#unsolicited angst for me myself and i

[deathberi]

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誰のせいでもない…たぶん。

[christinarowie332]

stupid horny fucks .

chris sturniolo x reader (smut)

warnings: accidental dick pic lmao . smut ovs ? quick fuck . possible angst if u squint . possible series . not proof read

in which : chris accidentally sends his bestfriend a none PG photo …….. resulting in tears of tension being released…. but was it a mistake?

ps : don’t send unsolicited nudes , it’s weird as fuck . this is heavily fiction . don’t be a weirdo .

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the room was a calm environment, me , nick, matt and chris all sat in dim lighting from the tv , my legs sprawled over nicks lap on the couch as we all relax in our shared space. this was a normal night for us all , a movie in the background, snacks and drinks arrayed out as we all engage in absent minded easy conversations. chris was quieter tonight. i notice as i allways do , subconsciously focussed on him , it’s hard not to be when your surrounded by things that remind you of him , and of course himself . i’ve always felt wierd with chris . it’s not all the time . 70% of the time he’s just an annoying, loud , funny , sweet friend . same with nick and matt . but that 30% , that’s something even chris himself couldn’t get out of me . god he’s attractive. the way his legs are spread , his sweatpants pressing against his dick , the shadow of his bulge basically begging to be touched. his fluffy hair , swept against his features , the loose curls lightly lay on his forehead. his sharp facial features being illuminated by his phone screen as he looks down to it , his pink lips puckered as he concentrates. god everything about him just makes my skin crawl , goosebumps literally growing on the skin of my arms at the thoughts that run through my head. the way his veiny hands would look around my neck. the low tank top he’s wearing , and how his sleek collarbones would feel on my lips . fuck .

i cross my legs on nicks lap , squeezing them together to relieve the growing tension between them . nicks head turns towards me , his confused expression catching my attention. “you good?” he asks , shifting himself on the sofa , his voice making matt and chris glance over at us .

“i’m fine , just getting comfortable” i send him a reassuring smile after speaking , all three of the brothers attention going back to the tv or phones . thank god . i try to distract myself from my thoughts (chris), pulling my phone from beneath my body on the cushioned seat . i open snapchat and start scrolling through my recent snaps , random guys , my friends , team snapchat (wow i have no life) . i start snapping them back , ceilings , selfies . chris . i open his snap and it’s just a normal photo of him , sexy as fuck ,but just a normal face snap , i send him one back and carry on with the rest of them .

after a while , i’m watching a instagram reel and get a chat notification from chris . i look up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “chris i’m literally in the same room as you why are u snapping me ?” i ask , waving my hand around with my phone in its grasp . he doesn’t look at me as he responds, his thumb still lazily scrolling on his phone. i roll my eyes beofre opening the chat . said eyes basically fall out of my head when i open it . i audibly gasp and my head shoots towards chris , making literally everyone look at me .

“sorry.” i replies to their stares , i watch all three of their attentions go back to their original places , before chris’s head snaps towards me , his eyes wide and jaw muscles clenched . the photo he sent me , was probably the last thing i ever thought i would see . his dick . in all it’s glory , veins decorated up the shaft , towards his tip , pre cum dripping down the side . it was fucking huge . i look down at my now vibrating phone in my hand , chris frantically texting me .

chris | I DIDNDTTT MENBA TO SEND THET

: DONT FUCKIJG SAY ANYTHING.

: Y/N

: OLESSE

: THAT WAS NOT MEANT FOR YOU

: bro i’m so sorry

: please just forget u saw that

: nah im actually sorry

it takes me a few seconds to contain myself . before i decide to text him back .

me | chris bro it’s literally fine .

chris | i’m so sorry

: i’m acc so sorry

me | chris .

: i said it’s fine .

chris | are u sure ? i’m so fucking sorry .

me | why are u sorry ???? that’s a nice ass dick .

why the fuck would i say that . chris’s bitmoji stops typing . and just stays still for a while before i see a new message.

chris | my room . five mins .

me | i’m going now . follow me idfc

i immediately get up from my seat , throwing to phone to the sofa and twlling the boys i’m going to bed . i make it to chris’s room in seconds , leaving the door open and waiting for him there . it’s a minute until i watch him speed into the room and slam the door behind him , walking towards me and grabbing my neck to slam his lips onto mine .

the kiss is fast and needy , clothes being torn off as our lips collide and tongues explore each others mouths . he leads me to the bed in just his boxers , and unclips my bra before dropping me onto his mattress . he watches the recoil from the springs in his bed make my tits bounce , a small smirk playing on his lips beofre climbing on top of me and attaching his mouth onto my neck .

he pries out small wimpers as he bites and sucks on my skin , leaving bruises up to my ear and over my chest , my hips thrusting forwards to reach his bulge , aiming for any friction as the tingling between my thighs intensifies .

“are you sure ?” he breathes into my neck , it’s like all i’ve been relying on is pure instinct, his words barley make it into my head and i’m drunk in his touch . “yes fuck , just hurry up and fuck me” i reply, lurching my hands to his face and bringing him up from my chest, reattaching our lips . his fingers make his way to my clothed pussy , his middle finger drawing circles over my swollen clit . his muscles contort as he moves , curved shadows against his pale skin . the veins running up his forearm from his slender fingers .perfectly smooth and sharp at the same time . “so needy……” he says moving his fingers upwards before putting them under my underwear, running his cold finger between my folds . “and so fucking wet” he continues, making his way to my clit with his fingers , making me lift into his touch and moaning at the sensation. he continues his movements placing his knee forward towards my heat , slowly prying my legs open so he has better access , slowly increasing the speed making me a whimpering mess underneath him .

he pulls his fingers away and swiftly takes off his boxers , pumping his dick a couple of times before placing the tip at my entrance and running it through my folds . “are u one hundred perfect sure?” he asks , i nod frantically, readjusting my self underneath him making myself comfortable. “words baby , you know i would love to fuck you sensless but right now i need your words”

“YES CHRIS JUST FUCK ME”. i raise my voice , i see his eyes flicker and an eyebrow raise before he slams into me , a smirk growing on his face as he watches me sink into the bed , all confidence gone as he pounds into me. “JESUS FUCK , fuck” i allmost scream as he thrusts into me, my hands slapping his back , nails digging into his back at the feeling .

his hair flops against his forehead at each thrust , groans and heavy breathing falling from his lips. his hands hold his up as he towers over me , silencing my own cries of pleasure with his mouth on mine still sloppily placing kisses on my lips before moving down my neck. “your doing so well , i’m so close baby i’ve wanted this for so- fuck” he breathes out as he keeps thrusting , each minute pulling energy and sweat from our body’s as we both edge closer to our release . my hands hold his shoulders pulling myself into him to deepen his reach into me , feeling his ruthless abuse of my g spot , not allowing any thoughts to come from my brain . quite literally fucking me senseless .

“FUCK , chris i’m so close , CHRIS don’t stop please” i plead to him , making his speed pick up . “me too mama me too , come baby please” he says as his finger moves towards my clit , the circles matching his thrusts as he eggs my release on . i feel his dick twitch inside of me , at this i feel myself completely release around him , loud moans being silence as his hand rests on my throat as he kisses me through my orgasm . moments later i feel him also topple over the edge fulling out and feeling warm strings of cum coat my stomach and chest .

he flops down next to , his chest heaving and loose curls wet slightly around his neck with sweat .

“what the fuck just happened” i say looking over to him

he just stares at the ceiling .

what the fuck just happened .

————

i’m so drunk rn this is such a mess .

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taglist :

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kvtie444 @kenzieiskoolaid @cabincorematt @urmyslxt @chrisenthusiast @mattsd0ll @iheart2021chris @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @loveesiren @paper-crab @daddyslilchickenfingers @strniohoeee @ermdontmindthisaccount @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lea0518 @chrisolivia4l @its-jennarose @kitaysworld @liz-stxr @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @mattslolita

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side note : i love u all sm , like acc . sorry for the delay in the fics but i hate posting shit that’s half assed or rushed , and i like to make sure that my shits realistic to the boys . you know ? hope y’all still love me LMAO !!!

-🍼

[scatteredskittless]

can i sweetly ask for husk x reader angst,,, where the reader has been on work mode as of late thus having them a silly lil arguement (i love tormenring myself 😝) until they decide to make it up/explain why they were so busy later on 👉👈 (maybe a lil makeout session too in the end if you will) :333 tyy!

Overworked! GN! reader x Husker

A/n: You’re so real for this tbh, this was actually pretty fun to write !! My favourite little alcoholic grumpy cat fr ദ്ദി(ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Warnings: mild angst, argument, light talk of alcohol/alcoholism, light makeout near end

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst✔️ Smut❌

You arrived back home to the hotel later than usual, you weren’t quite sure when you started to refer to this place as your home but it felt right to do so.

As soon as you walked through the doors you were greeted with a glance and a raised eyebrow from Husk, your boyfriend, as he cleaned and polished some glasses behind the bar. Most likely shutting everything down for the night.

You sigh, slumping down on one of the barstools as you waited for him to finish up what he was doing.

“You look like shit.” Husk observed, setting a now clean and sparkling glass down as he moved on to polishing up the next one.

“Yeah, thanks. That makes me feel so much better knowing my boyfriend thinks I look like shit.” You grumbled back, still quite irritated from the day you had. Your boss was constantly on your ass and making unsolicited remarks about basically everything you did or didn’t do, so coming home and having Husker do the same thing wasn’t exactly helping the situation.

He was a little taken back by your tone, usually you weren’t so sarcastic with him. You saw him pause (hehe paws) what he was doing for a few moments before resuming, trying to remain unfazed.

“All I’m saying is it looks like you had a shitty day..” He mumbled

You rolled your eyes in response, not bothering to say anything else because you knew whatever came out of your mouth next probably wouldn’t be so kind.

But, Husk continued...

“It also feels like I haven’t really been able to just hang out with you in a while.” He commented making you look up from the bar countertop and to his gaze that was already on yours with a glare.

“Well maybe if you wanted to see more of me, you wouldn’t be getting drunk everytime I’m finally off work” you said, your tone snippy which drew a frown out of Husk.

“So now this is my fault?” Husk asked, being slightly sarcastic when he spoke

“Are you implying it’s mine?” You asked back incredulously, the sarcasm seemed to have set you off more which in turn, was making Husks temper flare up as well.

“I never said it was, you’re just being snippy.” He called out as he narrowed his eyes at you. Of course you knew you were being snippy, you couldn’t help it and now you’ve dug yourself into a bit of a hole here.. you and Husker were both very stubborn demons..

“Y’know what? fuck you.” You said without thinking, sliding yourself off the barstool to come around the bar. Wanting to face him properly as you two continued on with your petty argument.

You glared up at him and he glared back for a few seconds before suddenly sweeping you up off your feet and placing you down on the bar countertop and before you could even say any word of protest, his lips smashed against yours with his ears pinned back against his head

Your eyes widened in surprised for a few beats before letting them fall shut, kissing him back and essentially taking all of your anger out in said kiss, arms wrapped around his neck with his wrapped around your waist in turn.

It quickly turned into a makeout session, an angry makeout session would be a better word for it.

Your hand found the fur on the top of his head and gently tugged on it as your tongues pressed up against eachother, causing him to grunt in response

You were both panting when he broke the kiss off, you had both tired yourselves out as he leaned down to press a few kisses to your neck, making you whimper in response. Husk smirked at that.

Once he was done peppering kisses to your neck and collarbone he pulled back, hands still resting on your waist as he did so.

You sigh, meeting his gaze and smile meekly, feeling guilty for your previous actions and words. “I’m… sorry for all that. I’ve just been super stressed and busy with work lately and I shouldn’t be pining all the blame on you.” You apologized genuinely.

He nodded “it’s alright.. I’m also sorry. I’ll work on prioritizing you more. I missed you” he apologized as well, returning your smile.

“I missed you too.” You wrapped your arms around him in a hug, he chuckled and hugged you back, squeezing you when you squeezed him. You couldn’t help but notice the fact that he was purring slightly… clearly you were both content with how this little argument of yours had ended.

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/writing/headcanons without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

[grapejuicestyless]

The Grudge

Harry Styles x fem!reader

The second part to You’re The Winner.

ANGST

Summery: based off of the song The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo!!

Some nights I still wake up wet from my own cold sweat and salty tears. I rework the script I’ve perfected until my pen runs dry and the pages are crinkled. I scribble out each word and fix it until the cut is so deep it cuts more than just through the page, but to the reader.

I was never someone who believed in doing things so they were merely good enough. No, I always thought things through until they were at their very best points. Each sentence rephrased to make the viewer understand the concept of the conversation but to catch the deeper meanings and let it make more and more sense with each rewatch.

Now I lay awake, terrified of never being enough. Is my success nothing more than a false ego I have in my head? Do these awards that sit on my shelf hold any value if nobody could recognize them? If earning these doesn’t elevate me do they even count as a prestigious award?

I never had these issues, I displayed everything proudly. Aware of how lucky I was to be able to accept these awards so graciously. Body draped in the finest pearls and hair styles to perfection. I was excited to tell the stories when people would ask. Tell them about what I was working on, encourage them to follow their hearts. My insecurities were always just that, small thoughts littered in my head meant to make me doubt my self worth. Now they felt like more.

More than just metaphorical daggers stabbing into my body and mind. I wake up in distress from more than my own voices but his. I still hear Harry’s voice after all these months. It’s the sound of the insults I throw at myself, at everything I’ve done. It’s his voice I hear every time I think I am not enough. And what he had to say about my passions and how I execute them still lingers like a scar. I hold onto every detail of what he thought of me like my life depends on it and I break myself over and over again by finding deeper meanings in his playground insults.

The trust that he betrayed, confusion that still lingers. He took everything I loved, my confidence and my pride and crushed it in between his fingers. He could run circles around me with all his money and resources. He knows it too, be both knew it. I just never believed he would use it as a way to take stabs at me.

I still stay awake fantasizing about his little fucking sorry. How he was in tears when I finally pulled away. The shocked look on his face. I feel tough in the privacy of my room. Able to beat him up in my head and make him feel guilty but never to his face. I try to understand why he would do this all to me. I make up situations to lessen the blow. The fact it was unsolicited and simply something he chose to do for fun. Still, I can not let it go that easily. Not until every ounce of doubt is scrubbed from my mind and the voices in my head no longer belong to him.

