#look I’m really emotional over this ok??

[pinkskiessss]

LACY - chapter 5

Paige Bueckers x oc

Warnings: internalized homophobia, mature content

A/N: I feel like alot of the last few chapters have been about Layla really struggling with coming to terms with identity/sexuality. Which I wanted to write because I wanted to show the process of really coming to terms with being queer and how it isn’t just something you immediately accept in one night, based on my own experiences personally ofc. So with that being said, I hope someone else can find comfort in her character or relates. (Also forgot to write this in, but for anyone wondering, Layla has been involved “romantically” with guys in the past, but I think it’s just a realization now for her that it was like a cover up for who she actually is, because she’s feeling emotions she’s never felt towards a man, towards a woman if that makes sense. Basically she’s gay lol hope this helps! Which like same girl) Anywayssss sorry for the rant, enjoy loves!

—

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the folded note on my bedside table.

I hope you feel better. Text me when you get up.

I exhaled slowly, the events of last night still swirling in my mind. Her low voice, her subtle touches—it made my skin crawl, the way I feel when she touches me. Even if it’s only for a second. The way it made something stir inside me that I couldn’t ignore, but couldn’t accept either.

I grabbed my phone and texted her, my fingers shaking slightly.

Me: Hey, I just woke up. Thanks for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry for being such a mess.

Her reply came quickly, almost like she’d been waiting for me.

Paige: Don’t trip. You’re good. Seriously.

Paige: You feeling better?

Me: Yeah, a little. Thanks again.

There was a short pause before her next message came through.

Paige: Can we talk? In person, if you’re not busy?

I hesitated, biting my lip. I didn’t want to see her, not right now. I’d rather save myself the embarrassment. But I couldn’t avoid it forever.

Me: Sure. You can come over if you want. I’m heading to the gym soon to practice, though.

Paige: Volleyball grind? Big game coming up, right?

Me: Yeah, it’s the regional final this weekend. If we win, we’re in the Final Four.

Paige: No pressure or anything

Me: Tell me about it lol

Paige: Can I come practice with you for fun cause why not? I won’t distract you to much I swear.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her trying to play volleyball.

Me: Ok sure, if you insistttt

When Paige arrived, she was dressed in basketball shorts and a black tee, her hair pulled into a messy bun. Somehow she always looks perfect like all the time. It’s crazy actually.

—

We set up the net, and Paige was already messing around with the volleyball like she had no idea what she was doing. I tossed her the ball.

“Alright, ready?” I asked.

She caught it but didn’t seem to know what to do next. “Uh, sure. Can’t be too hard.”

Her first attempt was… not great to say the least. The ball went flying across the gym, and she just stood there, looking at it like it had betrayed her.

“Okay, so let’s just act like you didn’t see that,” she said, laughing at herself.

I couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension easing just a little. “Maybe try not to hit it like you’re dunking a basketball.”

“Yo I didn’t sign up for this kind of slander, not to much on me,” she said with a grin. “But fine, I’ll try again.”

We kept going, and she got a little better—or at least, less terrible. But I couldn’t focus. My mind kept drifting back to last night, what I asked her in a drunken haze. How awkward it feels that I got drunk and slipped into a vulnerable state where I felt comfortable enough to ask her how she knew she was gay. Like come on Layla, why do you always have to make shit weird.

I tried to push it out of my mind, but when she stood beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as we took a break, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The kind of knot that made me want to run. To escape this feeling.

“Layla,” Paige said softly, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

I glanced at her, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She didn’t seem convinced. She took a step closer, her eyes searching mine. “You sure? You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine if it’s not, you know this.”

I shook my head, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Paige. I don’t even know why I asked you what I did. It just… felt like something I needed to say. I was really drunk and confused I guess. But now, I just feel… weird.”

Paige’s expression shifted, a flicker of something defensive in her eyes. “Weird how?”

I was silent, except for the sound of my breath, heavy and uneven. I could feel the weight of Paige’s words pressing down on me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside me was breaking. I didn’t know how to fix it.

“I just don’t get it, Layla,” Paige said, her voice a little shaky but firm. “Why are choosing to continuously hurt yourself by denying the facts.”

“I’m not. I just—” I paused, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want people to look at me like it’s all they see when I play. I don’t want to be judged. People already say enough disgusting stuff online about queer people. Imagine what they would say if they found out an athlete they looked up to secretly liked the same gender. It would hurt my career so much if people found out Paige, you don’t get it.”

Paige’s face tightened, her blue eyes flashing with anger. “What the hell, Layla? Are you seriously forgetting that I’m gay myself? I would get it. People speculate about my sexuality all the time, and yeah, it’s obvious. Everyone knows it. Sure, there’s a small percentage of people who hate on me for it, and I see it. But if I let that control my life, I’d be a pretty shitty person. People always have their opinions, and most of them are garbage, but you can’t let them define how you see yourself. You’re letting people on the internet make you think you’re wrong for feeling how you feel. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

I flinched at her words, the anger in her voice cutting deeper than I expected. I didn’t answer, my heart pounding in my chest. She was right. She knew exactly what it was like to feel out of place. But I couldn’t help the way I felt.

