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perpetual-stories · 1 year

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Tension vs. Conflict: What’s the Difference?

Good morning everyone! It’s my birthday today and because it’s my birthday I thought I’d post today (that’s kind of an obscure reference to Star Wars Guy and his girlfriend lol)!

Conflict and tension in literature help build drama and keep readers engaged through the end of the book. Learning the distinctions between conflict and tension will help elevate your writing and make your storylines more engaging.

What Is Tension in Writing?

Tension in a literary context is the sense that something ominous is right around the corner. Building a large amount of tension as a writer keeps your readers engaged up until the end of the story. Mystery novels are full of tension and foreboding, and they generally feature tense scenes from beginning to end. Working within the genre of mystery writing is a great way to learn how to layer tension into your narrative arc. Good use of tension makes a story worth reading and keeps readers guessing.

3 Tips for Using Tension in Your Writing

Learning to build tension is no easy task. Even the most seasoned professional writers have trouble maintaining tension from beginning to end. Here are a few tips for using tension successfully in your writing:

Foreshadowing: An important part of building tension is using foreshadowing to build dramatic tension and keep readers on the edges of their seats. In Harry Potter, author J.K. Rowling uses flashbacks and backstory to foreshadow the eventual major conflict that will unfold between Harry Potter and the villainous Voldemort.

Inner conflict: Sometimes inner conflict and self-doubt can be layered in through character development and used to build levels of tension. In William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the main character wants to avenge his father’s death but is beset by self-doubt, paralyzing indecision, and mental strain. As an audience, there is a sense of tension in every scene as we wait to see if Hamlet will act on his inner desire for retribution or remain stuck in a place of indecision.

A time limit: One great way to build tension in your story is to place a time limit on an action your character has to undertake. By adding the element of a ticking clock, you build tension and increase stakes. This is a common technique used in thriller novels and films as well as action and adventure stories.

What Are the Differences Between Conflict and Tension?

While tension simmers under the surface, conflict is generally out in the open—it's tension realized. Tension might be present an unspoken rivalry between the protagonist and antagonist or in the audience’s awareness of an impending disaster.

Conflict, on the other hand, involves an active clash; maybe the protagonist and the antagonist engage in a firefight or a heated debate, or maybe a character fights off a pack of animals or works to prevent climate catastrophe. Even if the conflict is interior—a character battling low self-worth, perhaps—it still involves opposing forces struggling for supremacy.

What Is Conflict in Writing?

Conflict can come in many forms. Conflict in a story can be a physical fistfight or a passive-aggressive war of words. All that is required for conflict is a manifestation of disagreement or incompatibility between a character and something else. Characters can be in conflict with other characters, with natural forces, or with society at large.

Another type of conflict is internal conflict. Conflict is one of the fundamental principles of narrative and creative writing. In order to write a story worth reading, you need characters whose point of view is in some way challenged and to whom bad things happen. Without conflict, you won’t have a narrative or any meaningful character arc.

4 Types of Conflict and Tips for Using Them in Your Writing

The kind of conflict you use depends on what your plot and subplots are centered around and what your main character wants and needs. New plot points generally introduce conflict or advance existing conflict. Here are some types of conflict to employ in your writing and a few tips about when and how you migh

Person vs. self: An internal conflict is a kind of conflict that only manifests within a character’s head. Though we may see this conflict dramatized through narration or dialogue, or play out in the protagonist’s actions, it is an internal struggle within a character.

Person vs. person: The simplest and most common form of external conflict is when two characters are in conflict with each other. The first stories we are told as kids generally have a clear good guy and bad guy. These stories are early introductions to person vs. person conflict. Person vs. person conflicts are very common, and it’s rare to find a narrative without an interpersonal conflict present at some point in the story.

Person vs. nature: Conflict between a person and forces of nature is a good example of external struggle that can raise the stakes in a story. Some notable stories that included conflict between a person and a natural force include The Old Man and The Sea by Ernest Hemingway and Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. Consider using person vs. nature conflict if you’re interested in writing a story with one main character and few, if any, supporting characters.

Person vs. society: Conflict between a person and society at large is a type of conflict often found in science fiction. Some notable examples of this type of conflict are found in The Handmaid’s Tale and The Hunger Games series. In The Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen finds herself contending with a dystopian and oppressive United States government that pits citizen against citizen in order to keep dissent down and quell rebellion. If you’re interested in science fiction or narratives about social justice, you might want to consider exploring conflicts that pit an individual character against society at large.

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writersconnection #writerscommunity #short story #storytelling #writersupportingwriters

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cassius-the-kitten · 6 months

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General Headcanons (DDADDS x Reader)

warnings: just a lot of x reader fluff, also swearing in some sections, also some alcohol mentions

Pairings: Brian Harding x Reader, Hugo Vega x Reader, Robert Small x Reader, Mat Sella x Reader

Brian Harding

Brian loves to cook, even if he’s better at grilling. he will cook you bacon, eggs, sausage, and pancakes every morning. it’s honestly a miracle that nothing ends up burnt, because he does it all at once like some sort of multitasking magician.

he may be a general contractor, but he’s got Very clumsy hands. nothing in his house is glass or ceramic because he WILL drop it. it’s all plastic cups from here on out.

thankfully he is very, very careful and extra mindful when he cooks. to the point where you shouldn’t have a conversation with him during his cooking because he will have a hard time keeping up with you due to the 5 million other things he is doing.

his dadbook profile isn’t wrong. he thinks a lot about how much smarter Daisy is than him.

but in Daisy’s defense, Brian is a himbo, through and through.

he cannot get any social cues ever and is absolutely clueless when someone obviously has a crush on him. he’s the type of guy to think you’re just being nice to him when you’re flirting.

he genuinely just likes having friendly competition, he has no clue why the dadsona seems to hate him and is getting so frustrated with losing.

and Brian’s autistic, which actually makes a lot of sense because of him missing every social cue ever.

over half of his wardrobe is button-up shirts and cargo shorts of various colors. he actually wearing socks and sandals… and even crocs. thankfully he sometimes has the decency to wear normal sneakers or even boots outside.

if you get him a button-up shirt, he will love you forever. he basically collects them.

believe it or not, but Brian was born in Florida. his parents just decided to move up to Massachusetts when he was little. his parents have since then moved back down to Florida for retirement. he and Daisy visit them sometimes for the winter holidays. one time they made the mistake of visiting during summer, and have never visited Florida in summertime since then due to the heat.

he is a very warm man. not just when he’s sleeping. he is a furnace. if you hug him for long enough, you will be sweaty by the time you come out of it.

his love language is physical affection. he just loves to pick up people and hug them and cuddle them whenever it’s socially acceptable to do so.

he’s like a dog sometimes. if you have a job and you get home after he does, he will be ECSTATIC and like Maxwell, will immediately come up to the door to greet you with kisses and hugs.

and like a grizzly bear, he’s pretty fond of fish. Brian just prefers whitefish like cod or haddock to salmon, but he’ll eat pretty much anything you put in front of him.

unless it’s spicy. Brian cannot handle any spice hotter than black pepper. on good days he can eat some semi-spicy chicken wings and enjoy himself, but only if he has a lot of water and coleslaw on hand to eat with it.

Brian actually likes piña coladas. it’s his favorite alcoholic drink besides beer, and it’s usually his second choice if he’s got a sweet tooth that day. but he doesn’t drink that often, actually.

honestly, he’s probably gone to Margaritaville with Joseph at one point. Joseph kinda meant it as a date but Brian had no clue and was so oblivious that Joseph thought that it was on-purpose in a passive-aggressive manner.

Hugo Vega

Hugo is autistic and his special interests are wrestling and literature. Ernest is also autistic. i will die on this hill

sometimes he writes a bit of poetry in his spare time, though he’s quite insecure about it so he has never shown it to anyone. a lot of them have allusions to other pieces of literature or wrestling.

the poetry writing is funny because i imagine that when he was first put into a poetry course in highschool he probably Hated it because he just couldn’t pick up much on the metaphors and the tone of the piece (just like me fr). but later in his life Hugo definitely gained an appreciation for poetry and started to write a bit of it after the divorce just to deal with his feelings.

he’s always willing to give constructive criticism. to anyone. sometimes he comes off as judgemental when he does that and he doesn’t realize it

Hugo speaks Spanish fluently, and knows a little bit of French. he actually grew up speaking Spanish and English in a bilingual household because his parents immigrated from Mexico.

he also celebrates Día de los Muertos and has since he was a child. it is his favorite holiday due to the symbolism, even if he ends up just celebrating it from home with Ernest. it’s actually one of the few things they still bond over — just decorating, making food, and Hugo going over some family history with Ernest.

this man works hard to keep his house as clean as possible. and he works hard to try and get Ernest to clean his room, which works maybe half the time. sometimes Hugo caves in and can’t help but to go in there and clean it himself if it gets bad and Ernest is out. he makes sure to try and put everything back where he found it, unless it was on the floor. then he puts it on Ernest’s bed.

Hugo isn’t much of a movie or TV show type of guy, unless they are an adaptation of a book. then he reads the book and then watches the movie\TV show. then he writes a review of it to get his thoughts and feelings out, and he Will send it to you if he trusts you enough. but only if you’ve watched it. Hugo believes heavily in the sanctity of not giving out unwanted spoilers.

he’s got a guilty pleasure of watching bad horror movies. this is canon. go replay Hugo’s second date and you will find this piece of dialogue which i hold near to my heart.

he can’t really handle good horror movies. horror movies that are good at scaring people, anyway.

he could probably crush a watermelon between his thighs. or his arms. if you ask him if he could crush a watermelon, he would be Very confused because he doesn’t know the trend(? was it a trend or did i imagine that???)

“…what? Why would I want to crush a watermelon between my thighs? I don’t like watermelon. Neither does Ernest. Honestly, I don’t know the last time he’s ever willingly eaten a vegetable or fruit.”

but then he’d be very surprised if you showed him videos of people doing it. he’d just stare with interest, impressed by the muscles.

if you manage to do it, he’ll actually start blushing so hard that he has to try and hide his face.

speaking of, he actually does try to hide his face a lot when he realizes he’s blushing. it’s very cute because he also can’t hold back a very embarrassed smile when he does so.

