#partly truth and partly fiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvistqrzzz · 10 months

Text

im super shy super shy

but wait a minute while I make you mine, make you mine

as if bribing people with pringles to vote for him as class prez wasn't enough, riki had to get respectable amount of grades to really contest in it. so, what happens when a hopeless riki approaches you, his quiet shy classmate whose painfully crushing on him, to tutor him? will you take his offer to finally shoot your shot?

pairings- niki x f.reader

genre- smau with written parts, classmates to lovers, crush!niki, fluff, pinch of angst maybe, high school!au, shy girl x popular boy kinda, tutor!reader (cliche ikkk)

warnings- profanity, rest tba according to chapters

taglist- open - send an ask or comment to be added (bold=cannot tag)

@heesluvrgirl @yenqa @latriii @gyulune @flwrshee @imhuh @str0l0gy @rshmra @kjrcrz @gyuszie @hysgf @dneltrise @aernx @yunicide @beomgyusonlywife @i-izumii @cha0thicpisces @misoxhappy @sunoosluvr @txtmetonight @captivq @useraerin @girlindiesel @pinkbarbi3dolly @rikislady @heetoldme @j1nniee @k1ttylvr @whoschr @staryyeon @soomelon @thea-herondale @enhaz1 @smollquokka @svn-lvn @chaerybae @en-dream @gothvkth @spilled-coffee-cup @ashy1um @jayujus @yumilovesloona @teddywonss @darlingalieee @haechansbbg @chaechae-23 @angrybananapolice @jwonsite @mrowwww @elysianeclipxe @07myonlylove @str4wb3rizz

permanent taglist- i wont tag yall in the chapters this is for boosting so lmk if you want to be in the smau taglist :) - @/rikizm @/str0l0gy @/yenqa @/heetoldme @_crxzs @/s00buwu

status- ON HOLD until further notice !!

featuring- woonhak from bnd, danielle, haerin and hanni from njs, eunchae from lesserafim, jungwon and sunoo from enha and other idols

start- 11/07/2023

end- ???

inspired by- super shy by new jeans

an- after sm of tries i finally made a good enough header yay!! Okay but this is such an impulse posting esp considering how i have another smau going😭😭!! But but this is was a silly little idea i got so i really really hope yall enjoy it hehe🫶🏼

note- all the images used here are for reference only and in no way describe the reader's appearence. this is merely a work of fiction and do not represent the mentioned idols in any way. pls dont spam like or else ill block

playlist profiles therapy sesh w/danielle shrek enthusiasts

chapters ☆ = (partly)written

001 /wink wink/

002 run

003 truth hurts bestie

004 is that a yes?

005 sus 2.0

006 dumb but in a cute way ☆

007 square zero

008 shut up simp ☆

009 🥺YES🥺 OR ❤️‍🔥YES ❤️‍🔥

010 movie date except its not a date

(more tba)

I'm all nervous 'cause you're on my mind all the time

reblogs are vvv appreciated networks- @hyfenet @enhanet

work belongs to @/luvistqrzzz do not copy repost or translate my work

#🖇️—super shy #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen fanfiction #enhanet #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #niki enhypen #enhypen fanfics #enhypen fake texts #enhypen au #niki fanfic #niki imagines #enhypen fluff #enha fake texts #enha fics

861 notes · View notes

writing-whump · 12 days

Note

Could we get a little ficlet or a long fic, I wouldn’t mind either, about how Isaiah feels now that most of the truth is out?

Maybe him angsting over it at home, with Sel and Mat sprinkled in there. Or however else you see this going.

This just had to happen. Very angsty. Thank you for the request!!

Falling apart

Since Isaiah realized what Hector meant, there had been a strange shrieking noise in his ears.

He couldn't fall apart around Hector, of course, the worry for him, the responsibility and regret at that moment were enough to let him focus.

But Isaiah couldn't fall apart during the meeting either. It was a work meeting, so of course he had to push all that back.

He also couldn't afford to fall apart during the car ride. That was dangerous, he could hit somebody.

Everything was too loud and too hazy and he needed to get out of the public, away from the people, into safety.

So he went home.

The sheer relief at closing the door behind him into space that was just his, that he didn't have to hold out or pretend for anyone, where no attacks would be coming, where the world had no right to enter or see him like this...

He looked at himself in the mirror. His suit was straight and nice, his face looked smooth and normal. There was no outward sign. He was okay. He made it home.

Then he remembered he wouldn't be alone for long. He was early today, but Matt and Seline would soon follow...

God, he didn't want them to see him fall apart either.

But there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. They shared an apartment, they shared a room with Matthew. He couldn't hide from them, from the world for days at a time to break in peace, like before when he still had his own place.

Maybe he should have left it running. Lease it for empty, for opportunities like this.

But there was no way to keep them from looking for him there either.

Isaiah shook his coat off half-heartedly instead of hanging it up and went to the balcony.

It was a small balcony, but they had a roof apartment, so the view was good. A piece of sky, just for him.

Wolves always craved open spaces in distress. The walls felt suffocating to Isaiah, the warmth, the light, the promise of company.

He should have at least insisted on having a room of his own to get locked in. Maybe he could climb up on the roof to have some privacy? That would still count as if he was home.

He wanted to drown in a river or get stranded in a forest, or jump from the roof. Didn't think those were exactly healthy solutions though. It would upset them.

He sat in the rattan style terrace sofa, looking at the buildings and then higher, to the sky. It was early after sundown, so the colours were still bright purple and dark blue, darkness taking over.

That was when the pain came. Hot and searing, like a blade, cutting through his heart.

He jolted in his seat, hand digging into the armrest. He expected that, braced himself for it, for his heartbeat to suddenly go from imperceptible to painful.

The intensity still suprised him.

There was a wave of relief as the pain subsided and he slumped back, gulping down air.