“I’m sorry,” Paige says quietly, her voice suddenly soft, regret seeping into her tone. “I shouldn’t have said that the way I did at all. I shouldn’t have gotten that mad, I just hate hearing you talk about yourself like that.”

My hands were shaking now, and I wiped at my eyes, feeling the tears I’d been holding back start to fall. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop any of it.

Paige saw me crying, and her expression softened instantly. She stepped forward, reaching out to gently grab my arms, pulling them away from my face. “Layla, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get that far. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I looked up at her, my chest tight. “It’s not you, I just don’t know what to do, Paige. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how to make this go away.”

Paige’s eyes softened as she held my arms. “You don’t have to make it go away, Layla. You don’t have to figure it out right now. But please, don’t hate yourself for it. You’re not disgusting, or weird. You’re… you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Her words hit me like a wave, and for the first time, I felt like I could breathe. Like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as lost as I thought.

“I really care for you,” Paige continued, her voice low and sincere. Hearing you talk about yourself like that—it hurts me. It hurts to see you think you’re not worth it. You are. You really are.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a surge of warmth in my chest. I stepped closer to her, not sure what I was doing but knowing I needed to be near her. “I’m sorry, too,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

She smiled softly, her hand brushing against my cheek. “You don’t need to apologize. I just want you to know you’re not alone in this. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

I felt a pull in my chest, an undeniable connection that I couldn’t ignore. I leaned in slightly, my breath catching in my throat. I was close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, to see the way her blue eyes softened, the way her pink lips parted just slightly. My heart raced, the air thick with unspoken words, with everything we hadn’t said yet.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. The world around us faded, leaving just the two of us in this fragile, suspended moment. I could hear the soft sound of her breathing, the way it matched mine, both of us caught in the tension that had been building between us.

I barely registered that I was moving closer until our noses were almost touching, the smallest breath between us. I could feel the heat of her body against mine, the way her cologne lingered in the air, intoxicating and all-consuming. I could feel the pull, stronger now, undeniable, and it was like something inside me snapped.

I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned in, closing the space between us, and my lips brushed against hers in the softest kiss. It was tentative at first, a question, a hesitation, but it felt right. Her lips were warm and inviting, soft as velvet, and I couldn’t help but press into her, deepening the kiss just slightly, my hands finding their way to her neck, pulling her closer.

Her lips moved against mine with a gentle pressure, and I responded instinctively, my body leaning into hers, craving more. There was no fear, no doubt. Just the rush of the moment, the way her touch made everything else fade away. It felt right.

But then, just as quickly as it started, I pulled away, breathless, my chest heaving. I looked at her, my heart pounding in my ears, and I saw the same intensity reflected in her eyes.

“Paige,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “I—”

She didn’t give me a chance to finish. Before I could say another word, she pulled me back to her, her lips crashing against mine with a hunger that took me by surprise. This time, there was no hesitation, no softness. Her hands were on my waist, pulling me even closer, and I could feel the urgency in her kiss, the way she needed me as much as I needed her.

I kissed her back with everything I had, my hands threading through her hair, pulling her even closer, if that was even possible. I could feel the heat between us, the way our bodies pressed together, desperate to feel more. It was a kiss that left no room for doubt, no space for anything but the raw, overwhelming undeniable connection between us.

—

Taglist:

@unadulteratedcyclepaper

[valkyrieromanoff]

Hii dear ❤️

I just love all your hayden christensen works so much.

I have a request where Reader plays padme's role and during all the shooting for the movie they fall in love with each other and eventually they get married and evan is also very protective of the reader and sees her as a younger sister. You can add scenes like the movie interviews or press tours.

I have searched for a fic with this idea for so long but haven't found one. 😔

Plz I would really be glad if you do a fic regarding this idea. It's also ok if you can't do it no pressure dear 😊

Love ❤️

Taker care

🎀YOU AS PADMÉ X HAYDEN CHRISTENSE: THE LOVE STORY🎀

synopsis: in the bustling backdrop of a New York casting call in 2000, you meet Hayden Christensen, an enigmatic young actor vying for the role of Anakin Skywalker. A shared screen test ignites an undeniable chemistry, blurring the line between performance and reality, and leaving you both with a lingering sense that this is only the beginning of something extraordinary.

words: 1.1k

warning: not based on real events, fluffy, hint of romance

a/n: hello there, I was SO hyped when I read your idea—it’s seriously brilliant and such a vibe! ✨ Honestly, I’m super honored you trusted me to write this with you 💖. IDK if you were thinking of a one-shot, but I was imagining turning this into a mini-fanfic (like 10 chapters or so?) to really explore all the phases of their relationship—the tension, the feelings, the growth, all of it 🫶.

