#I write stream of consciousness don’t @ me

[jess-tops-lupe]

I think I might start putting some of my random journal entries here. I’ve been feeling very alone recently and maybe this will help someone that’s feeling the same. This is literally just stream of consciousness writing, not edited.

12/19 5:38 AM

I’ve always been independent. Even has a little girl. I had to be. I wouldn’t be who I am. I was in charge of a lot. Myself, my brother, dad, what was going on in our lives. I grew up fast.i was already there. I’ve always been alone. And I’ve always felt alone. Loneliness is the one thing I can’t shake. I’ve pushed down my feelings my whole life. My brain was trying to protect me from the crushing weight of everything. I felt so much already. All the time. But if I let myself feel all of it I wouldn’t have made it this far. But here I am. Independent, but still alone. Independent but at what cost. I don’t need anyone for anything. But what if I want someone. I want someone to love me and to be there and to help me even if I don’t know how to ask for it. I don’t. That’s never been an option. I’ve always had to figure it out myself. How will I be in a relationship. How will I ask someone for help. I don’t know how to. But I want someone. I want so badly not to be alone anymore. But it’s too late to say that.

[thirdeyeblue]

“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”

I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.

Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨

When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.

While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.

In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):

He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.

Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.

He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.

And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.

Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.

(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)

Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…

His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.

It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:

He is still in love with Rose.

(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)

Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.

But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.

Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.

I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.

So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.

But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”

-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!

Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!

Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.

The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.

But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.

[stardust-kitten]

i can’t believe i turn 29 today lol

[mari-reads]

I’ve been kinda curious on asexuality being an online kid since like 2014. I think I even said to a friend once, “I might be asexual but idk” as far back as freshman year of high school. I never had many crushes, never cared to persue anyone, only experimented in college when guys persued me, only one was sex I really enjoyed, and since lockdown have been willfully disengaged. Recently I’ve been REALLY frustrated with friends across the sexual spectrum continuing to question my own experiences of disinterest in dating and sex, prescribing me with “ girl you need some dick”, “get on the apps”, “ put yourself out there it’s good for you”, etc. etc. For the straight women in my life I understood it, they’re lost in fucking the sauce reallll bad with centering men. But I’m so disappointed with some of the queer folks who I’ve always found community in not reciprocating an understanding of a non normative experience. Now at 25 and reading this book has been such an eye opening experience.

If you question asexuality but are frustrated with the white-centric experience this book is amazing. As a Latina the dichotomy of stereotypes and pressure between hypersexuaity or marianismo is such a frustrating thing to go through. Your body and conscious is policed all your life to “prevent” you from being one of those women until your time to be a dutiful childbearer comes and everyone is like, “You good??”. There’s not space for anything else. The book references it but I’ve seen how being in spaces where allosexuality, whiteness and the Race To Innocence can and does gatekeep and push people away from their questioning and curiosity. After the first couple of chapters it was so clear, I was like duh… I’m on the ace spectrum :) in a romanticized way I think I’ve always envisioned myself and the enigma auntie who thrives in her selfhood, takes care of her community, adventures in life, and maybe take on the infrequent lover IF the need arises 🤭

(A bit of a spoiler but the section of Octavia Butler made me tear up I loved it so much, I don’t think I’ve seen such a kindred spirit to my experience 🥹)

[loz-the-noob]

Marie on the brain. Diagnosis: terminal

[miraclewoozi]

i don’t think i’ve ever felt this deranged in my entire life

can't get you out of my head

member | fwb!vernon x f reader genre | smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count | 2.4k synopsis | so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging warnings | vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes | june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honestly, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

> taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @98-0603 @fairybinie @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @ifuckcheol @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha @ronnie97b @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @hyneyedfiz @honestlydooetree @oscarcantread @ktackore @k-drama-adict

> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings and make sure they are off so i can tag you properly!