……………………………………..…………………………………………

Sitting at the Oscar’s I find my place beside Greta Gerwig and Emma Stone. I feel out of place. I’m friends with them, I know them and their secrets. They’ve led me through the obstacles and the difficulties that come with trying to get into film making. They have been nothing but kind and reassuring over how great they think I am yet I can not push down the feeling that when the cameras flash to us I will be labeled the place holder to make the crowd look more full. No matter how lavish my gown is, no matter how nice my hair is I will never shine like the women who sit beside me. I will never stand out and make my name be known and it is something I can not come to terms with.

To rub salt in the wound I sit there and compare each category I am placed in to everyone else. I read out the nominees on the pamphlet they hand out like we are watching a youth theatre production of a marvelous broadway play. I barely make the cut for best assistant director. I read the names beside mine and I try not to get myself worked up.

I am not Greta Gerwig, I am no Christopher Nolan. I am Y/n Y/l/n. I am a woman who dreams bigger than she can possibly ever achieve. And I try not to get in over my head, but I always do. I strive to be the best and still I get trampled over.

I read the names over and over, flipping through the pages. I read the names under each category. Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift, Adele…I think about if I should’ve taken up music. I can’t sing very well but I have so much to write about. I have so many feelings and so many things to argue that I simply can not relay through film. Not at my level anyway. Joe releasing it must be to put a pen to paper and just write whatever you feel because the darkest emotions write the best songs.

It’s the sickest joke the way the names continue to go down the line. The eleven letter name in bold italics with an invisible circle around it and arrows pointed to make sure I see it. Harry Styles is up for best original song. Not only that, but I’d heard it too. Stayed up with him while we wrote it. He was so sure it wasn’t good enough and I sat there supporting him.

I stayed awake comforting him while he cried over his million dollar piano. Tears ruining the ivory and the clear shine. How idiotic I was to have been so kind to someone who so easily tore me down like I was nothing more than a pawn to remind him of his greatness. I knew the song was beautiful. His name was golden among the others competing for such an important award. One that would recognize his talent and secure his name in Hollywood. A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t believe him then, I did now. I wasn’t some prophecy. I didn’t have a title to my name to prove. I was someone who got lucky once. My work was nothing compared to his.

………………………………………………………………………………….

They called the nominees for each category, listing off the winners one by one. We grew closer and closer to the major categories that would have the TMZ headlines buzzing by the morning. When it was my turn to be called, I couldn’t help but feel jitters and anxiety pass through my veins.

I’d heard about everyone else. All of their movies staples in my Friday movie night routines I had continued even without Harry there to occupy a portion of the couch. I laughed, I cried, I thought deeply about each movie. I couldn’t help but feel nervous that I was up against people so much stronger than I was.

My picture on the screen showcased my much more recognizable friends shaking my shoulders. We were unprofessional and excited to see how I could be recognized. They made me feel that even if I didn’t win, it was well worth it because the academy, as rigged as we all secretly knew it was, had chosen me of all people to list along with a handful of others. It was an honor for me to be here, beside my best friends and my hero’s.

The name that rang through the microphone didn’t match mine. It wasn’t even close, yet I felt fine. The hands slipped from my shoulders to clap along with the crowd. My photo minimized to showcase the woman who had rightfully won over me. Still, my shoulders were heavy and my heart sunk. How nice it could’ve been to go home with that. Be able to hold it up to the sky and thank my brothers and sisters for helping me get there.

Greta and Emma tried to make me feel better. Nothing hurt worse than working up an excitement only to have it ripped away from you. It worked, for a minute. How blissfully unaware I was that the categories grew closer and closer to the one that involved the one man I couldn’t bare to think about now. I barely registered the way they prepared the stage to announce his category until the talking turned to whispers and the softest sniffles echoed.

He looked handsome on the big screen. His hair was darker than I remember it being, I assumed he dyed it for tonight. His shoulders were broad in his suit and his face was cleanly shaven. If his eyes could speak they would be a jumble of words that expresses different emotions. He bit his lip and toyed with his rings. I caught him picking the skin by his thumb. I wanted to yell at him to stop, it was a bad habit we tried so hard to break. But he wasn’t mine anymore. I no longer existed as a best friend to him, someone else could place their hand over his and silently relay their own thoughts to him.

The sour feeling in my heart curtailed like milk when his picture took up the entire screen. The way he stood and hugged the people around him. He was surrounded by friends and family alike that supported him in ways I used to. If it were a few years ago, that would’ve been me beside him. His plus one to an event I was already attending simply because he was everything to me.

Watching him accept that award was the final straw. How he walked up to the stage in no rush, fixing his coat on the way and running a hand through his hair. He had a lazy smirk on his face that would make anyone weak in the knees. He looked confident and yet so grateful for everything happening to me. I felt confused by his attitude. How cocky he was in private, he was so good at masking the real Harry when it came to keeping a good public image. It was some kind of pathological lier type of bullshit that made my throat close and heart pound.

In his speech he thanked his mom and his dad. He thanked his sister and his friends. His ex-Bandmates and his producers. A full list of names, he went on and on and yet my name never came up. He thanked people who didn’t even know him on the crinkled piece of paper shaking in his hands. They didn’t know his favorite color, how he preferred his eggs. He didn’t like celery but he loved peas. Mushed, soggy, fresh. He would spoon them onto his plate like a mad man. They didn’t know he slept with his socks on because he felt scared something might try to grab at him at the end of the bed even now. He was childish in a mature way. Fears he carried form childhood that he couldn’t shake, they didn’t know that and yet they got the credit I deserved. I couldn’t do it then.

I could sit there and pretend to be tough, but I wanted to scream. I could sit there and say I was fine to everyone, be my professional self but I couldn’t act like it was okay anymore. To tear me down, to rewrite your past to fit the people who chose you based off fame and not on who you are, to get rid of what we once cherished was too far. I could put aside his harsh words for the sake of the night but his blatant disregard for my feelings after he’d cried over my leaving said enough.

When he left the stage I made my exit, mumbling something short of having to use the bathroom. My dress was short enough to not have to gather it between my fingers. I could walk quickly down the aisle and look at my feet on the way. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone, even though they didn’t know me I felt that the look on my face would reveal it all.

The door opened harshly but had stoppers on it to silence any amount of force pushed on it. It made any angry outburst look accidental. The only indication that the door had been opened was the sliver of light the slipped through the opening of the main lobby and the dimly lighted theatre that held the greatest minds of film alike.

My feet hit the expensive carpet hard, heals digging into each design I wondered if my aggression would permanently dent the fabric, ruin the art in it.

It was colder outside of the room that I sat idly in, more free. The only people out here at this time were the few paparazzi permitted and stray employees cleaning up for the night. Flashes took my vision and I could see the headlines now.

How I would be bashed for simply showing my emotions. How they would paint me as a bitter sore loser who couldn’t even keep it together and act fine. I couldn’t blame them really. How would the world even know of how their favorite pop star had taken a hold of my heart and ruined any perception of love I had for him in a few short months.

The air outside was chilling. My skin was bare and in a way, in my artistic side of my mind I could pretend it was the literal way the world was showing how I felt. Tiny stabbing wounds across my arms creating goosebumps running up and down each exposed part of my body.

My car wasn’t there. I was out so early without warning, I became stranded not only mentally but physically. I didn’t care then. If I had to walk the streets of Los Angeles in high heals and an expensive gown. If I got mugged of all my belongings on my way home I didn’t care. I couldn’t be near anyone anymore. I couldn’t hold it together and I certainly wouldn’t fall apart for everyone to see.

Footsteps slapped against the pavement so quickly, I didn’t process the splashing of puddles or the heavy breathing approaching me. With my luck, I would already become a victim to a robbery before even turning the corner.

The hand on my arm came next. It wasn’t rough but it was firm enough to catch my attention. More than that, it was so familiar, so warm.

I felt the roughness of fingertips brushing under my bicep and the contrasting softness of his palm resting on top. His rings were warmed from his skin already, smooth against my body. I knew who the hand belonged to immediately. It was one I had held, toyed with and admired for years. One attached to a body that I adored, looked up to like a hero.

Turning, his eyes met mine. They were a darker green. I couldn’t see if from how far I was before, but he looked more tired, more sad. His eyes were dark not from anger or all the drinks I had hoped he was downing so he would forget about me, but because something was bothering him. Something heavy. He carried a lot of regret and sadness in his eyes that were once so free and careless. He seemed more calculated in his choice of words, more precise than his usual mess of sentences that came straight from his mind to his mouth.

“You didn’t have to chase after me.” I broke the silence, he was still catching his breath. He shook his head, looking down to gather himself. His pants were wet at the bottom from the pavement and his hair was falling in front of his face. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, but it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a place in his life anymore.

“I wanted to.” He confessed, searching my face. In my head I’d like to think my expression was stone cold. One that was heartless, expressionless. I didn’t care in my head, but in my heart I did. I felt my lip quiver, I felt my eyebrows furrow. I was an open book for Harry to read.

“Why? So you could fix things? Fix us?” I escalated things quickly. I didn’t want to play his mind games. He was brilliant, people didn’t give him enough credit for it. If I allowed him to sit here and apologize while I was already feeling vulnerable, it wouldn’t matter how sincere it was. I would accept it and cave and by the morning I would hate myself for letting my heart take over my brain.

“No, don’t do that. Y/n, you were the one who walked out on me. I tried to get you to stay, and I regret not trying harder and if I could go back I would’ve begged on my knees but that doesn’t change the fact that you still left. I care about you, Y/n. You’re my best friend.” His voice was sharp, desperate. It felt so real, everything he was saying. I trusted him completely. I understood what he was feeling. Some nights I wish I had stayed. I had just put up with it. It was all the talk of my undying love that I held for Harry. A friendship that may have turned into a small crush in my head without me realizing. My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge. The reason that forgiving and forgetting is so hard.

“Do you think I deserved it all? Harry tell me, please. Is that what you really think of me? As someone who deserved to be built up just so you could watch me fall? Is that what I was for you?” I begged him to understand what I meant. What I endured was verbally abusive, toxic, venomous. It killed me to know that my best friend thought so low of me. So poorly of the girl he swore to protect with all his heart.

“You know I never meant to.” He tried to defend himself, his hand loosened on my skin, falling down to hold my hand. His fingers intertwining in mine felt like tiny flames bursting out across my hand. It was so soft yet so hard, my body started to shake from more than just the cold.

“You are so selfish.” I shook my head, breathing in to look at the same bewildered face that looked back at me all those weeks ago. I remembered all the arguments I had won in my head against him. In the shower, in the car, in the mirror before bed. I remember all the things I didn’t say that I wish I had, all the ways I could’ve made him hurt like I had. It would’ve made me the smaller person.

The fact he looked lost about where I was coming from made it so much more difficult to not spill my guts to him there on the sidewalk. He made it so hard to not want to rip him apart with his oblivion and gaslighting tendencies. I doubt he even though about all the damage that he did.

“I just-I can’t wrap my head around how anybody could do the things you did so easily? You have everything and you still want more! You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy! I know it more than anything, I’ve lived it. Harry, hurt people, hurt people. We both drew blood but man, those cuts were never equal!” I didn’t touch him but to both of us it felt like I had slapped him in the face. Acknowledging his actions and mine that led us here made it so much more real, the end was so much more destined for our story. I tried to be tough, I tried to be mean, but still standing there after pouring out my heart and feelings I couldn’t help but crumble. A single cry tumbled from my lip. I shook my head and looked to the sky. Harry made no movement.

It was pathetic to be so torn after so much time apart. He should’ve held no weight in my heart, but he always would. He was the most important opinion in my life, even when he wasn’t present. When reworking scripts and giving direction, in the back of my head it became a constant question of if Harry thought it was enough. If it was good enough.

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” My hand ripped from his viciously. It burned the way we separated so quickly. His eyes were stuttering over mine, his mouth tried to move, hand digging through his pocket.

I no longer had time for him, not then not ever. He could pick me apart, rip my heart out and stitch it back together, point daggers at my deepest hurts but he would no longer get these reactions out of me.

My escape was the same as the last. Quick and panicked. My feet hit the pavement harder than before and my arms swung with so much force, I was pushing myself forward with each step. Farther and farther, I couldn’t find the courage to look back like before. I couldn’t stand to think about him crying again. My hatred for his actions could never compare to the love I would always hold for Harry. If he didn’t deserve me, that would be okay. But I could not live with myself knowing I made him cry again. Not even after what he did.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“You could’ve at least given me credit, you know I deserved that much.” Her hand ripped from mine so quickly that it almost burnt my skin. It was like a fresh wound opening to feel her leaving not only mentally again, but physically. How her touch would never be in mine again. How she no longer belonged to me, I no longer belonged to her.

Her words set in after a hesitating moment. She meant my speech. God, how could I have been so stupid? To not realize how hurt she must’ve been to be erased so easily from the narrative. Like the nights spent together and the laughter and tears meant nothing. The piano ruined and her shirt soaked by my tears. The shirt that was really mine. I wondered if she still had it after all this time. It always did look better on her than me. I would give her everything if I could.

I dug through my pockets quickly to find it, the crinkled piece of paper with all the names on it. All the words I wanted to say but knew I would stumble over in my own nerves if I were to win. My hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t grasp it in time. She was gone.

Something about this time told me that she wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t stop. Not even the most guttural cry could make her look back. I had hurt her over and over again. Still, I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was until the word held no meaning and sounded odd coming from my lips. Like it was no longer real. She owed me none of her time.

So I stood there by myself, in the light rain that fell over Los Angeles, wet and alone. My paper was wrinkled in my hands, creased and bent messily. I looked down at the handwriting that didn’t really look like mine. How even in my excitement to be nominated, the loss of Y/n was so heavy it was hard to do anything. The pen was too heavy. I couldn’t do anything I once loved without her support. I looked down at all the names. My mother, my sister. They weren’t even first on the list. The first name I had written down, Y/n Y/l/n. My best friend.

I hadn’t read it out because I thought she wouldn’t want me to. I didn’t want to take away from an important night for her. Steal the spotlight from her award I was certain she would win by placing her name onto mine.

I was so sure she would win. She would be happy and we could reconnect. I had watched the movie, I watched all of her movies. She was the best of us. Always a talented writer, always having a new idea to jot down. Her napkins were sketch pads and her notes app was a dictionary of her favorite books and inspirations for shots. I know nobody with a mind like hers, one as creative and brilliant. I’m not sure why I tore her down all those days. Made her feel worthless when she was one of the best things in my life.