I hope you love what I’ve written so far, and PLEASE feel free to share your comments or opinions—they’re totally welcome and super important to make this story the best it can be for everyone! 🥰

CHAPTER ONE: CASTING

The sun was beginning to dip behind the Manhattan skyline as you stretched in your chair for the hundredth time that day. You’d been at this since the early morning hours, reading the same lines over and over again with a rotating cast of hopeful actors vying for the role of Anakin Skywalker. George Lucas had been clear about what he was looking for—a young man who could embody Anakin’s volatile mix of rebellious passion and burgeoning darkness. But after dozens of auditions, no one had quite nailed it.

Some actors were technically good but lacked the raw, unpolished edge George wanted. Others had the right look but couldn’t summon the emotional depth required for the role. And as the hours wore on, your excitement for the project was slowly being drained away by the monotony of the casting process.

You exhaled heavily, flipping through the well-worn pages of the script in your hands, your mind wandering to thoughts of escaping the stifling audition room and stepping into the brisk New York air. That’s when you heard his name.

“Hayden Christensen.”

Your eyes snapped up as a young man walked into the room. Honey-blonde hair framed his face, and his quiet confidence filled the space effortlessly. He wasn’t overly polished like so many of the others. There was an air of authenticity about him, as though he didn’t need to try too hard to be noticed.

Your gaze lingered on him as the casting director pointed out where he should stand. He nodded, offering a small, polite smile to the room before taking his mark. There was no unnecessary bravado, no nervous fidgeting—just a focused calm that intrigued you instantly.

When he began his lines, it was as though the room shifted. His voice carried a raw vulnerability, his delivery perfectly balancing Anakin’s simmering anger with the aching, earnest desire for connection. It wasn’t just an audition; it was as if he was Anakin Skywalker.

For a moment, you forgot you were supposed to be evaluating him. His intensity drew you in, his words lingering in the air long after they were spoken. You found yourself leaning forward in your chair, captivated. It was the first time all day you’d felt the spark of something real, something electric.

“(Y/N), are you ready?”

Your name snapped you out of the trance. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, as one of the assistants handed you the pages for the scene. Your heart was racing, and you didn’t know why. All you knew was that you were about to step into that scene with him.

The moment you walked up to Hayden, he looked at you, and for a split second, the rest of the room seemed to disappear. His eyes, an arresting shade of blue, locked onto yours, and you felt a spark—like the ignition of a lightsaber. He smiled, a small, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips, and suddenly, the world felt different.

When the scene began, your eyes darted to the script once or twice, double-checking your lines to ensure everything was perfect. But as the words fell from your lips and his presence seemed to pull you in, something shifted. The boundary between reality and performance blurred, and suddenly, you were no longer reading lines—you were living them. The emotions, the conflict, and the forbidden pull between your characters surged through you like a tidal wave.

“I can't. We can't. It's just not possible,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. It wasn’t just Padmé speaking; it was you, every syllable laced with an ache that felt startlingly real. Your heart, unbidden, protested against the logic of the line, just as hers would.

Hayden’s blue eyes locked onto yours, their intensity almost startling. They were so bright, so alive, but within them swirled a mix of hurt, longing, and something deeper—something that made the air between you feel impossibly charged. His voice was low, thick with a quiet desperation as he stepped closer. “Anything’s possible. Padmé, please listen…” His hand extended toward yours, trembling slightly, as though he couldn’t help but reach for you.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. The warmth of his hand brushed yours, and an unfamiliar spark danced up your arm. Your fingers almost curled instinctively toward his before you pulled back, forcing yourself to remain in character.

“You listen,” you countered, your voice soft yet firm, filled with a mix of resignation and sorrow. “We live in a real world. Come back to it. You’re studying to become a Jedi Knight. I’m a Senator. If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion, they will take us to a place we cannot go… regardless of the way we feel about each other.”

The words came effortlessly now, as though they belonged not just to Padmé but to you. And as you spoke them, you noticed the way Hayden’s expression shifted—how every ounce of his being seemed to pour into the scene. He didn’t just act. He felt. And in his eyes, you saw it too—a connection, an unspoken understanding that transcended the lines on the page.

With each passing moment, the distance between you closed, not just physically but emotionally, spiritually, as if this moment was fated—destined to unfold exactly this way. By the time you finished your last line, the silence in the room was almost deafening, the air charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

The sound of applause jolted you from the trance-like state, breaking the fragile spell that had wrapped itself around the two of you. You blinked, stepping back instinctively, though your chest still felt tight, your heart still racing. George Lucas and the rest of the team stood clapping, clearly thrilled by the chemistry that had just unfolded in front of them.

You forced a smile, stepping back farther to give Hayden the moment he deserved. He was speaking with George now, his body language a mix of excitement and relief. He was the chosen one. Everyone in the room knew it. He had just won the role of a lifetime.