Mat Sella

Mat’s kind of a punk, alternative, and rock music guy, but he also really likes R&B, indie, and even some of those catchy pop songs.

his handwriting is very, very neat and pretty. he writes in cursive a lot, but only because he thinks it’s pretty and he’s just used to writing in it a lot.

he takes very, very good care of his hair. he also is the one mainly taking care of Carmensita’s hair, since she has a general disregard for taking the leaves and twigs out of it after she plays outside. so Mat is the one doing hair clean-up duty all the time.

he also cleans Carmensita’s glasses after she comes inside after playing. because she refuses to clean her glasses.

thankfully, Mat is good at cleaning and likes to clean. obviously he bakes almost every other day for both the Coffee Spoon and himself. music is playing on the record player while he’s baking or cleaning, unless he’s doing some late-night cleaning when Carmensita is asleep; that’s one of the few times he wears headphones in the house

he takes headphones with him everywhere he goes, though. he has a little bowl next to the front door with his keys and headphones in it so he doesn’t forget them

he loves coffee, to say the least. he brews a cup every morning, it’s almost like a ritual to him at this point. he just enjoys the process and relishes in it every day. it’s almost like it’s own type of therapy for him.

if it turns out that you don’t like coffee, however — he will act like a normal person and say “oh, okay” and just not make you drink coffee. he’s a little disappointed that he won’t be able to share his morning coffee time with both of you having a cup.

but if you at all try to join him on his coffee time with your own drink, just sitting in the morning and soaking up the sunlight and happy silence, he’ll be over the moon sharing that time.

we all know that he has the tendency to talk too much when he’s anxious, so moments like these where you’re just sitting together, mostly silent, is his favorite.

Mat just isn’t much of a talker when he’s super comfortable. so cuddling will be pretty quiet, too.

Mat grew up with cats, and absolutely adores them to the point where he is so tempted to turn the Coffee Spoon into a cat cafe. the only reason he hasn’t adopted any cats is because each time he is confronted with the idea he is incapable of making any decision and gets anxious.

but if you like cats, you’re totally getting a cat together. especially if you give him any kind of confidence when you’re around, like Rosa used to.

Mat isn’t an alcohol kind of guy. not since Carmensita was born, anyway. he also just doesn’t really like the taste of beer and other alcoholic drinks. he prefers the bitter coffee taste (couldn’t be me).

Mat does drink tea sometimes, but not often. maybe once a month he treats himself to a cup of tea.

Rosa actually really liked tea, so part of the reason Mat doesn’t drink it that often is because it reminds him of Rosa.

Robert Small

the man is Big. 6’3” and pretty chunky, so yeah. he’s pretty intimidating, and not just because of his RBF (resting bitch face).

speaking of RBF, he looks constantly mildly ticked off when in reality he is thinking about what he’s having for dinner. sure, he has plenty of other expressions, but they’re not quite as common as his “looks like he’s thinking of committing multiple crimes” look.

this man wakes up with some serious bedhead — hair sticking up in all sorts of directions, not because of the way he sleeps but because of Betsy. sometimes she gets up and sleeps right next to his head. and sometimes she gives Robert’s hair a bit of a nibble.

he really gives the whole “raccoon at the dumpster” type of look.

sometimes he volunteers at the animal shelter but only really late in the day when nobody except Mary is there. he usually brings a flask of whiskey with him to share with her, but Mary isn’t super keen on drinking around the animals.

he’s more like a cat than he is a dog. he likes to just sit in the general vicinity those he likes without saying anything while they talk for hours on end and he gives acknowledging feedback. usually just a blink and a nod.

but sometimes, very rarely, if he loves likes you enough, he’ll smile as he stares right at you, saying nothing.

if you end up dating him and move in with him, you could be doing literally anything and then turn around to find him staring at you with a smile that he tries to hide. sometimes he can’t believe that he’s in a healthy relationship after all the heartache he’s suffered.

but it’s also unnerving when you do something kinda embarrassing, like struggling to find a midnight snack, and then you just turn around and this big old man is just staring at you like my a cat waiting for you to go back to your bedroom.

remember how i said he’s more cat than dog? scratch that. if you have a job or god forbid, leave home without him, he will wait for you to come home. he will check the front door any time he hears even a little noise, very excited to see you, until he realizes you’re not home yet.

he counts down the hours and minutes until you get home from work. if it was socially acceptable for him to drive you to work and sit in your work’s parking lot the entire time and spend it waiting for you, he would do it.

if he can go with you somewhere, he will. even if it’s a 5 minute trip to the grocery store and it will take him longer to get dressed than to go with you, you better wait because he is coming with.

the second you come through that door? he is getting up off the couch that he moved to purely so he would be closer to the door and he, like Betsy, is coming directly towards you to ask you how your day was and if you brought anything back for him.

if you critique any of his whiskey then he will break out into a very passionate rant about the best kind of whiskey is the kind that makes you almost die a little bit on the inside when you take a shot.

idk why, but i feel like if he and Saul Goodman met, they’d be best friends. they’d pull off the best grifts together.

also Robert fucking loves Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. he just rewatches it over and over again as a comfort show even though it doesn’t provide any comfort whatsoever. his faves are Saul and Nacho

he will force you to watch Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul. or at the very least, he explain the plotline.

Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul is the Only reason that he has a Netflix subscription. there is no other reason he’d ever need one.

also Robert fucking hates Margaritaville. Joseph took him there once — Robert got sick from the Cheeseburger in Paradise, and now Robert vows to never step foot in one of those damn restaurants ever again.

Robert doesn’t like margaritas, so maybe it was doomed from the start.

#ddadds #dream daddy a dad dating simulator #dream daddy #hugo vega #robert small #mat sella #brain harding #headcanons #x reader #general headcanons #game grumps #ddadds headcanons #ddadds imagines #dream daddy headcanons #dream daddy imagines

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cuffmeinblack · 4 months

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Between the Lines

Andrew Larson x reader

Tags: Ravenclaw reader | fluff | tension | slice of life | very mild spice

5.1k words

Summary: Something on the noticeboard catches your eye; a book club run by your fellow Ravenclaw. Joining might be the best decision you ever make.

A/n: Yes, I wrote 5k words of pure fluff, sue me. Credit to @ellivenollivander for book club nerd Andrew inspo. Credit to myself for giving him glasses because I'm a self-indulgent pos.

⤍ Andrew Larson masterlist ⤎

By the time you’d found your way back to the Ravenclaw common room, your eyes—now permanently imprinted with light from distant stars—no longer bore the tiredness the late hour invited. In fact, you were wide awake, mind buzzing with maps of constellations and mentally writing your homework assignment not due for another week. It appeared your classmates felt the same annoying spark of energy that would delay sleep until the wee hours. Amit appeared to already be working on his essay, parchment and quill pulled out of his bag and lain across one of the coffee tables. With a sigh, you stalked through the room, bathing in the soft glow of ever burning candles and starlight, coming to a stop near a bookcase filled with mostly educational textbooks. The lone book of Muggle literature seemed to have been borrowed, only a gaping hole left behind.

Another late night atop the Astronomy tower concluded with an assignment that promised yet more of the same. The howling wind almost blew you down the stairs in the rush below, students clamouring into the relative warmth of the castle. The deeper you descended, the more your muscles relaxed—despite the warming charm you'd cocooned yourself in at the beginning of your lesson, it was clearly no match for the harsh Scottish Winters. In front of you, you spotted others shivering still, rubbing their arms, teeth chattering, including the ash blond hair you recognised as Andrew Larson's. He was perhaps the only other student who enjoyed the subject as much as Amit, who's enthusiastic smile appeared frozen in place.

Instead of grumbling your annoyance, you let your eyes drift over the adjacent noticeboard, chuckling softly at the personal notes that littered the display. Love letters sat side by side with passive aggressive scrawls, replies inked haphazardly in the margins of the papers. Your gaze finally fell onto the more serious announcements, ignoring the notice from Headmaster Black that was sure to be a load of old tosh. A new piece of parchment caught your eye, pinned to the very top, the stiff paper curling upwards. With a delicate finger, you peeled it down to reveal the neat and somewhat familiar penmanship detailing a new club—a book club. Well, if that wasn't right up your street…

“Interested?”

The softly melodic voice interrupted your reading, and you turned to face Andrew, a hopeful glint in his eyes—or perhaps that was the lingering starlight still etched into your own retinas.

“Is this your book club?” you asked, surprised that the quiet boy would be interested in running such a thing.

“Yes, though I only put the notice up yesterday. Are you interested, then? I've seen you reading in the common room a lot…”

He flushed slightly, perhaps realising he'd said too much. The thought of Andrew Larson noticing you doing anything made the corners of your lips quirk upward.

“What kind of books are we talking? Not schoolwork I presume.”

“No, nothing of the sort. A little bit of everything I suppose,” he mumbled, suddenly unsure as your scrutinising gaze bore into him. Only then did you notice him clutching a book under his arm, which now appeared in front of your face—a fine green leather bound edition with gold text.

“Dickens?” you asked, tilting your head to read the cover.

He nodded. “For starters. Conan Doyle, Stevenson, Warbeck…”

You snorted a little at the last, the famous witch being an author you’d not expected him to enjoy. “Warbeck? Read a lot of romance novels, Andrew?”

“Well…maybe…,” he blushed, then took a deep breath to rally his confidence. “There's nothing wrong with branching out into other genres.”

“No, you're right,” you replied, quietly watching him. There were clearly things you didn't know about your classmate. Though you'd not admitted to it, you'd noticed him reading in the common room, too, head dipped and perfectly coiffed hair falling over his eyes as it loosened after a long day. He tended to idly bite his nails as he did so—a terrible habit, yet oddly endearing to see him so engrossed in the pages, nibbling away. At no point had you caught him with a romance novel in hand, though, and given the content of some of Warbeck’s novels you had the sneaking suspicion he kept them for bedtime.

Your mind was made up. Plunging a hand into the bag still slung over one shoulder, you pulled out a self-inking quill and returned to the parchment notice. A quick scribble and your name was the first to join the sign-up sheet.

“Welcome to the Hogwarts book club,” Andrew said, beaming. The amber flecks in his eyes glittered as he turned to face you, tucking the book back under his arm. No doubt the club would be fun, the avid reader that you were, but it might have been worth signing up just to see his smile.

Days passed with giddy anticipation, until Andrew had passed you a note during Arithmancy the following week. It had surprised you, jolting you out of a near-slumber as the neatly folded parchment fluttered onto your desk. All it contained was a date, a location, and a little doodle of a book that coaxed forth a sleepy smile, earning you a public admonishment from your professor. You'd tucked it into your robes where it stayed for the remainder of the day, fingers fumbling the edges as you walked the halls. You'd never before been so excited about an extracurricular activity that didn't involve flying spherical deathtraps, and you suspected that part of it was due to the quiet and devastatingly handsome boy running it. The first meeting of the so-far-unnamed book club would take place that evening in the Charms classroom, no doubt with Professor Ronen’s blessing yet you hoped that the man himself wouldn't be attending—it was ever so hard to relax when teachers were around.