His stomach twisted into knots, partly from the knowledge the pain would soon return and partly because his digestive system always stopped working when a heart episode hit him like that. He could feel it churning and bloating immediately, refusing to digest the rest of his lunch.

He stayed quietly in that chair, seeing as the night fell on the skyline and the buildings. The pleasant warmth of the spring day retreated to biting cold.

Isaiah liked the cold. It was somehow soothing against the sweat and the waves of heat that came when his heart seized and made a hole in his insides for the fun of it.

He didn't want them to find out. He never meant for them to find out. He didn't want to destroy Hector's ideal, no matter how fictional. He didn't want Arnie to feel left out. He didn't want them to live with the awareness that their father, their flesh and blood could fail so monumentally.

That they had madness running in their family tree.

He also didn't want them to know how much he had failed. How long he believed in his father and listened to him, defended him, loved him and tried to save him. How many things he did that he hated and knew were wrong, felt were wrong, but did them anyway.

In a way there was comfort to the rhythm of the pain. When it came, it took over his mind and senses so much he couldn't think.

His mind went blank and the thoughts stopped eating at him. He looked forward to the shock and blindness as much as he feared it.

"Oi, Zaya? What are you doing there?" Matthew's voice cut through his meditative agony like a falling star.

Matthew shuffled closer, the balcony door shutting behind him. "It's fucking cold here. Can you see the mosquitos? They are having a feast on you, man. Come inside."

Mosquitos? No, he didn't notice. Least of his problems.

If he didn’t say anything, would Matt leave him alone?

No such luck. Matthew came closer instead, crouching down. "Hey. Zaya. Is something wrong?"

Matthew waited for an answer but Isaiah just shook his head, sighing softly. Matt craned his neck up inside, waving at someone, then sat down next to Isaiah on the rattan sofa.

He put his hand on Isaiah's forearm, stretched down on the armrest. "Zaya? You are freaking me out. Please talk to me."

The balcony door and the net against the flies went open, Seline joining them on the balcony. "Hi. Are we having dinner outside? It's a little dark for that."

She came closer. Isaiah couldn't look at her. He was afraid of what she would see.

The blade cut into him then with a new force and he gasped, bowing down.

Matthew's hand was on his shoulder that second, holding him up.

Seline's much smaller delicate hands came to rest on his other arm. "Hey, sweetie. What happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Isaiah chuckled hysterically, making them both jump at the sound.

"Is he hurt?" Seline said quietly to Matthew who made a helpess shrugging gesture.

"Isaiah." she rubbed his arm, something scared in her tone.

"They know," Isaiah said quietly, feeling like he went mad himself for he was smiling, pressing one palm against his face, covering his left eye. "They know everything. In fucked it up so bad, now they both know."

There was a stunned silence.

"Who knows, sweetie?"

"Hector and Arnie." It was like the seat was shaking underneath him. Why was it shaking? He looked around, letting his hand fall.

"What do they know?" Seline's voice was calmer now, soothing, gentle. Like she was talking to a wounded bird that could fall off the tree if she spoke too loud.

"About father." That's when Isaiah realized it was him who was shaking. Full-bodied terrible shivers all over him, from head to toe like he had a fever.

Matthew's hold on his shoulder tightened.

"What do they know about your father?"

Isaiah's breath hitched, his heartbeat in his ears. "T-they know everything. A-about the training, and what father did to me...how he his shadow went mad and how I had to- I had to challange him, I had to make him step down- but I couldn't- and then I had to leave, I had to-for the pack I had to- but I had to leave them behind- I had-" he broke off with a sob, not sure if he was making any sense.

"And now they know and now you are going to know, and- God, then you will leave me and they will hate me for it, they will know what I did-"

His teeth chattered together, although he wasn't cold, he was boiling, he was cooking in his own skin. Everything was itching and burning and he wanted to scratch it off, get the feeling off and stop feeling it.

"Sweetie, can I touch your face, or will it make it worse?" Seline let go of his arm, hands hovering.

Isaiah nodded to her, not seeing how this could be any worse.

She pushed a strand back from his face and behind his ear, the softest most tentative touch. "Shhhhhhh. It's okay. Let it out. You are okay, you can tell us."

Isaiah let out a dry sob, hands twitching. He felt Matthew reaching over to drape his arm over his shoulders.

"I did- I thought I did the best for the pack- I don't know, I don't know what else I should have done, but it was wrong, it was all wrong! I shouldn't have- I hate that- I don't want to go back there." He looked at her pleadingly, suddenly terrified out of his mind he would have to go back."

"You don't have to go back." Seline stroked his cheek. "You don't."

"I wanted to leave so bad." The admission made something in him crack, he could feel the crack in his chest, making his ears ring. "I couldn't- I couldn't stay there, I couldn't- but I left them all alone, I should have taken them with me, I should have found a way-"

"It wasn't your fault. You had two bad choices and you did the best you could at the time. You didn't want to leave them. They will understand."

"No, they won't! They will hate me for this, just like I hate me for everything- and they will never forgive me, and I left them, do you understand I left them there, for some greater good of the pack nonsense-"

Something hot and wet ran down his cheek. And then another, little hot droplets of pain dripping into his lap. "And you will hate me too, I'm just waiting for you to leave, you should both leave- but I'm so scared of when you will-" The crack was getting bigger, splitting him in half, cutting him open. He looked down at his chest, expecting his organs spilling out by now. The pain would certainly justify it.

He felt Matthew groan like the words hurt him.

Seline took his hand into both of hers, squeezing, gluing herself to his side as the shivers wracked his frame.

Matthew did something similar, tugging Isaish against his side like a pillar made of steel. His hand landed on Isaiah's.

Isaiah was cracking, but they were both pressing against him as if to hold him together with their own bodies.

He felt their warmth, Seline's scent like fresh breeze, Matthew's chest rising and falling next to his.

Two more shudders rocked him, but he felt them dying down, the shaking subsiding. Only his hands were left, trembling.