Yet, even as you lingered in the background, trying to focus on the buzz of conversation around you, you felt it—him. His gaze. It burned softly, like sunlight warming your skin even when you weren’t looking. Over the shoulders of directors and producers, he stole glances your way, as if drawn to you in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

And then there was you. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in your chest, making it harder to think clearly. You couldn’t quite place it—was it admiration? Excitement? Curiosity? It felt like all those things and more, tangled into a knot that you didn’t want to unravel just yet.

You didn’t know where this would lead, or why you felt so certain that this was only the beginning of something bigger. All you knew was that, somehow, you were eager to find out.

[minusforty]

Gianmarco Tamberi

European Champion, World champion and Olympic co-champion in high jump

[euthymiya]

I think the first time wrio tells you about why he served, he does it with a sort of detached demeanor. Like he’s awaiting you to either be scared or horrified or disgusted and it’s just inevitable. He prepares himself for the inevitable of you deciding loving him is just not worth the trouble. He’s built this shell around him that makes him indifferent to people’s reactions to his past. Sometimes they pity him. Sometimes they look at him with fear. Sometimes they’re outraged.

He’s used to it all by now. He’s long forgotten how to care.

But then…for some reason, you don’t seem to think any of those things. You seem grateful. Grateful he told you. Grateful he trusted you. Grateful to know him. Like knowing any piece of him—good or bad, is a gift. And you tell him as such, too: thank you for trusting me with this, you’ll whisper as your hands cup his cheeks. And oh. You’re not pulling away. Not sneering in that disgusted way or taking a step back in fear.

Something feels so oddly human about the way you look at him. Something that makes him feel almost like a kid again. Fragile and at your mercy as he depends on you to love him.

Because that’s what every kid needs. Someone to love them.

You didn’t deserve that, you’ll whisper again. And you’re right. He didn’t. It’s just that no one really took the time to see it that way. It’s always either been people rationalizing that he didn’t have a choice or condemning him for the extreme route he took.

But no one ever took the time to think about him. What he deserved—more importantly, what he didn’t deserve.

So when he leans his head into your shoulder and grabs at your waist tightly, feeling oddly raw and open and vulnerable—he thinks this must be what it feels like to be protected. When there’s a steady, warm embrace waiting for you no matter what you come home with, be it dirt on your cheeks or blood on your hands.

Still love me? He’ll ask cheekily. He pretends the tremor in his voice isn’t obvious.

How could I ever stop? You tease back—but it’s gentle. Soft. Coaxes a watery chuckle out of him. It almost didn’t matter that he’s never really truly been loved.

You’ll make up for all those years and then some.

[dyketennant]

oh i can already tell i’m about to have some really unpopular opinions about the edge of sleep tv show

[sanitizedsubject]

Thank GOD this blog is over.

I knew, vaguely, someday, that this would probably happen. I used Gmod partly as a creative move— I felt like it created an uncanny level of detachment and distance from the world, which I felt represented sanitization and our POV character perfectly… and also because I couldn’t draw. I can draw now. That’s slightly less important and majorly less insightful artistic vision stuff.

There are rumors that the takedown notice is false. If it is, I don’t see the Gmod team going back on their choice anyway. It’s 20 years of work they have to go through and then 20 years of work to undo it for something that may come back and be real.

Now I highly doubt this means Pistachio’s little corner of tumblr is doomed, but I’m now going to go through the process of archiving this blog. Obviously if the comic is somehow taken down, I won’t be able to put it up anywhere else, but you can rest assured it’ll be safe on my hard drive.

Thank you for following Pistachio’s journey.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

watched the last several minutes of go2 out of curiousity (i’ll get around to watching the whole thing eventually but i gotta rewatch s1 first) and i gotta say i love how learning things abt gomens via distant osmosis tells you almost nothing abt the story bc the fandom rarely talks abt anything other than crowley and aziraphale. to the degree that when i watched s1 i was legitimately surprised that there were other major characters

anyway spoilers for something that i haven’t seen anyone talk abt yet that happens in the last like two seconds of the show:

THE SECOND COMING????? THE SECOND COMING OF JESUS CHRIST????????? HELLO?????????????? I GET THAT EVERYONE’S LOSING THEIR MINDS OVER GAY HEARTBREAK BUT WHY HAVE I NOT SEEN ANYONE SAYING SHIT ABOUT THE UHHHHHH SECOND COMING OF JESUS????????

[gnappart]

I recently read “The song of Achilles” and I had Feelings ™ I need to express. The more I went on reading the more I wished to not have studied the story of Achilles because Pain™ and I mean, it wasn’t even their end that got me crying, but THE LAST CHAPTER.

So, if you haven’t read the story of this beautiful boys, Miller did an outstanding job narrating it. What are you waiting for? Drop everything and go read it now!

