#but it's just so far apart from why i started

[keerysfreckles]

lay all your love on me — LN4

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the aftermath of y/n's worst date she's ever been on, lando comes to pick her up.

warnings: one curse word, not proofread

a/n: dedicated to kayla bae 🤭🤭 comment if i should make a part 2!!!

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n can't remember the last time she went on a decent date. in the past year she's been on five dates, none of them doing any justice.

two of them were too busy staring at her chest from the low neckline of her dress. one wouldn't stop talking about the football game plastered on the tv behind her at the sports bar he dragged her to. one didn't even show up.

and now, the fifth date, he isn't taking anything she says seriously.

she tried explaining how she's able to travel a lot due to her brother being a formula one driver, and the bloke just laughed in her face. claiming "girls can't be that into racecars".

y/n's never wanted to punch somebody as hard as she wanted to punch the man in front of her.

he then started talking about his own career, which lead y/n to talk about hers. however, to the man across from her, having a degree in communications does nothing to improve y/n's future.

this man was suffocating. every word he uttered just made y/n's blood boil.

it got to the point where y/n simply left. she left the man there, at the restaurant, with the most dumbfounded look displayed over his features.

she couldn't stand to be there another five minutes, so she simply left. no apology, no goodbye.

the chilly monaco air did not help her sour mood, in which she didn't bring a jacket with her. the walk to her apartment wasn't far, maybe twenty minutes.

the more and more the girl thought about her date, and the previous ones, she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself. the past five times she's gotten dressed up, and was excited to learn about someone new, she just left disappointed every time.

y/n didn't even know why she wore the heels she has on. she's never worn them, so she's praying she doesn't get blisters the next morning.

groaning, she pauses to take off her black heels. her shoulders slightly relaxing as the pain from her feet falls into the pavement with every step.

now y/n wasn't sure if the rumbles she heard behind her was thunder, or just the roaring of engines passing in the streets.

she pushed the thought off for now, and went back to thinking about her failed dates. she didn't think it was her fault, but maybe she was just unlovable. there was a chance it wasn't the people she dated, and that she was the one with the problem.

the over consuming thoughts had now gotten best of the girl. before she knew it tears were welling up at her bottom lashes. she didn't care about her makeup anymore, choosing to wipe at the tears now mixing with her mascara.

seconds barely pass, and it was final that the rumbles y/n heard earlier was thunder. meaning rain would shortly follow after. she groaned again, wanting to do anything but walk home in the rain.

she could easily turn around and wait the storm out in the restaurant, but she didn't want to face the man she left at the table again.

she then decided to call her brother.

however her plan quickly backfired once she remembered oscar and lily went out tonight, somewhere over an hour of where y/n is now. so calling oscar was out of the question. the phone didn't even let out a full ring before she hung up.

to make matters worse, y/n felt big drops of rain hit her shoulders.

there weren't many other options y/n could give into tonight. her close friends were all in france for god knows what, oscar was busy, and y/n just wanted to go home.

call her pathetic, but y/n couldn't help but cry. her night has only gotten worse, and she couldn't do anything about it.

after mere minutes, her hair was soaked from the now heavy pouring rain, she had no doubt her makeup was fully ruined, and she was sulking underneath a flickering lamppost.

she let out a dry chuckle after scrolling through her contacts once again, now seeing the only person left to call. the only person who'd answer her tonight.

on the third ring, he picked up.

"y/n? is everything okay?"

y/n hasn't gotten asked that in a long time. so she simply let out a choked sob. she tried answering, but her voice failed her again.

"lando," she managed to get out, only to have her cries over power her words.

he was quick to ask her what happened to make her this upset. to which he only got small answers in between more cries and jagged breaths. he knew he had to do something.

"can you tell me where you are?" he asked, while slipping his shoes on before running out of his apartment towards the parking garage.

he was glad to finally get a normal answer out of y/n, as he pulled out of his parking space with a loud screech of his tires. his windshield wipers did almost nothing to help him see in the rain, only making him driver faster, wanting nothing more than to get y/n in the warm and dry comfort of his car.

he drove carefully down the street address she gave him.

then he saw it. his heart broke at the sight in front of him.

y/n sitting on a bench, with her head in her hands. heels discarded by her feet, and her wet hair sticking to her back and shoulders.

her head picked up at the headlights of lando's car, and the sound of his driver door opening.

"god, y/n are you okay?"

lando kneeled down in front of her, placing his warm hands over her knees.

all y/n could do was lean forward into lando, wrapping her arms around him for some form of comfort.

lando couldn't care less if his shirt was getting wet, he could easily put on a new one once he got home. all he cared about right now was the girl in his arms.

he helped her get to the passenger side of the door, before jogging back to the bench to grab her heels. as he threw them into the backseat his eyes moved to an extra jacket. he was internally thanking his past self for leaving this inside.

y/n shivered out a thank you, for the hoodie and at his action of turning the heat on.

the ride back was silent. a comfortable silence, mostly because lando didn't want to pressure the girl into talking about exactly what happened tonight.

after lando turned left, y/n spoke up, "wait, lando you made the wrong turn. my apartment's that way."

she pointed out the window, but lando simply shrugged it off.

"y/n you haven't had the best night," he starts by pointing out the obvious, "so you can crash at my flat tonight, okay? we can watch as many rom-coms as your little heart desires. i know how much you love those."

y/n chuckles at his ending sentence, but can't agree with him more.

as soon as lando pulls into the parking garage, he helps y/n up the stairs to his apartment door. he successfully opens the door with one hand, as y/n's shoes are hanging over his fingers in the other.

he watched as y/n crossed her arms over herself once he shut the front door.

"do you want a hug?" he held out his arms with a small smile adorning his lips.

y/n walks closer to him, her barefeet hitting the hardwood with each step before she rests her head on his shoulder.

one thing y/n loves about lando's hugs is how secure they feel. his arms always end up wrapped tightly around her, and she swears she feels her bad mood leave her body whenever she's in his embrace.

after a few moments, lando speaks up, "do you want to change? i bet i have some clothes that'll fit you."

y/n nods before ridding her face of any tears. she then follows lando to his room. she sits on the edge of his bed, watching carefully as he grabs a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"i'll be out in the living room. take your time," he speaks softly, kissing the top of her head before he leaves the room.

y/n finally lets out a sigh. a sigh filled with many different emotions. too many to count, so y/n distracts herself by changing into the much more comfortable clothes lando grabbed.

she tried running her fingers through her damp hair as she exited his room, but her hair became too tangled from the rain.

lando's small smile made it's way to his face once y/n came into the living room.

"you feeling any better?" he pats the spot beside him on the couch.

all y/n does is nod, but lando senses that something's still bothering her.

he brushes off the thought for now, as he and y/n search for a movie to watch.

after eight minutes of flicking through netflix, y/n breaks the silence.

"lan, do i seem unlovable to you?"

the question certainly caught the brit off gaurd. he took a moment to think about his response before answering, but no certain response would be the right one.

"woah, what makes you think that?"

y/n gets more quiet, becoming more self conscious of herself as she sits beside lando.

she shrugs before responding, "every date i've been on in the past year has gone wrong. i can't help but think if it's something i'm doing. that i'm the one with the problem, not all the guys i've seen."

lando's heart breaks at y/n's statement. how long has she been feeling this way about herself?

"you're not unlovable y/n. it's all those idiots that don't know what they're missing out on. you're one of the greatest people i know, and if any guy you date can't see that, he's not worth it."

lando wasn't sure where his small speech came from, but the look from y/n made his heart beat faster than it did before.

she looked at lando with nothing but adoration. a blush covered both of their cheeks now, and before y/n could really register anything her brain was processing she leaned over to quickly kiss lando.

yes, she was kissing her brother's best friend. yes, she was kissing lando after she had a horrible date.

was it a bad idea? probably. but y/n needed one thing to go right tonight. she could only pray this was the thing.

just as lando got used to the feeling of her lips against his, she pulled away.

she couldn't read the emotion on his face, making her start to ramble.

"i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry lan. i- i just needed one thing to go right tonight. and i thought maybe kissing you was the right thing to do. shit, i'm sorry. i can leave-"

y/n's sentence was cut off, now by lando pushing his lips against hers. his hand found it's way to the back of her neck, as hers balled up the material of his shirt to try and bring him closer to her.

their panted breaths mingled together as they were only centimeters away from each other. their eyes filled with adventure and lust, both wondering where this thing could lead to.

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x female!reader #lando norris f1 #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula 1 #lando norris x fem reader #lando norris x female reader

[meamiiikiii]

[reverse entry AU]

so glad the work week is over!

no more meetings!

what do you mean its only tuesday.

#isat #in stars and time #isat siffrin #reverse entry au #isat modern office au #isat spoilers #<- not REALLY but its blink and u miss it tbh #and is hardly legible #and probably doesnt make much sense as a spoiler for regular isat tbf #its more of a spoiler if u know the spoiler from isat to begin with???????? #i think i am starting to confuse myself on if this is really a spoiler ASFASDAFRA #inspired by my week so far thumbs up #sometimes u end up in too many meetings about the same subject and wonder why you are even here #proceed to zone out till hear key words #tune in and respond #then continue zoning out #omg just like beloved indie game in stars and timeeeee #for legal reasons that is an exaggerated explanation to further enhance the joke thumbs up part 2 #alternative takes that build on this same idea include #staring at computer screen in general trying to remember what you were doing #or silently judging a computer program for freezing on you for the seventh time in the past twenty minutes #or just staring blankly at the screen in general as people do yanno thumbs up part 3 #oh also to note yea this is not in the office lmao #modern times means sometimes you also get to have wfh days yippeeee so siffrin is in his apartment #the star is probably sitting in the kitchen next to the flavor tree at this moment in time dont worry about it aha #WAIT i just realized i forgor the shine in siffrins eyes OOPS #actually wait nvm this is fine it adds to this i think HAHAHA #okay tag talk over !!!!

[ceoofyearning]

All I Want - Cassian

Pairing: Cassian x Bestfriend! Reader Summary: When Nesta Archeron dropped into Cassian’s life with the cataclysmic force of silver wildfire, you took one look at them and knew you missed your chance. There’s no fighting against a mating bond. But that hasn’t stopped the memory of him from haunting you since.  Except there he is, decades later, just across the room, watching you watch him. Rating & Warnings: T/M | Hurt & Comfort, angst to fluff, PAST Nessian, recreational mirthroot use, alcohol, suggestive but nothing explicit (lmk if i miss anything else) Word Count: 4.4k Links: Masterlist

A part of you had always craved to see the rest of the world, and when you got the chance to work in the Day Court three decades ago, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. With how things were, it seemed like the perfect excuse to leave. After all, it’s not as if you had a reason to stay. The mating bond between snapping Nesta and Cassian had made sure of that. 

In many ways, leaving felt like the easier choice - to shed your past and start anew in a court where no one knew you - a clean slate. Mother knows you needed one. 

Your work for Helion involves acquiring ancient texts and artifacts for the One Thousand Libraries of Day. It required you to travel all over Phythian, even as far as the continent to procure these items yourself. You adore your job and enjoy the freedom it affords you, but when you were given the opportunity to go back to Velaris to manage the satellite division connected to the Great Library, a part of you had been reluctant to agree. Coming back meant facing your past. And that, more than anything, was terrifying. 

It has been a few weeks since your return to the City of Stars. Although you didn’t have much time outside of work, you do try to maintain a semblance of a social life. Mor made sure of that. When you first met her a few centuries ago, Mor had taken one look at you, a broken, wingless half-Ilyrian female, and decided that the two of you must become friends. Perhaps she saw a piece of herself in you, in your defiance against a world that was out to get you. 

You had been close friends with Mor in the past, and the moment she heard you were back in town, she reached out to reconnect. You appreciated it immensely, of course. Going back and having to build a life for yourself in Velaris after all these years of being gone seems less daunting with a friend by your side. So when Mor asks you to go out, you try to go whenever you can afford to, desperate to grasp at chances to belong, despite yourself. Tonight, Mor practically dragged you out of your apartment for drinks and to briefly attend a ball in the Moonstone Palace. 

“I don’t understand why Emerie is allowed to pass,” you grumble morosely as you peer up the warmly-lit exterior of Rita’s. 

“Because Em hasn’t been hiding out in the library for the past week,” Mor counters blithely. 

“I was busy,” you retort in vain, knowing full well that all resistance is futile. 

“You’re always busy,” Mor retorts, throwing an arm around your neck. Your friend is clad in her usual skin-tight red dress, exuding self-confidence with each step she takes. You shoot her a look of sheer betrayal, and she laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender. “It’s for your own good. You deserve to have fun too, you know?” Mor says with exaggerated gravity, which has you rolling your eyes. 