> if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

[gothsuguru]

working on my pinned/masterlist/etc omfg i can’t wait until all that is done and that shit can get out of my drafts

[trashbatistrash]

,

[supercutszns]

sweet on you | jason grace

wc + pairing: 1k, jason grace x f!reader

notes: short-ish jason blurb while i chalk up some of my beefier fics (& my 1k celebration thank u again)<3 this is my first time publishing for him so hopefully this isn't too ooc! i need to let myself write shorter stream of consciousness things,, all fluff, just jason taking your makeup off after a party <33 also its set at chb because i said so

Whenever Jason washes off your makeup, he acts like it's his sworn duty.

You’re a little hazy as he wets a cloth in the sink, repositioning himself between your legs that hang limply off the bathroom counter. You keep scanning his face for any trace of weariness or urgency. After a long day of camp duties, the last thing you think he’d want was to clean up his drunken girlfriend after a secret party. But he’s as kind and patient as ever, and you don’t know if it’s your heart or the alcohol talking, but you are deliriously in love with him right now. He’s a leader—a brave, powerful demigod—but he’s only that good because he’s gentle. That's what you see, anyway. Everyone loves him for a reason, but you're still sure you love him most.

You got drunk. You got anxious. But it’s more than worth it if Jason takes care of you after. Even under these fluorescent bathroom lights, he’s beautiful.

“Why thank you,” he says, a bemused smile on his face.

You blink. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Sure did.”

The scar on the corner of his lip lifts as he kisses your cheek. You hum pleasantly, and you feel the ghost of his laugh before he pulls away. “Close your eyes for me?”

You oblige. In seconds, you’re greeted with the warm press of a towel on your face. Jason keeps you in place with his hand cupping your chin. “Let me know if I poke your eyes, okay?”

“If you do I’ll just bite your finger.”

“Awesome.” He works on sweeping the cloth over your skin to drag off all that makeup. You wait patiently, happily, indulging in the occasional idle chatter and the steady brush of Jason’s thumb underneath your chin. Every pass of his fingers against your face lulls you further into your haze. He’s warm, methodical, sweet. He switches the cloth to a different side and drags up your cheekbones. Your brain is mush with alcohol and appreciation.

“‘M sorry I got carried away, Jace,” you mumble, head swaying involuntarily. “Didn’t need to come get me like this.”

His soft laugh swims in your ears, and he lowers himself a bit to see you better. “Trust me, I wasn’t doing much. The only notable thing this evening was crossing the hundred-page threshold in my book.”

“Is it good?” You slur, toying with his dog-tag necklace you’d gotten him for his birthday.

He tilts his head, “Eh. Alright. I still like taking care of you more, though.”

You must be beaming stupidly wide, because Jason shakes his head with a smile, and he wraps his arms around you to kiss your jaw. “Besides, you’re sweet on me when you’re drunk.”

The feel of his lips would have shut you up in any normal circumstance, but your idiotic thoughts only heighten. “Sweet on you?”

“Mmhm.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Yes! They … people say it.”

His cheeks flush red in that insanely adorable way, and he presses his face back into your neck. “They said it in my book,” he mumbles, and you laugh so hard he has to shush you.

He goes through the rest of your rather particular skincare routine as per your instructions. He’s seen you do it a thousand times, but you repeat the order anyways just to be sure—although it’s likely you’re jumbling up your words and taking too many pauses for any of it to come out coherent. He takes his time, focused intently on the planes and ridges of your skin. If you were any more sober you’d probably be self-conscious, but sometimes his thumb runs across your cheek with a tenderness that has nothing to do with your serums.

Once all’s said and done, your skin refreshed, you’re practically snoozing on the counter. “Sweetheart,” Jason hums, winding arms around you once more, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Only if it’s with you,” you yawn, cheek smushing into his chest.

“Well, that’s a given.”

He’s smiling again as he runs his hands down to your thighs, so you can loop your legs around his hips. “Hold on, okay?”