[peapod20001]

Haha don’t pay me any mind oho

[goldendot3x]

I think I’ve deceived myself into having a crush on someone

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[misswynters]

getting into an slight argument with ekko while heavily pregnant

featuring. ekko x pregnant! reader

use of she/her

a/n. you cannot tell me that ekko wouldn’t be the most protective person in the world for you if you were expecting

Warm lamplight filled the room as you settled into a worn armchair in Ekko’s little hideout in the Undercity. You absentmindedly rested a hand on your swollen belly, your fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your tunic.

Ekko paced in front of you, his bat slung over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with frustration. “You should’ve waited for me,” he muttered, glancing back at you.

“I just went to get some fresh air,” you replied gently, trying to keep the calm in your tone. “It’s not like I went running through Zaun or something.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you fully. His eyes softened for a moment before worry took over again. “You’re almost due, Firefly.”

“You worry too much,” you cut him off with a small smile, though your own patience was wearing thin. “I am perfectly fine by myself, Ekko. You know that.”

“I know,” he said quickly, running a hand over his hair. “I know you’re strong and could perfectly handle anything. But—”

“But what?” you asked, your voice sharpening just a little. The tension of carrying a whole human being inside you, and the constant fussing that came with it, was starting to run your patience thin. “You’re treating me like I’m fragile glass, plus the baby’s fine.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging as he dropped his bat to the ground. “I’m just worry, okay?” His voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. “I can’t help it.”

Your heart softened at his words, the frustration melting away. But before you could say anything, he stepped closer, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands reaching for yours. “I didn’t mean to come off like that. I just…” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his head hanging for a moment. “I love you so much, and i’m really terrified of losing you both.”

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He looked up at you then, his wide brown eyes filled with guilt and love all at once. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have gotten worked up. You know what you’re doing, Firefly. I know that.”

Without waiting for a response, he leaned forward and started pressing soft kisses to your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured between pecks, each kiss trailing higher up your arm. “Sorry for being overbearing. Sorry for stressing you out.” His lips moved to your shoulder, then your cheek. “Sorry for being a total fool.”

A small laugh escaped you, despite yourself. “Ok y’know—”

But he wasn’t done. His hands cradled your face as he peppered kisses across your forehead, your temples, your nose. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he whispered with every press of his lips, his smile growing as your laughter did.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you giggled, swatting at him playfully.

He grinned, his eyes finally lighting up again as he rested his forehead against yours. “You forgive me?”

“Of course i do,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek.

His hand dropped to your belly, his touch gentle as his fingers splayed across the curve. “And you,” he said, directing his voice toward your stomach, “you’ve got the coolest mom in the entire world. But don’t pick up her stubbornness, okay?”

You gasped in mock offense, swatting him again. “Hey!”

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you, properly this time. It was soft and sweet, lingering just long enough to remind you of all the love he carried for you. When he pulled back, his face was glowing with affection.

“I’ll do better,” he promised, his voice firm. “No more hovering. Well… maybe a little hovering. But I’ll chill out. For you.”

You smiled, cupping his cheek. “You don’t have to change. I love you just the way you are—even when you’re being overprotective.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment before peeking back at you. “I love you more than anything else. Both of you.”

As he moved to kiss your belly, your baby gave a small kick against his palm. His face lit up, and he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Did you feel that?”

You nodded, laughing. “They’re saying hi to you.”

Ekko beamed, pressing another kiss to your belly. “Hey, little one. I can’t wait to meet you. But try not to stress your mom out too much before then, okay?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through your chest. As Ekko leaned back into you, resting his head on your lap, you combed your fingers through his hair, both of you settling into the quiet comfort of the moment.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

banner @anitalenia

[steddieprompts]

Another cutesy little steddie thing. all fluff. Post vecna. 1648 words.

---

It’s not that Eddie was a wuss…

Ok maybe he was, but still this was a terrifying prospect… asking Steve Harrington out.

It didn’t help that he was getting advice from a 15 year old.

“Do you think he likes you back?”  Dustin asked, tapping a pencil against his chin.

“I don’t know, Henderson,” Eddie ran his hands over his face.  What was he doing?  “You’re supposed to be helping me figure that out.”

Dustin tapped his chin again and looked at the ceiling.

In all honesty, Eddie would usually talk to Jeff about this stuff, but he had to be visiting his family in Ohio because of stupid Thanksgiving.

“Well, you guys hang out a lot, that’s gotta count for something.”  Dustin pointed out.

“You hang out a lot with Sinclair and Wheeler.  You wanna make out with them?”  Dustin pulled a face.  “That’s what I thought.”

“I am happily in a relationship, thanks.”  Dustin pointed out.

He always had a reason to point it out.

“I know, and I would like to be as well, so if we could get back to the discussion at hand…”

“Ok, ok… Well, Steve hasn’t really been dating recently… right?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Maybe that means something?”

“I don’t know… He says he just hasn’t met the right person yet…”

“Well… he used ‘person,’ not ‘girl!’  That’s a good sign!”  Dustin pointed his pencil at Eddie.