You sigh, and pad after her, knowing there is no use trying to argue now that she has already dragged you here. You practically trip over yourself on your borrowed heels, as you try to adjust the straps of the dress Mor had squeezed you into. It’s a resplendent satin dress with a terrifyingly low neckline and an even terrifyingly high slit up your left thigh. To her credit, however, the black dress fits you like a glove, a testament to Mor’s eye for fashion. With much effort, you banish the thoughts of all your responsibilities and deadlines to the void. Fine, you’ll try to have fun tonight, at least. 

You would've been happy enough with a simple dinner, maybe even some wine, but of course, Mor idea of fun rarely coincides with yours. The initial plan is to have just a few drinks at a nice, quiet bar - catch up a bit, and have a good laugh. But as the night progressed, Mor had piled you with more and more alcohol, and you became more amenable to going along with her unhinged plans. 

It starts with you moving to another bar, then another, until you finally find yourselves right in the middle of the overcrowded dance floor in the Moonstone Palace. To call this gathering a ball would be far too generous. Sometime in the night, the party had devolved to the very picture of debauchery. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled liquor, and bad decisions. It’s a good thing you were drunk enough to not mind the overwhelming press of bodies against you. You could even admit that there’s some comfort to be had in being just another face lost in the crowd - free to enjoy the music, to simply be. The beat seems to reverberate throughout the whole room, through your bones, pulling you and everyone else into movement, like a collective heartbeat. Amidst the sea of nameless, gyrating bodies, that’s where you catch a glimpse of him - a slip of darkness, flickering in and out of view as the kaleidoscope of colors shifts overhead. 

Cassian.

Your attention doesn’t go unnoticed for long. His hazel eyes catch yours, and for a moment, the world stops existing. There is only you, and him and the weight of all the love, heartache and desolation between you. A blink, and reality returns to its normal unrelenting pace.

His muscled frame is evident even from a distance, the outline of his strong shoulders and defined arms visible beneath the blank long-sleeved shirt he wore. Intricate tattoos peek through the opened buttons of his shirt, their dark lines running from his neck, chest, down to his forearms. 

You knew Cassian back when you still lived in the Night Court, fancied yourself in love with his charming smile and penchant for mischief. More than anything, you admired him for his kindness. He had been the one to help you escape the camps, even helped set you up here in Velaris. As a half-Ilyrian female with no wings or any significant Ilyrian power, you don’t doubt that staying would have been a death sentence. Or worse. 

Afterward, the two of you had spent the better part of the last two centuries circling one another. You didn’t know the name of what you had with Cassian, but the two of you had preferred it that way, not wanting to risk your friendship. You never had the courage to ask for more, not even when you desperately wanted to. But when Nesta Archeron had dropped into his life with the cataclysmic force of silver wildfire, you took one look at them and knew you missed your chance. There’s no fighting against a mating bond. But that hasn’t stopped the memory of him from haunting you since. 

Except there he is, decades later, just across the room, watching you watch him. 

You heard from the grapevine that, seven years ago, after a failed explosive engagement and years of falling in and out of each other's beds, he and Nesta had finally called it quits. The eldest Archeron sister, Lady Death, had moved to the ruins of Dusk to seek her own destiny, to carve the story of her glory onto the earth. Cassian, on the other hand, had decided to remain here in the Night Court. 

A glint of recognition burns in his hazel eyes. For you, Cassian had always been the one that got away. Despite yourself, you find comfort in the thought that it might not have been easy for him to forget you, too.

You can feel your heart beat violently against your chest, threatening to break free from your ribcage. You can’t tell whether it's from anticipation, or a deep-rooted instinct that this? This is very dangerous territory, not unlike walking back into a battlefield you just managed to escape. Regardless of your better judgment, a smile makes its way to your lips, because, in the end, you’re happy to see him.

And Cassian smiles back. 

Throughout the night, you watch Cassian from the corner of your eye, and you feel his gaze on you in return. Sometime in the evening, you lose Mor in the crowd, covertly swept away by a gorgeous Ilyrian female in black. You, in turn, are left precariously perched on a stool, nursing a glass of water. You swallow your disappointment while contemplating the logistics of winnowing home whilst being utterly tipsy, and conclude that you’re more likely to be spliced across time and space than to reach your destination. 

Instead, you give yourself a few minutes to loiter by one of the palace’s expansive balconies, trying to get sober enough to depart. You’ve lost your shoal sometime during the party, but the crisp night air feels great against your heated skin, helping clear your mind. You recline against the chaise, before crossing your ankles and shutting your eyes. You stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the muted music and the blessed solitude. 

Your peace doesn’t last long, however. You hear a familiar set of footsteps approach, followed by the telltale groan of the chaise beside you. 

“You’re back,” he sounds breathless, disbelieving as though he hasn’t quite figured out if he’s dreaming. You’d know the calming cadence of his voice anywhere, in the dreaming, even in death. 

“Cassian,” you sigh, just as breathless, just as dismantled by his presence. Finally, your eyes flutter open to peer up at him. You swallow the lump in your throat, and he watches the movement, transfixed. 

You drink in the sight of him like you’re lost in a desert, and he’s the only oasis to be found. His long, wavy locks of midnight-black hair cascade over his shoulders, half pulled back into a disheveled bun behind his head. Loose curls frame his rugged features. He looks sharper, hewn from the toughest steel, but there was a familiar warmth in those hazel eyes.

“I thought I saw you,” he smiles, and your mind nearly implodes at the sight of the dimple on his right cheek. Memories flash, and you remember languid afternoons spent pressing kisses over the same dimple, your nose buried in his neck, your hands tracing shapes over his chest. The moment his hand lands on your knee, however, you snap out of it.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” you notify him pointedly because you are done giving pieces of yourself to this man, no matter how charming he can be, not without anything tangible in return.

He raises his hands over his head, as if in surrender, all the while giving you a crooked grin, “Hey, my intentions are pure, Sunshine. I just wanted to catch up.”

And that statement would have been perfectly fine, you think, if he hadn’t just called you that. Sunshine. God, how you used to love every time he said it, how your heart soared every time he spoke those two syllables. It made you feel special, seen. Now, all it leaves is the scent of smoke in your lungs and the taste of devastation in your tongue

“Cassian, Please,” and you hope to The Mother you sound casual, light, sarcastic even; and not like you’re about to swallow your own damn tongue. “Your intentions are as perpetually black as Azriel’s shadows.”

“I resent that,” he huffs petulantly. “I’m perfectly capable of having a chaste conversation.”

“Right.” You laugh, a real one this time, and Cassian holds his chest in feigned offense. “I just got back, and the first thing you do is lie to me? For shame, Cassian, for shame,” you tease, and a lovely shade of pink invades his cheeks, much to his chagrin. 

As you settle further into the cushions, you ask, "What have you been up to? Those Illyrian Warlords still giving you trouble?"

Cassian leans back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I hardly involve myself in the military anymore," he admits, his tone tinged with an equal measure of relief and exhaustion. "I'm tired of the battlefields, the bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of it for several lifetimes. I want to build, not to destroy; to something new, something greater than myself."

And that’s when you see it - the weariness from the weight of all that violence, from the stains those lost lives have left on his hands. They may have called him the Lord of Bloodshed, and he may have been good at it even, Cassian - at his core - has always had a kind and tender heart. You don’t blame him for wanting to leave that life. 

You nod in understanding. “What are you going to do?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

A spark lights up in his eyes, and his smile returns, softer this time. “I’m not entirely sure yet,” he confesses. “But I want it to be something that helps people, that brings more good into the world. The Valkyries were a great start, but I want to build a place for people like us, my mother, the outcasts - a safe place for all the females, the children and the bastards brutalized by this world. I want to give them a chance for a kinder life.”

Your chest aches, and you reach out, taking his hand in yours. “That sounds wonderful, Cassian.”

He squeezes your hand gently, his eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

He studies you for another long moment, hazel eyes taking you in like he’s seeing you for the first time, as if you held the answer to a question he’s spent a long, long time asking himself. His gaze softens.

As the evening stretches on, you and Cassian talk about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing effortlessly like the constant ebb and flow of the Sidra. Despite what happened in the past, this thing between you two feels natural, almost as if no time has passed. Sitting there with him, you realize how much you've missed this, missed him. Cassian had been your savior, your family, and your closest friend before everything went wrong, and perhaps, that’s the one thing you mourned the most: his presence in your life, regardless of who he was to you. Reconnecting with him now felt like being ripped apart and remade all in one breath. 

Then, he pulls out a pipe from his pocket, and promptly sticks it in between his teeth. You watch, half mesmerized by the way he lights it before taking a slow, steady drag. He breathes it in with practiced ease, before releasing a truly remarkable cloud of smoke. He must’ve noticed you staring because he looks at you and wordlessly offers you a puff. “Remember this?”

You eye him dubiously, “How could I forget.” It’s the same gem-encrusted pipe you had given him as a joke all those years ago, knowing how much he hated unnecessary finery. He had stared at it in horror when you first presented it to him years ago. That he kept it surprised you. 

Memories of the two of you locked in his room come into mind. Your lips on his, bodies entwined as a bowl of mirthroot burns at the bedside table. 

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t do mirthroot anymore?” He asks, his grin growing wider. “What is it? Forgotten to have fun?”

Refusing to give him the satisfaction, you retort instead, “I haven’t.” 

“Prove it then,” he challenges, as he taps off some of the ash that has accumulated in the mouth of the pipe. 

You shouldn’t, really. But it’s been a shitty night, and an even shittier month. Mor was right. You’ve been running yourself ragged. And, in truth, you just needed a night where you could forget the rest of your life, even if it’s only temporary 

“Well,” you say as you take the pipe from him, “If anyone needs a bit more mirth in their life, it would be me.”

Cassian chuckles, “And me.” The two of you mime clinking glasses as a show of commiseration, before bursting into raucous laughter. 

You toy with the pipe for a few seconds, turning it over your fingers. It may have seemed like reluctance, but in reality, you were trying to remember the last time you allowed yourself to relax. You realize that it has been a very long while. With one deep breath, the earthy smoke fills your lungs, and you let it linger before you breathe it out. Not without being hit by a coughing fit though, much to Cassian’s amusement. 

“Don’t,” you warn him. 

And of course, he doesn’t heed you, and instead says, “You’re adorable.” 

Before you can say anything else, he takes the pipe and squeezes himself beside you onto the scant space left on the chaise. You let him. It is as though the two of you can’t help but gravitate towards each other, twin stars pulled together by the same cosmic force; even after everything, even after years of silence, of insurmountable distance.

The chaise makes an impressive effort to hold the both of you, and it takes some truly impressive maneuvering for the two of you to fit. He’s turned towards you while you lay half-sprawled across his chest, your leg thrown over his thighs to lock around his calf. His wing curls over you, encasing you within his warmth. Your hand is over his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart echoing your own. It's comforting to know that, even after all that has happened, the two of you still fit together like long-lost pieces of a single puzzle.

“Here, let me,” he takes another hit, easily inhaling and exhaling the silvery smoke as if that alone is enough instruction. He hands it to you once more.

You give him a withering look, but take it from him anyway. Once more you try your best to take the smoke in, but it elicits another coughing fit when you breathe it out. 

“Mother’s tits,” you mutter between coughs. Meanwhile, Cassian looks far too delighted at watching your miserable attempts to get high. 

“Do you want me to help?” he cryptically proposes with a hopeful look on his face, and you see the question for what it is. “You can say no anytime,” he assures you. 

In lieu of an answer, you inch closer, your face angled to fit with his, and you wonder if this is how a sunflower feels when it turns to face the sun. He only gives you one of his unfairly dashing smiles, before he takes another long drag. But this time, he keeps it in, as he cups your face and presses his thumb down your lower lip to coax your mouth open for him.

“Like this,” he whispers, his lips a mere centimeter away from yours. You’re practically vibrating with want, counting the infinities between seconds before you can taste his lips again. The smoke escapes his lips in languid swirls as you pull him down by the nape into a kiss. 

Cassian smiles against your lips.

The world is gradually shifting around you, like tectonic plates converging to recreate the world anew. The both of you shudder at the contact. This isn’t a cataclysm, not a world-ending explosion, but a realization, an answer to an overdrawn question. Cassian kisses you like he’s got all the time in the world to spare. It’s a languid back and forth of shared breaths and the seamless glide of his chapped lips on yours.

The feel of him is familiar and foreign all at once. The taste of rum lingers on his tongue as he licks into your mouth, swallowing the moan that comes out of you unbidden. You don’t know how long you stay in that hazy bliss, reacquainting yourselves with each other, just breathing the other in. 

But when he pulls away, he tugs on your bottom lip as if to make a final point. And what a totally valid point it is. You are convinced - so convinced, in fact, that you decide you aren’t going to smack him over the head for ruining you completely. The smug smirk on his face, by all means, would normally piss you off, but you find yourself smiling back instead.

“Was that better?” He inquires, batting his doe eyes at you innocently like he hadn’t just obliterated all rational thought in your head with his touch alone. 

“I can’t tell…” you trail off in feigned consideration. “I think you’ll have to do it again, just to be sure.” 