Isaiah squeezed their hands back, the grip on Matt and Seline somehow anchoring. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize-"

"But I'm so sorry," he repeated, needing them to understand. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry-"

His vision went blurry from the onslaught of tears and he curled into himself, sobbing like a child.

Matthew let go of his hand, which made Isaiah wince, but then his arm came around Isaiah's shoulders, tugging him forward into him.

Isaiah buried his face between Matthew's shoulder and neck, grateful for the cover, for the presence, for the strength. Matthew held him tight, like he was aware Isaiah's ribcage would come flying out if he let go.

Seline wiggled her way under Isaiah's arm, her side against his, her hands wrapped around his middle. Like a warm blanket.

"I miss 'em so much," he wailed quietly into Matthew's shirt while wetting it with tears.

Seline's head came to rest over his heart, holding him snuggly.

They didn't leave.

They stayed like that, in that cold, mosquitos ramming into them.

Isaiah wasn't sure how they were puzzled together anymore. It was a mix of limbs and breaths.

A cocoon of warmth and beating hearts.

#sickfic #angst #crying #chest pain #heart pain #hurt/comfort #whump #whump writing #my writing #werewolf wip

34 notes · View notes

claudemblems · 1 year

Text

Idk what this is but I think I just like the idea of my favorite fictional characters gazing lovingly at me while I get way too excited at a bookstore. Who doesn't honestly?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

"'Haitham, look at all these books!!! There's so many different genres and covers and colors. Isn't it amazing?!"

"Mhm."

Truth be told, Alhaitham was only partly paying attention to your animated ramblings. He found himself much more captivated by the excited gleam in your eyes rather than the endless shelves of books.

It was still true that Sumeru didn't have many books available outside of the Akademiya, but with the removal of the akasha terminals, the people began to understand the importance of physical literature. Little bookshops had begun to pop up throughout the city, their owners working day and night to fill blank pages with all of their personal knowledge.

Most of the books in the Akademiya were not to your liking, and even a greater number of them were too difficult for the ordinary person to understand. It was no wonder that you instantly lit up upon seeing all of these beautiful and modern books at your fingertips.

Though Alhaitham wasn't particularly interested in browsing the shop's collection himself, he did enjoy watching how your eyes filled with childlike wonder as you studied each book one by one. It reminded him of years gone by, of a life that was once much more simple and carefree. If you could experience that same joy, too, he would be all the more glad for it.

"There's so many. I don't even know where to start!"

"Are there any books that catch your eye at first glance?"

"Hmm...well, they all kind of do."

Alhaitham couldn't hold back his laughter. Your excitement always tended to block any form of rational thought from entering his mind. Oddly enough, he found it cute. Logic still guided every aspect of his life, but with you now at his side, he realized that there were moments where it was okay to allow himself to simply feel, to not be concerned if something was truly reasonable or practical. It was important to maintain that balance. Otherwise, his relationship with you wouldn't have formed into what it now was.

"Then why don't you pick one at random? That way you're not stuck all day trying to make a specific choice."

"You just don't want to end up spending hours in here with me," you answered, sticking out your tongue.

"How childish," Alhaitham sighed (though you were quick to spot his smile).

Truthfully, he'd stay waiting in the bookstore for the rest of his life if it meant he could keep you glowing from head to toe with joy. Maybe he was letting his emotions get the best of him, but all he knew was that he wanted to see you safe and happy. You were the most precious thing in the world to him, far more precious than any of his favorite books could be. You were more important. You were his top priority. You'd managed to fit perfectly into the empty space in his heart, and you'd given his life new meaning. If he didn't have a purpose before, he had one now:

To make you feel as loved as you made him...even if it meant standing for hours in a bookstore as you fell victim to your indecisiveness.

"Maybe I should bring a book of my own next time. This will probably take a while..."

#this is very self indulgent #I WANT THIS IRL OKAY 😩#genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact #genshin drabble

360 notes · View notes

my-own-walker · 7 months

Text

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

10.

Summer had officially taken her last bow. I felt genuinely chilly standing outside the KLG house on Sunday morning. The mid-morning sun shone just barely through the large willow tree in the front yard, the branches preventing it from sharing its warmth with me. The dress, sheer tights, and cardigan I wore did nothing to insulate me, either. I checked the time on my phone. 10:27 am.

We agreed to meet at 10:30, but of course, I was early. I felt rather foolish for waiting the way I was, trying too hard not to stare at the house expectantly. In an attempt to look disinterested, I placed headphones in my ears, putting my playlist on shuffle. I turned to face the street, rather than the yard, and a Two Door Cinema Club song began to play.

"There's a spanner in the works, you know."

Boy, was that the truth. Hannah, the perpetual spanner in the works, standing in the way of herself.

The hours leading up to the date, from Thursday night until Sunday at 10:27, well, now 10:28 am, I went back and forth with myself. Contemplating every damn aspect of the meetup. Was it a joke? Was he out to get me? I didn't actually develop feelings for a frat guy, did I? The part of myself that was obsessed with my own morals and hatred toward all things Greek life died a little when I thought too hard about it all.

The spanner in the works. Standing in the way of myself, preventing things from happening smoothly, ever.

My ego wouldn't even let me tell Lily about this. My best friend. The girl I told everything. Part of me felt anti-woman for not gossiping, giggling, and kicking my feet with my friend over this. Instead, I internalized it all. I kept the dismay in. A burden shared is a burden halved, but I refused to look weak.

Life has a way of falling into place. Things have a way of working out. For everyone. Everyone except me and the people around me. The events that are supposed to go off without a hitch like a well-oiled machine come sputtering to an awkward stop on account of me. The spanner in the works. Hannah the spanner.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I jumped and spun around, tearing an earbud out of my ear, jostled free from the grip of my thoughts.