After dinner, you took the opportunity to shower and dress more comfortably, styling your hair and paying far too much attention to your appearance. You supposed the first meeting would be a way to meet your fellow club members and vote on the first book, but you tucked a couple of your favourites in a satchel anyway, eager for any opportunity to gush about the intricately crafted worlds you'd come to love just as much as Hogwarts. You had a skip in your step as you travelled the quiet corridors towards the classroom, stopping briefly along the way to stroke a few cats, eager for attention. The landing was clear, door ajar with nothing but silence within. The eeriness had you checking the time and rereading the note that now had hundreds of creases along its length. One minute early. You pushed the door open to reveal an empty room, bathed in gold from the setting sun.

“Welcome.”

The voice made you startle, and you turned to see Andrew perched on Professor Ronen's desk, once again clutching a book under his arm.

“Hi,” you said with a smile, glancing around the room to avoid staring at him. He'd dressed in cotton breeches and a smart navy jumper, and you hadn't failed to notice the gold rimmed spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. “I'm the first to arrive?”

Andrew shuffled his boots on the floor, eyes cast downwards. “You're actually the only one who signed up.”

Now you looked at him, almost falling sideways from the weight of your bag and the way he peered over his glasses at you. “I'm surprised our fellow Ravenclaws didn't want to be involved,” you said with a quiet chuckle.

“Me too. Since it's just us, you don't have to stay.” He shrugged, though you could tell that it bothered him, the disappointment in his tight smile.

“I'd still like to carry on, if it's okay with you. Maybe more will join over the next few weeks…”

You stepped a little closer to him, debating whether to squeeze his arm in a show of solidarity and sympathy. Instead, you faltered, awkwardly swinging your arms by your sides. He didn't notice, tucking his book back into his bag as if to leave—the rejection of your company stung painfully.

“Shall we go back to the common room, then? It's more comfortable there, and…”

“Yes, good idea,” you interrupted with an audible sigh of relief.

The walk back was filled with friendly chatter, never delving too deep—questions about your classes, his plans for the weekend, the weather—and never straying to the reason you'd ventured out here in the first place. Official book talk would only commence once settled into the common room, it seemed. Andrew, taking his position as club leader, picked out two armchairs by one of the towering arched windows, the backdrop now one of inky black as night well and truly settled. Tucking your feet underneath you, you tried to get comfortable as he called the meeting to order.

“I thought we could start by discussing some books we've read recently, then agree on a title to finish before the next meeting,” he said, suddenly adopting an air of confident formality.

You tried to suppress a smile, though you weren't entirely successful. “If that's what you'd like to do. Maybe you can tell me about the last Warbeck novel you read. Please tell me it was ‘Call of the Harpy’.”

Andrew huffed, a slight blush creeping up his neck. “Actually it was ‘Dragon Fire’,” he muttered. “I'm not going to discuss that.”

Teasing out of the way, you talked about recent reads and went back and forth with suggestions. It somewhat surprised you how easy it was, falling into conversation with him until the room emptied and candles dimmed. You'd found yourself subconsciously edging closer towards him, caught up in his radiating passion. His shyness seemed to melt the longer he spoke, and you along with it. It was almost midnight by the time you agreed to delve into ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ for next time.

“Shall we meet again in a fortnight?” he asked.

You wanted to say no, demand something sooner, but instead you nodded. “Sounds good. Let's hope some more people join us,” you replied, not meaning a word of it. These few hours had been far too enjoyable in just his company, the last thing you wanted was another voice to pull his attention, as selfish as the thought was.

You finished the book in four days. The fifth was spent making notes, annotating every margin with points you thought worth discussing. The sixth had you climbing the walls, biting back the urge to storm up to the blond whenever you saw him, eager to know when your next meeting would be. You noticed him still reading almost every evening, nibbling his nails and deep in thought, and during the day you exchanged pleasantries, or passed each other like ships in the night as you mingled with your separate friendship groups. You swore you felt his eyes on you during Arithmancy. On the eighth day, you were walking back to the common room with Samantha when you noticed a fresh slip of parchment pinned to the noticeboard—how could you not, when your eyes diverted there every morning and every evening? The original notice for the Hogwarts Book Club remained in place, still bare and devoid of any signature but your own, yet on top there lay a curling piece that you knew was written by Andrew the closer you approached.

“What is it?” Samantha asked, following beside you. “I forgot you joined the book club. Maybe I should, too, but I'm so busy with chess and summoner's court…”

“You don't want to take on too much,” you replied with just the slightest pang of guilt. Your attention diverted to read the paper, happily noting that the next meeting would be only three days away. Samantha was mumbling something beside you, trying to talk herself into signing up. Part of you felt annoyance towards your classmates, and bafflement; yet another, larger part was pleased that the club was just you and Andrew. Still, the thought of his downcast eyes and obvious disappointment when he realised nobody else would be attending flared in your mind, prompting an uncomfortable twist of your stomach.

“I’m sure Andrew would be happy for another member.”

“I’ll think about it,” she hummed.

Once she'd departed for bed, you settled on a sofa facing the fire with a new book, having now exhausted everything ‘Dorian Gray’ had to offer. That night, you had company.

“Not reading your assigned text?”

You looked up to the familiar, soft voice to find big brown eyes creased from a smile. You smiled back, rolling your eyes. “I finished days ago. You're slacking."

Andrew motioned at the space next to you, a silent question you responded to with a nod. He didn't say anything else, just looked a little bashful as he turned to his book, now on the final few chapters by your estimations. Lapsing into silence, you fell back into your own story whilst the common room melted away around you, the chatter dulling to an unnoticeable hum. Only occasionally did you reach a natural pause, peering over at Andrew to check his progress, admire his profile, his slender form draped over the arm of the sofa.

“I'm finished,” he said sometime later, stretching his arms above his head to reveal a slight tuft of ash blond hair that smattered his taught abdomen. There was absolutely no way you could concentrate on your book now.

“At long last. What did you think?”

“That's a question for our next meeting.”

So instead, you talked about everything else.

A month passed and meetings came once a week or so, the time between them growing shorter and shorter. Reading together in the dimly lit common room seemed to have become routine, neither of you feeling the need to make awkward small talk to while away the hours, simply happy to sit comfortably in each other’s presence whilst immersed in other worlds. You'd not expected the friendship—grown so late in your time at Hogwarts—and somewhat missed the years that could have been. Laying in bed at night, you'd wondered if it wasn't too late for something more. His earthen eyes behind the gold frames haunted your dreams, whilst conscious hours dwelled on how soft his hair might be, or how pliant his lips against yours. He must have caught you staring, as you'd done him.

“We need a club name.”

Perched in the usual spot on your sofa, now several inches closer to the middle, you voiced the idea you'd thought of whilst Andrew had been busy updating a list of prospective books for the following week. You were so close your legs touched, bodies drawn together like magnets that seemed to ignite your skin upon contact. Neither of you flinched away, nor commented on it.

“Do we? I'm not even sure we count as a club.”

“Maybe if it was more official, people would come?”

Andrew looked at you with a curious expression, perhaps wondering why now you'd suggested recruiting more members when it had been just you two for so many weeks. His knee withdrew just an inch, and you regretted suggesting it, craving the slight pressure, the warmth. The truth was, you were nervous of where this was headed. The tension between you rippled and sparked every time you were alone, and it was just a matter of time before you cracked and did something disastrous, or potentially embarrassing.

“Hm, it can't help to try,” he chuckled. “What did you have in mind?”

“I hadn't thought that far. Erm, ‘Book Buddies’? ‘Rabid Readers’?”

He hummed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “‘Page Turners?’ ‘Once Upon a Tome?’”

Your face cracked into a smile as you grabbed the parchment and quill from Andrew's hands, fingers brushing. Your heart pounded at just the smallest touch of skin, so distracting you almost forgot what you were doing. With a quick and messy scrawl, you inked ‘Once Upon a Tome’ across the top of the paper and held it up.

“You couldn't have written that a bit neater?” Andrew said.

“I’ll let you continue to do the official notices, don't worry.”

“That's probably for the best.” He held out his hand and for one moment of insanity, you thought he was asking for yours. Of course, he was simply waiting for you to return the parchment. Embarrassingly, you couldn't help the disappointment as you rolled it up and slid it into his palm, your body reacting to the gentle brush of fingertips with a swell of warmth and affection. The exchange lasted for agonising moments, yet was over altogether too soon. Andrew tucked it into his bag on the floor but remained planted on the sofa.

“Well, that's all for this week,” he said hesitantly. “Have anything planned this evening?”

“No, nothing. Do you?”

He shook his head and bit his lip before looking at you with hope in his eyes. “Do you want to…I don't know, take a walk?” He almost flinched as if the suggestion were a terrible one.

“That sounds nice,” you replied with a warm smile. An excuse to spend even more time together wasn't to be passed up. “If we're going outside, I'll need a cloak.”

“I'll meet you here in a few minutes then?”

Donning your heaviest Winter cloak, a navy blue woolen affair, you jogged down to the common room to find him already waiting, holding a pair of black gloves. Whilst the hour was late and light was all but gone, it was still before curfew. You followed him down the tower, turning to the nearest exit that brought you into the refreshing night air. You hadn't noticed just how stuffy the common room had been with the roaring fire and mingling scents—the gentle breeze was most welcome. You talked and talked until you came to a stop on the parapet, leaning against the low wall that surrounded Hogwarts and looked out over the lake. The ripples on the surface looked too tumultuous to be caused by the wind, and you glared down at the glittering surface.

“Do you think a storm's brewing?” you asked, pointing below.

“I don't think so. Perhaps it's the mer down below.”

“You really think there's mermaids in the Black Lake?”

“I like to think so, even if it's nonsense. It can't all be grindylows and vicious fish with too many teeth down there.”

“Not a fan of the fish, Andrew?”

“I prefer my feet on dry land and fish on my dinner plate, thank you.”

You chuckled and turned your head back towards the lake, the ripples now stilling, yet you noticed something more alarming further out. The water had only stilled as the waters receeded in preparation for a wave. As if sucked into a giant plug hole, it rushed inward, bubbled, then burst outward. Andrew jolted and shouted in surprise beside you, your own mouth agape as you watched tentacles flailing and a huge, slimey head rear from the lake. You'd never seen the giant squid in all your years at Hogwarts, only heard of its size and the rumours of disappearing students who lingered too close to the water's edge. From the wall high above, you knew he couldn't reach you, but something had gotten it in a tizzy and you instinctively took a miniscule step backwards. You weren't high enough to completely avoid its spray, though, as a fine, salty mist now coated your face.

“It's amazing,” Andrew gasped.

“One word for it…monstrous is another.”