His nose scrunches in the most adorable way as he scoffs. Nonetheless, he humors you, lifting the pipe to his lips and inhaling another long drag.

“This is purely for science,” you inform him, running your thumb tenderly over his cheekbone. 

He nods in mock seriousness, before adding, “An experiment of sorts.” 

“Exactly,” you agree, as you tug on the curls on the back of his head to pull him down for another kiss. 

Cassian offers to fly you home, and you accept despite the both of you knowing that you’re perfectly capable and sober enough to winnow back on your own. Cassian scoops you up in the cradle of his strong arms, and you can’t help but let out a small gasp as the massive shadow of his wings unfurl. With a few beats, you’re in the air, soaring high above the mountainside. You barely have the presence of mind to erect the barrier for the two of you to keep the cold at bay. 

The flight to your apartment takes longer than it should because Cassian can’t keep his damn hands to himself long enough to take seven consecutive wingbeats. You indulge him, of course. With your arms around his neck, his lips find yours time and time again. Below, Velaris is a spread of starlight, like a reflection of the night sky overhead. You’ve got no viable defense for your actions, only that you missed him immensely, and deep in your soul, you know you still want him. You’re afraid that you always will. 

But as you arrive at your apartment, the both of you walk up to the door. Cassian tells you he’ll see you tomorrow and moves to leave you with one final peck on the lips, but you maintain your firm grip on his collar.

“You’re leaving?” You ask, your brows scrunched and your mouth agape. 

He chuckles at your confusion, his lips once again to that signature crooked grin you adore far too much.

“Oh? Did you want me to stay?” he asks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a painfully gentle touch.

You huff out an exasperated breath, giving him a pointed look. “Cassian, if I didn't, you wouldn't even be here,” you retort, trying to mask the warmth his gesture ignited. 

“Why?” He presses further. “What did you have in mind, pretty girl?” 

That truth is this: you don’t think you could bear parting with him again, not when you just got him back. You don’t think that losing Cassian is something your heart can survive twice. 

His hand makes a slow descent from the back of your head, to your cheekbone, then to your jaw before gently tipping your face up to meet his gaze. A shiver runs down your spin at the intensity of his gaze. 

Cassian languidly leads you against the wall, pressing his body against yours. You can feel the evidence of his want against you, while he begins to leave butterfly kisses on your neck.

“Hmm?” He urges again, in between kisses. “C’mon, tell me.” Then, he tugs on your lobe lightly, before whispering against your ear, “Tell me all the lovely thoughts running through your pretty little head.” 

A shuddering breath leaves your lips in response, your body reflexively arching into him. He slots his muscled thigh in between your legs while keeping a firm grip on your hips. Cassian, it seems, is as intent on keeping you as you are him. 

“Cassian,” you plead, “stay.” Your chest feels like a supernova on the verge of extinction. Fear and longing grip you in a hurricane of emotion, threatening to swallow you whole.

For a while, Cassian just watches you, completely laid bare for him, his to keep or his to break. 

“Cassian,” you repeat, the desperation in your tone palpable. 

He raises his hands in mock surrender once more, reminiscent of earlier that night, before saying, “Say please.” 

“I hate you,” you retort, but your body tells a different story. Without your approval, you realize your hands have slipped under his shirt, reflexively exploring the familiar terrain of his skin, while your lips press against the sensitive skin of his neck. 

Cassian sighs, melting beneath your touch, his playfulness giving way to a look of pure adoration. With an expression that leaves no room for doubt, he whispers, “Liar.” 

“Guilty,” you confess. 

He matches it with a confession of his own, “I love you.” Cassian's gaze is unbearably soft, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His voice is raw with sheer sincerity. "I've never forgotten you, never stopped thinking about you."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, the world pauses, forgets what it is to breathe. You search his face, seeing the truth reflected in forest eyes. A mixture of relief and joy washes over you, like a stream of cool water over scalded skin. Every moment you’ve shared, every glance, every touch, each joy and regret - has led to this moment.

You lean in closer, your forehead resting against his. "I love you too, Cassian,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I never stopped.”  At that moment, you’re certain that The Cauldron had made a mistake because every part of you is perfectly aligned with his, fitting together in a way that no one else ever could.

“Stay,” you implore him once more, your voice soft but earnest.

“Only if you promise to go on a date with me,” he says against your lips. 

You blink blearily up at him, your mind still lost in the moment. “A date?” you ask, almost in wonder. There was a time when the two of you spent everyday together, back when you were in the purgatory between best friends and something more. But in retrospect, you’ve never gone on an actual date. Despite everything you’ve done so far, the thought of going out with Cassian is what sends your heart racing.

“Okay,” you finally agree, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian’s smile is radiant, a bright light in this wretched world. And for the first time in a long while, you look forward to the future. 

Author’s Note: Hello! I’m new to this fandom & I’m so down bad I started writing fics again. I’d love to hear your thoughts 💙

+ This was literally supposed to be just Cassian + shotgunning but now there's plot so here we are.

#my fic #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #a court of mist and fury #angst with a happy ending #cassian fanfic #cassian fluff

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 22. drunken regrets

(wc: 2.572… yeah..)

entering haechan’s apartment felt like stepping foot into foreign territory. you weren’t sure what you were expecting when the door opened, but haechan who stared at you with a lazy lopsided grin and gleaming eyes wasn’t exactly your first guess. “how much did you drink?” was the first question that you voiced upon seeing him.

haechan barely registered your words, seemingly in his own world. “just.. a few glasses?” he guessed after a while, squinting his eyes in thoughts. he opened his door wider for you, stepping aside to allow you to gaze further into the place. “come inside.” he welcomed you, surprising you at the sweet tone of his words.

you’re not sure how haechan had managed to convince you to come over to his place to clean up after him, but here you were, stood in the middle of his living room as you took in the interior of his place. his walls and decor were all painted in neutral colours, and you mentally noted how it suited his aura a lot.

“come sit with me.” haechan’s words snapped you out of your thoughts, and you followed the sound of his voice to see that he had seated himself on the ground you assumed he was previously sat on. his body was leaning against the couch behind him, head thrown back as he looked up at you. he still carried the small grin, and his eyes still held that same gloss.

you clicked your tongue, taking small steps further into his living room. “why are you back on the ground? you’re making this harder for the both us haechan.” you groaned and reached down to grip onto his guitar that was placed next to him. haechan barely listened to your words as he was busy watching your every movement. “do you want a glass?” he had offered once you turned back to him.

you gaped at haechan in disbelief, remaining silent for a few moments. you were about to ask him if he had lost his mind again, but the smile on his face halted your action, and you let out a sigh instead. one that haechan found amusing. “get off the floor.” you instructed him sternly, and haechan’s amused grin only grew.

his hand was slowly grazing through his brown locks that had turned black in the shadows of the room. “come on (—), you’re awake anyways.” haechan patted the spot next to him on the carpet. “sit down.” he called you over. he reached forward to grip onto the glass that was placed on the coffee table in front of him, bringing it up to his lips. “haechan.” you warned him, walking over to him to take the glass out of his hands.

“you’re no fun.” haechan huffed. “i’m not exactly trying to be fun, i’m trying to clean up after you so we can both go to sleep.” you explained, looking around in hopes of figuring out the direction of his kitchen in the dark. “why did you turn of all the lights?” you wondered. “it was hurting my eyes.” haechan explained back, still seated on the ground.

the kitchen wasn’t far away, and you placed the cup into the sink, as well as the other dirty dishes placed on the counter. you had to physically hold yourself back from washing each of them, remembering that you weren’t here to play as his maid. or maybe you kinda were, but not to that extent.

“why are you here for so long?” you jumped away from the sink and almost shrieked at the sudden infiltration of haechan in the kitchen. your heart was beating erratically, and you turned to look back at him with wide eyes. “what the fuck? don’t creep up on me like that!” you nudged him away. haechan softly laughed, grabbing onto your wrist to stop you from pushing him any more. “you took too long, i was starting to miss your presence.” he chuckled.

it took you a moment to register his words, and once they did, you stiffened in his hold. “what?” you questioned him, but haechan didn’t seem like he was going to expand on his words any time soon, instead he continued to stare at you with droopy eyes and a small grin. “how drunk are you?” you eyed haechan in suspicion and he shrugged.

whether he was aware of it or not, his thumb had started to rub the skin on your wrist softly as he tried to put a label on his drunk status. you on the other felt every bit of it, slightly shuddering at the ticklish feeling. “i don’t know, just a little?” haechan concluded after a while. his thumb continued to rub your wrist, and you were starting to believe it was intentional by now.

“you should go to bed.” you suggested to him, taking a step back, but he followed suit and stepped forward himself. “are you leaving already?” he seemed surprised and you hesitantly nodded your head. “i mean, i put your stuff away right?” you explained. his gaze felt heavy on you as he scanned your whole face. he had somehow managed to take ahold of your wrist again. “can you stay until i fall asleep, at least?” he requested.

your eyes widened in shock, frantically shaking your head. “what? that’s weird, haechan. why would i do that?” you asked, baffled. haechan shook his head as well, mildly swinging your wrist around as he spoke. “please, (—). i just wanna talk some more, after that you can leave. please?” haechan pleaded.

it took you by surprise, because what the actual fuck. never in a million years would’ve you imagined haechan desperately begging you for a favour, let alone the favour being your company of all things. was this even haechan?

while you were taking in the unexpected moment, haechan had already started to drag you with him to his bed room. it didn’t fully click yet what he was doing until the both of you were stood in the middle of his room, and he turned to look at you. “you can sit at the end of my bed, or lay next to me, i don’t bite.” haechan suggested with a smug look. there was a tone to his words, as well as his demeanour that caught you off guard.

“haechan..” you started, and you weren’t sure what you were exactly going to say. it was like all your thoughts disappeared when he softly smiled at you and took ahold of your shoulder, guiding to sit down on his bed before he sat down next to you. “you complain a lot, you know?” haechan chuckled. you could feel the way his eyes bore into your side, and were hesitant to look back.

“it’s because you annoy me a lot.” you defended yourself, thought your words seemed to lack uncertainty, almost as if you didn’t mean it. haechan hummed, leaning back on his arms. “can’t help it, i like how aggressive you get.” he chuckled and you finally took the courage to look his way, thought it was solely to send him a disapproving frown. he laughed upon seeing your expression, slightly leaning forward towards you. “what’s with the look?”

“why am i still here.” you deadpanned. being in his apartment was one thing, but making it onto his bed and sitting closely beside him was something totally different. there was something quite intimate about the moment. you could practically feel the warmth emitted from haechan hit your bare arm, and it sent a tingle through your body. “hm? do you not like being here with me?” haechan asked. you didn’t, but you also did.

you shrugged. “well, i like that you’re here.” haechan confessed, moving back to sit right next to you. “you’re drunk, you really should go to bed, you know?” you suggested and tried to move away. his body heat was practically enclosing you, and your own body was starting to warm up from the proximity. it didn’t help that haechan had accidentally placed his hand on top of yours too, slightly intertwining them from the top. or maybe it was intentional.

“you don’t even look at me whole you say that, why would i take your words serious?” he laughed, amused at how you persistently avoided his eyes. yes, you were avoiding them on purpose, especially when this particular night, his eyes seemed to be filled with nothing but fondness and slight intimacy. you’re not sure what was wrong with haechan tonight, he was not himself.

your throat that had dried up over time, and you swallowed before deciding to go against your attempts and look haechan directly in the eyes. “haechan, go to sleep please?” you asked him, attempting to sound persuasive yet demanding as possible.

again, haechan’s gaze held a certain fondness in them as he just stared at you with doe eyes. he seemed almost hypnotised with the way he hadn’t uttered a word, and you were starting to wonder if he had even heard you. your mouth opened to speak again, but he beat you to it.

“you’re so cute when you care about me like this, you know?”

whatever air you had inhaled to speak again remained stuck in your throat as your eyes widened. you were perplexed, at a loss for words even. your heart rate had involuntarily spiked up and your breath hitched. as if he took enjoyment out of your reaction, a small smile formed on his lips before he spoke again.

“you’re much cuter like this.. when you’re not nagging me. you should do that less.” you felt your heart pulse in your throat, eyes still widened while you listened to haechan’s surprising affectionate words. his hand was still placed on top of yours, slightly tapping the tips of your fingers every now and then.

“um.. i.. i think i should go.” you stammered, attempting to stand up. your knees felt weak and you wondered whether those few minutes on his bed were the reason, or haechan himself was the reason. you wobbled a bit, and haechan’s hand instinctively found place on your lower back while he quickly stood up himself. “be careful.”

his hand had reached the side of your hip, holding you secure as if you would fall down any moment. “i’m fine.” you muttered out, trying to step away from him. he let you slip out of his grasp, and you wondered if it was appropriate to just run out of his apartment at that moment. “should i bring you to the front door?” haechan proposed, already standing right in front of you. you took a careful step back. “oh- um, i think i’ll be fine..” you responded back.

it was like all your sense of thinking had left your body the moment the two of you were sat on his bed. you couldn’t even articulate a normal sentence, let alone look him in the eye. this had to be the devil himself, because there was no way haechan had this affect on you.

but as his hand grasped for yours and he started to gently tug you with him to his front door, you reconsidered the possibility of it all.

he opened the door for you, hand still in his, and had walked you to your own door without any words. it was silly, your door was right next to his, yet he still fully exited his apartment so the two of you were in front of your door.

