 can’t keep my eyes off him

hsfan3 Okay, we get Harry content, but could you please leave him alone? He clearly had somewhere to be, and he was there privately

↳ hsfan4 plus, it’s always rude to just take pictures and shout questions.

yourfan1 i feel bad for Harry because of the paparazzi, but I’m so happy that he went backstage to see YN🥹

;

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