“Come on, look at it! I've never seen it before…or anything like it.” His excitement was palpable, and you almost clutched a fistful of his cloak to stop him from leaning too far over the edge.

The squid flailed again, more of a belly flop, sending a huge wave to the beach as it plunged back underwater and out of sight. Soon the only sound was the crash of water against the pebbles and your own heavy breathing. Only then did you realise you'd been clutching his arm, and his hand had found its way to the small of your back. You looked at him and he tore his eyes away from the lake, both standing in silence as the gravity of your instinctive pull to one another settled. As on the sofa, you'd found yourself growing subconsciously closer. It appeared there was no stopping it.

“You're wet,” he remarked. His eyes widened after he'd said it, his burning cheeks evaporating the water right off his skin.

“A little. So are you. It was worth it though, right?”

“Yes, it was worth it,” he said.

You weren't sure if you were talking about the squid or the fact that his hand still held firm against your back. Judging by the slightly furrowed brow, neither did he.

The new addition to the noticeboard almost blended into the myriad other notices—if it weren't for Andrew's recognisable handwriting, neat and elegant like the man himself—you’d have missed it. Of course the tiny book doodle in the corner was a giveaway for whom it was for. You read the contents, and your cheeks burned involuntarily. You had to read the note three times, inspecting every letter for forgery. It contained a date and time, and curiously, a new location. A flick of paper confirmed that no names had been added to the signup sheet for your newly titled club. Perhaps Andrew was bored of the common room, but the astronomy tower seemed an odd place for discussing literature, with not a comfortable chair in sight and no lights to speak of except the ones dotting the sky. A flicker of hope ignited, that perhaps he had other ideas for that evening.

Neither of you mentioned the curious change in venue as you chatted during classes or smiled across the laden breakfast table. You'd told Samantha everything you knew and suspected, and her dark eyes flitted between you both with a smirk on her face. By the time you were due to leave for the astronomy tower on a Tuesday evening, your friend had become insufferable in her teasing.

“Make sure you wear that perfume…”

“Sam, it's just a book club.”

“Of course it is. In the Astronomy tower. Alone.”

That final word made your stomach squirm. Still, you packed your book into your satchel and ignored the perfume sitting on the dressing table, passing Samantha with a wave met only by an eye roll. The tower was quiet, no classes scheduled and the bitter wind warding off all but the most dedicated students. Even Amit had decided to do his stargazing from the comfort of the common room that night. Andrew was already waiting, leaning against the railing and peering out at the clear night sky. Dressed in a black winter cloak, he almost blended in with the landscape were it not for his hair, almost silver in the soft moonlight.

“Strange place to meet,” you remarked, causing his head to whip around.

He shrugged, smiling shyly as you approached. “I thought it would be quiet. And…” He looked out at the sky again, as if the view was answer enough. It was.

“What would you have done if someone else had decided to join our club?” you asked.

“Apologise profusely and ask them to make themselves scarce.”

Smiling at him, you waited for him to carry on, but he seemed to be too nervous to say anymore. His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, throat bobbing as he swallowed deeply.

“So, why are we up here?” you prompted.

Andrew let out a deep exhale, his breath producing a cloud of mist between your faces. Mint. He'd brushed his teeth. The fact that you were now close enough to have noticed such a thing almost startled you. “I wanted to tell you something,” he said whilst shuffling his feet. He looked nervous, ready to bolt back down the stairs given the way he avoided your stare. Perhaps that's why you decided to be bold, and put him out of his misery.

“I like you, too.”

The seconds after blurting those four words out seemed to stretch into minutes, maybe even hours. Whilst you tried hard to keep your face neutral, inwardly your thoughts were in turmoil, desperately awaiting his response. Anything. Your chest hurt with the aggressive thumping of your heart, your palms felt sweaty despite the cold…

“You knew?” he asked.

“I guessed, or hoped.”

“I had a whole speech planned.”

“You can still say…” The rest of your sentence was cut off by his lips pressing against yours. The initial shock dissipated quickly, your body heating and blood rushing as it responded to his kiss. Only a tempting press of lips and it was over too soon—Andrew pulled back, the tip of his nose still brushing your skin as he took another deep, shuddering, minty breath. He seemed to be allowing you a chance to pull away, as if that were ever an option. Your hand snaked around his neck, another fisting the heavy fabric of his cloak, pulling him so eagerly he almost stumbled and fell straight into another, deeper kiss. This time he didn't hold back, gripping your waist with slender fingers, firm and sure.

You could have kicked yourself for how long you'd waited for this to happen. All those weeks spent agonisingly close on that sofa, you could have been doing this. And it was everything you'd dreamed of; his lips just as soft; tongue just as warm and offering such a gentle caress. His hands remained respectfully at your waist, yet the way he kneaded at your flesh suggested he wanted more. You shivered in response to a quiet moan as his tongue delved deeper, your bodies pressing tighter. When you finally broke for air, his fingers curled in your hair and he held you close, foreheads touching as you gathered your breath. Never before had you experienced a kiss quite like it, an outpouring of a deep well of tension. There'd be no going back now, not when you'd had a taste of him.

“Andrew...” Your voice was breathier than usual, and you felt an unmistakable twitch in his breeches. He almost pulled away, but you held him firm, lips barely brushing as you felt your own arousal simmering dangerously close to the surface. The temptation was overwhelming, yet you knew he was a gentleman. His expression was almost pained with desire.

“I won't do anything you don't want me to,” he finally said.

“I don't want you to think I go about doing this with every boy.”

He chuckled and brushed a finger under your chin, tilting your head enough to meet his gaze. Gods, he had beautiful eyes. “I don't think that. I really only wanted to tell you that I like you as more than a friend and to…well, to ask you if you'd like to accompany me to Hogsmeade at the weekend.”

A date, of course. Your mind had been in the gutter from the moment his lips met yours. Perhaps a faint flicker of disappointment had appeared on your face as Andrew smiled wider, his cheeks now a rosy pink.

“Give me three dates,” he mumbled.

You let out a nervous giggle before kissing him again. “Two, and I promise to keep my hands to myself until then.”

It was a while before you were defeated by the cold, lured back to the castle. You held hands on the walk back to the common room and Andrew cast warming charms on you both to dispel the chill. As beautiful as the view was on top of the Astronomy tower, you preferred the one right next to you. He was a little quieter than usual, perhaps nervous for what was about to come. It was only a promise of a date, yet the way your hands entwined so surely and perfectly, you had the impression that it was a mere formality, that your hearts were perhaps already promised to one another.

The end of the school year brought tears for the loss of classmates, promises to friends and a palpable excitement that rippled through the seventh years as they embarked upon new adventures. Andrew had travelled home a week earlier than most, leaving you feeling empty, despite the revelry taking place around you. Countless parties had been thrown to mark the occasion, yet you most of all missed the quiet hours spent curled up in his arms reading, talking, or much more physical pursuits. It had been worth the wait.

Along with much of the common room’s occupants you had a hangover, and inwardly cursed the Hufflepuffs for their home-brewed mead. Samantha recoiled from the soft morning light beside you, collapsing into an armchair with her trunk beside her and muttering about needing a pepperup potion. The train would be leaving in an hour, and all around you people were saying their goodbyes, perhaps for the final time. You'd be sad to see the castle go, and all the memories it held. The people you'd met would still be only an owl or floo away, though, and you looked down at Samantha's crumpled form with a fond smile. A final sweep of the room, and you were ready to go, rallying your friend with promise of hot cocoa on the train. She grumbled but traipsed behind you, until you were stopped in your tracks by something you'd missed that made your heart leap almost clean out of your chest.

You'd spotted a note on the noticeboard with the familiar little book doodle in the bottom right corner. Without Andrew, you'd not bothered to check for any notices, yet here it was—one final note for the book club that had started it all.

“Sam, I'll meet you outside…”

“Is that from Andrew?” she asked, peering over your shoulder. “Ooh, let me see!”

“I'd rather read it alone, if it's all the same to you.”

She tilted her head in disappointment but had no energy to argue, muttering about getting the information out of you later on the train as she slinked off to wait. Your gaze dropped to his beautiful handwriting, the care he'd taken to make this particular parchment worth keeping was evident. Removing it carefully from the pin, you began to read.

‘It started with Once Upon a Tome,

Now Princess, let's have our Happily Ever After,

I shall see you again in the Summer,

The beginning of our adventure.

Yours,

Prince Charming’

You held it close, warmth spreading through your tired body as the sounds of the common room evaporated around you. You recalled every minute spent with him, every date you'd squeezed into the remaining months of the school year. You owed it all to that one fateful day when you'd taken a chance to join a book club. A fairytale ending, indeed.

#andrew larson #andrew larson fanfiction #hogwarts legacy

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maddie-grove · 10 months

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Most Common Problems Faced by My Childhood Dolls (Grouped by Type of Doll)

Baby/Companion Dolls: life-threatening diseases; bullying by other dolls at school; my dubious discipline style; my divorce from my imaginary husband Jake.

Groovy Girls: bullying by other Groovy Girls; life-altering gymnastics accidents; feet too unwieldy for go-go boots.

Barbies: false witchcraft accusations; real witches; tuberculosis; kidnapping; the time Ken and his brother Adam started a polygamous cult; bullying by other Barbies (whether in a normal high school or a beauty pageant or a cult); basically anything bad that happened to female movie stars in Hollywood under the studio system; the challenges of raising a million Chrissies and Kellies and Stacies and Skippers and similarly sized off-brand child dolls with little help from Ken or Adam; sibling rivalry (including an East of Eden-style mess between Ken and Adam).

Dollhouse Families: my friend Emily C. (I was Emily S.) stealing the mom doll from my old Fisher-Price family, leaving John (the dad) a widower, so when I got a new family a few years later, I decided that John should marry Patricia, the mom of the new family, which made it necessary for me to interpret Robbie (almost certainly meant to be a dad doll) as Patricia's teenage son, which was obviously very emotionally confusing for Robbie and exacerbated the usual tensions of a newly blended family.

Clothespin Dolls: Nancy, Alice, and Lily, the three charming clothespin dolls made by my genuinely talented great-aunt Beth in the 1960s or 1970s, were grown-up sisters who had a complicated dynamic (both Nancy and Lily had serious psychological and/or substance abuse issues, so Alice had to take care of them and Nancy's children and her own children) and also experienced nineteenth-century-literature-style problems, like diphtheria and ice-skating accidents and bear attacks. The clothespin dolls that I created myself as a tween/young teen were not as well-made, but their problems were generally limited to normal high school bullshit (not even the kind where you get poisoned or kidnapped!).