“you good?” you wondered why he had to duck his head just so he could look you in the eye, why he felt the need to lift your jaw upwards just so your eyes could meet, and why he had to feign worry when you know he didn’t really care. “i’m fine” you whispered out, too scared of how wobbly your voice would sound if any louder. haechan’s eyes slowly inspected your whole face before he nodded, though not letting go of your jaw.

“thank you for cleaning up for me, by the way. i owe you.” you hadn’t thought of the possibility of a payback, mostly doing this for your own sake. “it’s okay.. you don’t have to.” you quietly answered back. haechan pondered over your answer for a while, slowly letting his hand go from your jaw, his other hand strangely still slotted in your own. you weren’t sure whether to break away from it or leave it as it is.

he was drunk after all, he was most likely doing actions out of his comfort zone.

“would a kiss be enough of payback?” he quirked and you almost jump at the suggestion. if your sense of thinking had left your body previously, you’re sure that every single one of the 5 senses had just left your body as the words left his mouth. your heart was beating erratically, and it was haechan’s fault again. though this time, you were scared for other reasons.

“w-what?” you stuttered in pure disbelief. haechan’s look was nothing but playful as he leaned forwards with a slight grin. “wouldn’t it be great compensation, hm? let me try, you tell me.” he teasingly leaned in. you attempted to push your head back into your door, avoiding his incoming attempts at anything.

from the short distance between you two, you were able to smell the scent of his shampoo, a sweet vanilla fragrance to was unfortunately pleasant. you were able to see desire in his eyes as you made eye contact for a split second. the soft glow of the hall light casted a warm and ethereal beam over him, and for once, all you could think of when looking at haechan was how nice he looked.

his nose barely touched yours and the warmth of his breath had started to hit your lips. you had shut your eyes tightly, surprisingly not opposed to whatever was going to happen next. because despite haechan being extremely insufferable, he was equally attractive, and you were not one to refuse on the opportunity to get kissed by an attractive person.

a part of you didn’t believe he would actually go through with his proposal, but as you felt a pair of soft lips plant onto yours, all your senses had seemed to return to you and you realised that he was not bluffing. haechan was actually kissing you, and you hated to admit that you didn’t mind it.

his hand that was previously on your jaw found its way back, slightly caressing your jaw as he pulled you closer. it felt good, and it didn’t seem like haechan was intending on stopping anytime soon. it felt good, but it was wrong, and an alarm went off in your head as you realised what was happening.

panic surged through you and you nudged haechan off you. the boy slowly opened his eyes in confusion, and the way they held that same glimmer they had the whole night made you groan. haechan was drunk, and you were kissing him while he was drunk.

you lowly cursed, not sparing haechan another glance before you opened your apartment door and closed it right behind you. with a deep sigh, you leaned against the door in exasperation. “fucking hell.” you cursed. you regretted ever going over to his apartment. you regretted going into his bedroom, you regretted kissing him.

it ended up being a waste of your time as you remained sleepless the rest of the night anyways.

previous — master list — next

notes ; happy haechan day and also happy lqfiles day, a little birthday present from me to you! ^^

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @yeritos @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

#haechan smau #nct smau #nct dream smau #nct 127 smau #haechan imagines #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #haechan x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #haechan texts #nct texts #nct dream texts #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream social media au #haechan social media au #nct social media au #haechan scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #haechan x you #nct x you #nct dream x you

[carmenberzattosgf]

the muscles…. let me pronebone with carmen PLEASE PLEASE JUST ONCE!! -💫

Well I didn’t know that position had a name but yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes

He has you flat on your stomach with a small pillow underneath your hips. This position makes his cock hit so deep inside of you, like feeling him in your guts kind of deep.

Carmen is already fighting for his life the second he presses into you. “Fuck, baby—so fucking tight—holy shit.” Maybe it’s confidence from not having eye contact, but Carmy literally cannot shut up when he starts thrusting into you at a rough pace. “Shit—you can’t keep squeezing me like that or I’ll cum.”

“Please, Carm,” you whine. Your head turns to look over your shoulder at Carmy. Fuck, he looks so gorgeous like this. He’s got both of his hands digging into the meat of your hips. Carmy’s biceps bulge from the way he’s gripping your skin. His teeth bite at his lower lip as his eyes watch the spot where the two of you connect, before darting over to meet your eyes.

“Yeah? Want me to stay inside and pump you full? Is that why you’re squeezing me like a fucking vice?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Please fill me up—want you to.”

Carmy drops down on top of you. His elbows hold his body weight up as his pace switches to slowed, deep thrusts. He wants you to feel how far he’s buried inside of you.

“Taking it so well—shit. S’like you’re made for me,” Carmy groans. His lips begin to kiss your neck and shoulders in an attempt to quiet his moans.

“ ‘m all yours, Carm. Feels s’good—so fucking deep—” Your speech is barely coherent. The pleasure is too mind consuming for you to care.

Carmy shifts his arms once again. This time his bicep wraps around your throat, lifting your head up. His other arm wraps around your lower stomach. Carmy’s palm firmly presses right above your mound, making you cry out from the sensation. Within moments, his hips pick up the pace again.

Needing something to brace yourself, one of your hands grasps his forearm. “I’ve got ya. Such a good girl for me. My good girl,” Carmy praises. Slowly, he begins to tighten his bicep around your throat. Your voice whimpers loudly at the pressure, unable to form words. You and Carmen had discussed play like this heavily before. Three taps on his arm and he would let go immediately. Since your palm stays firmly planted on his forearm, Carmy continues to squeeze your throat. Sloppily, he kisses at your cheeks, forehead, and practically any other parts of you he can get his mouth on.

The bicep wrapped around your neck brings stars to your vision. His thrusts have only gotten more powerful. Vaguely, you can hear the sound of the headboard banging into the wall. In an instant, the fire-feeling in your belly explodes. Euphoria flows through your veins as you reach your peak. “Carmy, Carmy, Carmy,” You repeat with a choked desperate voice. You say his name over and over again like it’s the only word you know.

Carmy’s not far behind. “Shit—that’s it. Going to fill you up—“ he pants into your ear. With a few more deep thrusts he’s spilling inside of you, whimpering into the skin of your neck.

Carmy has to go to the hardware store to buy a wall patching kit for the dents the headboard left in the wall of his apartment. He then orders some headboard stoppers from Amazon the very next day.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy bear #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy smut

[shaylogic]

Wishlist for DBDA Season 2:

A proper noir episode that plays off Edwin's fondness for traditional detective stories

Significantly more focus on Niko's character now that the traditional comic trio had season 1 to establish. Exploring her father's afterlife situation, meeting up with her Mom, discovering her own strength and skills (especially if she has supernatural powers after the polar bear figurine)

More of Charles' living backstory and family mystery possibly reflecting the comics

Edwin's living backstory and family, whom we know next to nothing about even in comics

Crystal picking up more tech/hacking skills

Cryland Crystal x Charles relationship dynamics: conflict around her bully side, trauma-bonding and conflict around the different kinds of shitty parents they have (which so far has been something Crystal's been better about with Charles than Edwin has been)

Monty, Jenny, and Cat King all move to London with the squad. Idc how or why. I'll accept any reasoning.

Happy lesbians or other wlws!!! Didn't quite get that in season 1.

More Kashi! What is going on with him? He seems important

An episode where one of the main characters is stuck floating upside down like in the Topsy-Turvey comic, and the others take turns holding their hand like they're a balloon

Squooshing and the Ghost Roads

More worldbuilding of realms (Neitherlands?) and ghost rules/abilities

Crystal resolving buried David of course

Desire of the Endless interaction with the rest of our queer characters (which is basically all of them)

Flashback montage of the silly early cases Edwin & Charles did together in the past that they referenced in season 1

Flashback on how the boys began their Detective Agency: their very first case.

Expand their first meeting in the attic scene to include if they actually spoke to Death, what happened to their bodies, and showing them realizing the school is covering them both up

Return to St. Hilarion's. Put bodies to rest. Burn it to the ground.

Edwin new outfit. Once done with the school visit and flashbacks, he should pick something mature and individual to separate the new him from the death trauma time

Jenny's new role in the agency group now that she's aware and sees ghosts. Bonus points for goth knowledge

Charles crop top for the fans

Charles figuring out his 🤞 bisexuality 🤞 this season much like Edwin worked through his internalized homophobia in season 1. We desperately need meaningfully in depth, genuine, quality bi rep in media and I trust this show with it. (Shout out to Nick Heartstopper though)

Payneland dynamics: still slow-burn figuring out their relationship as friends or more now that the confession is known. By the end of season 2 and Charles bi journey?, relationships start to shift a bit from Cryland to Payneland perhaps... [I love them both honestly]. Just when Edwin is making up his mind to put his crush on Charles aside and start looking for his "adventure of the heart" elsewhere, that's right when Charles starts to get more interested. And we may expect him to get all flirty but he actually gets more nervous and genuine with Edwin.

Monty becomes humanoid again and is learning who he is out on his own. Maybe he gets a job and apartment. Trying to figure out his purpose as an individual instead of familiar.

Cat King has a name, an animated backstory, and a new love interest that sees through his bullshit and keeps him humble

Feel free to add your own wishlist in the reblogs/comments! <3

#dbda season 2 #dbda #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #wishlist #season 2 #predictions #text post #cat king #thomas the cat king #Monty finch #monty the crow #jenny the butcher #niko sasaki #crystal palace #charles rowland #edwin payne #cryland #payneland

[spookwyrdie]

Sweet Spot {part 1}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: You're putting together the floral arrangements for your ex's wedding as a favor, forgetting how passive aggressive he can be about your love life. Fortunately for you, one of your best friend's in the world comes over to feed you sugar and make you a sweet offer to get back at your ex. genre: fluff, smut, angst if you squint // word count: 2.8k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes, wet dream // a/n: Trying out something longer and fluffier this time! If you'd like to be on the taglist, reply to this post or send me an ask 🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

You should have never agreed to do this. Your fingers were sore from wire wrapping all the different bouquets, one for each bridesmaid, the ring bearer’s pillow, and the flower girl. So far, you were only halfway done with the floral arch and hadn’t even gotten to start on the table settings yet. There were bits of torn leaves, crushed flower petals, and feathers strewn around your apartment, trying to deal with the last minute changes in aesthetic that the bride asked for.

 The shift from a classic summer bouquet to something more bohemian wasn’t impossible, but it was a challenge with the wedding a week away. It definitely wasn’t your favorite aesthetic in the world, but you were determined to make it work.

The question of why you had agreed to do this at a quarter of your normal fee was beginning to fester in your mind, especially for your ex’s wedding. 

You and Johnny were amicable, sure. Civil might be a better word for it. You didn’t have any leftover romantic feelings for the man - that ship had sailed ages ago. The main problem you had now with him is that he always seemed to be in competition with you, always trying to steal your thunder or diminish your accomplishments. It was always underhanded and passive aggressive and you didn’t have the energy to really push back.

Speaking of the devil, your phone pings with a text message.

❌J: hey y/n, just checking in about the florals. Jenny is freaking out and wants an update you: working on them now! [image attached]  ❌J: wow! Hard at work! Is this the bride’s bouquet? you: yep! Putting the finishing touches on it now’s ❌J: it looks really busy, are you sure this is what she asked for? you: yes. I promise I’m following her vision that we spoke about during our last consultation. ❌J okay! just making sure! I know some of these changes need a quick turn around. ❌J: oh also… ❌J: i wanted to chat with you about something you: ? ❌J: I know things have been a little rough in the dating department for you lately but you still officially have a plus one to the wedding, in case you wanted to bring your sister or someone! you: …thanks.  you: Don’t know where the idea that I’m struggling with dating came from, but I appreciate the plus one. ❌J: I had just heard through the grapevine is all. ❌J: there’s someone out there for everyone! You’ll find them eventually. ❌J: like me and Jenny! We were just made for each other 💕 you: okay, Johnny! Great chatting, I’ll get back to work now! 

You swipe out of the text thread and pinch your brow, the feeling of a building tension headache settling right between your eyes. His audacity is always bewildering, he can have such a sickeningly sweet tone while making sure to get a jab or two in to hurt you. 

Sure, you haven’t had a solid relationship since the two of you broke up, but he doesn’t have to rub your nose in it. The relationship ended amicably enough once you both graduated from college, realizing that the two of you were drifting apart as you pursued your respective careers. Staying civil made it easier to maintain the friend group, neither of you had any real reason to be upset with the other. That didn’t mean you were close, you still kept your distance.