Even after all of this, she was and would always be everything to me. I could try and try and try to forget her and erase her from my life but she would always carry a piece of me around with her. I would always have hints of her in my home, in my wardrobe. She was everywhere without even being there.

She was my best friend.

[wh0re43van]

Just friends- (Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: While staying with the Maximoff family, you admit your feelings to your best friend, and he doesn’t seem to feel the same until you inform him that you’re going on a date with another guy

Word count: 4K

Warnings: angst, sad Peter, a brief mention of Unsolicited groping

I’m so thankful for the Maximoffs. They’re allowing to stay with them for a couple months after getting kicked out of my parents’ home. I’m rooming with my best friend of four years, and I’ve never been happier. As soon as he heard about my situation, he welcomed me into his home- into his bedroom- with open arms.

“Honey, I’m home,” The goofball announces as he walks into our temporally shared room holding two pizzas, a 2 liter of dr. pepper, a bag of breadsticks with all the fixings, and a rented copy of The Exorcist.

“Wow, what’s the occasion?” I giggle, sitting up in our his bed, setting down the book I had been reading.

With a fwp, he’s turned down the lights, popped the movie in and arranged the food at the foot of the bed before sitting beside me, now in his pajamas.

“It’s a party!” he gives me a cheesy grin, popping open the pizza box and pulling out two slices, handing one to me.

“Oh god, Peter are we really so lame that this is what we consider a party?” I laugh before taking a bite of the greasy pizza, still hot since Peter was able to get it here in less than three seconds.

“This is the best kind of party! Hanging with your best friend, piggin’ out on junk food, and watching a bitchin’ horror movie? What else could a dude ask for?” He says as he stuffs his face, licking his greasy fingers. I cant help but laugh at the man child sitting beside me, even though it hurts my heart a bit knowing that he only considers me his friend. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than grateful for Peter (and his mother) being in my life, but I just always hoped for more. It’s been four years and nothing’s escalated despite my many attempts, so I guess it’s time to accept that. I mean, we’re out of high school now, were adults. If he hasn’t shown interest by now then I guess it’s a lost cause. “Besides,” he smacks his lips, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “The main thing that makes this a party is the fact that you’re here,” he gives a goofy wink, making my cheeks tint pink- but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How flattering,” I nudge him playfully before opening the 2 liter, taking a sip out of the bottle then handing it to Peter. He mimics my action, then lets out a loud belch.

‘how in the hell does this man have me absolutely smitten over him,’ think to myself as he shoves an entire breadstick into his mouth.

“Whatever,” he chuckles looking away for a second.

“God damn Peter,” my eyes go wide when I see that he’s already eaten half a large pizza.

“What?” he asks as he holds his head up, his arm extended as he lets the cheese slide off the crust into his mouth. “Gotta fuel my metabolism, these rock hard abs don’t just appear overnight,” he snickers before lifting up his shirt, revealing his toned stomach, then takes another gulp out of the soda bottle.

“I guess your body does look pretty good for someone whose diet is 50% carbs and 50% sugar,” I tease, thanking whatever deity it is above us that the lights are too dim for him to see the blush rushing over my face as I stare at his bare stomach.

“You’d think the chicks would be all over this,” he wiggles his eyebrows before deepthroating another breadstick. “They wouldn’t know charm if it bit ‘em in the ass,” he mumbles through a mouth full of bread as marinara sauce drips down his face. “I mean come on, how do I not get girls?” He snickers as he wipes his grubby hands on his pants. I roll my eyes at the messy boy.

“Peter, I know you very well,” I reach for my second slice of pizza. “The reason you don’t get girls is because you can never tell when they’re flirting with you,” I tease, but meaning every word. He’s the dullest guy ever when it comes to picking up on social cues.

“I know,” he chuckles as he turns to look at me. “Real shame too. Sometimes I realize it after they’ve already walked away. Sucks cause I probably coulda’ lost my V-card by now if I understood the first thing about gals. I really can’t pick up on flirting” he says matter-o-factly as he takes a sip of soda.

“Oh, I know all too well, Peter,” I laugh out, my eyes focused on the tv screen. He gives a soft, almost confused laugh, then he’s silent for a minute before speaking up.

“Wait a minute,” he sits up straight in the bed. “Are you implying that even you’ve flirted with me?” he asks with wide eyes full of skepticism. I take a deep breath, sitting up to be eye level with him.

“Peter,” I start, he’s staring intently at me with his brows threaded in confusion. “The only reason I talked to you for the first time was because I thought you were cute,” I laugh out. How can he be so dense?! He stares at me in bewilderment in silence. I can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to our first encounter all those years ago.

“Oh my god!” he comes to the realization. “You were flirting with me that summer day in the arcade?” he asks still shocked. It makes my heart happy that he remembers the first time we met. “How did I not realize. God I’m stupid,” he slaps his palm to his forehead.

“Only took ya four years, Quickie,” I tease before taking a sip of Dr. Pepper. “Wasn’t the very first thing that I ever said to you: ‘You’re really good at that, handsome’?” I say and he repeats the quote with me, smiling and nodding. He remembers it word for word. “Come on man, how did you not know?” I chuckle. His eyes are still full of disbelief.

“I was really focused on the game!” his face turns red as he has another epiphany: “That probably wasn’t the only time, was it?” he asks, rubbing his hand on the back of neck, letting out a small laugh.

“God no,” I chuckle, a bit embarrassed but enjoying reminiscing on our friendship none the less. “Remember, two weeks after that, I invited you out to go roller skating?” I ask.

“Yeah of course, you were wearing that limited edition ‘Eagles’ shirt that you still to this day won’t let me touch,” he laughs. I thought that having this conversation would help me get over him, but hearing how well he remembers all our fondest memories together makes me swoon.

“Well, when I asked you, I meant it as a date,” I admit, watching his face once again fill with bewilderment. “But the whole time you were calling me dude and roughhousing me, I just assumed you either didn’t like me that way or you were to dumb to realize it was a date. Lucky for you, I had a lot of fun and chose to ignore it,” I nudge him playfully. He face palms himself again.

“Y/n, I had no idea. I never in a million years thought a girl as rad as you would be interested in me in that way, so the idea of a date never even crossed my mind,” he flops back on the bed, processing all of this new information. “Wait do you still flirt with me? How oblivious have I been? Oh my god am I still missing stuff?” he shoots back up in the bed once again..

“Peter,” I say flatly. “Just last week I changed right Infront of you. I literally stripped into just my bra and panties right next to the tv when you were playing Space Invaders,” I can’t believe this guy. He blushes thinking back to that moment.

“I thought we were just really comfortable with each other! We change infront of each other all the time,” he chuckles nervously. “I still tried not to look out of respect, but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t sneak a glance or two though,” he admits but looks away, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s alright Peter,” I sigh as I close up the pizza box before laying back to watch the movie. “Once a girl comes along that you’re actually interested in, I’m sure you’ll pick up on her signals,” I say not looking at him, accepting my defeat. He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well, how do I know?” he asks genuinely. I look at him, raising my eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “Like, obviously I know a hot chick when I see one, but how do I know when I’m actually interested. I’m clueless y/n,” he lets out a light laugh after the last part, seeming a bit embarrassed as he intently awaits my answer.

“Well,” I prop myself up on my arm to look at him. “I guess it would have to be more than physical attraction. If you’re genuinely interested, then you’ll want more than her body, but also want more than just her friendship. You’ll want to talk to her, to just be in her presence. You’ll care about what she thinks about you. Stuff like that,” I shrug, not sure how to explain what attraction feels like to someone who claims to have never felt it before. He nods silently, absorbing my words. The fact that he hasn’t laughed in my face yet for admitting to liking him is giving me false hope that he could possibly feel the same way. I need this conversation to end soon.

“So it would have to be someone I can see a future with? Someone that I want to impress? Someone that I genuinely care about? But also someone who’s super smokin’?” he asks, wanting a genuine answer. I smile downwardly.

“You’re getting it now,” I sigh. “I’ll be jealous of whatever girl wins your heart over,” I laugh, holding my breath in anticipation for how he’s going to respond to that, preparing to have my hopes crushed so I can move on.

“Oh don’t worry,” he smirks. Here we go. “I’ll make room for the both of you,” he winks. And there it is. My stomach drops, but it’s out now. Now I know that he’s not interested, I know for sure that I’m going on this date tonight. Part of me hoped that Peter would admit his feelings and I could cancel this stupid date, but I have to get out there. “Oh! No, y/n I didn’t mean-” Peters smile drops, and he reaches for my arm.

“No, I get it. It’s cool, man,” I force a smile, standing from his bed, checking my wristwatch. “I gotta get ready for my date anyway. I didn’t even realize what time it was,” I say honestly as I walk over to my suitcase.

“Woah, what?” he zooms in front of me, blocking my bag. “Date?” he asks, a bit of panic in his voice. I scoff, pushing him to the side.

“Yeah, I went to the arcade yesterday while you were out with your mom, now I have a date,” I smile weakly as I strip, then slip into my dress before I walk over to my mirror that I hung on his wall to fix my makeup.

“No- y/n- i- that’s- who… whos your date with?” his words fall out a stumbled mess as if he can’t sort his thoughts from one another.

“Steve. Ya know, the one from the arcade that’s always trying to beat your high scores,” I explain as I brush my hair.

“Steve!?” He shouts in disbelief. “That asshole? Y/n come on, man!,” he almost sounds angry.

“Yeah?” I shrug as I apply some lip gloss. I see Peter pacing behind me in the reflection of the mirror.

“Steve? Really?” he throws his hands up.

“He’s cute. Plus, you know I have a thing for nerds,” I remind him. His face turns red. Why is he acting like this? He just crushed my dream of being with him and now he wants to act jealous?

“Cute?! You mean you’re not just going to be nice?” He sounds so shocked and almost hurt. I turn around to face him.

“I- of course Peter why would I-,” I’m completely flustered. “No.” I say sternly. “No Peter. You don’t get to do this. You had four years man, and just 15 minutes ago I admitted my feelings for you and you said that you didn’t feel the same,” I’m getting frustrated with him, I can feel my blood pressure raising out of anger and embarrassment.

“But that’s not- I didn’t- no you misunderstood!” he starts to raise his voice, laced with panic. “What if I do have feelings for you?” he asks with pleading eyes.

“Do not do this. Peter please don’t do this to me! You can’t suddenly have feelings for me just because I have a date with you nerd enemy!” I shout as my ears burn red with anger. “Don’t be immature,” I poke my finger to his chest, completely irate. He looks like his mind is running a thousand miles a minute. It takes him a couple seconds to rebuttal.

“No! I never said I don’t have feelings! Y/n I didn’t say that!” he shouts, but his voice isn’t angry, it’s worried as he places a hand on my heated cheek.

“No Peter,” I say calmly even though I’m beyond frustrated as I pull away from his touch. “You’re really hurting me right now. You’re the last guy I ever expected to fuck with my emotions like this,” tears well up in my eyes. I can’t believe what he’s doing. My ego was already bruised when he didn’t respond to my confession and now he’s trying to keep me from a date just because the dude plays video games just as well as him. Peter stares at me, his hand still outstretched in the air where he tried to console me. He doesn’t say anything.

Honk! Honk!

Steves car horn sounds from outside the Maximoff home, beckoning me.

“Please don’t go,” his voice is feeble. “Please just give me some time to think. Just five minutes to figure this out,” he pleads with desperate eyes. I almost give in, but I stay strong.

“Peter, there’s a guy outside this house that already has his feelings sorted. You stay here and figure it out. I’m leaving,” I seethe as I stare at his confused and hurt expression, almost making me apologize, but I’m too hurt and embarrassed. He doesn’t say anything, he just grips his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white, his jaw clenches, and I see that he’s holding back tears. I immediately turn to run up the steps because if I look at him for one more second, I would be holding him in my arms, telling him I’m sorry and letting him cry it out. Not today.

•

•

After Steve picked me up, we went to dinner, then to the drive-in theatre. I’m having… a decent time. He’s a little boring compared to Peter, no one can make me laugh like he can. I’m also a bit distracted at how I left my best friend. I think I may have been too hard on him. Now that I’ve calmed down, I think he really was just trying to sort things out. I know that Peter isn’t the most emotionally mature and definitely doesn’t have a way with words.

‘oh god, what have I done?’ I think to myself in horror.

“What do you say, huh?” Steves deep voice shakes me out of my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I smile sweetly. “What was that?” I bat my lashes at him, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’ve been thinking about another guy the whole time he’s been speaking to me.

“I said: Why don’t we move to back?” he smirks motioning towards his back seat.

“Uh,” I know exactly what he’s alluding to. Do I really want to go down that road? “Yeah, okay,” I smile. I guess I do. We get out of the vehicle and hop into the back. He immediately pulls me into his lap. I’m a bit taken back by his sudden grip on my body.

“You ever been touched by a real man?” he asks as he peppers kisses all over my neck as his cold hands slip under my dress without even asking. I’m shocked, disgusted, and confused.

“I-uh- can you stop please?” I pull arm out of his grip and crawl out of his lap.

“Hey, I paid for your food and your ticket. You owe me!” he shouts, grabbing my arm again. I have so much pent up rage from earlier, I didn’t even realize it when my hand shot out to slap him across the face full force. He looked at me stunned before getting out of his car, opening the door and literally throwing me out. He picks me up by shoulders and tosses me onto the dusty, bare, dirt. He drives away without a single word.

“What the fuck,” I mutter to myself as I stand up, brushing the dirt off myself. A young man from the next car over rushes to the scene, asking if I’m okay. I simply thank him for his concern, then take the walk of shame back to Peters house.

Now I remember why I waited for Peter for so long; He’s the only decent guy I’ve ever met. As if the silent, cold, horrifying walk back to the Maximoff house at midnight wasn’t punishment enough, once I arrive and enter his bedroom, the sight I see makes my heart break completely in two. I feel physical pain when I see Peter.

His room is dark as he’s laid on his couch, curled up In a blanket, staring at the starter screen on his Tank video game on the box Television. The flashing light reflects on his blank face, allowing me to see his bloodshot eyes, red nose, and puffy lips from crying. He hasn’t seemed to notice me enter the room. My own eyes immediately fill up with the tears I was trying so hard to hold back.

“Peter,” I let out a somber whisper. He jumps up, looking at me with wide, puffy eyes.

“Are you crying?” he zooms up to me, grabbing my arm. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, putting a hand on my cheek. How can he still care about my feelings after how I left things?

“I’m okay Peter,” I lean into his touch. “I should have listened to you, though. You were right about him,” my tear stained eyes meet his. His face flushes in anger.