“Sure, but you’re missing a key point in that statement.”  Eddie sighed.  Dustin squinted at him.  “He’s met me, Dustin.”

Dustin’s eyebrows shot up.  “Fair point.”

Eddie dropped his face into his hands.  Dustin started up again.

“Your idea that Steve might like you is a hypothesis and science dictates that the only way to conclude if a hypothesis is correct is to prove it.  To run experiments.”

Eddie let out a belabored sigh.

“So, test it,” Dustin continued. “Ask Steve out.”

Eddie stared at Dustin, knowing he was right in his own little, nerd way.

“Yeah… Ok, alright, yeah, I’ll do it.”

\\\\\\\

The next day was movie night at Steve’s with the whole crew.  The kids, Nancy, and Robin were all in the living room putting out snacks and arguing about where they would sit.  Eddie figured now was as good a time as any.  He crossed over to the kitchen, meandering over to Steve who was waiting for the popcorn in the microwave.

“Hey.”  Eddie offered once he was a few feet away.  Nailed it.

“Hey,”  Steve looked over at him, “how’s physical therapy going?  I’ve been meaning to call you, see if you needed any help.”  Steve responded with a soft smile at Eddie, the kind that made all the nervous energy in him disappear.  The microwave beeped and Steve pulled the popcorn out, hissing when he grabbed the hot part of the bag before dropping it in one of the big plastic bowls he had waiting.

Eddie grabbed another bag out of the box, unfolded it and handed it to Steve.

“Uh, good, good, I guess.  I never really know if I’m doing the exercises right.  The paper instructions are shit.”

Steve laughed at that, “Yeah, I’ve been there.  I could come over some time, help you figure them out?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.  That would be great… actually.”  Eddie swallowed.  “But, uh, before that happens, I, uh, I have to ask you something.”  Eddie stumbled over the words before looking over his shoulder, making sure no one else would be witness to him getting shot down by Steve Harrington, even if he was in a house full of friends.

“Yeah?”  Steve turned toward Eddie, leaned his hip against the counter, the picture of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Eddie cleared his throat, “Would you, uh, ever consider, maybe… shit. Start over.”  Eddie clamped his jaw in a grimace before starting again.  He couldn’t look at Steve yet.  If he saw any bit of apprehension or negative emotion, he would never actually get the full question out.  “Would you like to go out… on a date… with me?”

Eddie finally looked at Steve instead of the cabinet behind his head.  His initial look gave him nothing.  Steve looked the same, if not a little more still, a little more focused.  But he wasn’t saying anything.  The nervous energy was back with a vengeance and Eddie was starting to feel twitchy the longer Steve stared at him.

And then Lucas walked into the kitchen.

“Is this one ready?”  he asked, pulling the bowl with the popcorn bag in it across the counter.  The microwave behind Steve beeped.  He was still staring at Eddie.  Eddie was still staring at Steve.

“Uh-huh.”  Steve answered.

“Should I get that one out?”  Lucas asked.

“I’ll get it in a second,” Steve said, his eyes now roaming over Eddie’s face.

“I don’t mind.”  Lucas offered.

“Dude.”  Steve’s eyes finally left Eddie and he felt himself deflate a little bit, muscles twinging from where he had been clenching them.  “I’ll get it. Can you give us a minute?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah? Sure?”  Lucas replied, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading back towards the living room.

Steve’s eyes flicked back to Eddie and he felt suddenly compelled to talk.  Like a tidal wave, his insecurities drowned him.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have sprung this on you.  I’m not your type, I know. I—”

“Yes.”

“Don’t even know if…”  Eddie stopped to process what Steve said.  “Yes? Yes, I’m not your type or yes you… you want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go out with you.”

Eddie finally looked at Steve, really took him in instead of concentrating on not collapsing in on himself.  Steve looked almost… shy?  Nervous?  There was the slightest blush on his neck, the smallest, guarded smile.  He, Eddie now noticed, had been white knuckling his own arm ever since Eddie asked.

Interesting.

Eddie relaxed a little.  “Yeah?”

Steve’s smile grew bigger as he nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.  He did it.  He asked Steve out. And Steve said yes!  What’s more, Steve looked caught off guard in the best way possible.  “Oh, just you wait, Harrington.  I’m gonna wine and dine you like you’ve never been wined and dined before.” Eddie grinned.

“The popcorn’s getting cold! What’s taking you guys so long!”  Dustin yelled from the living room.

Steve turned to the microwave to get the popcorn and Eddie reveled in Steve’s smile.  The way it looked like he was restraining it, the way Steve looked lighter than he had in weeks.

They walked back to the living room together, and Eddie kicked Mike off the couch so he could sit next to Steve. Halfway through the movie, Steve slipped his hand into Eddie’s.  On impulse, he pulled Steve’s hand up to kiss the back of it, before shifting closer and leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.  When he felt the press of Steve’s head on top of his he thought maybe he was dead.  Maybe the bats had finished him off and he was in heaven.