 When he had gotten engaged, you were genuinely pleased for him, and a little relieved. Sometimes, when you’d run into each other at parties, he would make it a point to find you and tell you how well he was doing. You’d get the feeling that he was trying to showboat his accomplishments - he always wanted to tell you all about his successes, all the great things going on in his life. 

He got a great job at some law firm, a promotion and another promotion. Then he had met Jenny, they got engaged, and wasn’t it just so cute that their names were so similar? Jenny and Johnny, Johnny and Jenny! It became their whole personality as a couple and he’d corner you to tell you about how amazing she is and how he had never met anyone who just got him like she did. Every time you’d deal with this, you felt like he had poured corn syrup on you with how saccharine he sounded.

He’d hear about your ebb and flow of love and give you such a pitying look. “Oh you haven’t been dating? That’s too bad, there’s someone out there for everyone! Just look at me and Jenny!” Just throwing small digs in your direction that flew under the radar for most of your friends. 

But you knew. 

You knew he was always trying to make you feel like you had “lost” the break-up. 

~~~

A knock at the door brings you back to the present moment. 

“Y/n~! It’s me! Open up,” a deep voice lilts in a sing-song voice. 

You shake your head, trying to snap out of your shitty mood to answer the door. On your doorstep is one of the best things that came into your life with his ice blond hair, freckles, and a smile that could light up an entire room. Before you can say anything, Felix barges past you into your apartment, holding two paper bags with the bakery’s logo on it.

“I brought some new flavors for you to try, I’m experimenting for the springtime,” he says as he starts unpacking travel pastry boxes with different colored cakes inside.

“Ugh, please don't talk to me about weddings right now,” you sigh. He pauses his unpacking.

“What’s up? You sound like someone kicked your dog.” 

“I just had the most passive aggressive interaction with my ex, Johnny.”

You open the text thread to show him. 

“This is your ex?”

“Yep.”

“Damn, he’s not even being subtle about it.”

“Nope.”

The room is silent for a split second before Felix brightens up again. 

“Well fuck that, the flowers look great, despite the boho bad taste. Come try these new cake flavors I’ve been playing with! Sugar always cheers me up.”

You give him a small smile, he always knows exactly how to bring a little optimism into a shitty situation. “Sure Felix, what have you got for me?”

Soon, you have 4 plates and forks out for the different cake concoctions.

“I’ve been playing around with different florals and citrus for spring, so here we have a lavender cake with key lime frosting. Over here, we have an earl grey cake with lemon curd and lemon buttercream. Then we’ve got a vanilla cake with a pistachio filling and a rose buttercream. Finally we have a jasmine green tea cake with yuzu curd and a vanilla glaze,” Felix says, bouncing on his toes. 

“Okay, Mary Berry! They all sound delicious.”

“You have to be one hundred percent honest with me, I want actual feedback on these!” He grabs your shoulders and looks deep into your eyes, your heart skipping a beat briefly at his intensity. He looks so eager for you to try his different concoctions. Most couples weren’t looking for anything too extreme in the way of flavors, most opting for a basic white cake and buttercream, so you knew Felix loved to share the uncommon combinations he came up with.

They were all so beautiful, perfectly cut out and frosted with care. You picked up your fork enthusiastically.

“Fuck, Felix, that’s delicious,” you say, savoring the citrus flavors. Every single one you tried was more delicious than the last. Your favorite had to be the earl grey and lemon. “This one tastes like how a springtime tea party feels.”

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling into little crescent moons, his freckles stand out when he smiles so brightly.

“Thanks, it’s always nice when I get to play around with flavor,” he says, leaning back into his seat. As he stretches, his shirt rides up to reveal a small expanse of the bare skin where his hip meets his lower belly, the lean muscle definition standing out in the lamp light. You tear your eyes away when you realize you’ve been lingering your gaze on the scant inch of skin.

 “Oh my god, did tell you?” Felix blurts out suddenly. “I’ve been working with this couple for an upcoming wedding. Absolute nightmare. Terrible taste! Guess what they finally settled on for their flavor.”

“I don’t know, something basic I bet.”

“Fucking mint chocolate chip.”

“Mint chocolate??? For a cake???” You reel back in horror. What on earth kind of combo was that for a wedding cake?

“They insisted on it!” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “Well, the bride did. The groom was never at any of these sampling appointments. She was onher own and really pushing for something unique.”

“I guess it’s unique to make your guests hate you for your choice of cake flavor,” you say, grimacing at the thought of a mint chocolate cake. “Disgusting.”

“I feel bad for their wedding guests. That’s such a controversial flavor for ice cream, I can’t imagine how it’ll go down for the entire reception.”

You hum in agreement, picking up your fork and finishing off the last of your cake in one frosting heavy bite. 

“Y/n you’ve got a little-“ he reaches up, gently holding your chin. 

His gaze softens as he looks at your lips and you freeze in place. Your heart picks up speed, hammering in your chest, at this gentle touch. He doesn’t know that you have had a thing for him for years now, but you’ll never tell him. You love having him as a friend too much to ruin it, he’s the one spot of sunshine on dreary days. There’s no chance he’d reciprocate your feelings, he could literally date anyone the way strangers constantly fall in love with him at first glance.

But right now, he’s focused on your lips, his thumb brushing them carefully, swiping the bit of frosting that was left from your last bite.

“Oh my god!” You force out a laugh, pulling out of his grasp in embarrassment. Taking a napkin, you start furiously wiping your mouth. “Sorry! It was really good!”

“That’s the perfect kind of response to one of my baked goods!” He smiles, licking the frosting off of his thumb. Your heart leaps into your throat. 

Felix never seems to notice the effect he has on people, overwhelming charm, the magnetic pull he has on anyone within 10 ft of him. When the two of you worked at the old cafe together, you’d take a mental tally of the number of customers that would leave with hearts in their eyes after ordering coffee from him. You thought that after five years of friendship you could get used to it via exposure therapy, but his allure slams you in the chest all the time.  You try to keep yourself grounded in reality when he tugs at heartstrings like this - he does this with everyone so you try not to lose your head. But the way he’s looking at you now, leaning in close with fierce affection in his eyes, makes the delusion that he feels the same about you seem almost real.

You giggle nervously and move to tidy things up from the table after you two are done sampling. Felix leans against the counter, watching you, as you start washing the plates.

“I have an idea,” he says. “For your plus-one situation.”

“Okay, shoot.” 

“What if you take me as your date?”

“Be serious, Felix,” you chuckle.

“I am being serious, I clean up real good,” he says, grabbing at your waist playfully.

“Oh!” A fork slips out of your hand and clatters into the sink. “I mean- you don’t have to do that.”

“Nah, I’d like to! Think about it, it’d be perfect, Johnny has no idea who I am and I can brag you up while I’m there. Rub his nose in it for a change.”

“I-“

“Just think it over, no rush. I think it’d be real fun though!” 

You look at him blankly for a moment, your heart thumping in your chest again. “ Yeah, I’ll think it over.”

~~~

Your eyes are closed when you feel a pair of hands slink around your body, drawing you into a chest of hard, lean muscle. The scent like an apple orchard on a rainy autumn morning greets you, petrichor and wood mixed with something crisp and sweet, enveloping you in a sense of comfort. You look up to see who’s arms embrace you to find Felix hovering over you, deep brown eyes locked onto yours. You’re so close you could count the freckles on his cheeks and give a name to each one. He hums as he pulls you in closer, a deep resonance vibrating through his chest, warming you in more ways than one. 

Tell me it’s real, he says, almost silently.

It’s real, you reply. 

He leans down to capture your lips, pausing above you to nudge his nose against yours and smile. 

I’ve waited so long for this, he says as he finally presses his lips against yours softly. His movements are gentle but insistent, trying to communicate with you, speaking quietly of the years of yearning that have been building. Your skin sings with the way his hands splay on your lower back, pushing your pelvis into him as he presses his tongue against your lips, asking for permission. The kiss deepens and you fall further into him, molding yourself against him. Your hands wind their way into his hair, those ice blond strands wrapped up in your grasp.

A small tug has him detaching from your mouth in a gasp, arching into you ever so slightly as his eyes flutter shut. His fingers find purchase in your plush hips, gripping into you harshly as he yanks you even closer to his body, no space between your body and his. Your breasts press into him, feeling his every breath move against you. He groans at the feel of you before he wraps you up into another kiss, this one more fervent. The way your soft body fits against his so well has his tongue dancing with yours, surging into you then backing away, teasing you until your body feels like it’s on fire. 

You whimper into his mouth when he shifts, coaxing your feet apart to slot his thigh between your legs. He bears down on your hips, pressing your core against his flexed muscle. Liquid heat pools in your belly as he starts rocking against you, feeling his length against your hip, pleading for friction. His hands snake down to grab onto your ass, kneading into the thick flesh, controlling the pace of your grinding into him.

You feel that arousal building inside of you, the tension has you clenching while you rut your hips against him. You feel how wet your panties have become as they slide over your clit, your hips stuttering against him, nearing your peak. 

Felix, I’m- you start to say but he cuts you off with a kiss.

Come for me, y/n, he murmurs against your lips. I want all of you. I wanna feel you lose control.

His words have you moaning, your brow furrowing as your hips shake. He holds you steady as he bounces his leg slightly to add extra pressure. You gasp, feeling your muscles tighten.

Give it all to me, he whispers against your lips. It belongs to me.

His voice sounds distant as you feel yourself coming to the edge. 

Suddenly, your eyes flutter open. You find yourself in bed, thrusting pitifully against your pillow, your heart racing and your skin flush with arousal. As you start to pull yourself out of the dream you were so wrapped up in, your orgasm shatters through you, moaning into the dark of your room. Your legs shake as your core muscles flutter, throbbing at the thought of Felix’s mouth on yours. As you start to come down from your high and settle into reality, you can feel your own pulse in your clit, your legs tangled in your sheets with a pillow between your legs, forehead glistening with sweat. 

It felt so real, like you could actually feel the ghost of his hands on your ass rocking you against his body, his groans ricocheting in your chest. You haven’t had a dream like that in ages, it was so vivid. You wanted it to be real so badly.

That settles it. You reach for your phone, the light piercing through the darkness, staring at the clock that reads 4:26 AM. Opening your messaging app, you type out a quick text and hit send.

you: okay Felix, let’s do it. Will you be my plus one?

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #felix x reader #felix smut #stray kids fanfic

[zerokurokawa]

Daughter From Another Lifetime, Part Two (Bonten!Rindou x Reader)

(part one)

After the conversation with his you, the mother of his child, Rindou did everything he could to make up seventeen years worth of lost time with his daughter. He picked her up from school in his nice car, took her out to eat, took her shopping, and even taught her how to drive like a father should. Other than spending time with d/n, he had other things on his agenda was well. 

He couldn't help but to notice how great you looked to be in your early thirties. Both of you looked amazing. You, with your e/c, h/c and h/l, and overall beautiful physique, were as stunning as the day he had met you. Truth be told, he had never fallen out of love with you and thought of you often. He craved you, needed, and wanted you. Hell, he even thought to himself about having a second child with you if it wasn't too late. He enjoyed being a father after all. 

One night, after taking d/n out to eat, he brought her home on time as promised. You and Rindou had a set schedule when it came to your daughter. He would pick her up from school, take her out on certain days, and drop her back off at home before or at nine. Only this time, Rindou had invited himself inside to talk more. 

As d/n went to her room, he sat himself at the counter once more, making himself at home in your humble apartment. 

"I think I should buy you a house." He stated, out of the blue. 

"I don't need your help with that, I've got plenty in savings and we're doing just fine here." You sounded cold. 

"It would be my gift to you, y/n... I want you to live comfortably and never have to work again." He said, taking a sip of the wine you had poured him. He was still wearing his suit, which was neatly pressed, from work. His lilac and purple hair cascaded down his shoulders as he watched you intently. 

"You would really go that far, huh?" You were leaning against the counter now, cleavage out. He was obviously trying not to stare, but what could a man do? He wanted you, badly. He wanted you back so bad that he even told his brother about your return and the fact that he was a father. Needless to say, Ran was surprised that he was an uncle and couldn't wait to meet his niece. 

"Yeah, I would. I would do anything for you both." He said, leaning in across the counter and propping his arms on the edge. He wanted to get closer to you, but the damn counter was in the way as you were standing opposite of him. You stayed silent while he spoke up again. 

"I want you both to live happily, without worry. I've kept my promise by putting her first. I've been leaving work early and picking her up. I've spent time with her. I've gotten to know her likes and dislikes and she's just like me!" He rambled, a wide grin creeping upon his face. He was trying to win you back. 

"I'm glad, Rindou." You smiled at the thought of your daughter finally having her father in her life. You had seen how happy it made d/n to be around her dad. She even came home one day and told you all about the awesome shopping trip he took her on and how she got everything she ever dreamed of, including the newest iPhone. 