You oblige, relishing in the curl of his biceps against your sides as he hoists you off the counter. Usually you’d be hesitant to let him carry you around with you clinging to him like this, but your capacity for embarrassment had vanished about two drinks ago. You hear him chuckling into your hair as the breeze tickles your face, although it's far less severe in his arms.

Camp’s practically deserted this time of night so Jason has no problem getting you into his cabin. He puts you down on his lonely bed in a sea of marble, lit with nothing but the warmth of his reading lamp. “Thank you, baby,” you murmur as he helps you out of your clothes and gives you a shirt of his own. The way he smells reminds you of morning mist as he ties your hair back.

Soon you’re in your favourite place in the world: drowned in blankets on a cool summer night in Jason’s bed. You’re nestled snug against his chest, letting the fog in your mind settle as he traces shapes on your back beneath your shirt. Transfixed by the ebb and flow of his breath, you can’t help but press your lips to his collarbone, lazy chapstick kisses spooling onto his skin.

“Y’re right,” you mumble, “I am sweet on you.”

Jason laughs quietly, setting down his book. He taps on your chin to draw you out of his chest, leading you to his mouth. You’re giggling and falling into him before you even kiss. He tastes like sweet mint as he cages you against him with his arms, nothing but gentle. “Love you,” you whisper with a plucky smile.

He kisses your forehead, “I love you.” He disposes of his glasses and turns off his lamp, sinking the both of you down onto the mattress. “Get some sleep, angel.”

You must be a lot better at following instructions than you thought, because you smother yourself in his warmth and you’re sure you’ve never slept better.

[bettysupremacy]

can u do something w james potter? a transfer student from america comes to hogwarts and he’s all love at first sight😭❤️do anything u want w it :)

Short n sweet but a good way to get back into writing<3

Your new friends are splayed in the room in front of you. Sirius is sprawled over Remus on the couch, watching him, very lackluster, doing his homework. Mary and Lily are squished into an armchair across from you and James, tangled limbs and giggles as Marlene lay on the rug in front of the fire with Dorcus, tired after supper feast.

The Scottish highlands were a drastic difference from the America you knew. The shops, the people, the boys. Everything seemed so hard to squeeze into. Your accent pushed you away from the people, and your culture pushed you away from fitting in. But they helped. The silly band of tired teens in front of you never once let you stand outside the circle of friendship they’d had formed years before your arrival.

“I could take you to hogsmeade? You know, to look around.” James looks up at you from where he leans against your arm. You sit higher than him, leg draped across his own. It makes his skin tingle.

He’s been a nonstop stream of words ever since supper, only pausing to stuff dining hall food into his mouth. He swears he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he graduates, the dining haul being a necessary location in his schoolboy life.

He adds factually. “You know they actually have-“

“James,” Sirius snaps, a rubber band stretched too far. “Please.”

“What?”

Sirius only sighs. He doesn’t mean to be cruel to his closest friend.

James’ eyes flit around the room self consciously. All of his friends stare. Very unimpressed.

“What?” He repeats again, a little more desperate, a little more whiny.

“James,” Remus says gently. “Let her breathe.”

James looks to you suddenly, flames coloring his cheeks in the hue of orange light flickering off the grand fire.

It’s apparent James is embarrassed. His silence works its way into the cracks between Mary and Lily, the lulls in conversation between Remus and Sirius, until it becomes too much to handle. Sirius feels bad, he really does, but the way Remus shakes his head disappointedly fills him with something stubborn.

The vibe of the room is ruined subsequently. The boys go up to the dorm, Mary and Lily slip into their own room, shared kisses following, and you find the tangle of girls In front of the fire asleep, Marls arm tugging Dorcas closer.

“It’s okay,” you rush once everyone’s gone. “Hogsmeade sounds fun.”

“Are you sure?” James is insecure, quiet now, away from his friends ears.