“What did he do to you? Is he still here? I swear I’ll kill the guy!” He raises his voice with every sentence, balling his hands into fists.

“It’s- I, uhm, would rather not talk about it,” I look down avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n, did he hurt you, yes or no? That’s all I need to know,” He gently lifts my chin to meet his gaze again but I close my eyes. I can’t look at him with out the guilt from making him cry making me feel sick.

“…Yes,” I Whisper, not wanting to elaborate. With a fwp Peter’s gone. I hear the front door open, I rush out to the sidewalk.

“Where the fuck is he?” Peter screams in a tone that I rarely hear from him. He turns to look at me, his once sad expression now pure unfiltered anger: A look I’ve never seen on him before. I’m almost scared.

“He’s not here Peter, I had to walk home from the drive in,” I sigh. Peter looks at me as if he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. He kicks the neighbor’s trash can in anger. With a loud clang, the metal bin is sent flying down the street, his foot mark now permanently indented in the can.

‘Steve’s lucky he isn’t here right now. Jesus Christ’ I think to myself.

“Let’s just go inside, please. I need to talk to you,” I say softly as I grab his tensed arm. He looks at me, his expression softening before he allows me to lead him inside.

I bring him in and sit him down on the couch, it’s silent for a few beats, neither one of us want to look at the other one.

“I’m sorry,” we both blurt out at the same time, snapping our heads to look at each other. The awkwardness subsides as we smile at each other. We both try to start our apology at the same time, then erupt into giggles.

“Let me go first,” I put a light hand on Peters knee. He shakes his head ‘no’.

“No. I’m going first. I finally got everything sorted out,” he takes a deep breath. “Y/n, I do have feelings for you and I’m sorry. I’m just a stupid boy that never learned how to process emotions. You’re amazing! You’re my best friend and I feel so horrible that I hurt you. When you were explaining what it felt like to be attracted to someone, you just explained word for word how I feel about you. I was just confused, everything happened so fast, and I honestly thought you were joking with me at first. I’ve always kind of had the hots for you, but I never in a million years thought that you could ever be attracted to me, so I locked those thoughts away. I’m sorry that I couldn’t express this sooner. I’m so so sorry,” he says in a rush of words, I almost have trouble keeping up with the words coming out of his mouth. His big brown puppy eyes scan my face for my reaction. I just smile at him, tears once again swelling in my eyes for about the third time tonight.

“Peter, you’re such a sweet guy,” I grin and his face beams with joy. “I was such an asshole to you earlier… I’m sorry. My ego and my heart were hurt and I should not have taken that out on you. The way that you still cared about me when I got back from that awful date even though I had upset you right before I left just shows how amazing of a person you are. You are the best thing in my life,” a tear rolls down my cheek, Peter quickly wipes it away.

“Hey, come here,” he says softly before pulling me into his chest. As he pulls me into his strong arms, the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body makes me forget about every problem I’ve ever had. The steady rise and fall of his chest and his fingers running though my hair could put me to sleep in an instant. “I don’t blame you for anything. That situion just unfolded really poorly and we both said some things we shouldn’t have, but that’s over now,” he kisses my forehead as I snuggle further into him.

“Thank you, Peter,” I yawn as I wrap my arms around his torso. He continues brushing his fingers through my hair and tracing mindless designs on my back, I feel myself drifting off to sleep, all the stress I had been feeling now completely subsided. I lay in his arms, wrapped in comfort as if he’s a warm towel straight out of the dryer. I hear him whisper,

“Goodnight, beautiful,” as he clicks off the tv with the remote. A small smile creeps onto my lips as I slip off to sleep.

[silmaryel]

when I must remove your wings and you must try to fly

I love this song, I hate it. It's Astarion's song now. Now I gave myself just another reason to cry over it 😅

**********************

Ok, hear me out. I like the idea that's been going around that Spawn Astarion can also change into a bat. He might learn it after defeating Cazador, part of the whole 'vampire spawn full manual' reveal, or maybe Halsin teaches him how to do it => both ideas I’ve read/seen on this hellish site and I love them. Thank you, you wonderful ppl, if someone recognizes the above as their specific HC - lmk so I can edit the post <3

And now for the unsolicited, sappy angst which I might [????] turn into a fic.

What if at some point in his healing journey Astarion gets too comfortable in his animal form and refuses/forgets/can't change back?

Maybe he has actual trouble returning to his humanoid form. Maybe it's an escapism from his trauma. Maybe he feels guilty over feeding on Tav. Maybe it's just easier to hunt when he's a bat? Flying feels fucking great too.

So hours turns into days, days into weeks.

Tav promises to bring it up in the conversation at some point when he's back, but they are now scared he might not be back? Whenever a little fluffy white bat appears in their small shared space, they get both relieved and anxious. At some point, they are no longer sure if it’s even him anymore. Sometimes Astarion returns bloodied and only the faintest smell of bergamot and rosemary convinces Tav it’s still him. [Insert multiple scenarios of Tav taking care of sick/wounded Batstarion]

When he’s finally back, disoriented, slightly disassociated, not aware it’s been weeks this time, much thinner than he was before, Tav asks him not to turn anymore. It is not a demand, they couldn’t. But it is an explicit plea. And Astarion is baffled by the idea that Tav could be actually terrified of losing him this way. And amazed that it's them asking for something in their relationship, not the other way around. It empowers him, sort of?

Now every time he feels the urge to turn, he comes to Tav. And they talk him through it. Sometimes he leaves, frustrated and angry at himself, at Tav, at his long dead master. Sometimes they both find other ways for him to deal with with overwhelming emotions. It's a journey.

Journey which hopefully will end with Tav being all giddy whenever they feel the white fluff against their cheek. And Astarion being a total menace, turning into a bat whenever they are at odds, just to provoke cuteness aggression from Tav and win the argument.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 10.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (Mature Content)

Word Count: 6.6K

Warnings: Some smut-ish situations. Edging but this time it’s you, not the characters. Angsty angst is angsty. Some trouble in paradise.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne song Can I Stay

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Part 1, …… Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

“I said I don’t like you meeting him.” He was staring ahead at the screen with a darkness in his eyes and his jaw was clenched down tight.

“Assistant Byun-” He physically flinched when he heard it. You felt a burning inside your stomach, “I can handle it myself.”

———

You could deal with Chet. He was nothing to you; insignificant and small. You didn’t need to avoid him and you definitely didn’t run away from your problems.

Instead of closing the window, your fingers flew over your keyboard typing out a quick curt response that would put an end to it for good, both the pushy unsolicited and unreciprocated behavior from that man and as for this man, the one standing behind you, having straighten his spine back up, pulled himself into a standing position and was now watching you with his arms firmly folded over his chest; perhaps this would put his mind at ease that no, you didn’t actually have any interest in meeting with Chet, and no you weren’t actually doing anything to encourage this and avoiding it would only make things worse.

You hadn’t yet looked up at him, but you could physically feel him watching you right now.

‘Please follow the appropriate channels to request a meeting and refrain from contacting me on any matters unrelated to work.’

You hit send and watched the message get delivered. After a few moments you saw the moment the message was seen by him and you watched for a few more seconds as no reply came.

Delivered and received. It was done. That should be it. Any normal human in a professional environment would accept this as the end of something. Something that was nothing.

You were staring at your computer screen, working up the nerve to look at him.

Something in your stomach had turned sour. Perhaps your lunch didn't agree with you.

Baekhyun made a sound beside you, it was a slow exhale from his nose. It pulled your eyes to him and he was standing just at the edge of your desk looking down at his thumb that ran a path along the wooden surface again and again.

You watched his eyes and he wasn’t looking at you but his mind seemed quite occupied in his own silence. His head ticked a bit and he worried his tongue inside his closed mouth, swallowing quickly before biting down on his bottom lip for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the desk.

Was he upset?

Or were you upset?

The sour feeling in your stomach surged a little and you swallowed it down. You knew that he didn't like Chet. You knew that he didn’t like you having to interact with him. Baekhyun had taken offense when you’d rebuked him, calling him out by his title and basically telling him to back-off, that you could handle your own battles. Was his problem that he didn’t trust Chet or did he honestly think you were somehow a helpless damsel? You refused to entertain the idea that somewhere in his mind lurked a worry that you would purposefully meet with Chet, or purposefully put hopes into that man’s mind.

The silence had nearly been going on for too long. You could see, if you looked very carefully, you could see a fast approaching line between when this would be a silly little memory you could look back on with him and laugh, and when this could potentially snowball into some sort of misunderstanding that could derail his faith in you, or your faith in him.

“Baekhyun—” you started speaking to him, not entirely sure where you were going, but needing some words to come out anyway.

“I’m sorry—”

“I’m sorry,” you heard his voice sound out over your own at the same time. His sudden apology halted your own words but he heard yours because his head was shaking back and forth in tiny movements as he rolled his eyes around his head and licked his lips again.

“No, I’m sorry. I was out of line.” He said it quickly and just under his breath. You hated this. You hated the uncertainty of it all. The walking on eggshells and the careful and delicate way you both had to behave as you figured out each other's personalities and limits of what was acceptable and what was not. Laying down the boundaries of this new relationship felt like an insurmountable undertaking and left you weary and exhausted just with the thought of it.

There were things he obviously didn't like. And there were things you didn’t like. Your own autonomy being questioned or worse, silenced. You weren’t hopeless. You had never once needed someone to fight your battles for you.

There were things you could work on too. Your own self esteem and accepting him for the social, friendly, sometimes overly friendly popular guy that he was. The rumors from the bathroom were fresh in your mind and you would still feel the sting of what they said about you, but you knew they had to be baseless.

This man was so open with you though. He was standing here, apologizing to you for a very human reaction of wanting to protect the one he loved.

But what about him? Couldn't you also protect him?

“Baek, I will do my best to not meet with him unless work related and unavoidable. I don't even want to, and I think I’ve made it abundantly clear to him. I understand that you don't like it and I’ll do everything in my power to respect that.”

He was looking into your face now, watching your lips as you spoke out your promises to him and at last — at last you witnessed the moment when that darkness in his eyes cleared. He blinked slowly at you and you saw the tiny pull at the corner of his lips.

“You’re so cool,” he said quietly and his lips changed into the smallest pout as he pulled his top lip in between his teeth and pushed his bottom lip out.

“How do you do that?” He said after a few moments of silence. “You’re like the fucking boyfriend whisperer.” He’d taken a step closer to you and another. This was behind the desk; this was not allowed. His body language felt too casual; almost as if he’d forgotten himself and it set off alarm bells in your head. His hand dropped and you felt his fingers land just over your shoulder, touching you lightly and there was a definite incoming motion of his face as it closed in on yours. This was bad.

You saw him leaning and you knew what this was.

Some more gullible members of your team might think he was leaning to whisper something in your ear but you knew what an incoming kiss looked like.

“Oh - nope,” you said out loud. You took immediate evasive actions; spinning around in your seat to face the opposite direction, you stood, and took two large steps away from him. You found yourself out from behind your desk, having abandoned the man back there by himself.

Another step took you to the far corner of your office and you looked up at the rows of books you kept on the shelves along that wall. Of course you were not looking for anything, you didn’t even have a plan for why you were over here but you knew that he almost just kissed you with the blinds open and an office full of people just outside of that window as potential witnesses.

“I forgot where I was,” he said softly, hanging his head down for a moment still very much behind your desk with his hands crossed behind his back.

The close call had your heart racing and you grasped through your memories for anything that could get you out of this office.

“Don’t I have a meeting somewhere?”

You knew he mentioned several things that were happening after lunch. Your attempt at a distraction was weak. Baekhyun watched you for a few moments in silence before inhaling to speak.

“It’s not for thirty minutes but we could head out right now and just…walk very slowly up the stairs if you need to get out of this fishbowl.”

“I hate the stairs.” The words were out quickly; your genuine opinion of the thought of walking up 5 flights of stairs.

“Yeah. I know. So does everybody else.” His follow-up comment was tossed carelessly and oh so casually in your direction and he was packing a bag with meeting essentials; your laptop; a few documents and final print-outs for attendees.

His cheeks had darkened a shade and you watched his face the entire time he busied himself with the bag.

You’d been seduced by this man enough times to know when you were in danger. This was at work.

This was entirely and unequivocally against the carefully explained, survivalist rules you’d set forth with him as one of the conditions of beginning this secret relationship.

“Baekhyun.” You spoke his name clearly, “That’s a bad idea.” But his shifty eyes refused to meet yours and he was making his way toward the door. Really? Nothing?

You felt it then; that thick syrupy feeling inside your chest. You had to put a hand over your chest to steady your breathing as your fought through it.

This was not allowed.

You should not, absolutely should not be in any secluded part of this building alone with this man. What was he even thinking?

“Baekhyun,” his name left your lips this time in a scandalized whisper but he had already opened your office door and he was moving quickly on his feet, through rows of cubicles, passing a few of your team members who didn’t spare him much of their attention.

You had little choice but to follow. He had all of your meeting materials and you hadn’t even paid enough attention to your schedule this morning to know what meeting it was you were headed to.

You quickened your pace to catch up with him and he was headed to the far north end of the building’s stairwell. It was the most secluded and least used one in the building. Your mind was racing as you followed his quick steps. Your heart was beating even faster at the idea of that unimaginable temptation that laid behind that door throwing you into a tizzy.

He was still faster than you were and before you could stop him he pulled the door open and disappeared behind it.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw that door close behind him.

You had already evaded one kiss today, but to purposefully put yourself into a situation? Inside your head a timer was counting. He would have stepped inside on the landing of the stairs by now. He would have his hand on the railing and his steps would be paused as he waited for the first sign of you. Would he be waiting right behind the door perhaps? Ready to pull you in for a needy and passionate kiss?

You touched the smooth metal of the handle of the door. You knew better than this.

You had also known better than beginning a romantic relationship with your own personal assistant; something that was so much against company policy that there were entire paragraphs written about the ramifications and legal consequences of an inappropriate relationship between direct supervisor and their subordinate in the employee handbook that you had signed years ago. You’d known better than to allow your heart to grow so soft and weak to him that you’d thrown out every bit of common sense you had in your head for the chance to love him and to be loved by him.

You pulled on the door and you stepped inside, all the while knowing better than this.

Inside the stairwell was quiet, save for the sound of footsteps up ahead. You heard his breathing but you did not immediately see Baekhyun anywhere in this level.

What?