"Hey," Kyle breathed, smiling. He panted slightly, making clear that he had jogged to me from the door. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I laughed, grabbing his arm for stability, hinging at the hips slightly. "Christ, I was miles away," I managed. I started walking in the direction of Sleepwalker Coffee Co. (my choice, clearly), still holding onto Kyle. He followed suit.

"What were you thinking about?" he inquired, looking down and sideways at me with a smirk on his rosy face. The cherubic expression made my stomach turn.

"Do you want the honest answer?"

"Nothing but."

I let the silence drag on for a moment as we walked along, the sun finally peeking through the trees enough to warm my bones. I dropped my arm back down to my side, no longer holding on to Kyle.

"Music," I replied, simply. A small lie, but I was at least listening to music. That made it partly honest.

"Anything about music in particular?" Kyle pressed. "Or just the complex, vast theory of sound itself?" His tone dripped with sarcasm, which I'll admit, got a pretty hearty laugh out of me.

"I guess, but I can't remember," I lied again. We rounded the corner at the end of the street, turning onto the street the coffee shop was on. We had just a few more blocks to walk to get there.

"Well, okay," he sighed, redirecting. "What's your favorite song, then?"

"Oh, you can't ask that!" I exclaimed, pausing my stride to look him in the eyes. "How can I boil it down to just one song? That's cruel."

"I can tell you mine, it's easy." Kyle kicked a small rock and it skittered across the pavement, landing in the street. He definitely would have continued kicking it down the street had it not landed too far out of his way.

"Oh yeah?" I challenged. "What is it, then?"

"Just tell me one song you like, and I'll tell you," he bargained.

"You're unreal," I chuckled, continuing to walk. "I like Sweet Jane. Velvet Underground. I don't know." My replies felt really flippant coming out of my mouth, but I couldn't help it. Part of me still disliked him, or maybe, wanted to seem cool.

"Ooh," he cooed, jogging slightly to catch up to me on the sidewalk. "Sweet Jaaaaane," he sang grabbing my hand and lacing his fingers with mine.

"Ah, so you know it then," I laughed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Suddenly all too aware that the two of us were holding hands, I took stock. It was slightly rough but strong. His fingers were long and laced between mine like vines woven around themselves.

"I know it well," he smiled. "I love Lonesome Cowboy Bill. The Velvet Underground are so good."

"I don't think I know that one," I said, noticing that we were coming upon the coffee shop. I stopped right next to the stairs leading up to the door, effectively blocking his path. "Now you have to tell me your favorite song. Of all time. Since you can pick one."

His expression brightened. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled slightly, eyes twinkling with precious delight. "Oh! You Pretty Things. David Bowie," he grinned. My stomach lurched.

"You like David Bowie?" I asked, with a bit too much giddy excitement in my tone.

"Yes, he's only like, my favorite artist," he answered.

"We have a LOT in common," I gushed, grabbing his arm. He looked down at the small touch for a beat, then snaked an arm around my shoulder to guide me inside the shop.

We spoke about everything under the sun over the course of a few hours and a couple of coffees. I was so entranced by him that I actually let my drink get cold, rendering it undrinkable when I finally remembered its existence.

Not only did we have music tastes in common, but we also shared a lot of the same tastes in film and food. I, being less experienced in the realm of movie-watching, though, agreed to let him show me a few of his favorite films. In fact, we headed straight back to his house afterward to watch one of said movies.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but Kyle had proven himself trustworthy of not trying any funny business. Even still, I couldn't quiet the thoughts of him possibly thinking I was weird, or worse, that I might be falling for him.

All of those thoughts were silenced, though, when he closed the door to his room behind him. It felt different this time. I wasn't there out of pure obligation or drunken irresponsibility. This time, I wanted to be there.

"Which one did I say we were watching, again?" Kyle asked, crossing the room over to the TV, switching it on using the button on the side. He slid a small basket out of the stand and pulled out a disc binder full of movies. I flopped down onto the sofa, crossing my legs.

"Wow, you're serious about film," I laughed, kicking myself for how stupid the sentence sounded as soon as it left my mouth. "You said Catch Me If You Can, I'm pretty sure."

"Right, right," he murmured, flipping the binder open, letting the left side land on the ground with a loud thump. He thumbed through the discs, the casings making a plasticky crinkling sound as they moved. "Wait, I totally forgot about this one."

"Which one?"

"The Lost Boys. You seen it?" he asked, an excited tone creeping in.

"Yes! But I will happily watch it again, Kyle," I exclaimed. "Tis the season, right? Vampires and fall go hand in hand."

He slid the disc out of the casing and threw it in the DVD player, then crossed the room to join me on the couch. He sat close, but not too close, and used the remote to start the film. The space between us felt like a canyon. In the silence waiting for the movie to start, it was so quiet, it was hard to tell if I was alive.

The feeling came out of nowhere, knocking me in the stomach and making it hard to breathe. As if, all at once, smoke filled the room and replaced all the clean air with a stifling smog. I needed to come up for air, and the only way I figured I could was in the safety of Kyle's touch. It was a sudden and intense thirst.

I couldn't even focus on the movie. I couldn't focus on anything. I couldn't even breathe. The only movement I could rally was one of my eyes, letting them dart to the side to look at Kyle in my periphery. I had never known anything like it. Just complete paralysis at the hands of an indescribable need. A need for him and only him to simply touch me.

His hand twitched on his knee. I watched him shift out of the corner of my eye. I don't think I had taken a full breath since he sat down next to me. Then, he spoke.

"Hannah," he rasped. My name sounded so beautiful coming from his lips. I turned to face him and without delay his lips were on mine. I froze, unsure if it was real life. Unsure if he was actually kissing me. Unsure if I was actually enjoying it. But in an instant, I could breathe again. I could fill my lungs with fresh, new air that made me dizzy. I relaxed into him.