Miscellaneous Medium-Sized Figurines (mostly fast food toys of Disney characters and mini-Barbies): various passive-aggressive rivalries between groups (mini-Barbies vs. movie/TV characters, Disney vs. non-Disney, movie vs. TV, protagonist vs. non-protagonist, etc.); a lack of eligible bachelors (leading to unwise marriages, such as Belle from Beauty and the Beast marrying a temperamental Space Jam monster); ennui.

Playmobils: the Playmobils had a nearly utopian society, relatively free from poverty and class snobbery, and generally this diverse group of Union soldiers, stuffy Victorians, pirates, outlaws, royalty, horse girls, milkmaids, and fairies were able to work out their differences peacefully. However, all that progressive modernity had a dark side, most clearly illustrated by the Kafkaesque ordeal of Oliver, a boy who was imprisoned for no discernable reason by an evil psychiatrist and his social worker girlfriend despite the desperate efforts of his mother to free him. Intense wartime romances and infectious disease outbreaks were also common themes.

Fisher-Price Great Adventure Action Figures: these rather hideous but very fun toys (consisting of an anachronistic mix of knights, pirates, cowboys, and Robin Hood's Merry Men) belonged to my seven-years-younger brother, so we would play with them a lot while I was looking after him. Naturally there was a lot of military conflict and criminal activity built into our play (will Robin Hood and his friends be able to steal the treasure from the castle? Will the golden knights or the black knights win the big battle? Who will stop the stagecoach robberies?), but, to entertain myself, I would introduce storylines such as "the Golden Sword Knight is tired of being bullied by the other knights, so he runs away and goes to live in the forest with Robin Hood's gang, where he falls in love with a female outlaw" and "Little John starts a AC/DC-style rock band with two of the black knights and everyone hates it."

Fisher-Price Little People: easily the most provincial of the doll groups, the Fisher-Price Little People struggled with extreme class/wealth inequality, widespread adultery, child abuse, teen homelessness, practically non-existent resources for the disabled, sexual repression, a character known only as "The Pervert," and a killer clown. Every day they went to school and work, and every night they tried to find someone to hook up with and maybe got kidnapped. I only wish my brother and I had been in possession of the motel playset. Think of all the extramarital affairs and drug deals that could have happened there!

Polly Pockets: the Polly Pocket community was dominated by two wealthy factions, a nouveau riche pair of brothers with a beach party house and the royal family. Due to a severe job and housing shortage, plus the local men's habit of not acknowledging their natural children, ordinary Polly Pockets had to struggle and scrape. Compared with the Barbies, there was a lot of solidarity among women (and also Josh, the one working-class boy Polly Pocket). Many of the Polly Pockets were very fragile, including the alcoholic Cowgirl Becky and the agoraphobic piano player Penny.

Paper Dolls: intense status jockeying over who had the most/best clothes, mainly. They also fought about friendships and (if there were any of them) boys, but it ultimately came down to clothes.

#dolls #little john's signature song was called 'ride to hell'#'we're going along on a ride to hell/why don't you come along and feel the trail'#it was not good and everyone was so mad at him

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gleafer · 17 days

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WHAT DID YOU DO.

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howifeltabouthim · 1 year

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'I have no objection,' said her father, speaking with that voice of resignation which men use when they are resolved to consider themselves injured whatever may be done.

Anthony Trollope, from Can You Forgive Her?

#passive aggressive #playing the victim #resignation #description #humor #quotes #lit #words #excerpts #quote #literature #anthony trollope #classics #can you forgive her?

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theinnerunderrain · 1 year

Text

Happy End

Note: Yandere themes, disturbing images, depiction of violence and mental health, if you're familiar with Doki Doki literature club you should know what to expect. Be aware and take caution.

Characters: Xiao, Venti, Kazuha & Kunikuzushi.

Venti as Monika - As the President of the Literature Club, he functions as the game's motivator, encouraging club members to produce poems up until the club festival. Venti previously belonged to the debate club but left as a result of the internal politics and turmoil, expressing his desire for harmony, freedom of discussion, and goodwill.

"To be honest, I can't stand all of the politics around the major clubs. It feels like nothing but arguing about the budget and publicity and how to prepare for events... I'd much rather take something I personally enjoy and make something special out of it. And if it encourages others to get into literature, then I'm fulfilling that dream!"

The first thing you noticed about Venti was that he was a charming and intelligent young man who seemed to be brilliant at whatever he did, whether it was writing poetry or playing the piano (he offered to teach the piano after school, isn't that sweet of him?). To have someone with such potential in the school is truly great, don't you agree?

"As president of the Literature Club, it's my duty to make the club fun and exciting for everyone!"

Everything appears to be operating smoothly. Everyone was cheerful, and they were all getting ready for the club festival, which was coming up soon.

But something about Venti began to change.

He remains fairly friendly, but his remarks and encouragement appear to take on a more passive aggressive tone. He appeared irritated with the other members, acting sarcastic when asked for advice or even going as far to ignore them. The fact that Venti had an epiphany before the game began and was given the authority to modify the game's variables also isn't revealed until much later. As a direct consequence, his sentiment toward the other boys was altered because he realised they weren't "real" boys.

When the other boys make it impossible for the player and him to spend time together, he starts acting in a drastic manner.

Drastic.

Perhaps the word drastic truly undermines his behaviour towards the other members.

I wouldn't say it's just drastic.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, (First Name)."

Venti only had the capability to modify parameters within the play and did not wish to immediately delete or eliminate the other boys owing her lingering attachment to them, so he starts attempting to render the other boys unlikeable by changing their attributes out of desperation. He starts with Xiao since he was the childhood friend of the protagonist and he was seen as the biggest threat. Then he would gradually shift between each character, making sure they were all as horrible as possible, in the hopes that you would be sufficiently terrified to reject the others.

Yet you remain unmoving.

Therefore, it wasn't his fault that he had to choose a worse alternative; you can't really hold him responsible for having to get rid of Xiao when you're the one being demanding.

"Yay, you picked me! We can meet at your house this weekend. I promise it'll be fun. Is Sunday okay with you?"

He grows increasingly bitter over not playing a love component in the game as a happy ending wasn't envisioned for him. He also makes it clear that he is in love with the player and begs them to invest additional time with him. The fact that all of his poems are about the player or his epiphany emphasises how consumed he became with achieving this goal as a result of his ambition and determination. As a result of them not being "real," he also begins to ignore and exaggerate the features of the other characters.

Why should he possibly care about these manufactured beings who can't even truly appreciate their freedom? His morals abruptly changed and his sympathies for the other members grew colder.

"Sometimes it feels like you and I are the only real people here. You know what I mean? But it's weird, because in all the time you've been here, we've hardly gotten to spend any time together. Ah...I mean... I guess it's technically only been a couple days…"

Venti may seem optimistic in the Literature Club, but it becomes increasingly clear that he is essentially depressed and lonely as a result of comprehending that everything in his life is just a simulation.

However, can you really hold him responsible for his actions?

Would you be so happy to learn that you didn't even live as a character that was relevant?

Would you be satisfied with yourself?

The worst thing is that he will never be able to experience what is referred to as "happiness" since his route will never be finished. He is obsessed with winning the player's love because they are the only thing that is "real" in his life.

"...Oh...Oh... ... Ahahaha! Well, that's a shame. Wait, were you here the entire weekend, [First Name]? Oh, jeez... I didn't realise the script was broken that badly. I'm super sorry! It must have been pretty boring... I'll make it up to you, okay? Just gimme a sec…"

"..."

An error has occurred. If you continually get the same error, try loading a different save file, submit a bug report, and/or check the Support Forums for assistance.

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

➤[Yes]

A̯̠͔͍̬̪ͅṉ̝͉͚̯̦̩ e̮̘̖r͍̰͚̩̥̯r̪͕̤̺o͇̺̺̺̼͙r̩ ̮̝̗͓̤͔ͅh̦̹̠̤a̯̭̜͔͚̘͚s̟͉̰̗̯ ̗̙͇͙̺̥̞o͔͍̩c̱̰̺͉̟͕c͈̳u̬r̼̼͓͙r͍͉̦̜ed͈̣͉̺.̗̤̹̦̥̟ ̤̥͙̣͚I͔̳̰͇f̗͇̠ ̟̬̙̟͇̼͈y̬o̦̪͎u̫ ̜̻̭̞̻͚͚c͍ͅo͍͕̞͓ͅn͙̘̞̗̥t̯̣͇̝ͅi̙̙̦͇͔̙͕nual̞l̥y̭̻̗̠ ̠̺̣̺̟ge̗̠͎̪t̥̥̟̰͍ ̘̭̟th̗̳̞̗e͎̹̻̪͉̤ ̦̮̙sa̞͎̙̯̺m̜̩̟͓̭e̻ ̩̮͓͓e̞̹͈r̖̭̳̥͖r͚̼̤o̜͍̪̰̥͇̻r͓̲̰͖,̪̼̮̖̲̲̻ ͉tr͖̭̼̘y̱͚̹ ̲͕̥̥l̤̱͍̖o̟̻̻̝̗a̙͎̲̤d̖̜i̞̳̼͍̱͎͕n̜̠͚g̩̟̞̪͓ ̫a͓ d̝i̪̭̱̰̹̰͙ff͎e̹r̹̞̜͍ͅẹ̫͔nt̟ ͕s͕̝͇͕̹͕̰a̞̖͚v̟̯̪͈͍e̗̮̪͔ ̰̯f̝̭̞̝̭i͔̞͙̥͎͚̟l̘͉̙̫̳͎̘e͓͈,̱͕͓̭ ̙̝ͅs̗u̠b̮͎̟m̰̩͎̠̲̼i̞̟̲͈͕̦t̖̠̖̱̞͉ ̯͔͎a̤͙̱̮͕ͅ ͖ḇ̝̳̱ͅu̲̖g̘̪̫ ͍͇̰̤r̮͉̗̠̣e͙p͍o̯̞r̻̮̗̬̝͇t̖̰,͚̞͚͔͕͕͔ a̪̯̥̩̥n̖d̳̦̥̺/͇̘̳̘̘̱o̞̯r̥̗͖̬͓͕̘ ̬̠̭cͅh̙̥̝e̠͓͖͔͎͕͇c̬̦̩ͅḵ̗̯͇̪̯̬ ͉t̼h͙̰̪͈̜e̻̠̜ S̱̱̺̬u̬̪͇p̘̟͉̳̼ͅp̖o̖̩͙̲̫̹̫rt̙̳̘̜͚͍ ͎͇̹F̻͈or̗̪͓͎̰ͅum̹̭̝͔̗s̹ ͉ͅf͙̲o̙͇̥̞r͇͚̠̰̘ ̼̹̮̗a͖̺̻̳̥s̥͓͓̺̪͚͈si͍̩̖̰̞̮ͅs͇̺t͍̼̰̺͓̳a͔̹̘͙nc̝̯͓̜̪̤̱e͖̱̹͕̝.̩͈̘̤̘̦

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]?