Where was the man who had lured you in here with the promise of a clandestine meeting and the chance to finally be alone with him; something the entire day had not afforded you.

You caught motion in the flight above you and a blonde head of hair leaned over the railing, popping into your sight when you looked up.

“Come on, slow poke. I haven’t gotten a chance to go to the gym in days — my body feels too stiff.”

You looked straight up into his face and he wore a mischievous look there. It took you a few moments honestly. This wasn’t what you expected when you caved to temptation and opened that door. There was a slight sting to this. It made you shake your head and it made you exhale a breath through your nose, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making any snide remarks in his general direction.

He had a grin and he watched as you put your first foot on the first step of this set of stairs.

You could not help the small frown that appeared on your lips. Had you just been tricked into after lunch exercise? You hated the stairs. He didn’t have to take them in heels, he would never understand the feeling of a tight pencil skirt pulling at his thighs as he tried and failed to take more than one stair a time.

You felt downright bamboozled. Each step made you more and more irritated that he would do this to you.

Baekhyun was full of energy though. He’d noisily rushed to the top of his staircase and you could hear the sound of his stomping footsteps making their way back down now. It felt like he was showing off. In your mind, you could visualize the smug smile he would have on his face. Each new step only served to fuel your annoyance. You pushed your legs up each step one by one and you even had to pull your skirt up two or three inches so you could comfortably manage the stairs without the restriction of the tight clothing.

Just as quickly as you heard the footsteps retreating you heard the sounds of them changing direction. Was he doing laps? Why couldn't he just abandon you back here in your heels and your skirt and your grump? You saw him coming back down now. He had a smile on his face and he dipped his head to catch your eyes as he made his way down, closing the huge lead he had on you on this stupid journey up the stairs.

“Noona,” he said when he’d reached your side. You felt his shoulder bump against your own and you pulled away from him. You could do the stairs on your own, thank you very much. You didn’t even want to be doing the stairs, but now that you were nearly halfway through you could feel your limbs and muscles loosening up. You did not respond to him.

“You had a face on when you came in here.” Baekhyun had stomped his way back down the stairs and was smiling now right beside you in your section of stairs. “Why?” He should have just gone back up to his own stairs.

“I had no face on,” you defended, but you knew he was probably right. You’d come in here fully expecting a romantic escapade, not a step aerobics class. He had tricked you, the cheater.

He nodded his head up and down in big dramatic movements. He was teasing you. You had fallen for his trick so easily and he knew it. Your annoyance was quietly turning into something else.

“You had a face like you were expecting something to happen in here.”

You’d made it up three flights when you had enough with the heels. You slipped them both off at the bottom of the next flight of stairs and carried one in each hand.

“I was not,” you argued. It was a feeble attempt at a lie. He was right and he knew it.

“You were,” he countered, doing an impression of your whining rebuttal. “Did you think I was going to pounce on you?” He had stopped his upward progression when you did and you turned to look into his face, no doubt making a new face now. One full of adamant denial, and perhaps you had a little bit of a pout on your lips as he openly teased you.

You did not respond with words. You did not immediately respond with a denial either and instead you turned your head to look away from the teasing look in his eyes. He must have had a gift for seeing right through you.

You lifted a foot for another step. You would be the adult today and walk away from him. Your upward step was halted though when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist and you were physically moved and you gasped out in quiet surprise to find yourself with you back against the cold cement wall of this stairwell and the warmth and length of Baekhyun’s body was suddenly and unexpectedly pressed firmly against your own. His hand that had gripped your wrist held on tight, pinning your arm down at your side.

Perhaps it was because annoyance had taken over you. You had already given up on anything like this happening in here so the feeling of him pushing against you came at such an unexpected shock that you gasped out loud, leaving your lips to hang open. His grip around your wrist was so tight you couldn't even rotate your hand from the uncomfortable way it was pinned beside you. There was a flash of warmth that surged inside of you with the gasp.

“Did you expect something like this?” His voice was a closed-in whisper. Hot and forbidden breaths fanned over your parted lips and his eyes looked into your own with just as much of that same teasing mischief deep inside the black centers of his pupils as you had seen earlier on the stairs.

“Did you follow me in here because you want me to do this to you?”

You closed your eyes. The sight of his face up close like this was too much and having his warmth and the smell of him here like this was making your already weak heart leap around inside of your chest. You wiggled your hand, trying to get him to loosen the grip he held you with. But he was everywhere already. It was useless to resist with there being so very much of him and was so little air left in your lungs to form words against him.

He was too much today. He had been misbehaving all day long and you felt so weak to every little thing he did. Never before in your entire life had you met such an opponent. You should have known you had lost long before you had even started the battle.

He wasn’t saying anything else and he hadn’t moved from the close proximity but you could feel the steady breathing from his chest against yours and the warmth of his body felt incredible given the stark contrast of the cool wall at your back.

You had to look at him. As dangerous as a game this was, you opened your eyes like he was a compulsion that you were helpless against.

He was watching your face up close and when you opened your eyes he looked at you with half lidded blinks. Something about the look in his eyes had shifted.

“Tell me we are at work.” He whispered after a swift tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “Tell me I shouldn’t kiss you. Tell me to stop.”

Gone was the teasing, this was a different look now. You could see it in his eyes; this was desire. He was quickly being overcome by it. When before had clearly just been a game, now you could feel the trouble he was in. It pressed up against your abdomen; stiff and needy. He pushed his hips up into you.

He’d fallen into his own trap. You’d been gnashing your teeth and gnawing at your own leg for hours trying to break free from it and the man had willingly put his own foot inside and now he had the audacity to be shocked when the metal teeth clamped down on him.

“You know exactly where we are, Baekhyun and you don't seem to be listening to me today anyway.” You still tasted hints of that earlier annoyance with his behavior on the back of your tongue and still you felt so weak to him.

You felt his hand move. He’d let go of your wrist now and you felt the warmth of his fingertips followed by a hot palm that moved upward along your hip, reaching the space below your breast with the smallest of pauses before his hand traveled over your bra, squeezing over the softness of your breast.

He leaned into you and his lips parted over the skin of your neck. You felt soft kisses against your skin and heard a moan of complaint from inside of him.

“It is fucking unfair how good you smell,” he groaned into you.

He moved up higher and you heard the inhale of breath beside your ear and his lips opened up as he pulled your earlobe inside his mouth and sucked, touching lightly with the tip of his tongue on the small earring you wore there.

He was a menace. An explosion of goosebumps traveled up over the crown of your scalp down the center of your spine and a small whimper left your own mouth.

“I’m sorry — I’m sorry,” he was whispering against your skin between the tiny kisses as he followed down the length of your neck. “I know I’m being bad.”

His wandering fingertips had already popped two buttons on your blouse, a peek of his thirsty eyes feasted over the exposed view of the red bra and the contrasting skin of your breasts. You felt his mouth lower, kissing the softness of your flesh, squeezing with his hands and feasting at the red marks his rough mouth left behind with desperately wild eyes. He took the breath you hadn’t yet had a chance to catch.

You felt consumed by it. You should have spoken up sooner, before you had let him change your mind, while you still had the will to fight it, that’s when you should have stopped this. Before you let it get this far.

But now — but now — Byun Baekhyun so casually set out the kindling; he had so callously pulled open that box of matches; he had so carelessly ran the red tip of that matchstick against the side of the box seeking out the friction to ignite you entirely.

How much of his childish teasing before this transpired had been to blame for your guard being down?

You felt as if you were rapidly approaching an impasse. There was an incredibly fast approaching point of no return. This was not something that could happen here. This fact was so deeply ingrained inside of your mind that no amount of lust or desire coursing through your body right now could stop the nagging you still heard ringing its alarm bells out, begging you to come to your senses and see reason.

What if someone walked into this stairwell. This was a building that was full of several hundreds of employees from all departments; how secluded really was this place? There wasn’t even a lock on any of the doors. You have been working here for years without any incidents that even shed a shadow on your character but this man; this tempting, terribly beautiful, stubbornly sexy man; surely this man and your weakness to everything about him would be your undoing.

You hadn’t given them any hints of the reality of your relationship with your assistant. And already the rumors that you heard had painted you in such a bad light. The mere idea of you and him had them calling you things like pathetic to even dream of pursuing someone clearly so far out of your league. Someone younger and someone richer and someone who was so very obviously too good for you. You knew the truth and still you had your moments when you had a hard time wrapping your head around the intense affection and attraction you felt for each other.

What would they say if someone caught wind of the events taking place right now in here, in the middle of a workday while both of you were on the clock and there was absolutely nothing to stop someone from walking into this stairwell and catching you. This was not a far fetched worry of yours, this was a very real possibility right now.

This should not be happening.

You’d be tarred and feathered. You’d be terminated and you’d never work again in this industry. Your name would be blacklisted. You would never recover any of the years wasted.

You’d be a pariah.

He would — he would be transferred to another department. And as he wandered through their hallways they would shake their heads in disbelief. Clicking their tongues while saying oh it was such a shame that someone with such power and such influence over him clearly took such advantage of him — the poor thing.

It felt like a bucket of ice water splashed over your head. Your heavy breathing, which had been solely attributed to the warmth of his body pressed against yours and his wandering hands which had moved down the curves of your hips; you felt the slow tug of his fingertips as he moved the fabric of your skirt up higher on your thighs; your breaths quickened and you gasped to catch your breath feeling the upward motion of your skirt; only instead of arousal your quick gasps for air felt more like a quiet panic was rising up inside of your chest.

The panic moved your hands. You placed a careful palm over his chest. His heartbeat raced inside of him.

“Baekhyun,” you called his name. From his lungs came a warm puff of air that warmed your skin. “Baekhyun.” You said it again, this time with a clearer and more firm voice. Your hand on his chest gave the smallest push against him.

“Baekhyun, we can’t. Not here.” His lungs pulled in hard and you felt the release of his hands on your skirt.

He had heard you. He was still pressed against you but he’d removed his face from your neck and he had removed his hands from your hips. His eyes were closed up tightly as every bit of that unbridled desperation rolled from over his body from the top of his head down to the tip of his toes and you watched the change happen on his face from up close. He licked his lips and his throat moved as he swallowed. His eyebrows furrowed together, bunching up to form a severe wrinkle on his forehead and he inhaled a very shaky breath that went down deep.

He took the smallest step back from you and then another bigger step took his heat away from you.

Your hands moved quickly to button up your blouse and you pulled your skirt back down to cover your thighs where it belonged at all times while you were in this office building.

Baekhyun had placed his hands over his face and he was working through it. The still very strong arousal; the disappointment of the denial. The sudden realization that surged through him that you had put a stop to this.

He bent at the waist with his hands on his hips and his face screwed up into a wince and his head was shaking back and forth.

“I wish you would have said something sooner,” he said under his heavy breaths; the discomfort and disappointment he was feeling was quite evident in his words and his body language. “Shit. Sorry.” His wince deepened to hear those words and whatever the accusatory meaning attached to them come out of his own mouth. With his hands off of you now, with the temptation of his body no longer pressed up against you, you could feel your mind beginning to clear.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that,” he said again, even quieter. “That’s not your fault. I’m just….I am going to need a minute.”

He had turned around to face the other way. You had slipped your feet back into your shoes and you could feel the moment of temptation passing with each minute.

After a moment he turned back to face you, his cheeks pink and his eyes cast downward toward your feet. His breathing was still quite hard and you knew this had simply gone too far. He was right. You should have stopped it long before you did. You should have not let this happen the way it had. Baekhyun moved then and he sat down on the stairs and pulled the bag he had dropped at his feet onto his lap and he groaned quietly with his head leaning into his hands.

“You can head up to the 11th floor. I need to sit here and try not to think about you for a while. I’m sorry, I think I need to keep the bag.”

With your mind clear your senses picked up on a sound, something that came from below where you stood leaning against this wall on the landing of those stairs and where he sat with his head in his hands and that bag set oh so carefully over his lap.

There was a squeak. It was barely audible but it was there. The sound of a door being opened from somewhere below you. Your heart beat frantically in your throat and echoed noisily in your ears.

“Assistant Byun, did you bring the meeting printouts? Can I take a look at them real quick before we head up?”

The man wasn’t moving fast enough. You reached down and unzipped the bag, sticking a blind hand inside and feeling for a stack of papers. Baekhyun lifted his head from his hands with a small sound of confusion in his voice. You gripped the stack of papers and pulled them out; holding them up to your face and you ran your eyes frantically over the page as if you were searching the documents for the meaning of life in the universe and the very quiet footsteps that sounded out below you eventually echoed out loud enough for his face to lose its color and his eyes flew open wide in some mixture of shock and instant understanding.

He stood up suddenly, that bag still secured very much in front of him at the waist and his eyes were cast carefully down at your feet with his pupils moving quickly back and forth.

“And you included all of the talking points we discussed?”

“Yes ma’am, in the last section.” He said with his face facing down on the ground. You noticed he looked so much paler than he had looked before. No doubt a wave of deep panic had surged through him at the realization.

After a few more footsteps the view of someone, a man, wearing a crisp suit came into your peripheral view and you turned a curious face in his direction with a pleasant smile on your lips. You recognized him as one of the other managers who would be present at today’s Idea Sesh with the rest of upper management. This was one of the extremely important people in this company involved with advertising and he had so much pull you were certain that had you not stopped what you stopped from happening earlier, you would have soon found your own head on the chopping block just as you had feared.

“And here I thought I was the only one that used this stairwell,” the older man said with a wide smile. “but you are working harder than anyone else, as always.”

You smiled wider and gave a politely dismissive response.

“Can't wait to hear your ideas today,” He said as he stepped in between you and your assistant and made his way up the stairwell, his pace not faltering once. You held your breath the entire time you watched his retreating back.

When all traces of his footsteps were gone you slowly exhaled the breath you had been holding. You slowly relaxed and unclenched every single muscle in your body that had been seized up tight. When you relaxed your hold on the stack of papers the sheets rattled noisily in your hands as they trembled.

The man beside you had his face still angled downward and you saw the slow exhale of air from his lungs that he let out through pursed lips. On his face you saw an anguished look manifesting on his pretty features.

Inside of you, your emotions surged up hot. You felt vindicated and validated for every single anxious worry you’d ever considered; ever been plagued by; ever been kept up at night dreading.

“Noona,” he whispered through his parted lips. He was still looking down at the floor. “Noona, I was wrong. I am so sorry.” He was whispering and he lifted a hand to lay over his chest. You’d noticed he had dropped the bag lower now as he held it by the handles only.