He stopped. "Wait, Hannah, is this oka-" he whispered, interrupted by my mouth reconnecting with his. My hand felt its way up to his hair, my fingers lacing tightly in his blonde curls. I slid closer to him and paused, looking him deeply in his eyes before continuing.

His breaths came out ragged and loud between kisses. Our foreheads rested together. My hand moved down from his hair to his chest. I could feel his heart positively racing beneath my palm. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, if that was even possible. I was practically sitting in his lap. I drank in the moment so furiously I felt I might drown.

I felt like I was on fire. Like someone had set a slow and steady match beneath my center, deep in the pit of my stomach.

What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck is happening? my brain screamed, but my heart wanted more, and I wouldn't let cerebral obstacles prevent me from continuing to be that close to him.

He reached up and cupped the side of my face in his palm, deepening the kisses to something more, his tongue creeping its way inside my mouth. The warmth of the contact spread throughout my entire body, rendering me almost drunk. Kyle consumed my senses.

I pulled away. Both of us sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes. The movie played quietly in the background. My heart beat so hard I was sure he could hear it.

"Wow," he panted, placing a hand over mine, which was still resting on his chest. A flush crept across my cheeks. "Was that real?"

Previous Part | Next Part

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x reader #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer imagine #kyle spencer fanfic #ahs coven #evan peters x female reader #evan peters oneshot

60 notes · View notes

wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

Note

I’m looking for a teen wold fic I think was on ao3. Stiles and Derek are both alphas and end up being roommates at their college/university. Stiles is seen as a “weird alpha” because he has characteristics of both an alpha and an omega. Derek and stiles bounce from enemies to friends to enemies but end up together in the end. I think in the end it was discovered that Stiles was a combination of an alpha and an omega.

Hi anon. @nerdherderette says it could be this one!

A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing by dumpac

(1/1 I 11,282 I Mature I Sterek)

"What the fuck, Stiles, what the fuck?!"

"No, no, you don't understand, Scotty, this is the best idea ever!"

"Because you think registering as a fucking alpha to college when you're actually an omega is the best idea ever? It's not even a good idea!"

Or :

Being an omega, Stiles has few chances to be accepted in the college of his dreams. Registering as an alpha seems like a good idea... until his new roommate, hot-as-the-sun alpha Derek Hale, comes in the equation.

AND

@partly-truth-and-partly-fiction suggested this one!

Two Bumbling Alphas by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle

(13/13 I 40,161 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles was a freak of nature. Foxes were supposed to be betas, and sometimes, very rarely, omegas. Not only was he the freak alpha, he was the freak alpha with a glandular condition that made him overproduce pheromones. So, basically, he stank all the time, and even shifter in a mile radius knew it.

When he started college, he worried about what his peers might think. His lab partner, Cora didn't seem to mind. Neither did her family. Specifically, her older brother Derek. He really didn't seem to mind. Stiles really didn't know what to do with his life after that.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #alpha/beta/omega #college au #anon #lost fic

128 notes · View notes

awordwasthebeginning · 1 year

Note

Enemies to lovers für das trope game, bitte :D

!!! Ja. Absolut. A+.

Ich hab noch überlegt, ob ich dem ein C gebe, weil @bookshelfdreams schon Recht hat, manchmal gibt's Zeug, das diesen Tag trägt, aber echt kritisch zu sehen ist/keinen Spaß macht (abuser/victim etc.), aber m.E. ist der Tag dann fehl am Platz.

Denn "Enemies to lovers" setzt voraus, dass sie einander ebenbürtig sind. Das bedeutet, jeder hat bereits die schlimmste Seite des anderen gesehen, weiß, wozu der andere fähig ist, und hat trotzdem etwas in ihm gesehen, das ihn anzieht. Und sie wissen, dass die Zuneigung/Anziehung/Liebe ernst gemeint ist. Denn wenn sie einander wehtun wollen würden, hätten sie das längst getan; wenn des einen dunkelste Seite den anderen abschrecken würde, wäre der nicht mehr hier.

Es beginnt mit der gegenseitigen Anerkennung der Ebenbürtigkeit. (Wenn man es genau nimmt, fallen sogar Sprotte und Fred in diese Kategorie. Und Svacky lol) Und irgendwann steht man da, hält sich gegenseitig die Klinge an die Kehle - bildlich, wörtlich, egal - und -

oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

#tropes #fanfiction #vielen dank <3 #partly truth and partly fiction #enemies to lovers #ask thingy #loquor #german stuff

5 notes · View notes

cyanide-e-pistachio · 1 month

Text

Chapter 4 of Partly Truth // Partly Fiction is out now!

#new update #shuake #akeshu #persona 5 #goro akechi #akira kusuru #persona 5 royal #fanfic #my writing #trying to be better about posting my chapters on here #it may work with varying degrees of success

21 notes · View notes

chamerionwrites · 11 months

Text

As a small-time Stellan Skarsgard's Acting enjoyer and big-time Morally Compromised Old Man enjoyer I was inevitably going to fall down a Luthen Rael rabbit hole at least once so forgive me for being fully on my bullshit. But I can't explain my read on this guy without talking about That Speech, and I can't talk about that speech without dumping a bunch of thoughts about dialogue.

Because in my own writing the thing I get most obsessive about is character voice, and the thing about character voice is that not everyone is a poet. Sometimes the craft of writing is about euphony pure and simple. But sometimes (revealing my biases) I think the craft of writing is being able to ask yourself - sure it's good, but is it true? Can you find the poetry in the everyday? Can you express something sharp and compelling and resonant and stay faithful to the perspective of a character who isn't consciously honing their words in that way? All fictional dialogue is constructed. But there does come a point on the spectrum of naturalistic to constructed dialogue - it's partly a matter of taste - where you see more of the writer patting themselves on the back for writing a banger of a line than you see of the character, and personally I often find this off-putting.

Which doesn't mean you never get to let the poetry off the leash (God, that would be joyless). It just means there's a time and a place.