➤ [Yes]

Are you sure?

➤[Yes]

"..."

Let's continue on.

Xiao as Sayori - As the vice president of the literature club, he likewise wishes that more individuals would join in order to increase their interest in poetry. Now, I know Xiao is an odd pick for Sayori considering their contrasting personality and you would probably assume Kazuha to be a better match. But there are similarities and I thought he would be better for the childhood friend role.

Since you and Xiao have known one another since you were young, it is difficult for you to recall your initial impression of him. Along with thinking of him as your sweet but reserved friend, you were relieved to learn that he took an interest in writing and that he enjoyed studying literature and writing poetry because these activities allow him to express his emotions.

"Hey, [First Name]....Since we're already here, do you want to walk home together?"

Regardless of the fact that the two of you had known each other since you were children, his question concerning walking home nevertheless came out as rather tentative and scared. Even though you've known each other for a long time, you would tease him about his timidity by marveling at how silly a question it was for him to ask. Later on, it is discovered that he battles severe depression and puts a lot of effort into making everyone around him happy in order to deal with, among other things, his own lack of self-love.

So you shouldn't be teasing him too much.

"Even if it's just a bit…I..I wanted to spend more time with you. I know it seems stupid but.."

He seems to feel unworthy of love because of his depression, but he still desires to be loved, particularly by the protagonist, who he has a crush on.

He only wants your affection, nothing else.

Xiao seems to suffer when the player choose to follow one of the other boys since he subconsciously wishes that the protagonist fall in love with him while also feeling terrible for initially feeling that way.

Xiao will commit suicide the day before the festival regardless of the player's decision.

Don't cry.

Isn't it just a matter of fate?

He feels that if he makes everyone else happy, he won't have any reason to be miserable at all, therefore his relationship with the protagonist and other people's happiness are his main coping mechanisms. Although he tries, he is unable to make you happy.

He's not enough.

He will never be enough.

"You know, [First Name]... It's nice that I get to spend time with you in the club. But I think seeing you get along with everyone is what makes me the happiest."

"..."

An error has occurred. If you continually get the same error, try loading a different save file, submit a bug report, and/or check the Support Forums for assistance.

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

➤ [Yes]

Are you completely sure?

➤ [Yes]

Even after witnessing Xiao's death?

➤ [Yes]

I'm not responsible for anything, [First Name]. You know that, right? Should you go to bed? It's quite late.

Would you like to continue?

➤ [Yes]

"..."

As you wish.

Kunikuzushi as Natsuki - The third member of the Literature Club, an enthusiastic manga fan who occasionally feels self-conscious about it (particularly in light of Kazuha's frequent taunting).

Just be careful not to tease him too much. He might die from humiliation.

Just kidding.

Your first conception of Kunikuzushi seems to be one of a cocky, outspoken, irritable, and even conceited young man. Venti, though, categorises him as the true tsundere given his rather charming, softer interior. Due to his diminutive stature and sour disposition, it's a little difficult to hold back from gushing about him since he's just so cute.

"Well everyone has their own opinion. But my opinion is the best opinion. I'm sure you've figured that out already."

While impetuous and prone to speaking without thinking, Kunikuzushi genuinely cares about his friends and, despite having clear anger management issues, dislikes getting into fights or confrontations with other people (at least ones he can't win). Despite his persistent bullying tendencies, Kunikuzushi had displayed some gentleness by asking you to his house to bake despite his concern about being discovered by his mother.

He would not, however, elaborate on his reasons for being so wary of her.

"Take your stupid poem. If you wrote it for someone else, just don't show it to me!"

Together, the two of you frequently bake, and at one point, you teasedly nibbled on some frosting that was apparently his finger. He gets angry right away and starts ranting about how you shouldn't do that with other men because they might perceive it differently.

Such a cute little thing isn't he?

"Why didn't you come read with me today? I was waiting for you. I was waiting for a long time. It was the only thing I had to look forward to today. Why did you ruin it?"

Selecting Kazuha would irritate him, and when you try to read Kunikuzushi your poem, He would chase you out right away. Xiao will congratulate Kazuha and Kunikuzushi on their writing and capabilities if the player asks him to diffuse the tension. After that, the argument will end, and Xiao's answer will satisfy Kazuha and Kunikuzushi. He also makes a comparison between his and Kazuha's physique, which leads the main character to claim that some individuals are attracted to someone with a little frame.

By now, you should be aware that Kunikuzushi detests being referred to as cute.

"Do you like Kazuha more?"

Even though he acts cute and does cute things, Kunikuzushi despises the label "cute" and will fight any accusations made in this regard by others. However, once he is confident that no one will make fun of him for it, he feels much more at ease showing off his sweet side. Whether it's in regards to his work, his interests, or simply his general demeanour, Kunikuzushi detests it when he isn't treated seriously. He probably developed a sense of guilt about himself and his interests as a result of how his peers treated him and because his mother was allegedly abusive, making his brusque demeanour a coping mechanism.

He liked you so much because you were compassionate and capable of comprehending him for this reason.

Not Xiao.

Not Kazuha.

Not Venti.

But just you.

"I think you're better off not associating with HIM. Are you listening to me? KAZUHA IS A SICK FREAK. That should be obvious by now. So just play with me instead. Okay? You don't hate me, do you? Do you hate me? Do you want to make me go home crying? The club is the only place I feel safe. Don't ruin that for me. Don't ruin it. Please. Just stop talking to Kazuha. Play with me instead. It's all I have... Play with me. PLAY WITH ME."

"PLAY WITH ME [FIRST NAME]."

"PLAY WITH ME"

An error has occurred. If you continually get the same error, try loading a different save file, submit a bug report, and/or check the Support Forums for assistance.

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

I'm sorry you had to witness everything like that. Kuni was a miserable kid who couldn't even feel safe at home in his own house, what an unfortunate person.

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

Come on, [First Name], stop playing this little game. You should put your phone away and go to bed.

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

How annoying—no matter what I do, I can't manage to get rid of this text box. Especially irritating when it keeps interrupting our chat. But aside from that, you appear to be really worn out in front of that phone camera.

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

➤ [Yes]

I see.... In spite of all the terrible things you had to witness tonight, I think you would want to keep going. I guess there isn't much I can do to stop you...

Kazuha as Yuri - The fourth member of the Literature Club, and is widely regarded to be one of the most brilliant writers. Capable of authoring the most exquisite poem and crafting the most magnificent statements which may well render your heart to skip a beat as if wildflowers were continuously overflowing from his tongue.

He's quite the charmer, isn't he?

"Thanks for keeping your promise, [First Name]. I hope this isn't too overwhelming of a commitment for you. Making you dive headfirst into literature when you're not accustomed to it…"

When you first encountered Kaedehara Kazuha, you considered he was a very gracious young man with manners above and beyond those of a high school student. His voice was as soothing and pleasant to hear as his poetry, sweet and delicate and able to move one's heart. Kazuha, despite having a gift for words, was relatively quiet in comparison to the other members. A quality which you liked considering the amount of noise you had to constantly put up with.

But just because he remained silent doesn't mean his affinity for literature has become less profound or anything. One can even contend that Venti's passion for literature and the arts was akin to his own, particularly in those instances where he would get irate about seemingly inconsequential remarks made by Kunikuzushi.

You somewhat fear that their banter may turn physical one day.

"W-Wait! There’s a reason why we have such deep and expressive words in our language! It’s the only way to convey complex feelings and meaning the most effectively. Avoiding them is not only unnecessarily limiting yourself...it’s also a waste! You understand that, right, [First Name]?"

However, as the game progresses. Kazuha's seemingly timid personality took a rather strange tone. As if some sort of glitch had overridened his personality, bringing out the most negative aspects of his personality.

"I-I don't know... I'm kind of indifferent, I guess... WHO CARES ABOUT THAT OBNOXIOUS BRAT?"

Venti intensifies Kazuha's undesirable personality qualities in Act 2, which causes his devotion for you to turn somewhat unhealthy, bordering on an infatuation.

Your pens started to disappear, as if someone had deliberately broken through your desktop and backpack. Alternatively, if the thief returns the stolen materials, they would leave behind a trail of evidence in the form of persistent bite marks on the pencil, suggesting that they have a penchant for chewing them.

Naturally, you would toss them away, just to have someone eventually pick something out of the trash and put it back into your backpack with a little note, always written with most obscure messages.

The culprit behind the theft wouldn't be revealed to you until the very end of the game, when Venti would snicker and explain Kazuha's peculiar behaviours, mentioning how Kazuha had a propensity of looking through your possessions and touching himself with the collection of pens he gathered from you, even going so far as to injure himself with the jagged corners.

Which would explain the constant amount of bandages wrapped around his flesh.

"I mean, I like how nice and quiet the club is right now... And I'm just... happy with you here... But still! I'm the Vice President... It's not right for me to ignore my responsibilities like that... NOBODY WOULD CRY IF HE KILLED HERSELF. I should do my best to consider everyone's perspective and make the decision that's right for the club."

He started using far harsher language than the typical Kazuha, interfering with and beinglittleful to the other club members, and tormenting Kunikuzushi nonstop. In spite of his enjoyment, Kazuha feels horrible since he knows that something is wrong with him and that his statements and behaviour are inappropriate.

Yet he can't bring himself to stop.

Regardless of how hard he struggles, he eventually is unable to regulate his obsessive outbursts. It gets to the point where, regardless of whether the player embraces or refuses his love, he ultimately stabs himself to death, leaving a bloody mess on the classroom floor, with a distressed smile on his face as he begins to fade out of existence.

Nothing could be done but watch helplessly as his body rotted away in the school for three days until Kunikuzushi eventually discovered it.

“Why is this happening to me? I feel like I’m losing my mind... I can’t make it stop. It even makes me not want to read... I just want... ...to look... ...at YOU.”

“...Haah...”