You nod adamantly. “We didn’t have anything fun at Ilvermorny.”

He’s out of it now, heated in the face and embarrassed. He doesn’t mean to turn himself away from you, but his friends gnaw at him. They were well-meaning, but that doesn’t stop the green rumble of insecurity coursing through his body. He feels it so intensely he fears he may need to slip upstairs and go to sleep.

“Hey,” You murmur quietly searching for his eyes. When he gives them to you, you look up at the flushed boy through your eyebrows. “Just you and me?”

He stutters for the first time since he met you. “Yeah- uh, yeah, just me and you, sounds cool.”

You nod, leaning over to kiss the side of his mouth sweetly. He reels.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” You whisper, slipping out of the armchair.

“I’m not.” He insists.

You smile, squeezing his arm. “I know.”

He watches you walk up to your dormitory, a hunger in his eyes and a part in his lips.

“We’re not asleep.” Marlene grins. Dorcas snores and Marls opens her eyes. “Well, maybe she is.”

James flinches harshly. “Oh, fuck off.”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

hey i love your work so much!! i was wondering if you could do something where hotch gets lingerie for the reader. and the reader is like mmm no maybe not.. but hotch is like please just try it on to see if you like it?

reader is like ok, so they put it on and they are stilly kinda hesitant but when hotch sees them he is like star struck and… ya know shows them how pretty they are!! and he just praises the reader, maybe they do it in front of a mirror 🫣🫣

i think it would be cute, but you don’t have to write it if you don’t want, sorry if this is all over the place it was just a stream of consciousness!!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐟����𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: to aaron, buying you lingerie was an act of love, to you, it was something new.

— warnings: lingerie wearing (obviously), slight body insecurity, illusions to mirrors being used for future... unsavory acts, kissing, heavy petting, praise, heavy kissing.

— wc: 745

⋆ a/n: hello hun!! i'm so glad you like my work and sorry that this isn't as detailed as you probably would have liked. funny enough i couldn't find space to fit actual smut in there, but never fear! it is still as equally spicy and fun!

masterlist | AO3

“What the fuck is that?”

Aaron held up a piece of lingerie that looked more like pieces of string and lace were sewn together than any actual cloth.

“Lingerie, honey.” He said with a deep chuckle. “And you want me to wear… that?” You questioned in disbelief. “That would be ideal, yes.”

There was a wince on your face as you continued to stare at the dark red thing. “Yeah… no. Absolutely not.” You crossed your arms. “Sweetheart, you don't even know if you won't like it.”

“No, I know I don't like it. How about you just see me naked?”

“As tempting as that sounds, I would like it very much if you were to try it on.”

Your eyes flickered from his to the bundle of lace.

Now, it wouldn't be fair to say no, because Aaron has indulged in many of your fantasies over the years, and he barely asks for anything, as well as always focuses on your pleasure. If you said no he'd drop the conversation entirely, he was never one to pressure.

You could see it in the burning of his irises that he wanted to see you in the lingerie, and he would never steer you wrong and pick something ugly. Oh God, just thinking about him going into a place like Victoria's Secret made your cheeks heat up.

With one final glance you sighed, sticking out your hand. “Fine, but I'm doing this just because I love you and… because I want to.”

He walked up and handed you it, pulling you into his side to give you a kiss on your head. “Thank you.” You just hummed before disappearing into the bathroom.

Oh you looked like a fucking clown.

You knew this would be no good. This was not flattering at all, at least in your eyes. You cringed, tugging at the straps that dug into your arms uncomfortably. You had never felt so… unsure sexually before.

“Aaron, I look ridiculous.”

“I'm sure you look great.”

“Did this thing not come with a robe?” You couldn't help but ask, because the outfit felt like it was missing something.

“It did.”

“And where might it be?”

“With me.”

“You're such a bastard.” You mumbled to yourself.

You took a deep breath to ease your nerves.

“Alright, I'm coming out, but if you laugh at me, I'm going to kill you.”