Andor's writers are dropping a lot of bangers and they absolutely know it but largely it works for me, because they're smart about the time and place. Cassian gets to be a guy who's resourceful with his words when the chips are down - that's a big part of his characterization. Maarva and Nemik get to break out the poetry when giving a speech or writing a political manifesto; those words are crafted in-universe as well as out. And Luthen - a performer, a salesman, a man with constructed identities - he gets to use a lot of constructed speech even when he isn't in full-throttle soliloquy mode. I've said before that a lot of stories about espionage are also stories about storytelling: people who create characters, fictions, who tell lies in an attempt to get at truths. In this story Luthen is that guy. Wouldn't you rather give it all at once to something real than carve off useless pieces till there's nothing left - it doesn't matter how constructed that sounds if it's a sales pitch he's rehearsed. It doesn't matter if you see a little bit of the author or the actor peek through when he says things like I know the outside; I imagine the rest, because it functions as characterization when in some sense he is both those things.

All of which is to say That Speech works for me because it tells you something about Luthen beyond the face value of what he says. It tells you this is something he's THOUGHT about, at length. If he hasn't delivered those lines to a mirror, he has absolutely worked through some version of them in his head more than once. And that tells you something just slightly to the left of who Luthen objectively is - it tells you how he constructs and sees himself. I fully believe that Luthen believes what he's saying there.

I also fully believe that this is a man who self-admittedly has an ego and a desire for recognition, who says he's given that up but evidently hasn't let go of some measure of resentment about it. That here's a guy who put on a billowing black cloak, pulled out all the spy theatrics for the express purpose of unsettling his informant, and then gave his best space King Lear audition. That here's a guy with a soliloquy about his sacrifices locked and loaded. On some level Luthen is a little bit into being a martyr for the cause. He's a little bit into the dark glamor of being a lone wolf operator pulling morally tarnished strings. He's a little bit into frightening and manipulating his informant! For all the cynicism of what he's saying, he's a little bit enamored with his own self-image as the sort of man who says it, in a way that suggests an inner romantic more than an inner pragmatist. He says he's damned for what he does but there's more furious pride underlying it than self-loathing; in the same breath he's admitting that a tiny piece of him wants a parade.

Which is fascinating and a little unflattering and way more interesting than just a badass character delivering a badass monologue. The characterization here is partly that Luthen is the kind of guy who monologues.

And to give him his due - I also fully believe that he's a very driven and committed man who has sacrificed a lot. Seen in that light, in fact, I think some of his character flaws come into focus in highly sympathetic ways. Ultimately this is a guy with a deep sense of urgency - "terrified the Empire's power will grow beyond the point where we can do anything to stop it," as he says. And sometimes there can be a lot of ego in urgency. It is a special kind of crazy-making to feel you are taking a problem far more seriously than almost everyone around you. It is a weight of responsibility to believe it's on you to fix that problem before it becomes too big to solve. Under those circumstances it's very understandable that Luthen has big responsible student leading the group project energy and a touch of main character syndrome (which is interesting and sort funny, contrasted with Cassian spending much of the story desperately trying to avoid becoming a main character). It takes a certain kind of drive and audacity-verging-on-arrogance to accomplish what Luthen has accomplished. But character flaws are often the flip side of character strengths, and I think a lot of his are tied up here. Sometimes he's a little enamored with his own isolation (he could choose to be more open with fellow rebel leaders like Saw imo). Sometimes he's awfully comfortable instrumentalizing others while insulating himself. He says Imperial arrogance is remarkable, but sometimes he's blind in similar ways - Luthen is almost as surprised as the Imperials by the funeral riot in the final episode. He's spent so much time stage-managing his would-be rebellion from Coruscant that an organic uprising startles him. In his self-appointed position as the lonely string-puller at the top, he maybe has a bit too much fondness for control and not quite enough regard for community (imo it's also kind of telling that there are no actual Aldhanis involved in the heist on Aldhani). As Clem says - sometimes people don't look down the way they should.

All of which are very interesting and human flaws for him to have! And which I do think the show subtly gestures at in the sort of contemplative way he reacts to that riot, and which I'd love to see come into focus more in S2.

#at one point I said luthen is one of the only people in this story who both knows and likes that he's in a genre film #cassian may be doomed by the narrative but luthen is AWARE of the narrative #he soliloquizes! he prophesies! (he may or may not have a line to the force?)#and he has enough chutzpah to decide that if he can't be the narrative's lead actor he'll settle for being its author #what a guy. i wanna put him under a microscope and study him.#luthen rael #andor #star wars #my posts #anyway it took me ages to solidify my read on this dude bc he's written kind of deliberately opaque #but this is where i'm planting my flag. he is a self-appointed amateur general with a general's ego #who (correctly and admirably) takes the empire deadly seriously #and (somewhat less admirably) has a deeply stressed highly understandable but kinda self-important group project manager complex about it #solidarity community grassroots bottom-up organizing etc etc

88 notes · View notes

hyuuukais · 6 months

Text

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SIX • CHAN'S TRUTH (1.4k)

Leaving the café without talking to, or even just seeing, Chan feels weird. Not all there? What was that supposed to mean? Was it because of last night? Is Minho right- he's freaked out by you now? If anyone should be freaked out, it's you, considering he only existed in book form up until a couple of weeks ago. You still had no idea how he came to exist.

The rest of the day went quickly; grocery shopping with Minho, feeding the stray cat with him, making dinner. By the evening, you were exhausted despite the easy day. However, instead of heading to bed, you went into your office. Your laptop sat open, but not on. Sitting down, you power it up, waiting patiently for it to log you in and open the document.

There weren't any words now, just a few dots. All you wanted to do was scream.

"Just tell me something," you whisper desperately, clicking all the buttons you can. "Please."

Stop it, it types.

"Oh my god."

You have until the end of the year to figure this out, it types again. You have one chance.