"So why don't you give me a chance to prove myself even further?" He smiled, taking his hand and placing on top of yours. He got up from the counter and walked around to where you were standing. He towered over you, his eyes gazing into yours. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. You wanted him, but not all that he came with. You knew he was in a very illegal, dangerous line of work and you didn't want that to affect your relationship any further than it already has. You caught yourself thinking about the Tenjiku days and how often Rindou would come home with wads of money from seemingly nowhere. That's when you knew he was up to no good. 

"I mean... me and you. Let's give us another chance." He started to wrap his arm around your waist. You let him, for a split moment, as you were lost in his gaze. The next thing you knew, you two were inches apart and he was leaning in further. Right when he was about to kiss you, or so you thought, he tilted his head while brushing back a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"I think... we can make it work this time." He whispered gently into your ear, his breath grazing your skin, causing you to shiver. You stayed silent; lost in a daze of confusion and thoughts as he leaned back, arm still wrapped around your waist. 

"I need time to think about this, Rin..." You trailed off. You wanted him, badly. You were scared though. You were terrified of numerous things. What if he brings work home and someone comes after you and your daughter? What if he gets caught and gets sentenced to prison? What if... he gets killed? 

He backed away, trying not to upset you. He could see the look on your face. As he turned to leave, he asked one more question. 

"Promise me, you'll think about it?" 

You nodded your head in response, still in a daze of thinking. He left without a single word. 

(Tagging: @rukiasluver @merrymerrykiss @burndownyourparade) <333 <333 <333

#tokyo revengers #baji keisuke #mikey sano #emma sano #mitsuya takashi #chifuyu matsuno #kakucho hitto #izana kurokawa #kazutora hanemiya #sanzu haruchiyo #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #tokyo revengers rindou #tokrev rindou #tr rindou #haitani ran #haitani brothers #ran haitani #haitani x reader #bonten rindou #mikey bonten #kakucho #haitani rindou #bonten #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers spoilers #tokyo rev #kokonoi hajime

[devdevlin]

A brief (and inappropriate) retelling of Hermione's polyjuice incident.

DON'T ASK. I don't know where this came from, ok? Ok. My pregnancy brain is fried and apparently, I don't know what shame is anymore, so here you go, have an odd and uncalled for drabble. I'd say don't judge me... but tbh, I probably deserve it 🤷‍♀️

"Ahh!"

At the distant, high-pitched scream, Tom slowly lowered his newspaper.

There was a concerning stretch of silence, until a quiet shuffling from upstairs started; hurried, panicked footsteps, ones that told him he needn't get up. Whatever the problem was, it would undoubtedly come to him.

Tom resumed his reading.

Sure enough, not even five minutes later, and the footsteps gradually pattered their way down the stairs.

"...Tom?" he soon heard echoing in from the other room.

"...Yes?"

"Can you... I think I need your..."

Hermione, he knew, would rather eat her own pants than come to him for help, and so, properly intrigued, Tom folded his paper and put it aside. "What's wrong?"

There was another pause and some more shuffling from the doorway, before a quiet, "do you promise not to laugh?"

Tom laughed. "That will depend on what you're about to say."

"Tom!"

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Promise you won't laugh!"

"Fine, fine, I won't laugh," he promised, leaning forward eagerly in his chair. "Just come out. You're starting to worry me."

Another stretch of quiet. But then, right as Tom was about to get up and force her out—

Hermione stepped into the room.

Tom prided himself on his self-control. It was one of his best qualities, one that set him far apart from the rest of his peers, but even he wasn't above snorting at the sight of her.

She immediately turned and walked back out.

Tom, at a complete loss, covered his mouth and muffled his chortling as he got up and followed after her. "I'm sorry," he called out. "Wait, really— I'm sorry. It just wasn't what I was expecting, that's all."

He caught her in the kitchen, where she whirled back and glared at him. "You promised!"

"I did, I know. I'm sorry," he said, but he wasn't really. Because with a pair of ginger ears and a squashed nose, with her pants riding low enough on her hips for a long, bushy tail to poke out the top, she looked... hilariously...

Cute.

"Are you going to help me or not?!" she snapped, gesturing to herself.

Tom looked her down and up, taking her all in. Huh. She had claws, too. "How did this happen?"

"I... a little bit of polyjuice, is all. But I must've added the wrong hair..."

"It would seem so," he said. "Whatever were you playing with polyjuice for?"

"I... well... I just wanted to... surprise you," she admitted. "I know you don't like to celebrate, but I thought... it's your thirtieth. I had to do something, and I thought this might be a way to do it that you'd be okay with."

"You thought I'd like it if your gift... was yourself in the form of a cat?"

"No! No, not a cat..."

"Who were you supposed to be, then?" he asked suspiciously.

"...N-no one."

"Hermione."

"I..." she sighed, and then grudgingly muttered, "I was trying to turn myself into you."

This time, he tried—he really did—but his laugh couldn't be helped.

"Tom!"

"Sorry, sorry," he repeated, "I'm sorry. But, honestly, why would you—"

"I have another batch upstairs," she said, flushing. "Once I was you, I was going to come down and offer you the other batch, so that you could turn into me, and then... I thought we could... you know."

Slowly, as her words sunk in, Tom grinned a wide, involuntary grin. "Actually... now that you say that... I'm not quite sure I do know," he said, stepping towards her. "Why don't you tell me more?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "This is humiliating enough without you rubbing it in! You know what I mean!"

"Do I?"

Her ears flattened.

"Well..." he said, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing again as he closed further in. "As unfortunate as this all is... it doesn't all have to be for nought. Maybe we can still... make this work."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Just me... you..." He leaned into her and reached around to trail his hand along her thigh, until he reached the base of her tail at her waistband. He gently gripped the base. "...and your tail..."

He slipped his fingers down the length of it, over the silken, ginger fur, until she swatted him off.

"No! I— stop that!"

"Why?" he said. "It'll take hours to wear off. I can think of several good uses for all this until then."

"Absolutely not!" she snapped, pushing back from him. "Wh-what do you mean, good uses?"

"What do you think I mean?"

"I... I think that if you can't help me, then I'd rather not know about—ahh!"

As she'd turned to storm off, Tom took hold of her tail and pulled, hard enough that she stumbled back, her back colliding flush against his front.

"Something like this, I think," he murmured low in her ear, keeping his grip on her tail tight, holding her in place.

"Tom, that—ow, that hurts."

"Good."

She tugged to free herself, but Tom didn't let go, and twisted them to shove her forward, pinning her between himself and the counter.

"Ow, I mean it!" she hissed.

"So do I," he drawled, and now that he had her pinned, he took her tail in his other hand too, and sliding it up, right to the base, and stroking down its length firmly. "Tell me... what does it feel like?"

The tip of her tail twitched against his leg at his touch. "It's... ah, um," she squeaked. "Sensitive."

"Is it? Well, why don't we find out just how sensitive it is..."

"Tom—"

"Shh, shh," he shushed, slipping his fingers around the tail and down, down beneath the waistband of her pants to where the fur ended and the smooth patch of skin just below it started.

He felt it as she shivered and a tremor jolted up her spine, joined by a quiet, gentle—

"Oh," he breathed, "you can purr?"

"I... I didn't know... I didn't mean to..."

Tom laughed into her neck. She sounded mortified.

"It's all right," he told her, stroking even lower, brushing right against where the skin became silky and started to pucker. "I don't mind, but... now that you mention it, I do wonder how it'd feel if you purred with my dick in your—"

"Tom!"

"I'm just curious. It is my birthday, after all..."

#tomione #fanfiction #tom riddle #hermione granger #harry potter #fanfic #hp fanfic #this is as fluffy as I can get ok #hermione has a tail #Tom doesn’t hate it #my writing #drabble #ooc #crack fic

[iceinwhb]

For a moment.

﹅ contains ;; what in hell is bad, Minhyeok, sfw.

⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧

You had a nightmare. Your body was shaking, and your heart was pounding noisily. It was in your ears, bothering you, and what you remembered from that dream, screwing with your head.

You looked around, and then you got out of bed, noiselessly, before you headed for the door of your apartment.

What you wanted was nothing more than to turn off the noisy feeling of weigh that was beginning to choke your heart. You walked a little further, and your hand stopped at the door. You found the key where you had always left it and went inside.

It was dark, but that kept you from knowing the apartment perfectly and heading towards your childhood friend's room.

You gently opened the door. You were still trembling at the thought of having the image of Minhyeok on the floor of the room in front of you, slowly dying.

You sighed, pulling all the air out of your lungs, but it only lasted a second before you sat on the edge of the bed and began to wriggle under the blanket, seeking warmth and his breathing, to erase the sensation of her blood on your hands.

You breathed in his scent, away from the ferrous aroma and clung tighter to his back, not caring if you were going to wake him or not.

“A nightmare?” He murmured, hoarsely, and touched your hands, before turning around. He opened his eyes, barely to look at you, not caring in the slightest that you were on his bed, almost fully hugging his body.

You didn't speak, because you finally calmed down. Instead you removed Minhyeok's grip and brought your hand towards his warm face.

“I dreamed that… you abandoned me.”

“And that's why you crawled into my bed, in the middle of the night?” Even if it was a loose explanation, he seemed to understand it well.

You bit your tongue, and simply nodded. He sighed, and shook his head.

“I'll stay with you until you sleep.” He got up, and even if he seemed willing to give up his bed to you, you stopped him in a hug.

You weren't able to understand where the constant thoughts were coming from, the need to stop him, the amount of sensations that were starting to move through your nerves and the desperation that arose for no reason.

“Don't go…” The hand lazily stroked your hair, almost with a different feeling from the one you had known, but you couldn't know, or remember, if it was always there.

There was silence, inscrutable in many ways, mixed with a tension you were both capable of feeling, but you didn't open your mouth, as your eyes closed and you focused in him, in every breath, and in every heartbeat.

There was something inside you that you deeply miss feeling it. To the point that it was too heavy for your heart and you only clung to it, anxiously.

And suddenly, you stopped.

“I know I shouldn't do this.” you tried to soften the pressure of your hold, but your body wouldn't allow it, you weren't able to lift your head either, but in the end, it didn't matter. Soft, choked laughter reached your ears.

“I missed you too.” You looked up, trying to comprehend his words. The odd smile came to Minh's lips, as he held your cheeks.

Only a thought lingered, coming quickly, but it lasted long enough for your lips to touch the others. It was a hard, but effusive pressure, long enough that even he realized what you had actually done.

You pulled away a few inches, just enough to contemplate your slip and flee, but the lips returned to yours, almost so fast that it was impossible to realize it was there.

The kisses were soft, small and shy. Unsure of where they were going, but not far from expressing what they felt.

Your hands moved towards him, desperately, eager for that unknown emotion that moved you. You breathed shakily, and then a complicit giggle came out, before the kisses returned, slow this time.

No need to talk, as long as you continued in that moment of simplicity.

You didn't know when you began to desire so strongly the person who was your friend, but it didn't matter either, the more you drowned in his softness, and the touch that moved too carefully over your bare skin.

Your flesh bristled, as you returned to eye contact.

“Was the nightmare too much?” you denied at the question, and instead, moved your hand to the one on your cheek.

“That wasn't what… It drove me to do that.” You weren't able to explain, and neither was there anything that could make the words come out. You closed your eyes, knowing exactly what that feeling meant, which was becoming more real. “Let's just stay like this, for a moment.”

⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧

First, I feel like it's a bit random, but I think this is what Minh's ending would be like, if I'm being honest. Second, I didn't take the right amount of time to edit it right, but I'm still a little anxious about other issues. You'll forgive me if you find anything strange along the way, and I can only say, I hope you enjoy it! (I already have the idea of it, in a dark one, but I feel it's too masochistic for a human… Still, it doesn't hurt to have something new).

#whb #what in hell is bad #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad? #pretty busy #whb minhyeok #ice's headcannon #whb headcanons

[firefly--bright]

the drywall confessions.

jean kirstein x fem!reader , modern a.u

summary ; making a home out of the walls that surround you was easy when it was the two of you.

warnings ; none! what a shocker

a/n : something short and sweet! im still in the process of writing d2d and masquerade hehe. summer break just started so it might take just a little more time :3 inspired by this reel i saw on instagram. also requests are now open since i'll have more time to write!!

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeancremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes .

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ join my taglist ✿ requests are open! ✿ songs to listen to while reading !

If walls could talk, they’d sing praises of your love.

the dark brown scuff against the right wall of the living room that was left when you and jean tried to move the couch by yourself was all but proof of that moment. He almost stubbed his toe, and you almost tripped over the carpet, but after the couch found it’s new home only a tad bit to the left from where it was before, the two of you heaved a breath as you reaped the rewards of your hard work on the couch, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. Jean grumbled about how it didn’t really make a difference. You had a ready answer on your tongue; pointing to the now one inch of extra space – “look at all this free space we have!” with a sarcastic grin on your face. Jean took one glance at you and knew he had to laugh, if only a little, if only to please you, if only because he loved you.

if walls could talk, they’d tell jean about how much you missed him while he was gone.