He was speaking to you but his eyes refused to lift higher than waist level. This view of him grabbed your stomach and twisted it into knots. The man was worth so much. Not just in money but to you; he was so amazingly beautiful and precious in every single way and he was standing here with his head hung down in shame because of what? Because you didn’t know your place? You didn’t take the very important job you had seriously to nurture him professionally and to care for him in the way you were meant to?

“It wasn’t just you. I came in here willingly.” You were speaking quietly and calmly but even you could hear something off in your voice. This close call had been too much. Not even a whole week into the relationship and already — already.

“I played just as much a part in this.” Your own voice sounded too steady and too even. At last, at last his eyes looked up into yours. They were big and brown and they looked into your face with an expression that was full of worry.

You felt sick. Saliva pooled in your mouth and you inhaled deeply and slowly in an attempt to steady yourself, to force your mind to relax, to try and will your insides to settle down from the very real and very scary upset. You had known better than this. You had always known better.

“Actually, more than anything you have done, I’m the one going against the rules. I’m your superior. I’m the one who did wrong. I am the one who is still doing wrong, Baekhyun. I am doing something wrong — to you.”

“Noona, stop talking.” He squeezed his eyes closed momentarily and when he opened them you could see that his lids were fluttering as he tried to rein in the emotions you saw all over his face. “Stop talking like that. Please. Stop.” He was breathing harder but you knew — you knew that you were only speaking the truth.

“These rules exist for a reason, Baekhyun, and I have broken them. I’m at fault, not you and I think — I think—”

“All of that is wrong. I don't believe any of that — at all.” He shook his head back and forth and his eyes looked into yours with a desperate plea somewhere in their depths. “Don't say any more, hmm?” he begged. His eyebrows lifting up over his eyes with the tiny questioning hum.

A soft beep sounded out from somewhere inside his pocket. You both knew what it meant. It was time to leave.

It was time for the meeting, you still had three more flights of stairs to climb. You did not have time to be standing around here wiping the one stray tear you felt fall down your cheek and coming to terms with what a terrible, selfish, disgusting person you might be deep down inside.

“We have to go. I have to go,” you said and you turned away from him, taking the stairs two at a time despite the strain on your skirt and the ache in your feet from the heels. You moved quickly and behind you, you could hear his footsteps closing in behind you.

“Noona,” he was calling but you were moving. “Goddammit — please, just stop.” You heard him say. The desperation in his voice pulled hard at your heart, making its rapid beating rhythm pause — making you pause your steady progress away from him and out of this fucking stairwell and it was just enough. It was just enough for the reach of his hand to grab ahold of yours. You were on the 11th floor. Your hand wrapped around the smooth slick handle of the doorway that would put you out there in that hallway where several dozens of extremely important people would be waiting, mingling, laughing, and schmoozing.

“Baby, please.” He was calling out behind you. His grip on your hand was so tight; it rivaled the grip he had on your heart. “Tell me what you are thinking. You’re scaring me. I can't do this. I can’t — ”

You couldn't look into his face anymore. You no longer knew what was wrong or what was right and you had no idea what you could do about it either. But you knew that you needed some time just to think. You needed to sit in the silence and the peace of your own mind for hours until you came up with some sort of a solution to this. But what you knew was that you did not have that right now. You did not have that inside this stairwell with his desperate pleas holding you back.

You inhaled a steadying breath for it. You turned to him and you pulled a small smile upon your face that never even came close to reaching your eyes and wouldn't have fooled him for even a second even in pitch blackness.

You pushed through the impossible ache inside of your chest to get the words out.

“We can talk later,” you said in a whisper. “I promise, we can talk later.”

[To Be Continued]

Links: Part 1, …… Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

[nardo-headcanons]

My Roommate can't possibly be Sasuke Uchiha!

tags: crack fic, abusive neighbors, slight angst character(s): Sasuke Uchiha Chapter 1 - Arrival and Departure

I looked at my mobile phone. Five o'clock already. "Shit," I cursed to myself as I hastily gathered my sports clothes. Well, good start to the new year. After refilling my water bottle, I looked around for a suitable bag. After a moment's consideration, I decided on my black, large training bag with the Naruto logo, which I had bought at a GameStop with my miserable pocket money when I was 13. While I put on my shoes, I glanced at my report card from last year's semester, which was full of A's and B's. It was ironic that I had so little control over my life after being at the top of my class in several subjects. I think, when I had bought my Naruto sports bag, I had hoped for more.

I had to hurry now or I would miss the bus. To be honest, I wouldn't mind taking the bike either, however, my last one was stolen by some wankers after a few days. And it was already a goddamn piece of junk. To make matters worse, I saw the bus already turning at the intersection. I briefly considered if I should run.

Sitting on the bus completely out of breath, I took my headphones out of my bag and turned on my commuting playlist. Bless the inventor of noise cancelling.

The workout at the gym was pure torture. All around me were wiry musclemen with six-pack abs giving me unsolicited weight loss advice and women in fancy sports bras who had more strength in their little finger than I had in my arm. While I pedalled my legs off on the gym bike, telling myself that the fact that I was panting like a coati was good for my heart, I looked at the TV on the wall. "Inflation in Europe is at a record high. In this quarter alone, food prices have risen by an average of 10%," the presenter began. My headphones had unfortunately gone dead during the journey, which is why I listened to this depressing news channel to distract myself. "The Putin regime has not commented on the renewed bombings in Odessa. There were a total of 22 people killed" I switched to the leg press. This workout will reward me with some serious muscle soreness.

After the workout, I bought a protein bar at the counter. I especially liked the ones filled with peanut butter. At the price of 4 euros for a measly bar that weighed less than 50 grams, my guts tightened. Maybe I should start making these things myself.

Freshly showered and changed, I made my way back home while the moon watched me clamber awkwardly up the stairs to my flat. The whole way home I somehow had the feeling that I was being watched. However, I couldn't see anything in my surroundings.

I went to sleep with the same queasy feeling.

I couldn't believe it. It was Sunday morning and some arsehole dared to ring me out of bed at 7am. Was it my neighbours? A repairman? Actually, I hadn't made an appointment, so it couldn't be. I wasn't expecting any mail either. While still wearing my pyjamas and bonnet, I looked through my peephole and opened the front door. "What's up?"

Standing in front of me was a young man, around 16, with night-black hair and brown eyes. He reminded me a little of Sasuke from Naruto. However, his clothes looked like he picked them up from the nearest dumpster. "I am Sasuke Uchiha. You must help me."

After two seconds of processing what I had just heard, I closed the door as quickly as I had opened it. It couldn't be. He's probably a cosplayer or something. The doorbell rang again. The guy was still standing there. "Hey, open up please!" He drummed on my door. Armed with my pepper spray, I opened again. The man looked me in the eye. His jet black eyes had turned a red colour. "That looks fancy," I replied, unimpressed. It was only when the black tomoe moved that I realised what kind of situation I was in. "What the hell? Why isn't my genjutsu working on you! Are you immune?" I quickly sprayed the entire contents of my pepper spray in his face. Frantically, he rubbed his eyes and cried out. "Bloody hell, what was that all about?!" I opened the chain-secured security crack of my door. "What do you want from me! Aren't you supposed to be in Konoha?!" I was stunned. Was this reality right now? Is this the real Sasuke Uchiha? What is he doing here? What does he want from me? This has to be a dream, right?! While I counted my fingers and painted one clock face after the other, Sasuke groaned from the pain and Mr Kaluschke, my neighbour from the mezzanine, opened his door. Even though I couldn't see him right now, I could picture him waltzing up to his door in his boxers and singlet. " Landmann!" he yelled "Now will ya shut the fuck up or do ya want me to come the fuck on up there?!!" The Sasuke imposter piped up. "You're the only one who can help me here!" Without much thought, I took him by the sleeve and pulled him to me in the flat. Trouble with Kalushke was the last thing I needed in this situation.

To keep a clear head so I could think about how to deal with the fact that I might have Sasuke Uchiha himself in my flat right now, I had locked him in my bathroom and backed myself up against the door. "You know I could break out of here at any time, right?" he spat sarcastically. "If you do, I'll throw you out in the streets," I hissed. Silence. "I want you to put water in the bathtub and stand on it. If you really are Sasuke, then that shouldn't be a problem." Sasuke did as instructed and I soon heard water running into the bathtub.

After a while I heard a dull rumble. A glance through the door slit told me that Sasuke had sat down in the bathroom leaning against the door. "Why are you here in this world?"

"Kakashi sent me here. He was going to use a jutsu on me and apparently something went wrong."

"You mean Kamui?", I asked, trying to make a connection.

"Yes."

"Hmm."

I pulled my knees closer to my body. "And why did you follow me?"

"I looked around and realised from your bag that you were from Konoha."

Now it hit me. My sports bag, which I had taken to the gym, must have been his only clue. Silence again. Sasuke said no more. I felt sorry for him. Having been taken to a completely different universe without warning, no one with him that he knew. "I'm so sorry, I'm actually not a Konoha shinobi. There is no Konoha in this world, and no shinobi either." He turned off the water. When I opened the door of the bathroom, I saw him standing on the surface of the water. "Is that proof enough?!" he barked offendedly. Now there was no doubt. In front of me was the real Sasuke Uchiha. Perplexed as to what to do now, I placed two towels and a bottle of shower gel before him. "Take a bath first, okay? Then we'll figure it out."

In the kitchen, I sat down at the kitchen table and typed "Sasuke Uchiha favourite food" into Google. Narutopedia immediately provided me with ideas: Onigiri and tomatoes. Therefore, I dug out my rice cooker from the kitchen cupboard and washed some sushi rice while Sasuke was still in the bathroom. Afterwards, I cut some leftover tomatoes into bite-sized pieces and put them on a big plate. Sasuke was surely starving. After filling and shaping the onigiri, I placed the plate on a tray along with a large cup of green tea with the corny inscription "Happiness is what you make". To be honest, I only got it because it can hold a whole can of tea. I then knocked on the bathroom door. There was no answer. "I have made you something to eat. Take all the time you need." I put the tray down next to the door and went into the living room. There, I sat down to my lab report, which I had been putting off for a week now. After two hours, I heard the bathroom door close. The plate and the cup had been emptied. As I went to open the bathroom door to get my toothbrush, I realised he must have locked it. "Sasuke? Will you please pass me my toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash?" No answer. I sighed. "You'll find spare toothbrushes in the cupboard above the sink." Once again I heard the bathroom door and before it stood my tumbler of toothbrush and mouthwash. After brushing my teeth over my kitchen sink, I continued to work on my lab report. There was still a lot to do. Just as I was groaning in despair because I had once again forgotten an equal sign in my Excel spreadsheet, Sasuke came into the living room. I looked up from my table. He said nothing else and sat down on the couch. Looking around, he saw something on my shelf. "Why is my face on there?" It was a dusty Naruto manga. I hadn't read that one in years. Before I could stop him, he grabbed the book and flipped through it. "I remember this," he began, but then stopped when he saw the drawings of himself as a Ge-Nin, riddled with Haku's ice needles. "Naruto became a fox after I was unconscious?" I nodded.

"Does that mean," he quivered, "in this world I'm just a manga character?" His hands trembled. I looked sadly at the ground. There was nothing I could say. No words of mine could have comforted him. He sank to the ground. "All the things I had to go through, all the pain, is fictitious, for entertainment?"

Sasuke spent the rest of the day on the couch, buried in my old manga. Along the way, I tried to get advice on social media. Unfortunately, all I got were questions like "What would his perfect girlfriend look like?" and "Does he actually have a thing for Naruto?" As a result, I quickly abandoned the search for guidance. Towards the evening, I feverishly considered where Sasuke could sleep. "Unfortunately, I only have one bed…" Sasuke folded his arms. "That shouldn't be a problem, should it?" Then an idea hit me. "Wait, actually..!" ... He made himself comfortable on the couch. I handed him a T-shirt I had once borrowed from my grandpa. "Here, you can wear this to sleep." Before I disappeared from the living room, he called me back. "Hey!" I looked at him. He peered straight down at the carpet. "Thanks for all this" "Just don't break anything, will you?" With those words I left the room.

In bed I tossed and turned, my thoughts on Sasuke. How had he gotten here? What was there with Kakashi's Kamui? What would happen next? By two o'clock in the morning, the realisation that brooding now would not provide me with any answers had finally entered my head and I fell asleep.

[twpsyn-who]

Also unsolicited opinion, but the only way I could see myself enjoying Steter as I ship would be in a Soulmate AU.

Gosh just imagine a Soulmate AU where you share the pain with your soulmate. Or where what you write on your skin shows on your soulmate's skin too. Soulmate AU where you dream your soulmate's memories. Soulmate AU where you know when your soulmate is in danger. Soulmate AU where you and your soulmate share emotions. Soulmate AU where you share an unique soul mark with your soulmate. Soulmate AU where you die when your soulmate dies. So many Soulmate AU that would work so well for this ship and give it 100% potential for angst and suffering.

Stiles's body burning and hurting all his life until one day it just... stops- only for it to start again the moment Peter Hale's body began burning because of the Molotov he threw at him.

Stiles always writting on his body little messages to his soulmate and drawing little doodles and somehow that's the only thing keeping Peter sane while in his coma- he might not be able to move, but he could see some of the writing and his nurse would sometimes read him the massages. Too bad Peter could not answer back.

Stiles dreaming of the Hale Fire. Of the house burning to the ground. Of someone trying to save the people inside and failing. Dreaming of endless days spent in a hospital room, stuck in place. Of many kids running around, of a woman with a soft smile, of two kids slowly falling in love. Of suffering.

Stiles getting a panick attack while the Hale Fire takes place. Him also stopping from throwing the Molotov when he felt a pull, one similar to the one he has then during his panick attack. Peter smirking because he knew Stiles was his soulmate, he felt it the moment he firstly meet the kid. That was the only reason he hasn't killed Stiles after helping track Derek, in all honestly. Stiles unsure whatever or not he should side with the others or his murderous, slightly crazy, soulmate. Him living with the fact that he helped kill his soulmate, if he does side with the others.

Stiles feeling pain, sadness and anger for most of his life. Him trying to share good emotions with his soulmate in hopes that it would make them feel better. Peter feeling Stiles's fear the first time they meet, but putting the pieces together only after offering the bite and feeling the kid's emotions. Stiles putting the pieces together when he felt pain and betrayal coming from his soulmate while Peter was burning right before his eyes.