“In what world would I laugh at you?” He was right, you were being nervous and irrational and — God, you've never done this before. Was it hot in here? Were you sweating?

Stepping out of the bathroom was one thing, but Aaron staring at you speechless was a whole other can of worms.

You shifted anxiously in your spot as he approached you, his large hand cupping your cheek. His calloused thumb rubbed the hot skin of it softly.

“You look breathtaking.” His voice was strained. The other hand that wasn't cradling your face landed on your naked hip. He squeezed the fat of it, a light shiver shooting up his back at the feeling of the fat spilling through his fingers.

Your body thrums with excitement, your last hesitation slowly melting off of you.

“You think so?” You ask shyly. “I know so.” Aaron confirms with that warm, comforting voice of his. He connects your lips together and a light, surprised gasp exits your mouth. Your hands shoot-out to hold his strong biceps.

His lips molded themselves firmly onto yours, tongue exploring your mouth with desperate fervor. It was like he was trying to consume you, and a new type of fire burned in his veins. It was a rabid kind of need that threatened every part of him that was a gentleman.

You pushed away from him to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your eyes fall on the mirror hanging on the well next to where you guys are standing and you groan.

“Ugh, Aaron…” You whine in embarrassment, burying your head into his hard chest. “Don’t be ashamed of yourself, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.” You groan in embarrassment. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”

“Because I mean it. I love all of you.”

“You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you, Hotchner?”

“As much as I like sweet talking you, I like having you in my bed more.” He locked your lips again, nosy hands massaging and gripping at the chub exposed by the two-piece.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[writingwithfolklore]

Making the Most out of your First Draft

As someone who used to write every first draft without planning and then use that to figure out characters and outlines, I have a lot of experience in first drafts that are incredibly helpful to forming an actual story, and drafts that don’t add much.

              So here’s how to make the most out of your first draft:

1. Write what doesn’t make sense

One of the most helpful first drafts I ever wrote abandoned plotlines and started new ones as though they had existed all along like several times. It was also the longest draft I had ever written because I had packed so many ideas into it. The reason why this is helpful is because you can test out what a plot point will look like in the middle or even end of your story without having to go back to the same beginning again and again.

It doesn’t need to make sense, just try things out. Disappear characters who don’t work, add a best friend near the end that acts like they’ve been there the entire time, whatever idea you’re interested in you can try out without worrying too much about what makes sense or what you’d need in place to set it up. It's like literally stream of consciousness writing, and you're going to learn so much more about your world, plot, and characters than trying to make it make sense.

2. Write poorly

I spent a lot of that first draft having characters monologue to themselves or each other about their interests and problems and lives which allowed me to explore their backstories and voice even if that’s not something I would do in a final draft. I had the wackiest plot points to see how my characters would react, what would happen to the plot, and if I didn’t like it I would keep going like nothing had happened, I did a lot of yadda-yaddaing over worldbuilding and setting the scenes and making up things on the spot to see if they’d stick, skipping sometimes to the interesting stuff, or adding in a random scene just for fun.

It doesn’t have to be good. Even a little bit. You’re learning about your world and your characters and the story you want to tell, but you aren’t writing it yet. Allow it to be the worst thing you’ve ever written.

3. Make notes on what you like

As you go through and throw spaghetti at the wall (figuratively speaking), make notes on the things that stick. If you write a line of dialogue you really like, or a piece of backstory or even a vibe, make sure to make a note of it somewhere. This will help you narrow down your ideas to what you want to keep when you start writing your story. And if you’re like me and you want to outline or plan your subsequent drafts, these notes will be invaluable to start forming your planning.

Anything else I missed?

[sttoru]

THE MORNING AFTER

༄ sypnosis. you wake up to your husband cooking breakfast, though it’s quickly left burning when your hubby decides to give you some ‘morning affection’.