The business trip wasn’t even that long, only about two weeks, and it wasn’t even the longest the two of you had gone without each other, but it was enough for you to notice his absence after your move into the apartment together. The walls watched softly, reflecting the sunlight off of themselves, as you accidentally pulled out two mugs instead of just yours – your see-through, glass mug with small hand drawn flowers on it with a thin crack along it’s base that you were only mildly concerned about and his usual mug that said, in big bold letters, “NUMBER 1 COUGAR”. the walls noticed how often your eyes strayed away to the screen of your phone, hoping every time that it would be his message lighting up your screen. And later at night, when everything was dark and he finally did, the walls observed, that you eagerly picked up and talked and listened and talked until the only thing they heard was your small snores. The phone call ended three hours after you had slept, they’d note.

If the walls could talk, they’d whisper critiques about your decoration choices.

It didn’t make sense, really. Everything on the shelves was eclectic and without any structure. The bookshelf was really just a name of what it was supposed to be, but held objects that were far more precious than pages. Jean’s hereditary vinyls that he’d unapologetically stolen from his childhood home along with the record player, small plants that each had their own names, pictures from photobooths that you had taken throughout the years – some with just the two of you, some with your friends, some with you and your cat. lamps with warmly lit bulbs in them of varying heights and colours, collecting a small but unseen amount of dust on their bases simply because “jean. This looks exactly like the lamp that crushed pixar’s 'i'” “why are we supporting an abuser, then?” and “this one looks like a mushroom!” “babe, we have so many lamps already-“ “jean, this one is a mushroom.” They were good lighting for your old and new artworks, some of them messily made but with more than enough personality for the walls to be able to speak through them. And if they could speak, they’d tell you about all the sketches of you they’d see jean draw but never show; all his loving being silent but all-consuming.

And the walls would scold you for ruining their perfectly white canvas into something better-worse.

Jean agreed that maybe the smudges could be fixed by painting over the whole damn wall. “im getting sick of this white.” “that’s very racist.” followed by a scoff from the former, as he opened the pinterest browser on his laptop, asking you to shift closer to him to get a better view at his screen. Not because he thought your warmth was mandatory for him to function, of course not.

The walls would retell how scared they were when jean got those small pots of paint, you sat in your most worn-down and ruined pair of pyjamas infront of the white wall that currently had too many stains for it to go unnoticed. Jean opened the can with a butterknife with a, “dude, couldn’t you have gotten, like, a popsickle stick?” “a whole pack of fifty for one paint can?” “we could’ve made popsickles.” “uh huh. You just want an excuse for something sweet.” to which you only smiled ear to ear and jean wondered if you knew that he didn’t need something sweet as long as you were infront of him.

The painting job inevitably failed. Two sort-of artists that thought it was something they could accomplish ended up with a wall of mismatched paint and aching shoulders and stained fingers. You called it a night with pizza and washed hands, jean cradled calcifer – your adorable but petty cat – in his arms like a spoiled baby and placed several kisses on his furry forehead as you sat down with plates in your hand. jean joined you on the ground, letting the furball run free across the apartment before resting his head on your thigh.

The walls would have notes of what not to do while repainting them as one of those two sort-of artists waited for her beloved to leave the house the next day and once again, sat down and drew a small heart with the residual pastel paint left in the pot, a small and satisfied smile on her face even if it was only for a small mark.

The day after the next, when she took the paint, her fingers itching to claim the walls as theirs again – she found three small stars around the heart that she did not remember drawing. Smiling, you put down your signature flower and leaf combo before closing everything back up and waiting for the vandalism wars to begin.

By the time the walls could recall how jean proposed to you, the bottom of the bedroom wall that was conveniently covered up by the bed held countless doodles. Some of them were smaller, cuter versions of the two of you with big eyes and small bodies holding hands, some of them were far more detailed version of them – just their faces with their eyes looking at the other -  despite their small size. The most remarkable ones, however, were your initials written on the wall. Bottom corner of the bedroom wall were the initials of the people that loved the most while residing in their walls that could only be seen if anyone was actively looking for them, seeking them out.

 If the walls could talk, they would talk about you and jean.

Despite the bustling and distracting city outside, jean’s vinyls played their safe melodies as you pulled out two mugs from the cabinet in the kitchen, jean’s arms wrapped around your back as you prepared coffee for the pair of you in your respective mugs. Jean would hold back a small grin at the mug that was now his signature – the one that you gifted him when you were only friends and just getting to know each other, the one that made him know that he’d want you in his life for far longer. The walls would sing the songs of jean’s record player as you sat near the coffee table in your living room and typed away on your laptop, calcifer snoring peacefully on his father’s lap, the latter with his own laptop infront of him. The walls would tell you how much he loved you because he would look at you so often they wondered if he ever got sick of the view – but they didn’t. the walls didn’t talk because they knew you knew. They could tell you accounted all his actions and return them tenfold, in your own silent but all-consuming ways.

If the walls could talk, they wouldn’t want to because you slept on his shoulder after coming home late from work and finding him on the couch with his eyes closed. They wouldn’t talk because they’d see you wrap a blanket around his shoulders before snuggling up next to him – gently, softly, so as to not wake him up.

If the walls could talk, they’d say nothing because everything was already said and known.

If the walls could talk, they wouldn’t have to.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein

[annwrites]

thought this place was empty.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (part of a series)

— summary: billy finds you at a house in hawkins.

— tags: billy being infatuated with you just a lil

— tw: none

— word count: 1,984

— a/n: i love u ethel cain, tysm for the constant inspo; preacher's daughter is so amazing.

ooh i like this one, yes i do. i think this is the start of something good.

billy isn't going to be portrayed by me the same way he was in thoroughfare. he's an adult now & has grown into a man. i'm not saying he won't come off as a tad cocky at times, but he's going to be far more mature in this series.

He doesn't know why he cares so damn much. Why it piques his curiosity to begin with. But it does.

He'd, for the last two weeks, passed you every day on his way home from work.

You'd walk along the side of the road, before eventually turning off to the right, heading up a dirt path through the woods.

He wanted to know what was out there now. Some meadow? A swimming hole? A treehouse? He'd come up with many theories while sitting at home alone, having a microwavable dinner and a cold beer at the end of the night, hardly paying attention to whatever b-movie was playing on the little antenna color TV in front of him.

No. You were what he thought of. To an annoying level. He'd screwed up brake calipers one day at work with you on his mind. After that, he began to resent you a little. Some random girl with a backpack on her shoulders and no knowledge that he even existed.

He'd not even gotten to set eyes on your face yet. He'd taken in everything else he could, however.

Your long hair, tanned skin, the dresses and shorts you usually opted for in terms of attire, the bracelets that littered your wrists.

He would never, never admit to having gotten off one night in bed thinking about your tight backside swaying as you took step after step atop the same asphalt his tires rolled along. In truth, before that night, he couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered touching himself at all.

Once high school ended, and his father was no longer responsible for him, he'd been kicked out near-immediately and he'd changed as a person not long after. It'd been time to grow up. No more games.

He had crashed at this friend's place or that one's. Eventually, a homeless shelter or two. He worked odd-jobs until he saved up enough to begin renting an apartment. And then he found full-time employment at a mechanic shop. He stayed mostly to himself. The work was steady, the paychecks not usually all that much, but he saved little-by-little what he could, until he'd had enough for a down-payment on a fixer-upper on the outskirts of town.

He didn't want to live anywhere near where his father was.

He didn't mind the extra time it tacked onto his commute every day. Enjoyed it, really. It gave him time to think. Not that he wasn't always.

So, to get his head to quiet, he threw himself into work while at the shop, and into his new house once he was home every evening. The roof needed patching, the wiring re-done, the front steps replacing, the paint was chipping from the walls. The list was damn-near endless. But he liked that. It gave him something to do. His hands stayed occupied, if nothing else.

He earned a few more calluses in time from it all. He'd wondered once what you might think about a man with rough hands. Then wondered even more why the fuck he cared in the first place.

He didn't even know your name. And he was almost certain you were still in school. Unless you just liked carrying a backpack everywhere. Perhaps you went into those tall trees to camp. Perhaps a lot of things.

It's a Thursday when he finally decides to do it—follow you. Out of boredom, if nothing else. Or, that's the reasoning he gives himself, at least.

In truth, he wanted to know you. Ask you more questions than he was sure any normal person would probably be comfortable with. He wanted to see what was out here in the wilderness that seemed to draw you in so much that you returned day-after-day.

Then again, maybe you were meeting someone. A boyfriend, a girlfriend—a lover.

The thought makes his heart squeeze, which makes him feel just the least bit pathetic. He was no longer the boy he once was. The one that all other guys at Hawkins High wished to be, and all the girls there wished to be with. He'd become an after-thought to all of them now, he was sure. His glory days were long behind him.

But perhaps new memories could still be made.

The Camaro's tires crunch over twigs and dried leaves, rolling slowly between swaying trees of green, the path becoming more and more narrow until there's no place left for him to even turn around. He sighs, knowing he'll have to reverse the entire way back out of here.

He puts the sedan into park, exiting, his arms resting on the top of the car and the door frame as he gazes ahead, wondering what direction you'd possibly gone. He shakes his head then, closing and locking the driver's side door, pocketing his keys before—at least attempting, to follow after you.

The forest is littered with trees all around, Billy winding his way through them, looking back over his shoulder occasionally, wondering if he shouldn't head back to his car and go home. You were long gone by now. Maybe you'd already circled back around yourself, heading out and to...wherever it is that you live.

This was a stupid idea. Not that he hasn't had worse.

Just as he's ready to throw in the towel and settle for you remaining a mystery to him—perhaps he'd take the alternative of having answers to instead making up tales about you, who you are, where you go, and what you do when you get there—he comes into a clearing of tall grass, a rusted steel windmill in the distance, and a two-story house that looks just a tad dilapidated to the right of it.

Surely you weren't in there?

He continues walking, glad he's wearing pants as the weeds brush against his knees. He climbs the broken front steps, the wooden banisters rotting, until he's standing before a screen door at the front of the home—or, rather, house. A home at one time to someone, he was sure. But no longer, as it'd been clearly abandoned long-ago.

He raises his fist, wondering if maybe he should knock first, then lowers it.

He pulls the door toward him, stepping inside.

He takes a moment to look around first, glancing to each side of the empty domicile. A dining room is to his right, with a table that carpenter bees have clearly been making a meal out of for some time, and a sitting room to the left, an old sofa with missing cushions in the middle of it, a coffee table covered in dust before it.

He then heads for the staircase that lies straight-ahead.

The steps creak under his heavy boots, and he fears one of his feet may just fall through one if he doesn't step carefully. Once he's reached the second-story landing, he lets loose a small breath of relief.

He turns to his left and sees a long hallway, multiple doors on either side, some open, some closed, the summer sun shining against fading yellow wallpaper through open and broken windows within the rooms.

"Hello?" He calls, only half-expecting a response...which he's not given.

He begins to head down the hall, only peeking into the rooms as he passes them, looking for you.

"Anybody here?" He tries again, and is once again met with silence; only the sound of a gentle breeze outside greets him.

He stops when he finds a room three doors down on his right that has a dirty mattress on the floor. He doesn't want to imagine the things you'd discover—new kinds of bacteria—if you took a blacklight to it.

He stands in the middle of what he assumes used to be a bedroom, hands on his hips, and he looks to the open window at his right, a soft wind causing the tattered curtains to billow.

And then he hears it. A small creak to his left, and it's only then that he realizes there's a closet, with double doors, and he sees something shift on the other side through the wooden slits.

His heart begins to beat a bit faster as he comes closer, hands resting over the small knobs, and when he pulls it open, you're standing in the middle, back against the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He looks down at you, heart skipping a beat, breath taken from him for just a moment at the sight of you. You were...beautiful.

"What're you hiding in a closet for?" He asks, then kicking himself. Hell of an opening, Billy.

Your brows furrow, wondering how it's not obvious. "I was hiding from you. Who...who are you?"

You take a step toward him and he takes one back.

He slides his hands into his pockets. "Billy...Hargrove. I live just-"

"I don't care. Why are you here?"

He raises a brow. Not quite the meek little mouse he'd initially assumed, then.

He takes a look around before settling his eyes back on you once again. "Thought this place was empty."

"Well...I'm here. I found it first."

His lip twitches. "So, this is where you've been coming every day for two weeks, huh?"

You shift uncomfortably. "How do you know that...?"

He jerks his head. "Saw you on my drive home last couple of weeks." He reaches up with his right hand then, running it over the curls at the back of his head nervously. "I got curious, I guess. About what was out here that was so interesting to make you keep coming back over and over again."

He looks back to the mattress, then to you. "You don't sleep here, do you, kid?"