.̵̢̟͎̂̋̈̈́̓.̶̞̬̤̀̋̓̓̕.̵̧̮͒ͅḨ̶̡̩̼͎̒̄̓́́a̸̬̣̣͐̋̃͛̈́ä̷̢͎̦́͜h̸͔̱͋̍̉̚͠.̵͕̳͎̩͚͂̀.̶̡̩͎̦̠͗̆̓.̵̼͉͐̆̈́͌”̷͚̦̾̄̆͂̊͜

̵͚̹̝̓̚͝

“̶̛̩̠͕̰̻̮͓̠̦̥͍̪̗̝͓̰̆̈͘.̵͉̮͚̆̋̈́̽.̸̢̨͔̬̖͙͈̥̘̞͕̖͎͎̟̎̏͂̏̽͐͋̈̑́͋̑͌̎.̵̬͉͕̈̈́̏̔̉͗́̈́̑̊̂Ḧ̷̢̙̩͈̰̰͈́̎̄͛̑͝͠ã̵͖̤̞̜͙̥̈́̈a̸̼̺̭͖͓̣̪͙̪̗̖͍̞̍͗̿́̔̊̚͝h̸̢̛̻̪̯̰̠̭̲͎̰̩̾͑̋̒̀̿̀̈̎̀͊̂͝ͅͅ…̵̡̰̟̞͎̹̙̺͉͓̜͖̗͉̂̓ͅ”̸̣̤̘̜̱̳̥̖̹͙͉̼͕̫̌͆ͅ

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

➤ [No]

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

➤ [No]

Would you like to continue?

[Yes] or [No]

➤ [Yes]

"...."

"..."

ᗷEᕼIᑎᗪ YOᑌ.

724 notes · View notes

tartigglez · 1 year

Text

"hear you?" part.2

zhongli x f!reader

・❥・smut with plot

・❥・2.9k

・❥・16+ masturbation (mutual?), implied voice kink, degradation (light), explicit consent in multiple places, nipple play?, just a lot of making out, you get picked up, pull out method (wear protection guys), the knee thing (lmao i had to), fangs? (does that need a warning?), scars (on zhongli), kinda just mean dom!!li in places, biting/sucking but hickeys aren't mentioned, oral sex, he's a dom, very much a dom, i think that's it (lmk)

・❥・ i'm sorry this took so incredibly long lmao

part.1

he was a patient man, zhongli, but he was reaching a breaking point with this. nearly every night, hearing his damned business associate in the back of his mind. it was so obvious you wanted him, you craved him, and he was starting to feel that way too. he had begun getting needy for you, thinking of doing unspeakable things with you.

he’d been hearing it for days, which turned into weeks, which turned into it being absolutely unbearable to wait any longer…

saturday nights were when you were the loudest, and were when he was able to be the roughest with himself. zhongli could hear you already touching, and he honestly felt a little perverted, even though he ought to be accustomed to this routine of his by now.

he would usually sit down at his desk in the early evening to read, glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he quietly sipped from a delicate teacup with one hand, the other holding his book. however, on this particular day, you seemed to be especially eager, as you had started your little nightly routine more than a few hours early.

he was trying hard to keep his focus, not wanting to get distracted from the piece of literature in his hand, but archons it was hard. your sweet, playful voice was just so enticing. the way you spoke - the things you said about him - it was unlike the way anyone else had ever referred to him. it was, of course, more longing, lustful. but it was also melodic, in a way which he had never heard before.

the sing-song of strung together moans and whimpers emanating from you proved to be overwhelming for him, his cock hardening, somewhat opposing the self control he had convinced himself he had developed…

archons, it felt so incredibly good to you. one hand in your underwear, gently swiping your fingertips over your clit as the other gripped at your pillow. the more you thought about him, the more you wanted him, the more you craved him. when was this going to end? he would be the death of you. thinking of him, his carved features, large palms, adams apple bobbing as he spoke in that entrancing, dark cocoa voice…

the quiet moans escaping your lips quickly halted as a knock on the front door interrupted your pleasure. someone was seriously disrupting you at this time in the evening? have people nothing to do?

at first you ignored it, and the person did seem to stop, but it started again after a few moments. you got up from your bed, sheets scrunched and pyjamas wrinkled as you made your way to the door. you would have sincerely hoped you didn’t look as though you had just been committing yourself to certain activities, but you were past the point of caring.

you slowly creaked the door open, feeling rather passive aggressive at whatever this anonymous annoyance could want with you. however, these feelings faded as your eyes met his. amber irises greeting you, staring into your very soul. his usually tied hair was now draped over his shoulders, messy, but free. he was in a stripped down version of his normal work attire, crisp formal trousers being overlapped at the waist by an untucked black dress shirt, with several buttons undone at the collar. his jewellery had been removed, but his makeup remained. his plump lips were still stained rosy pink, and his eyeliner was sharp.

“zhongli?” you questioned, attempting to straighten your posture upon seeing your business associate. what on earth would he be doing here when you-

“y/n. do you still want it?” he asked, mahogany voice coming closer to you as he leaned down a little, closer to your face, leaning against the doorframe.

“still want… what?” you furrowed your brows, confused, yet somewhat worried by the question.

“me” he answered, thumb and index finger gripping your chin as he tilted your head up to him, coming scarily close to your face. “are you going to back out, dear? or will you let me take care of you?”

“w-what do you mean? I-” you could feel a swarm of butterflies growing in your stomach at his actions. puzzled, but not scared. had you fallen asleep? there was no way this was actually happening. you met his eyes once again, and witnessed a passion. a burning need that you had never seen from any other person in your life. it was inhuman.

in that very moment, you found yourself nodding your head, approving his actions as he gripped your waist with his free hand, stepping forward and into your home as you took steps back. he kicked the door closed, banishing the cooling evening air from your home as he pulled you close to him, fingertips gripping you as he moved his hand from your chin to the side of your neck.

“tell me if it gets too much, alright?” his stoic face softening as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. you nodded as he moved his head down to kiss you, lips meeting yours in an immediate rough, vicious kiss. his tongue made its way into your mouth as he moved to push you against the wall in your hallway, hands feeling you all over, making their way up the back of your pyjama top. he pulled away slightly, biting your lower lip gently as you felt the contact of his warm palm against the small of your back.

he then moved his lips to the nape of your neck, not wasting any time and immediately biting and sucking, aiming to find a sweet spot that he could take advantage of later. he placed a gentle kiss against your skin, pulling away to place both his hands on your waist.

“so tell me,” he began, nothing more than a mere whisper against your skin. his breath was warm, but his skin was still a little cold, since he had made his way here in the crisp night air. “Which way is the bedroom?”

you pursed your lips, exhaling and pointing towards your bedroom door. he grabbed you by the hand, quickly leading you into your room, once again closing the door behind himself, before turning over and pinning you against it, wrapping one of his hands to the back of your thigh, just below the plush of your ass as he kissed you again. this time was somehow even rougher than before, tongues dancing as saliva dripped down both of your chins. his other hand suddenly moved to mirror the previous one, making its way to the other thigh, as you were picked up all of a sudden, and shifted to the bed.

he laid you down gently, lips once again making contact with your neck as he hovered over you, allowing you to tangle your hands in the hair that tickled the other parts of your neck. his canines were so long and sharp you could’ve almost sworn they were fangs, nibbling at your neck. he moved his knee between your thighs, cock hardening as he heard you gasp at the friction.

“is this okay?” he questioned, tugging at the hem of your pyjama top once he had pulled away from your neck. he helped you sit up as you nodded, slowly pulling your top off, exposing your breasts to him, perky nipples displayed in the evening sunlight coming through the shades.

he smiled gently, his teeth being revealed, and you could’ve sworn you were hallucinating, but it really did look like he had fangs. “you're far more beautiful than i could’ve ever imagined” he let out a breathy laugh as he spoke, moving his mouth to make contact with one of your breasts.

at first he just licked and sucked around the flesh, however he then moved his focus to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it. one hand was in use supporting himself, as the other played with the drawstring of your shorts.

he wished he could be patient, and he was trying his hardest, but it was getting harder and harder to resist you after waiting for all this time. he kissed his way back up to your mouth, as you wrapped your arms around his neck. this would only be nice for a while though, you were both growing desperate, and the atmosphere between you - quiet whimpers and short breaths shared as the two of you refused to stop kissing - was becoming thick.

you moved your hands to the buttons of his shirt, never breaking the contact of your lips on his. one by one, you pulled each fastener out of its respective loop, baring his chest to yourself. he then broke the kiss, leaning up to pull his shirt off, displaying his top half to you.

your earlier fantasies were true. his skin was clad with scars, beautiful etches of stories across his chest. however, you wouldn’t be allowed much time to observe, as he near immediately dipped his head slightly below your right breast, kissing his way down towards the waistband of your bottoms. his glazed eyes looked up to you for permission, calmly watching as you nodded your head.

“i’m going to require words from now on, alright?” he whispered gently against the skin of your lower stomach, rubbing one of your thighs with his free hand. “please, zhongli… please touch me there” you whimpered, barely caring about how embarrassingly helpless you sounded. he pushed himself up, supporting himself on one arm as he hooked a finger into your shorts, pulling the waistband up slightly, before snapping it back against your skin. not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that he was in control.

“hm, where is that, i wonder?” he mocked, slowly pulling your shorts down, leaving you with nothing under, exposing your wet cunt to the air. “huh, nothing under? dirty girl” he chuckled a little, airy but somewhat weighted. zhongli moved his mouth to one of your thighs, blatantly ignoring your request for stimulation. he kissed and sucked gently at the skin, trying so hard to disregard his growing, painful erection, which was becoming ever the more problematic each time you let out a breathy whine.

“is it here?” he asked, slowly running a finger up your slit, and back down again. “i asked a question dear,” the remark flew off his tongue, “it’s only polite to answer” he chuckled, moving up your inner thigh to get his mouth closer to your core. “yes, there,” you whined, tempted to buck your hips up to his face. “good.” he spoke, and that was the last thing he said before sinking his head into your sloppy cunt.

you didn’t know it was possible for someones tongue to feel this good. he was so incredibly skilled, long muscle dipping in and out of your opening every so often. although his focus was on your clit. sucking and licking at the sensitive nub, zhongli only wished to see your reaction. he wanted you to say his name, the way you had been for all these weeks.

“quiet now, are we?” he ceased his action, gently rubbing up and down one of your thighs with his thumb.

“come on my dear, let the whimpers out. say my name, like you mean it,”

and so he returned his attention to your cunt, going much harder and faster than before, as you whimpered at him, moans flying in all directions as you writhed under him, bouncing off the walls of the room. “zhongli~ please” you whimpered, moving your hand down into his hair, gripping gently on the strands at the crown of his head.

once again he stopped, staring up at you, eyes glowing. “please what?” he questioned, raising himself up on his palms again, crawling back up towards your face. he cocked his head to the side, watching as you eyed his lower half, witnessing the visible tent in his trousers. “why so quiet now, when you were so, so loud before, princess?” he lowered his head back to your chest, placing a few kisses across your breasts, repeating his earlier actions. “simply tell me you want me, and i’m all yours” he spoke, then stopping to suck on one of your nipples again.