"One chance..? For what?" You're frustrated again. Why is it always so vague!

Then your phone vibrates; it's Chan.

"Y/n?" His voice comes through shakey.

"Hello? I thought you didn't wanna hear from me." You lean back, chair hitting the wall lightly. "Something about, what was it? Being "not all there"? What's that even supposed to mean?"

"Forgive me for that, I know it was bad timing." You hear him wince and sit up with a new alertness.

"Chan? What's wrong?"

"You're going to think-" he inhales sharply. "Ah- you're not going to believe me. Just wanted to hear your voice in case something happens."

"In case something...? Can you just tell me straight up what's going on?" Your voice picks up at the end, worry seeping through your words. "I'm done with people being so damn cryptic lately."

"It's best you come by the café and see for yourself," his voice is quiet, and the line goes dead.

"Shit," you hold the phone away, dialing his number. No answer. "Minho!"

"Want me to come in with you?"

You shake your head, eyes stuck on the Sorry, we're closed! sign. The lights were off in the café, but up above you could see dim lighting through the window. "No. Whatever is going on with him... I think I need to go alone."

Minho gives your hand a light squeeze, letting you know he'll be here if you need to run. "Be careful, Y/n."

Cold air hits you hard as you step out of the car. The café door is locked, so you circle around the back. Like you assumed there was a fire escape, and if you couldn't get in there? Maybe Chan would forgive you if you smashed a window? But luckily for you, the door at the top swings open easily. It leads to an office, and as much as you want to snoop you know this isn't the time.

"Chan?" You call out, walking down the short hallway. Glancing in each door, you see no sign of him, but as you make it to the end you find the source of the light.

His living room is a mess- lamp on, but knocked over. A few books lay on the ground, taken from the shelf as if someone tried to grab onto them for support as they fell. Coffee stains the rug, a broken mug shattered partly on the small table and on the floor. The whole scene unnerves you.

A groan from the kitchen causes you to whip your head around. "Chan? Is that you?"

Tentatively, you round the counter and spot Chan slumped over in the corner. He's semi-conscious, mumbling frantically when you crouch by his side. A hand comes up to grip your arm, hard, and his eyes are suddenly wide awake. Dark circles mark his face, and he's breathing heavily.

"Y/n," his voice is hoarse. "Y/n."

"I'm here," you place a hand over his on your arm. "What... what happened?"

He shakes his head.

"If you don't want to talk about it-"

"No, no I do, I just-" his voice breaks, head back against the cupboard. "I really don't know. One minute everything was fine, was normal. But then-"

"...but then?" You try to encourage him to go on. "Trust me, whatever it is can't be any weirder than what's been happening in my life lately.

"You shouldn't be so sure," he laughs, but it's empty. "I was drinking my coffee- don't give me that look I know it's late and I shouldn't have been-" he tries to stand up, stumbling forward. You catch him and help him up, guiding him to use the counter as support.

"My mug fell. I'm guessing you saw. When I looked down, my hand it... just wasn't there?" Holding out a hand, he shakes his head again. "Up to about halfway up my forearm was gone, faded, kind of. I didn't know what to do so I let Lily be in charge downstairs for now until I could figure it out. Of course, the hand is back now."

What. The. Fuck?

Mind reeling, you can't help but wonder if this has any connection to the latest USB message you've received. If Chan showed up the night of the power outage, the day you started getting the messages, would your time limit affect him too? If you didn't figure out what it is the haunted USB wants you to do, does that mean...

Chan will cease to exist?

A horrified expression paints your face. Although he isn't meant to exist in the first place, is it fair to him to let him fade? But how were you supposed to figure out what to do when no one will give you a straight answer? How can you save Chan?

"Believe it or not, that's not the strangest thing I've heard," you settle with. "I think... I think I need to tell you something. And show you something."

Which is how you ended up with Chan inside your home, staring at a new message from the USB.

IT'S TRUE.

"What does this mean?"

"You want to hear my theory?" He swings around in your chair to face you and nods. You're sitting with Minho on the couch, hoping Chan doesn't notice the daggers in Minho's eyes. "Hate to break it to you, but you don't exist, not really. Min already knows, but before that storm, I was writing a novel and the main love interest was described just like you, right down to the café and accent.

"I don't know how it happened, but I think somehow you were transported out of my book that night and now I have to figure out your ending. That's all I had left- the ending." His face is unreadable. "The last message said I had until the end of the year. I think that's why you're fading." Your voice is quiet now, gentle. "And I don't know how to stop it."

A strong silence fills the room. Chan isn't looking at you- his eyes are glued to the words on the screen. On the outside, he looks surprisingly calm, but you know his world is crashing down around him. Nothing you could say now would comfort him. If he wanted to run away from you and never look back, you wouldn't blame him.

"The end of the year?"

Eyes meeting, you give a stiff nod.

"I don't exist."

You nod again.

"My sister?" Leaning forward, clasped hands against his forehead. "Berry- my dog back home? My home? None of it is real?"

"Not here... not in this reality." Minho steps in. "This isn't your world to live in, but you're here now and so are they until the deadline."

"This is too much," Chan rubs his hands through his hair a few times, stopping to look at you. "Wait, this is why you asked where the café was, and why you didn't know about anything we talked about! Because it never happened. Oh my g- I thought you just weren't interested."

Embarrassed, you nod for the hundredth time. "Yes, but we can talk about that later, okay? Right now we need to figure out how to end this-"

A phone ringing interrupts you. Annoyed, you look down at the screen, Unknown Caller.

"Weird, last time it said that it was you Min, but since you're here..." You pick up the phone. "Hello?"

A strangled gasp is let out on the other end followed by a muffled sob. "Y/n? Is it really you?"

"Holy fucking shit," you cover the speaker and look at Minho. "It's Yeji."

●

notes • another friday another chapter !!!!