You cross your arms at the infantilizing term. "I don't see how that's any of your business. Now that you know what's out here, feel free to leave."

He smirks. You were a firecracker. That much was for certain. Almost reminds him of himself once upon a time.

"Place looks like it should be condemned. If not tore down altogether."

You balk then. "You won't tell anyone. Will you?"

He shakes his head. "No. But, you do know it's not safe for you here, right? All alone like th-"

You pick up your backpack, shrugging it on. "I'm fine."

You head into another room, trying to get away from him—or, rather, hoping he'll finally get the hint that you'd like for him to leave—and he follows along behind you.

"Never told me your name."

You roll your eyes and stay silent.

He nods. "Strong, silent type, I get it. Guess I'll just have to guess. Is it-"

You turn back to him then, and he nearly trips trying not to fall against you. "Y/N."

He smiles. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

You cock your head to the side for a moment. "I doubt it."

You head into another room then, slamming the door in his face.

He just grins as he turns the handle...and discovers it's now locked from the other side, smile falling.

He knocks then and is, of course, given no response.

He leans against the wall with his shoulder, arms crossed and he licks his lips. "I can wait all day. Got no place better to be."

All is quiet, until he hears something being shoved open on the other side of the door—a window? And then a thump.

Were...were you climbing down the side of the damn house?

He turns the handle again to no avail, so he then quickly walks down the hall, racing down the steps, and when he rounds the side of the house, he sees you jogging through the tall weeds, backpack bouncing as you disappear into the tree line.

He crosses his arms, smiling, shaking his head. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he mutters to himself before turning around to start heading back to his car.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader) #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[opinated-user]

Lily putting random feathers in her avatar’s hair to make it clear that she’s Indigenous is so crazy to me. It’s like her first idea was to do a full-on headdress but she knew that would be too far.

it's funnier than that, anon. when i and other people started saying how the feathers are cultural appropriation, LO said that the only reason she had them is because she's a nerd and it was to honor Sylvannas from WoW... nevermind that the only version of Sylvannas with feather earrings that it exist is the one where she's still alive, as a white blonde woman with blue eyes. so it kinda made it worse. in her latest video, suddenly now, she "just like tacky cute things". what happened with the Sylvanna homage, LO? i thought you were just a nerd who like to do a obscure reference to a fantasy white woman? but the part that truly made me laugh is how LO mentions those earrings as "people accuse me of brownfacing because of it" and then goes out to list an old dreamcatcher that her racist mom gave her. she goes full ahead with a whole story about how that dreamcatcher has been with her for so many years and how much it means to her... but you know what she didn't talk about at all? the supposed gift of her dead grandpa that she was so proud to exhibit that she even used it while stripping on youtube streams. the same accesory that LO said was first a gift, then that her mom just gave to her and LO has tried for so long to ignore how that accesory is a literal proof of actual real cultural appropriation. it was a necklace with a buffalo coin at the center and feather charms around it. that coin that was designed by a white man whose father actually displaced real Native Americans. that accesory that you can buy for 15$ on ebay. the same Courtney, who was in actual contact with the grandpa before he passed away, said the man would never even touch, let alone own, precisely because of that history. that piece of garbage went completely unmentioned the more and more we kept calling it out. interesting, isn't it? but that ugly dreamcatcher that she keeps carrying with her and hanging on her apartment and her wife uses as a reason why LO's totally indigenous, that one deserves minutes of valueing so you feel sympathetic enough to her that you don't realize that means nothing to argue against the allegations that she's brownfacing.

#lily orchard

[not-poignant]

You have a very broad readership; do you still, like most ao3 writers, use writing as a way to make friends? If so, how do you manage both to make connections and keep from uncomfortable parasocial engagements?

(admitting: I like your work a lot, I have a similar interest in writing trauma and recovery, I would like to befriend you, but I don't want to bother you bc lots of people want to be friend with writers they like and there's no way you'd have energy for all of them!)

Hi hi anon,

So...this response might be disappointing, but I didn't use fanfiction writing as a way of making friends. That's not why I started, and it's never been the reason for me to be in fandom.

(Thoughts about friendship and stuff under the read more, it's pretty personal so no obligation to read. The TL;DR is I am bad at friendship and I also am not like 'most AO3 writers' (is that really why most AO3 writers write?) in the sense that I never wrote fanfiction as a way to make friends and it's very weird to me sometimes that people actually do this as a motive).

When I turned up in fandom, it was a very private experience for me. I didn't know anyone else locally who shared the same fandom/s I do. When I shared fanfiction on Livejournal, I did so to complete strangers who I never got to know better, or to people who were already friends through other interests.

I've never gone to fandom conventions (there's few here, and I have severe social anxiety. By the time I thought about going I was in my late 30s, and just felt like I'd be too much of an outsider even among fellow outsiders - again, I shared almost no fandoms or ships with anyone I knew locally, and no one I'm friends with / know in person reads my fanfiction). Fandom was always an incredibly isolated experience for me.

When I joined AO3, it wasn't with a view to making friends. I was extremely burnt out, I'd quit my previous job as a professional artist because I couldn't see a way of making the income work out, and I just wanted to write a very angst-filled story that would help me deal with my loneliness which I didn't see as something that would ever change. Writing about a character who's experienced centuries of loneliness was like 'cool, yeah, I'm gonna write about him.'

I did end up making friends, but it was kind of by accident! And not all of those experiences were positive. One person in particular became quite toxic and cruel towards me, and I experienced my first kind of encounter with...I guess what I would call the uglier side of fandom life and also just friendship and relationships. It took me a long time to recover from that experience (and to learn what emotional abuse is), and after that I shut down and stopped kind of making friends on the internet.

I have made friends through the writing since (they're usually the mutuals I also have on Instagram, or here, or people I've DMed in Discord etc.), but I haven't really sought it out actively and I think anyone who knows me well enough that we've private messaged a few times, also knows that I'm quite aloof and reserved, and that I will engage quite deeply sometimes but then disappear for a few months (or years) re: communication, which is a remnant of a period of time where I used to get sometimes 200 Whatsapp messages in 5 minutes from someone who expected me to be accountable to her every second of every day when she was awake and wanted me to be.

On top of like, severe social anxiety + PTSD, and being very reserved in general, I would also say I'm very time poor. I don't have much time for the friends I already have and care about. I often view myself as quite a poor friend, who is not good at starting and even worse at maintaining connections. I'm also very private. As in, I will happily tell the world I have PTSD. But I won't tell my friends in a private conversation when I'm having a bad night, and I don't give friends many opportunities to connect. Even with really close friends, this is an ongoing issue that I'm working on.

So as for befriending, that's extremely sweet of you anon, but who I am in my personal life is sometimes very different to like... the way I can respond in comments or to anons, because it's actually easier for me to talk to strangers sometimes than it is for me to talk to friends, lol. I honestly think some of the people I consider my friends don't even know that I do, because I don't really behave like one. I chat online regularly to one person only, and one other person intermittently (and they're a romantic partner) and that's it. Everyone else I chat to pretty rarely in DM. But I do turn up in the Fae Tales Discord every day.

I don't actually think lots of people want to be my friend, tbh? Not in a 'woe is me' way, but simply because I think some people do grok that kind of... polite distance or that sort of warm 'I care for a lot of people but I am also quite personally walled off' kind of way. The good news is a lot of the folks in the Fae Tales Discord also share a lot of interest in writing trauma and recovery, or have those experiences, and I know a lot of good friends have been made within the like...faedom itself. A lot of neurodivergent, trauma-focused folks have met each other through this writing, and it's really cool seeing the different friendships that have sparked up between people. There's a lot of extremely like... skilled, talented, interesting people that I've met through this job, who I admire, respect and want the best for, and am very happy to talk to.

But yeah I'm a bit difficult to befriend, anon, and that's been an ongoing thing all my life, tbh. But it did specifically get worse in fandom because of some early fandom experiences when I started out in Rise of the Guardians fanfiction.

#asks and answers #personal #pia on fanfiction #tbh the idea of writing to make friends #is very strange and even a bit offputting to me #not that other people do it like i'm happy for them if they do #but it's just so far apart from why i started #i like making connections with my writing don't get me wrong #and i love meeting different people #but fandom was never a very social experience for me #to this day i hate discussing fandom headcanons with other people #and i don't like a lot of fandom meta #i always feel like i'm in fandom #and that i contribute to fandom #but in a very satellite / outsider kind of way #that's why i find it so easy to bounce from fandom to fandom once i'm done with a fic #i'm not saying i don't make friends with people in fandom ever #i'm saying i don't really make friends *in general* #and when i do those people often have no idea they are a friend because i'm not #very connected on a regular basis

[fionnaskyborn]

there's something to be said about the very specific feeling of frailty you feel when you come face to face with just how little you've experienced. twenty-odd years on planet earth and you haven't really watched all that many movies. an unlived life facing an uncertain future. i do not know where to point the finger of blame because i live untethered from my past, floating in the present with no clear point of reference no clear definition of who i am or what happened to me and how i turned out the way i am (fucking. can you guess why five is my favorite game. insert that one lyric from that one modest mouse song.) but you're still here, and you can still learn, and you can catch up, but it still feels like you're a pitiful little nobody looking for excuses trying to explain why you're still new to the whole being alive thing. i've got a good head on my shoulders, though, for all that's worth, so i think i might be fine.

in other news, i watched scarface tonight. it was certainly a movie. don't really understand how the movie made it big, but it did have some damn good music. i mean, i don't know. i'm still learning about the world i live in. maybe it really is as much of a masterpiece as people make it out to be and i'm too dumb to see the reason why it's considered a classic. maybe i'm right. i can't tell at the moment. it's kind of a beggars can't be choosers situation - if you ain't watched that many movies, then you can't really be a good judge of quality. but, oh, well. it's one more movie watched. it's a win because i watched a movie. and i'll watch more movies.

#i mean this extends to things like world politics also i'm still learning and i'm eager to learn beyond what i am offered but that doesn't #make the process any less fucking terrifying. like sure fuck yeah i'll be a big shot and do it alone and i'll be proud of myself but the #thing is i really really really don't know how to be alone without feeling empty #and it's funny because the thing i yearn for the most is to be free and to create myself and do things on my own and i can do that i've #learned how to be an adult very early on and people say ah you've yet to face the worst but every time they tell me that i tell them i can't #wait #but at the same time sometimes i sit and i wonder why i haven't watched that many movies. was there nobody to watch them with? could i have #asked? could things have been different? is it my fault for never having really wanted things or somebody else's? and i'll never really have #a clear answer to any of those questions or at least not anytime soon because my cranium is messed up and unreliable but i won't get the #answers anywhere else. shrugs. i've yet to start living a life. i don't know when i died but i do know but maybe that's just an idea and #maybe i've been dead all along until some point in the past two years but then what are all those memories i have where did they come from #why are they so far apart why do they feel mine and foreign at the same time. can you guess who my favorite mg character is. #well okay i have like what four or five of those but read the text again and think really really hard about it. i'm just kidding i'm goofing #around at this point. i mean no not really but i am smiling about it. :] #logs

[pizzapizzadickz]

I was watching neurodivergent tiktoks and it mentioned how nd ppl "peel" their food and fuck I am so glad I have a word for it bc I do it all the time and then some.

...I peel carrots. Carrots. CARROTS.

#personal #diary #i also do specific things with smarties and eating ice cream with mix-ins. #smarties i let get warm in my mouth then i split the candy in half get rid of the chocolate and stack the candy in my mouth #until the candy disolves too much and it all breaks apart and i gotta eat it. or until i just wanna lol #and for mix-ins i just. sorta. disolve the ice cream and hold the mix ins in my mouth and eat them all at once. #sometimes i also section them with a spoon. #....i eat a lot of things with either separate them in my mouth or pealing something from something else. #*cough cough* drumpsticks and waffle cones *cough cough* #oh. i also make absolutely disgusting horrible abominations to eat. like my sprinkle ice cream. #or hashbrowns with far too much ketchup. #oh and when i do add crackers to soup (i only add it to vegtable i think?) i add them to the point its mush. #fun fact! i love mushy food. some of my fave food is mushy lmao. #god i eat so many weird things and in so many weird ways. i love it. i refuse to eat like a normal person. #you can hold a gun to my head and i still wont do it. like. it just tastes better that way. i will die on this hill #like. yes i can and do eat normal. but. its always more fun and memorable if i domt. so i dont thar much. #tho sometimes ill take normal bites inbetween playing with my food. #oh this is also probably partially why i started stuffing spinach leaves with parmesan cheese... #.....i made little leaf wraps before the lettuce wraps were cool #ALSO LETTUCE IS GROSS. I HATE IT. I MEAN I CAN EAT IT BUT WHY WOULD I??? SPINACH IS SUPERIOR FUCK YOU LETTUCE EATERS. #oh but weird non-romane lettuce is fine. just not romane. why does anyone like romane???? fuck you.