Derek killing Peter then suddenly Stiles hitting the ground, getting everyone's attention. His eyes wide while looking at Peter's lifeless body, hard to believe that the monster in front of his eyes was his soulmate. Body convulsing in the way one does when is dying because of one's soulmate. Derek's face going pale while putting two and two together. And when Peter came back to life, one Stiles Stilinski was trying to get out of his casket before he was left without oxygen. Even better if Stiles doesn't get brought back to life and Peter tries to find a way to do it or straight up suffers through it because no one was meant to be alive without their soulmate and the pain of missing one was Hell.

Do you guys get me now?

[norel-ravenclaw]

Light & Shadow

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome game)

Featured characters: Sariel Noir

Genre: (Mostly) Fluffy Teen Romance

Rating: sfw

Word count: 2130

Description: A young noblewoman is debuted at the palace, learning politics and high society, and catches the attention of the extraordinary boy they call The Devil. (Inspired by the adorable teen Sariel)

WARNINGS: | unsolicited kiss (but it’s sweet) | brief vague mentions of violence | touches of angst | mxw |

Notes: Includes references to the fanfic I’ll eventually write about my oc Norel. I didn’t mean for this to be so long 😅

She came to the palace the day before her sixteenth birthday.

I know because I’d been following one of the maids who helped tailor her debut gown. The information gained by my spying was a dead end, but something about the new noblewoman caught my eye.

So naive. Pampered and sheltered. The way she walks is so self conscious, her eyes flicking every which way, aware of everyone noticing her. She’ll be just another useless marionette for someone to pull her strings.

With this appraisal, I let out a sigh and return to the task assigned to me by the King. There’s no reason to spare any further thought on her.

The following day however, one of the ministers training me drags me to the society ball where the eldest prince will debut with the rest of the young nobles for the season.

She is there, on the sidelines. Her red gown is striking, and yet she doesn’t seem keen on seeking out attention. She follows her father around the room, greeting nobles and ministers. Her smile is polite, yet there is a distance in her eyes. I am not familiar with her father. Who are they and what do they want?

At that moment, she happens to glance my way.

I sharply look away. My heart speeds up - response to having been caught, and I focus briefly on calming it. Another nobleman approaches the minister and myself, and I am distracted by the conversation.

When it’s finished, I hazard a glance at the newcomers. She and her father are sharing hushed conversation. Then he leaves towards the refreshment table. Her eyes scan the room, her fingers restlessly fidgeting with her rings.

Feeling pity for the floundering fool, I find myself walking over to her - not fully a conscious choice.

I am vaguely surprised that she notices me quickly, drawing herself up slightly as I approach. She must be intimidated. I put on a smile.

Whatever am I doing? Ah well, at least I can get out of tedious and pointless conversing for a few minutes.

“You are a new face here.”

She tries to mask her wary expression with a polite smile and an elegant curtsey. “Just so. I am Lady Norel Aldavir of Phoenix, sir. Encantado.“

A foreigner, hm? Only once have I read of the kingdom of Phoenix. I return her bow. “Sariel Noir, apprentice minister of the royal court.”

Her eyes spark at this information. “Indeed? Perhaps we will get to study together, then. My father and I will be here at the palace for a few months for such training.”

“Is that so?” A small commotion at the front of the ballroom catches both our attention as a horde of teenage noblewomen begin to crowd around someone. No question who that someone is. “The dancing will begin soon. Are you going to dance with Prince Jin?”

She looks back to me and shrugs. At least she knows how to make gestures like that elegantly. It might serve her well. “The prince? No, I think not. I have no such lofty ambitions. Besides, isn’t he fourteen?”

I raise a brow at her and put on a smile. “He is. And you are… sixteen? I hardly think two years would get in the way of something transcendent as love.”

The lady laughs at this. It is, I have to admit, a lovely sound. Her voice is, in general, quite pleasing. …A strange observation.

“Love? I doubt that is on those girls’ minds. The novelty of a prince growing up, the whispers of power and money in their ears from their families.” She sighs. “Just children wanting adventure and practicing their mimicry of other people’s ambitions.”

I can’t help but stare at her for a moment. “…Indeed?”

The energy in the room elevates as the musicians begin to play. The Prime Minister hosting the ball claims the first dance with his wife, and soon the rest of the attendees begins to join in.

Before I quite realize what I’m doing, I hold out my hand to her. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

She looks somewhat surprised, but quickly smiles. “Oh? I would be honoured.”

With her hand in mine, we make our way through the crowd to the dancefloor. I put my hand on her waist and begin. She looks stiff. Naturally graceful, obviously practiced, yet uncoordinated. It’s obvious how much she’s concentrating on the steps.

I lean close to murmur in her ear. “Relax. Let me lead you.”

She blushes fiercely, nearly stumbling. “…I’ll try.”

Pulling her a little closer, I hold her gaze, forcing her to concentrate on me instead of her feet. It starts to help. Soon, she is moving much more naturally, and her attention is able to drift to the swirling skirts and melody around us. As she starts to take it in, her forced smile relaxes into true enjoyment.

“Good girl. That’s it.”

Her lips drop open, and her entire face and shoulders flush red. “I- …Beg your pardon.”

I can’t help but laugh. Adorable. I want to tease her more.

“Hehe, are you shy, my lady? The Palace is a den of beasts. You’ll be devoured if you hesitate.”

Her expression shifts into something contemplative before she smirks sardonically. “Says to me, a viper.”

My expression mirrors hers now. “Ah, so you see me for what I am then, hm?”

Her gaze searches me, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I feel a pang of… uncomfortable vulnerability. “Not yet. But would you hate me when I come to see what you don’t want to be seen?”

The dance comes to an end, and while the couples around us stop to bow to each other and applaud the musicians, we stand before each other. Red and black, two pawns on a chessboard seeking to understand how people want to use them in their game.

She is more perceptive than most. However, when wondering what she would do if she were to truly see me, the deepest, darkest parts of my shadowy self that even I don’t care to acknowledge… Would she take advantage of those weaknesses like others would?

Looking into those clear eyes, I nearly concede to hope. As though voicing my thoughts, she chuckles softly.

“What a terrifying thing, to be truly seen, hm?” Seeing my frozen state, she has mercy. “Fortunately for you, Sariel Noir, I don’t know anything more than what you’ve shown me now.”

My smile is tinged with reluctant concession, once again facing fully the realities of my unconventional life. “Perhaps we should leave it at that, then.”

Soft hearted thing that she is, she appears slightly saddened by the idea. “Perhaps.” Dropping into a graceful curtsey, she says, “Thank you for the dance, sir. You are talented.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

And that’s the end of it.

…Until.

Every morning in the study room, apprentice ministers and young nobles meet to learn the ways of politics.

The lady I danced with proves to be diligent and hardworking. She has a mind for studying, even if her memory does struggle. Yet she works harder than any of the others to compensate for such flaws.

The answers she gives are wise and practical, yet in tune with human philosophy - why the lot of these spoiled brats and myself are in this room to begin with.

Seeing the effect she has on them, I elect to add my own encouragement from time to time - though generally laced with thinly veiled threats and manipulation to get them to straighten up and fly right. She and I always sit in the back row -evidently our comfort zone- and she will always shoot me a thoroughly amused grin when I do this.

One day after lessons have finished, I find myself in an empty hallway looking out the towering windows. Sleep has once again evaded me and I’m exhausted, with many more hours left to endure. I sigh heavily.

A set of footsteps brings me back to the present. Clicking heels: a woman. Moderate pace: perhaps they’re lost in this less popular wing of the castle, and are looking for their way back. Soon the cadence of the steps strikes me as familiar. Her.

I don’t turn back to look at her, and leave her to do what she will. Her steps slow as she draws nearer. When she stops a short way back from me, I finally acknowledge her. “You have something to say to me, my lady?”

She shuffles, and I nearly wonder if she’ll take the opportunity to run. But as she approaches, I remember that she manages to subvert my expectations at every turn.

“Sariel Noir.”

Her voice is heavy, hesitant. I turn towards her and see her solemn expression.

She has taken to clasping her hands behind her back to minimize the urge to fidget, but now her hands are twisting her rings. Like when I first saw her. Her voice is a bit halting as she forces herself to speak her mind.

“I… wished to thank you. I met His Majesty yesterday in the library. He… told me about you. About how he brought you here and… what you do. What you’re training to do. To be.”

My jaw clenches in horror and anger. Damn that bastard…

“And you are afraid of me now, hm?” I say, my expression hardening. “You should be fearful of the devil.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, as though this wasn’t something she had considered. “N-no, it’s not that.” She takes a breath. “I don’t know if you want this, if you would leave here if you could. But the way you speak in lessons makes me believe that you truly do wish to protect this country and its people. It means something to you.

“Maybe it’s just pretty words to you, to placate the ministers and inspire the rest of us. But it’s action taken on such pretty sentiments that have allowed my family and I to have a safe place to live these last years.”

She glances aside, pain filling her eyes. I notice how she stretches her wrist until it clicks, a frequent habit of hers in lessons. “We had much to recover from after… an incident, in Phoenix. It is because of the constant efforts and sacrifice of people like you who have trained to defend and promote peace that we could start anew in a quiet place. We were able to heal.”

The glow of the nearly setting sun casts her in gold. Seeing how she stands tall before me despite her reservations, her expression solemn yet filled with gratitude, her hair swept up in an elegant style as usual. In this moment, to me she is the embodiment of what it means to be noble.

“And so, I wanted to thank you for protecting us. For working so hard and sacrificing more than anyone - much less someone so young - should ever have to endure. I’m sorry for your pain, and for the selfishness and cruelty of those around you. But… thank you, nonetheless. For my family and all of this kingdom.”

She drops into a deep curtsey, her hands positioned in the way I��ve since learned is traditional in Phoenix. A fist over her heart - symbolizing the strongest loyalty. And an open hand at her side - symbolizing respect and deference.

Somehow the sight makes my heart race. Her words. Her bravery in the face of someone who has been drenched in blood. Her profound compassion. Hardly naive, and yet genuine.

While she slowly rises, I step up to her. When she raises her head, she starts a little at seeing me so close all of a sudden.

Everything in my mind screams at me to stop. Everything in my heart screams at me to not stop.

“Oh… Sari- mph?!“

I kiss her.

It’s little more than a peck, and yet everything she has made this tainted heart feel is poured into the motion of pressing my mouth against her soft, full lips.

How could the devil feel such things for such an angel? How cruel…

But oh, how sweet is the shocked expression on her now flushed face, frozen for me to enjoy briefly.

The urge to pull her into my arms and either kiss her again or break down in tears is overwhelming, and I practically run in my haste to stop it.

But just as I reach the corner to the hallway, I hazard a glance back. Her hand is at her lips, still rooted to the spot. Bathed in now blazing golden light, that light steals into my shadowed heart, fortifying me for my own return into the shadows.

Thanks for reading! Post, repost this, I don’t care lol. Please let me know if you have suggestions on how to improve my writing. But pls be nice bc I am a soft sad bean <3

[cinderfeather]

20 Questions For Writers

Yay, thank's for the tag @sinvulkt! I've seen this going round and been hoping to participate.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

21

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

81,221 words! That's basically a novel, although split out across many shorter works.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Almost all my works are Star Wars (Luke & Vader or occasionally prequals Anakin), then DC (Superman). I only have one fic about Superman posted, but I do have quite a few drafts about him.

I also try to write origional works, but I find it a lot harder to create something I feel is as compelling without having 'the iceberg of canon' beneath it. (Granted I've made a lot of progress on trying to write origional works since I started writing fanfic.)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Operation CHEER LUKE UP AFTER BESPIN (Star Wars OT)

282 kudos

This was the first fic I ever posted. I do want to finish this one, but I'm currently facing a challenging plothole, so I keep waiting till I've finished up whatever other WIP I'm working on, and then after finishing a WIP I want a break before coming back to writing a fic again, except that after a break I come up with another WIP idea…

2. Whose Propaganda is it Anyway? (Star Wars OT)

134 kudos

I'm surprised this beat Mistaken Son-dentity, given that it gets quite serious toward the end. But rereading it again I forgot how fun the first part was, and the way the first line eches the last.

3. Mistaken Son-dentity (Star Wars OT)

120 kudos

I love the crack in this one, I often think back on it if I need a way to cheer myself up but don't have access to my Ao3 bookmarks (given that I wrote it it's much easier to play in my head).

4. Skeptics of the Force (Star Wars OT)

119 kudos

I'm very proud of this one. It's the longest thing I've ever finished, and it grew from what I thought would be 7,000 words to 36,000 words. I edit very slowly so that was a Marathon! The plot and foreshadowing was very complex, so by the end it I was playing whack-a-mole with all the inconsistencies.

5. Hide (Star Wars OT)

111 kudos

I'm surprised this one was so well loved, it's very short and I was hesitant to post it because it felt a bit unfinished and like just the start of something. So I'm glad I did!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, occasionally I miss some but in general I try to keep up with them. If someone gives me unsolicited constructive critisim I generally don't reply, but I'm reluctant to delete their comment.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm. So there are several top contenders:

Initially I thought The Haunting of Order-66 might be it, but then I realised that while that was one of the angster ones, it actually had quite a hopeful ending.

Alone is sad, but I don't quite feel it has the gut punch to be the top contender.

Ghost is also pretty up there, but I'd say the ending leans more into horror than 'angst'.

The above two lean into 'not getting there in time', but I think the betrayal in 'Can't Go Home' elevates the angst to another level. (I double-checked The Right Hand of Justice because it Very Much explores betrayal, but the acceptance and teeny tiny thread of hope laced into the end knocks it from first place.)

So Can't Go Home is the winner!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm. I think Rivers of Lava, Rivers of Life has a beautiful ending.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

There's a lot of imaginary hate in my head when I'm working through those last few edits before I post something 😅. Occasionally people have said they didn't like some of the ways my characters behaved, but I think it's mostly just being annoyed at them, not at the fic.

9. Do you write smut?

I don't have any posted, but there is some in my drafts. If I edited some I'm not sure if I'd post it under this account or make another I keep separate.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Sort of. I stumbled across the song 'I Know Those Eyes/This Man is Dead' (from The Count of Monte Cristo musical) and instantly went 'This has EPIC Vader/Padme reunion vibes. I promptly went and wrote a fic based on those vibes alone, and then after I finished I watched a film adaptation and read the book so I finally knew what was going on (because I knew if I looked up what was happening before I wrote the fic my perfectionism would get in the way and I'd never end up writing it).