He would have to thank Dustin for pushing him to ask Steve.  He would never hear the end of it.

When the movie ended and everyone was leaving, Eddie hung around the living room so he would be the last to go.  He refolded the blankets, rewound the tape and put it back in its box, and picked up the popcorn bowls and candy wrappers.  He was in the kitchen throwing things out, thinking maybe he had enough time to run to the bathroom, when Steve reappeared.

“Everyone head out?”  Eddie asked as Steve approached him.

“Mhmm.”  He replied before stepping around the kitchen island and stopping in front of Eddie. “Coast is clear.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie grinned, stepping closer.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed before leaning in, pressing his lips to Eddie’s.

Eddie had kissed quite a few people before, boys and girls alike, but this kiss with Steve.  It was different.  It filled him up, distracted him from everything else so that when his back hit the counter it almost startled him.

“Sorry.”  Steve hummed, pulling away.

“Don’t be.”  Eddie managed to get out before pulling Steve back in.  He was definitely in heaven.  Except in heaven, he wouldn’t be almost peeing his pants.  Curse that whole bottle of coke.

Eddie pulled back with a soft, ‘shit.’

“You okay?”  Steve asked.

“Yeah, fantastic, great. Except I think I’m about to pee my pants. Don’t go anywhere, Big Boy.”  Eddie said before practically running to the bathroom, Steve’s surprised laughter following him down the hall.

When he got back, Steve was washing the popcorn bowls and pizza plates from earlier in the night, sweater pushed up to his elbows, the locks of hair hanging in his eyes swinging with his movements.  Eddie stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

“No one has ever asked me out.”  Steve said after a few seconds.

“What?”  Eddie let go in surprise, moving next to Steve so he could see his face.  “Seriously?”

Steve nodded.

“The way girls talked about you I would have thought they would be lining up.”  Eddie mused.

“No. I’m the guy, you know?  I mean they definitely dropped hints, but none of them asked me.”

Eddie reveled in that for a second.  He was the first person to ask Steve Harrington out.

“So, how does it feel being on the receiving end?”  Eddie asked, nudging Steve.

“So good.”  Steve smiled at him, the sincerity of his words bleeding out of him so much that Eddie had to dart forward and peck him on the cheek.

“Where do you want to go?”  Eddie asked.

“You said you were gonna wine and dine me,” Steve replied, “I trust you.”

Those words sent a bolt of pure reassurance through Eddie.  “Oh, Steve Harrington,” he half sing-songed, half chuckled, “I’m gonna date you so hard.”

[remxedmoon]

i hit 1k followers recently!!!! yipee!!!!!!! thank you all!!! so in celebration here’s all of my completed isat doodle pages, from oldest to newest. go nuts with them!! and maybe don’t look at the first doodle page too closely. it’s Old.

(no greyscale version below for once! just some mushy ramblings. you don’t have to read them don’t worry)

hhhhhha?? so many people. where did you come from. how did you all find me.

ok but seriously, thank you all so much for all the support. i never really. expected to make it this far? like, ever?? i’ve mentioned it a few times on here, but i’ve been a lurker for the past… 2 years, i think? and even before that, i never gained much traction outside of a couple posts. so this has been. very new to me!! in a nice way!! it’s weird to feel like an actual member of a community!! that people know about!

the idea of finally coming back to social media was Daunting (i literally got stress hives writing my first post lol) and the warm reception really. meant a lot?? i don’t think i would’ve ever gotten the courage to come back if i hadn’t been encouraged to by the people over at the isat discord!!

the fact that people actually care about my art still doesn’t feel real?? seeing people take inspiration from my art is just. surreal. just. auagssh. thank you all so so much for everything, i really do appreciate it!!! i’m really glad to be in this community. sorry if this all sounds sappy and long winded i’ve just got a lot of emotions about this whole thing!!

(also as a bonus for reading all this or whatever. here’s a concept page for isatscryption! it felt a little out of place next to my normal canvases so i’m putting it down here! yipee! sorry my notes here are so disjointed auauau…)

[crushpunky]

drew and costar!reader take the glamour friendship test

masterlist

based on this ask :)

Y/n and Drew walked out onto the bright, white set, their outfits coordinating shades of purple as they prepared for another interview ahead of the release of their film, “Be My Mistake”.

Exercise 1: First Impressions

“Scary… very scary.” Y/n said, looking over at Drew to gauge his reaction. He furrowed his brow, looking between her and the camera before they both descended into giggles. Y/n leaned into Drew as she laughed, Drew catching her and pushing her back up.

“We were told we needed to take this seriously and this is the [bleep] you pull.” Drew chuckled, shaking his head, a grin on his face.

“Ok, ok, seriously,” y/n said, “I was a bit intimidated, but that was mainly because he was so business-y and… I mean Drew’s a pretty big and tall guy so there’s that. But once we got to talking, and he really got out of his shell, I was amazed by how intelligent and funny he was.”