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can tag you

#.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #skz fanfic #skz series #bang chan series #stray kids fanfic #stray kids series

47 notes · View notes

crstormzy · 1 year

Text

castiel headcannons | my candy love

ok so i have this really annoying habit of inviting fictional characters to live in my head rent free for god knows how long. specially when they are assholes. specially when they're the type of assholes i'm really fond of. specially when they're castiel veilmont.

i also have the even more annoying habit of making extremes out of these characters in my head, but oh well... it be like that sometimes.

anyways, it's 3am where i live and i cannot sleep so here's some of the extremes i've taken castiel to during the last few years i've been obsessed with him:

so, first things first, my man is a genius. i'm not talking the einstein kinda genius, but more of a mozart or michelangelo or something like that. he likes art and he understands it and he is so good at it. like, otherworldly good.

he has an awesome vocal range, but he can rock the higher register. and he can also rock the growls so that makes for an interesting combination.

i don't care what others say, i just know castiel can cook. and i'm not talking instant noodles or frozen pizza either, i'm telling you my man can cook. call it perks of living almost alone from a young age, but he is a really great chef (and a really great lover, so be ready for a lot of breakfast treats if you're dating him).

although he is a singer (and a pretty good one at that), castiel just loves bad karaoke nights. like, all out awful singing: out of rhythm, out of breath, out of tune. he's paid to be a good singer all other nights of the year, so he definitely seizes the opportunity to just be a shitty one for a while.

songwriter is coded into his dna. like, waking in the middle of the night, genius ideas, music out of everything type of songwriter. dude writes like he's running out of time.

his lyrics are so deep, always with beautiful metaphors and the kind of thing that just guts you every. fucking. time.

or they're just vulgar nonsense. there's literally no in between.

can sleep anywhere. tour bus? yeah, sleeping. library table? long gone. the most uncomfortable chair in existence? catch him going. his bed, though? forget it. after midnight his brain simply starts running a mile a minute.

not. a. morning. person.

no, seriously. he hates mornings with a passion, specially during hsl. probably because he's always going to sleep horribly late, but he hates having to wake early for anything at all. the only exception is if he's really really really excited about something.

he can hold his liquor, but he hardly ever drinks enough for it to be necessary because he doesn't like the idea of losing control of himself.

stopped smoking somewhere after high school. he was never really dependant on nicotine and after a while (specially after crowstorm) he just stopped altogether. the sensation was nice and all, but kinda of not worth it anymore.

was bullied into becoming crowstorm's vocalist.

also hates instagram with a passion. shows up once every three months, posts a single story (after his manager grilled him for weeks to make any appearance at all) and promptly vanishes again.

would get rid of his phone if he could but, since he can't, he just isn't much of a user.

castiel please stop telling paparazzi to fuck off please for the love of god the press team is begging you stop trying to rip their cameras out of their hands please please

can be very polite and well mannered when he wants to (but he never does)

my boy is a charmer. like, literally everyone falls for him. and then he opens his mouth and just manages to be the biggest asshole ever.

(he claims it's also part of his charm)

lots of people speculate about how many plastic surgeries he's had. partly because he's very pretty, but mainly because of the nose and the eyes. no one believes his nose wasn't bought, and lots of people think he wears contacts.

(in truth he is terrified of plastic surgery, but, ironically, if he wasn't his nose would probably be top of the list of things he would wanna change)

anyways i could spend literal days talking with how much time i've spent with him inside this silly little brain of mine. these are some of the headcannons i could think of on spot but god knows i have so many more...

#he's just such an asshole #i love him so much #please castiel stop terrorizing paparazzi #mcl castiel #castiel veilmont #mcl castiel headcanons #mcl headcanon #crowstorm #mcl crowstorm #my candy love

168 notes · View notes

loving-elvis · 4 months

Note

Ugh, I am so freakin' annoyed right now. Some idiot on TikTok was calling E a "groomer" as usual, and when I tried to point out how they were wrong, they were like "lol he took that trip to Vegas with [Cilla] when she was 16, gave her drugs and purposely wrote fake postcards to throw her parents off the trail so he could f*ck her and keep her all to himself. SHE WAS 16. You're as bad as him if you don't think that's grooming."

Is any of this true? I figured I'd come to you about this since you're the expert in this community. I don't understand how people can be so wrong and dumb at the same time. It's like they're proud to be misinformed.

Good evening, Anon!

I'm flattered that you think that about me, I'm certainly not an expert--I'm learning new things about this man every day 💖 But I will try to answer your question as best I can!

Like many stories surrounding Elvis that get stirred up in our social media age, it's only partly true. We just have to sort out the truth from the (frequently blown out) fiction. The 'grooming' story is only one of many that seem to surround him.

Yes, she did visit him when she was around 16/17, after insisting for a while and he did take her to Vegas. It's important to remember that in 1962 that Vegas was a refuge for him. According to Peter Guralnick, "It was, for Elvis, momentary respite from all the self-doubt, from all the questions lying in wait, lurking in the shadows, waiting to assault him."

So yes, she arrived in LA, and then he and the Mafia guys drove to Vegas. They would spend two weeks there, taking in shows, and he would take her shopping and getting her hair and makeup done. He introduced her to the drugs he would take to stay awake and then get to sleep. He refused to sleep with her, even though she kept insisting, until they were married. ("Elvis in Vegas" by Richard Zoglin, pg. 103)

It's important to remember that Elvis was human. Talented, amazingly beautiful, humble, and so charismatic that it's hard to believe that he existed at all. But he was also flawed, made mistakes, did stupid things. He wasn't perfect, and that's just one of many reasons why I love him so much, and why I adore him. And it's why what makes his accomplishments so remarkable 💖

#I hope that helps answer your question Anon #People will talk and talk and talk and say nothing at all #They've been doing it for years and yet his fans are still here 💖#Don't let it dissuade you from this amazing man #Ask box #Replies #Anonymous

13 notes · View notes