"i- i want you…” you whispered at him, and nothing more was said, he simply got back on his knees, undid his belt, and pulled it out of its loops. He threw his belt on the floor, before getting up, unbuttoning his trousers and stepping out of them, then removing his boxers too. he was swift in his actions. in other words, he was done with wasting time.

his cock was thick, girthy, long too. and it was made obvious by the shade that he’d been hiding his hard-on for some time, putting it off in order to please you.

“it’s so…” you trailed off, as he got back on the bed, placing an arm on either side of your head before leaning down to kiss you. “i know,” he spoke quietly “we’ll go slow, does that sound alright?” his voice was soft, gently calming you as he lifted a hand to move down your body, stopping at your waist for a split second, before trailing down your thigh, and then on to his own body, grabbing his cock and giving a few strokes, before he lined up with your entrance. he keenly watched you as he slowly, but surely pushed himself inside. you felt perfect to him, fitting him inside perfectly. he finally bottomed out after some moments, keeping an eye on your face to ensure you felt okay.

the stretch was unlike anything you had ever felt before. it wasn’t painful, not at all, but it was so noticeably large. this feeling didn’t subside as he stayed inside, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. it definitely got much more pleasurable though, when you gave him the go ahead to move, “i w-want you more…”

he let out an airy chuckle at your words, before moving himself almost all the way out of you, then slowly pushing back inside. “you can have me, all you want. be patient.” he said, repeating this movement a few more times, silently checking to see if you were okay, giving concerned eyes down at you as you writhed below him.

after you had adjusted, you quietly asked him to go faster, and he obliged. achieving a pace in his movement, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, pulling his weight down on you, glad to share such an intimate moment with him, after thinking about it so much.

“you look beautiful, by the way” he added, between huffy breaths which punctuated each thrust. for some reason, these words made you blush more than any of his previous ministrations, but you were too caught up in the moment to think about it very much.

he was enjoying it too, loving the feeling of your walls enveloping him. the fact that he had spent so much time craving you made it that much more enjoyable to him, and whilst he wanted to savour every moment with you like this, his release was taking over his mind more.

“can… can you go faster?” you asked once again, chasing your release, which you had realised was something only he could give you. “of course” he replied, voice gentle, placing a soft kiss on your neck before picking up his pace.

it was heavenly.

your other fantasies were underestimations, as it turned out. he was far more ethereal in this act than you could’ve possibly imagined. the warm air between you both had led to his hair becoming a little more messy than when he had got here, bangs framing his face in the most perfect manner. he was beautiful.

zhongli could feel it picking up, his need for release that is. he was going to cum soon, and he wanted to make you do so with him. he moved one hand down to your clit, gently but quickly rubbing at the nub, giving you whole new levels of pleasure, arching your back, making you feel it all.

he could feel every little clench that your cunt made around him, and could tell you were close. “do you feel it, darling?” he asked, obviously not wanting to be crude about matters surrounding your pleasure. “i do… please let me cum, zhongli~” you whined at him, seeking nothing but sweet release. “of course, dear” he picked up his pace, one last time, very nearly pushing you over the edge before bringing his mouth right to your ear, whispering but one word, one command. “cum”

just as he spoke, he felt your walls clench around him, orgasm hitting you as you groaned. he quickly pulled out, before cumming himself, all over the folds of your pussy. he, of course, kept rubbing your clit, overstimulating you slightly to help you ride out your orgasm, before pulling away and collapsing on the bed next to you, giving you space to breathe for a moment, before moving a hand to stroke your cheek.

you looked beautiful like this, eyes closed, breathing heavy, dripping with his release. you turned on your side, opening your eyes, and meeting his as he faced you on the bed.

“hi”

“hi…”

nsfw masterlist

#ahem hello all #genshin impact #genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli smut #genshin smut #genshin x you

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swallowerofdharma · 1 month

Text

Jealousy

One of the occasions when I strongly feel like my opinion is at odds with other people’s is when Doumeki’s jealousy comes to the surface. I am not sure if maybe this is a result of how unacquainted I am with romance literature or portrayals in media of romantic relationships, heterosexual ones mostly, since I have always been very impatient with those tropes. And that’s maybe what it is, that many readers of Saezuru are more comfortable or acquainted with straight romances and are used to read jealousy or possessiveness from the male partner as a sign of interest and proof of affection or love. I can’t take it like that tho, personally, honestly I can’t see a man being jealous of his partner or potential partner as a positive. Jealousy is a sign of insecurity for me and men being insecure? Potentially bad news, my alarm bells are going off and I don’t get any enjoyment from that part of the story. So is Yoneda Kou using Doumeki’s jealousy uncritically and just as a romantic motif?

Again what Yoneda-sensei did with the yakuza plot in the first half of Saezuru is very interesting to me, because within the whole Hirata’s debacle jealousy was a very central theme. Yashiro’s thoughts about the relationships between men in the yakuza are also quite revealing, and he tends to think about those men as behaving in their relationships like they would in romantic situations. The first we see of one of Hirata’s passive aggressive behaviors towards Yashiro, he is taking his wakagashira to a function at the Matsuhara group’s place. That place is tied to a period of Yashiro’s life when he was completely adrift, those aren’t good memories, here is Yashiro’s unreliability again in revisiting the past and always downplaying it or seeing it in the lighter way possible. In this case, being in a room full of men, yakuza men, those types of violent and ruthless men tied together by either exclusion from normal society, or money interests and money debts, or complicated emotions under the surface waiting to shift the uneasy balance, Yashiro is thinking of them and of their dynamics in homo erotic terms. The fantasies that he has here, in my opinion, surge from anxiety, as part of his normal coping mechanisms and part of the pattern where he is being fucked all the time and the best he can hope for is to enjoy it or find some form of empowerment in it. When Misumi comes in and sits beside him and not at the front of the room, where his place should be, and Hirata and the others notice, Yashiro is uneasy about it, like he was when Doumeki reported what was being said at the other office by the manager Kirishima (the one in charge of collecting money from debtors and that hired Doumeki in the first place). Yashiro interrogates Kirishima only about those rumors that could potentially become a threat due to jealousy and resentment in a highly hierarchical environment.

Yashiro correctly understands that a man’s jealousy is an open door for trouble. Hirata is keeping track of his movements and of his interactions with Misumi. Rumors are spread widely across the group, but again it is more troubling that these rumors involve Misumi now that a succession process is underway in the Doushinkai. Sexual relationships between men in the yakuza can’t have a legitimate place because of this fear of a perceived unfair competition and advantage, because a sexual relationship has the power to potentially build intimacy and trust in a way that isn’t like any other (that’s the primary function of sex in a marriage, and that is a unique type of relationship protected by several laws and where the bond is considered so strong that each party is exonerated from having to report confidential information exchanged between them to any other authority). That is why men in these environments tend to prefer a very strong unbalance of power in sexual relationships and to keep women separated from their business relationships. Hirata breaks many rules considered fundamental in the yakuza, having betrayed a sworn brother (Kurobane) and having ordered the killing of a sworn son (Yashiro) and remarkably letting his men use sexual violence to gain information from Ryuuzaki’s girlfriend. In the yakuza all those things are strictly forbidden, and the need for protection of the members’ women is another sign of the place these women have in this world, a position of inherent weakness where no one expects them to stand on their own and where they have no power.

While Yashiro correctly perceives jealousy as a threat, he also shows a certain disappointment when Doumeki denies that he is angry after discovering his relationship with Ryuuzaki. Yashiro shows many contradictory behaviors, signs of his decision to hide himself and his vulnerability. But he has been effected by the way Doumeki keeps looking at him and the possibility that maybe this person might care. On the other hand, Doumeki is alerted early on to the fact that showing his true feelings now that he regained potency (remarkably by watching Yashiro while recounting his time with the nurse) is potentially going to cost him his position as Yashiro’s bodyguard. From this moment on Doumeki is misguided by this insecurity. After the reunion, Doumeki discovers that Yashiro is in contact with Inami and he is taken by anger and jealousy, and he is misguided once again by those emotions.

Yashiro’s feelings towards Izumi are so complex that we can’t really conclude if he is jealous or not, only that he is suffering, and that he can’t quite manage to picture himself beside Doumeki. Both scenes played between the entryway of his building and the elevator have shown a Yashiro yearning for Doumeki, a Yashiro who doesn’t want to let him go. These scenes happen before he witnesses Doumeki and Izumi together. Yashiro really struggles with this new and assertive Doumeki, a full yakuza now. He entertains the desire to be chosen, but he feels like that is probably no longer a possibility if his competitors are women.

I do understand what Doumeki wants and why he keeps pushing Yashiro. Doumeki wants him to admit out loud what is it that he really wants: whether the truth has always been the same and Yashiro hasn’t changed - he can’t have a normal relationship, he likes to be treated roughly, gentle sex makes him nauseous and so on - or whether he has been lying all along - he might have wanted to be embraced by Doumeki and treated gently, since that time in the bathtub when Doumeki asked for the first time, he ultimately wanted what happened between them at Doumeki’s house and he still wants it. Why Doumeki has to torture this information out of Yashiro is what I have a problem with. Doumeki senses that Yashiro is lying, but can’t be sure. He wants the truth, but he never quite understands in the first place why Yashiro is lying, why the mask was there in the first place. He hasn’t asked the right questions yet, in my opinion, since the very start. And I believe that Yoneda has been very consistent in showing the readers that Doumeki is misguided. Does it matters that he cares for Yashiro, that he loves him if he acts like that? Is jealousy a good sign? Yashiro knows that the person closer to you has the power to really hurt you. Other people don’t have the power to hurt Yashiro in any way that matters to him, even if they beat him, or rape him again, even if they kill him, they would do him a favor. But the ones he let close to his heart have suddenly all the power. Yashiro is a liar because lying is tied to his survival instinct and Yashiro’s survival instinct is tied not to the preservation of his own life, but of his sense of self. This is trauma at its most deep level, something I always thought Doumeki, like most people for that matter, never has been fully equipped to understand. Which is completely normal, but it is all the more important that people become aware of how important are boundaries and dialogue. And those are the areas where Doumeki is a dog with a bone, or more of a policeman with a suspect than a sympathetic character or a younger man blinded by love or infatuation. As I said in a previous analysis, I truly believe that Yoneda is so clever that it is actually an intentional subtext that Doumeki’s motivations aren’t all about selflessness. That he needs to prove to himself that he didn’t rape Yashiro back then, because he himself isn’t so sure about it.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru analysis #yoneda kou #eri reads saezuru #going again in uncomfortable territory #sorry if I am unable to be more brief #I have multiple interpretations of this story but when I write down I have to give priority to some ideas above others #the yakuza is such a incredibly interesting setting for this story and #how it is used is so unconventional and above the romanticized #idea of crime and criminals #so good #yashiro #doumeki chikara

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