Now, after reading the giant tome that was The Count of Monte Cristo I have an idea for a more accurate crossover called 'The Sith of Monte Cristo,' but (as I predicted) I feel too overwhelmed to write that one.

In addition, when I read Hamlet last year for the first time in my life, I was entranced and sketched out a Luke!Hamlet AU, but I also feel like that might be quite a bit of work so I haven't been motivated enough to write that either.

Finally, The Right Hand of Justice technically falls into the crossover category on Ao3, but it doesn't feel like a myth retelling makes sense to label a 'Crossover'.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If Ao3 ever been scraped as a dataset into a Large-Language-Model.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, I can only speak one language. Feel free to offer if you'd like to translate one of mine, though!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not yet!

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Um, does 'Superman/anyone' count? I love Clois, but sometimes I wish there were more AUs so it wasn't just Superman/Reporter all the time. I also love a good Clex, the enimies-to-lovers angst is delicious. I am super down for Superbat - it has the double the Identity Shennagins from Clois with a light dose of the Enimies-To-Lovers angst from Clex.

However, this might be weird, but I'm really, really down for Superman/Female Origional Character, just someone fun and quirky and quite fleshed out but a bit different to Lois's personality (because I have read mountains and mountins of Clois and while it's amazing I sometimes get a little bored of the narrowness of reporter life and the 'in love with Superman, in friends with Clark' tropes). I have a few drafts of this, but then I worry that a female OC in fandom won't be very popular so I don't clean them up 😅

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Um. Um. I mean I want to finish 'Cheer Luke Up' and I will, okay, I will. It just could possibly take up to quite a number of years before I get back into it. I'm getting faster at editing, so one day it might not take that much work to finish up. I think it's just past the half-way point at the moment.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I'm really proud of a lot of the cosmic horror I've done! I think it has a great sense of a slow buildup of dread, and then some really unique and otherworldly horrors, tinged with just the right amount of wonder and awe.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Perfectionism. The initial draft isn't too hard, but it usually takes at a minimum a full week of being mostly focused on it to months for anything above 5k words. It tends to exhaust and frustrate me so much.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Haven't done it yet (unless you count me makeing up stuff that sounds like Latin or outright using Latin in one or two sentences). As long as it fits well, but I think excessive use of it could frustrate the reader.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars Origional Trilogy

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Aaaaaahh. I think Stride of Terror is an awesome 'Vader captures Luke' fic, 'Cheer Luke Up' is the silliest, wildest, unhinged crack, Skeptics of the Force gazes into the abyss, and The Sith in Yellow is a really impressive piece of cosmic horror.

I'm going to say Skeptics of the Force, because out of all my fics when I think about how to bind one into a book it's that one that I want the most.

Tag time (if you wish to): @andyboops, @insertmeaningfulusername, @smolavidreader, @overallobsessiveness, @softlysuited, @softieskywalker

[olivieblake]

Hey Olivie! Have you ever watched HBO's Industry? If not, then consider it my (unsolicited) recommendation to you! I find it to be TA6core, if you transposed TA6 into a setting that's the antithesis of academia: the corporate world of investment banking.

It has the same "shape and colour" as TA6 in my mind i.e. there's a cast of youngish people from an array of nationalities and backgrounds working in London all trying to win... the game of the corporate ladder climb. And they all hate each other but also all want to simultaneously sleep with each other and also aim to one-up each other at every possible chance. And there's an Evil Mentor character or two in there. Oh, and super sharp and witty dialogue. Plus Subtle Critiques of The Institution that's the real enemy. Imagine Parisa Kamali in a pantsuit trying to sell shares at fake!Morgan Stanley? Anyway, there's something in there that's quite TA6 in terms of the whole competition and sexual angst factors to me (if I'm not proecting, lmfap). I found my mind drifting to the potential/upcoming/in the works/opted for tv adaption of TA6 as I watched it and imagining how TA6 would translate to the screen (and I know you can't tell us anything at all about that, but yunno, I'll swing some bait in here if I get the chance).

I know this ask was quite random since I usually ask, yunno, bookish asks but Barnes & Noble is taking forever to ship my excusive edition of OFME because living in Trinidad SUCKS but that's a whole other thing. Hope all is well with you!

hahaha I've never actually seen industry but I have a pretty good understanding of its appeal, and I actually think those writers and I were going for the same thing in terms of the pressure-cooker vibes as the atlas series. I wouldn't say it's the antithesis of academia! I think it's very similar in terms of people who self-select to be in one arena or the other—the personalities that are drawn to that level of both competition and "success" (in quotes for existential reasons). obviously I welcome any industry!AUs, just as I welcome a GBBO fic (I can't actually read any fics for copyright reasons because the series is ongoing but it would please me greatly for them to exist. otherwise I will simply have to write them myself)

ahhhhh sorry for shipping but thank you so much for stopping by!

[ursafootprints]

For the writer ask game - K, Q, X!

K: Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?

Any time I write something that I don't usually read myself I feel a little guilty about it, haha. (Example: for all the angst of the Starkercest series, I do not myself read fics tagged with "Unhappy Ending" unless it's a very particular vibe! I can usually only do unhappy endings with fanfic if they're my own because then I'm innoculated against the sads since they came from my own brain, lmao.)

In the standard sense of a guilty pleasure-- ehhhh I don't think so? I have some fic kinks that are pretty dark/considered grody (preteen, somno, light watersports, gangbangs/captivity/mindbreak) but I don't feel bad about 'em; they just don't come up because I haven't written for them yet.

Q: I'm totally fine with "prompt" comments on my fics that are halfway between a prompt/request and just, like, speculating on ways the characters' stories could go in the future, and of course I'm fine with it if someone gives me a prompt on a topic I've asked for!

Outside of that, I'm not ???against it??? but it does make me feel a bit guilty, since I already have more WIPs/ideas than I'm likely to ever actually get through, so it's unlikely an unsolicited outside prompt would make it onto my list. Even my own ideas have to strike a very specific chord for me to tip from "fun to think about" to "I'm writing this," so I feel like people would be better off dropping their prompts in the Starker tag or the prompt meme on AO3!

X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading? Are you a voracious reader? Do you carefully pick and choose? Something in between?

I go through periods of reading a lot and not reading at all, and if I'm actively writing something I'm usually closer to the "not reading at all" end! I do tend to only read works with summaries/tags that invoke themes/kinks/AUs/etc. that I'm actively into vs being the "eh, I'll give anything a try" type, though-- there's sooo much fanfic that I'll never have the time to get through that I gotta narrow it down somehow, haha.

Thank you for playing 💖💖💖

[cosmicisms]

information, request rules, tags

information

do not follow if the usual dni criteria applies to you.

i write mostly sfw, but i do plan to publish nsfw works as well. however, this blog will mostly be sfw.

minors are not allowed to interact with my nsfw posts.

my inbox is always open! i like chatting to people, so please don't be hesitant to shoot me a message! however, do not ask to be mutuals. you are welcome to interact with me, but i follow on my own terms.

i am a slow writer, so i do ask for your patience if i take your request.

any spoilers in my works will be tagged.

do not share my work on any other platforms, do not modify my writing, and do not translate it.

do not share unsolicited advice about my writing. constructive and respective criticism is always welcome.

i purposely write in lowercase.

request rules

i write for genshin impact.

my requests are open, unless i state otherwise.

random thoughts/brainrots are always accepted! i may gain motivation/ideas to write from them.

i write fluff, angst and smut, however i will primarily focus on sfw works, as i write them better.

i will always tag my nsfw works with the material they will include.

i will only write for gender neutral or male readers. female readers are allowed to interact with my works, however do not request anything with a female reader.

i will not write anything to do with dubcon, bodily waste, incest/stepcest, food play, pet play, vore, teacher/student, minor/adult (unless platonic), age regression, hybrid reader.

i do not picture a certain body type in my writing, as to be as inclusive as possible.

i will not age up characters.

i refuse to write nsfw about aether/lumine, klee, diona, bennett, fischl, razor, mika, xingqiu, xiangling, qiqi, collei, dori, nahida.

if you request a character whom i'm unfamiliar with, your request may take longer so i can properly research and write the character.

my favourites (i.e. who i write best) are bennett (sfw), kaeya, diluc, razor (sfw), yoimiya, zhongli, childe/tartaglia.

i can write for readers who have adhd and/or are autistic, as i myself am both of those. however, my experiences are different to yours, which will show in my writing.

anyone caught not adhering to these rules will be blocked.

tags

✩°｡⋆⸜ ✮ genshin - anything genshin related.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ interests - all about my interests/anything i like!

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚. thirsts - nsfw works/thoughts.

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ icymi - me reblogging my own stuff.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ ramblings - random stuff i talk about

[skadren]

I keep seeing a bunch of live and let go, boundaries are personal and not moral stances posts about writing and i largely agree ppl should be able to explore what they want in fic but also. Is there a way to balance or talk about "hi um white author so you kinda reinvented racism/blood eugenics and unilaterally present sex work as inherently degrading and etc etc etc for Shipping Angst Drama fodder, when the text is like. None of that" in fandom or even just in like. A server community. Maybe I'm a bit sensitive bc i feel constructed/projected misery is kind of tacky to begin with and i wouldn't do it with a complete stranger but idk my guy. I don't want to alienate myself but it's weird to go completely uncritical here

i think there are a couple items you need to check off the list before you can go "yes talking to internet stranger #37461239 about a highly sensitive topic is a good idea"

is it tagged appropriately? if it's tagged trust me the writer knows. they have probably gotten way more unsolicited feedback than they would really like

is the portrayal you're concerned about reinforcing an unhealthy or discriminatory predominant social narrative? if it is and you think the writer is genuinely unaware, then yeah, it might be worth bringing up. the emphasis here is on predominant please i am begging on my hands and knees

will this result in a productive conversation? if the intent behind this is to get people to reconsider, it isn't helping anyone if you know it will just lead to them doubling down and doing it even worse. at that point you're only making a performative statement to validate your own stance

if it really is bothering you that much, is there a compelling reason why you can't just block and move on? it isn't your responsibility nor is it feasible to fix how a fandom is doing things, especially if it's a group of people you don't really know. your own mental health always comes first, and a bit of salty venting in private with your friends never hurts anyone

if it IS a friend or acquaintance who is doing this and you think they would be open to discussing it with nuance, then you can probably bring it up. if that person has a basic level of consideration and respect for you it tends to go well, but i've also seen people double down because they already know there's something wrong with their attitudes but get mad at you for wanting them to change, and then it creates a whole ton of drama and people get hurt and it's not pretty. so. ymmv

ultimately, someone's views on racism or sex work or whatever is reflective of a broader social norm, and fandom is not the best space to try to fix that through confrontation-- it's usually someone's "safe space" where they want to retreat from the world, not come face-to-face with any sort of personal reckonings. do i think it's a mark of privilege that some people have the luxury of ignoring these issues when they "just want to have fun"? yes, but again, this is about being able to have productive discussion, not about what's "fair". unfortunately.

my two cents: if you're in a server community or some other space that makes you uncomfortable there's really nothing wrong with going "hey, we have fundamentally different standards when it comes to [x], and i don't think i want to be here" and moving on. the best way to challenge these things is quite literally to make your own food. there's a much better chance of the people you're worried about coming across it and realizing they like it than magically being able to argue them down with well-placed logic and reasonable points or whatever

EDIT: OH ALSO IM STUPID if you mean talking about it in general. not naming writer names but trends in the fandom. yes absolutely-- not in a public space like social media but definitely find a group of people who you trust who you can talk about these things with!! it is good and healthy. just make sure it isn't just a discord server open to the public or smth tho so you personally know and trust everyone who can see it (and you don't accidentally shit talk someone who is in that space lmao)

[bunnakit]

prism rant

i'm so tired for the ofmd fandom on twitter, and maybe even here a little. the way a lot of the community consumes and responds to media is fucking weird. the way some people feel comfortable commenting literally anything in their weird little hearts is fucking weird. normally i love weird, but this is bad weird. i'm so tired of the way the majority consumes and engages with content.

i'm also tired of the way everything needs to fluffy and sexual. it's not lost on me that my most popular fic is the one with multiple sex scenes. and the number of comments and dms i get about the angst levels of my fics is ridiculous. i tag appropriately, that's all i can do for you. asking me to elaborate is essentially asking "is your stuff worth reading?" and oftentimes when i answer i'm given "oh maybe ill go read something else of yours then" BABY IT'S ALL SAD. THAT'S MY BRAND IS EXPLORING REAL SCENARIOS AND EMOTIONS. I'M TIRED OF BEING SORRY FOR THAT.

and i understand people are entitled for their own comfort levels, but don't bring me into it and tell me to my face you aren't going to read something. again, it's fucking weird.

there are also just times people comment things on my fics and i legitimately don't understand how something was so wrongly misinterpreted or misunderstood? like where the fuck did you get that? it's also my opinion that it's a bit rude to begin spitting ideas or theories at authors unsolicited. it can put a lot of pressure on them.

i also despise how there's a handful of authors that make fanfic and their fanon is taken as law. why the fuck are we doing that? why are we condemning all Sams bc a few are dicks? why are we treating all fanon characters the same? stop bringing your preconceived notions into other people's fics. and stop assuming everything is a reference to another fic. stop telling everyone 143 and 99. not everyone is reading PC and it's fucking WEIRD. i've had people explain to me that they've lost friends over fucking fanfics bc they said it wasn't for them. THAT'S IT. they didn't insult it or the author, just said "oh that's not for me."

i'm not saying there's a bit of a cult mentality brewing but i'm not NOT saying that. even the way they interact with their fav authors is weird, uncomfy, and often demanding and demeaning, forgetting there's a person attached to all of this.

like i know the adage 'touch some grass' is old or cringe or whatever but dude. go breathe some outside air. realize fanfic authors are not fucking celebrities. realize that you tagging rhys darby 3 times asking what his spotify wrapped was is fucking weird. like just.. calm down. take breaths. remember we're all on the same footing and shit. no one is better than anyone else in fandom. and give actors some peace.

i'll always be grateful for the ofmd fandom for letting me share my writing, supporting me, and being there for me when i finally put myself out there but i'm eager to move on and write for something else. i think i just like to consume media in a much more casual way? maybe i'm just old and bitchy. who knows. i'm just tired of all the drama, screaming at one another, worshipping authors, and demanding content.

as much as i love them, heraldry and elysium can't wrap up soon enough.

i love you guys, i do, and if we're moots or whatever this probably isn't about you.