“‘Intelligent and funny’. Wow.” Drew teased, elbowing y/n lightly. “Well, I knew of you before we met and was impressed with your talent and beauty on screen. However, once we met, I was thrilled to find a wonderful personality that accompanied all that.”

“We quickly found out that we’re just about the same person, so that was a pleasant surprise.” Y/n nodded, wrapping an arm around Drew and squeezing his arm lightly.

Exercise 2: Give Your Friend a Compliment

“I feel like we already did that,” Drew laughed, “but I can definitely find a couple more things to say.”

“I mean I guess I already said this, but Drew is really such an intelligent person,” Y/n gazed at Drew, “like not just book smart, but relationship, emotional smart. He’s very much in touch with all of that and is a very good gauge-r for people’s feelings.”

“Y/n is actually the funniest person I know and that’s not me being dramatic.” Drew grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much with anyone else… definitely not to the point of nearly getting kicked out of a restaurant.”

Y/n laughed at the memory. The two of them had gone out for a nice dinner following wrapping on “Be My Mistake”, dressing up and sharing a couple drinks. However, their usual banter resulted in them laughing quite loudly for the duration of the meal. Shortly after their main courses had arrived, a waiter had come over telling them about how some guests were complaining about the two of them being disruptive, which only made them laugh louder. By some grace of god, however, they didn’t get asked to leave.

“It’s not my fault I’m hilarious.” Y/n said with a simple shrug, causing Drew to laugh.

Exercise 3: Fishbowl of Memories

“Oooh.” Drew said as y/n took the large fishbowl from one of the PAs. Inside, various scraps of paper filled the bowl, each with a question.

“I’ll let you have the honor of going first.” Y/n smiled, offering the bowl out to Drew. He dug inside, grabbing a slip of paper as y/n sat the bowl down on the table in front of them.

“What was the funniest blooper in this film?” Drew read before glancing over at y/n, a smirk on his face. Y/n gave him the same look back, the two of them thinking of the same moment.

“There was an… unfortunate incident in which I accidentally pantsed Drew.” Y/n said, trying her best to stifle her laughter. Drew nodded his head, a warm pink spreading across his cheeks.

“You might be thinking, how do you accidentally pants someone?” Drew teased, y/n folding her hands on the table in front of her dramatically.

“We were filming a scene where our characters were arguing and Drew turned to walk away, and I went to follow after him,” y/n explained. “However, I tripped over a rug and fell. I tried to catch myself on Drew, I was sort of grabbing at him, but only ended up getting his pants before I fell… the pants coming with unfortunately.”

“I really hope that that’s not on the blooper real.” Drew shook his head, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

“Oh, I’m sure the ladies would love to see Starkey in his tighty-whities. A real treat.” Y/n teased. Drew cringed, shoving at y/n’s shoulder before gesturing for her to pick a piece of paper from the bowl.

“What is your favorite memory with each other?” Y/n read, looking over at Drew as the two of them thought. They stared at each other in silence, both of their brows furrowing as they shuffled through an abundance of memories.

“I think I have mine.” Drew said, snapping his fingers before turning towards the camera.

“Ok, ok. Me too. Let’s see if we agree.” Y/n nodded, still facing Drew as she waited for him to speak.

“Mine is when we went to get tattoos and y/n passed out and I had to carry her out to the car because she was being so dramatic.” Drew laughed, his laughter growing even louder as y/n’s jaw dropped. She hit his arm lightly, groaning at the memory. 

“I wasn’t being dramatic I— ok, maybe I was but I was probably still hungover from the night before.” Y/n chuckled.

“Your turn.” Drew said, leaning to rest his elbows on the table and his chin in his palms in faux overinterest.

“My favorite memory is when we sang Wicked at some karaoke bar and it was so bad that people started booing us.” Y/n laughed. They had gone out with the rest of the cast to a karaoke bar down the street from where they had been shooting. Later in the night, after a couple of drinks, Drew and y/n decided it would be a good idea to sing “Defying Gravity”. Neither of them being singers, nor anywhere talented enough for the numerous high notes, the regular patrons of the bar began booing and cringing at their attempt at the notoriously difficult to sing song.

“‘Please for the love of god stop’.” Drew recited one of the patrons’ comments, causing y/n to throw her head back laughing.

“Wow, jeez. That was a deep cut.” Y/n straightened herself back up, smoothing out the  front of her dress. Drew threw an arm over her shoulders, bringing her to his side.

“I think we passed. I think we’re friends, right?” Drew shook y/n playfully, who just let out a sarcastic groan.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Y/n gave in, wrapping her arm around Drew’s torso and hugging him lightly.

“Thank you for watching!” Drew said with a wave, y/n joining in and waving excitedly. The two of them jumped up and down, their waves growing more intense, until they both fell into each other and collapsed into laughter that continued even after the cameras cut.

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”