༄ note. my first ever fic on this new account :< i forgot how to write after a while of not writing so bear with me, please.

༄ tags. husband!toji x wife!reader. female reader. very suggestive/nsfw i guess but no real action?. use of nicknames such as pretty, doll.

it was a peaceful saturday morning and the sun streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across your bedroom. you instantly notice the delicious aroma of breakfast in the air once you fully regained your consciousness.

“toji?” your husband’s name is always the first thing that leaves your lips in the early mornings and the last thing you utter before you go to bed.

sometimes his voice greets you back, at other times the deafening silence does instead. you turn your head towards his side of the bed and—as expected—the space was empty.

“ugh,” a groan escapes your lips as you reluctantly stand up to find out where the smell came from. realising that you were still pretty much naked from the night before, you lazily decide to just wrap a blanket around your body.

you follow the enticing smell that lingered throughout your entire apartment which was at its strongest once you arrived at the kitchen. to your great surprise, you find your husband standing by the stove, cooking breakfast.

toji was in only his boxers which left the rest of his body exposed to your view. his back was facing you, giving you a proper look at the multiple red scratch marks on his skin.

probably from the previous night.

“god.. damn.” the words slipped out of your mouth before you even realised. how could they not, when you’ve been greeted with such a mouth-watering view in the kitchen—excluding the actual food toji’s been cooking.

a low and almost groggy chuckle escaped your husband’s throat at your choice of words this morning.

toji didn’t turn around to face you, yet you knew him well enough to guess the expression he had; a smug one. one that beamed of confidence and cockiness.

“mornin’.” the dark haired man eventually spoke, flipping the gold brown pancake on the other side before turning around to greet you.

toji’s eyes immediately wandered all over your body. even though the blanket hid most of your skin, it most definitely did accentuate your figure.

“my eyes are up here, toji.” you chuckle softly, though that cheeky comment only gained a small knowing ‘mhm,’ from your husband. toji didn’t avert his eyes once. he was shameless; that much even he can admit.

“c’mere, pretty.” toji murmurs, his voice almost a low purr as he reaches out for you.

your husband wasted absolutely no time into putting his hands on your waist. he pressed his body against yours while placing his lips on the bare skin of your shoulders.

“look at you,” toji coos as his calloused hands rub up and down your sides ever so gently, “you’re even more irresistible when you’re all sleepy-eyed like this.”

these types of mornings were rare since toji usually leaves early to take care of another job. not that you were complaining about this— it was better than to wake up in an empty home where your only company was yourself.

“oh stop it, honey. i always look awful in the morning.”

that got you a gentle flick against your forehead. “tsk tsk, don’t ya say that about my favourite girl.” toji scolds you playfully while leaving soft kisses all over your shoulder.

toji could never get enough of this and he never wants to. your smell, your presence, your warmth, your body— you were made to be held like this. to be held and loved by him.

his emerald green eyes look down at the top of your head. even without seeing your face (since you never miss upon the opportunity of burying it against his chest whenever you hug), toji could tell that you were smiling.

“look at me, doll.” toji’s voice was hushed as he spoke.

you did as told and lifted your head up, looking up into toji’s eyes. his hand immediately found its way onto your cheek and his thumb gently rubbed over the skin.

“good girl.”

toji leaned in to press a deep kiss on your parted lips. it was a quick yet firm one— one that left you craving for more. your husband has always had that effect on you.

the two of you slightly pull back, however you were still close enough to feel your lips brush against one another with each small movement.

“c’mon. give me one more.” toji mutters under his breath. you hadn’t even had the chance to react to that request before you felt his lips crash against yours again.

his hands slowly moved across the blanket you had wrapped around your body, trying to find any gaps in the fabric to make their way beneath it.

“mm, cold.” you mumble against toji’s lips once his hands successfully found a way underneath the blanket.

toji only smirked in response and let his rough hands explore every inch of exposed skin he could touch beneath the barrier of fabric. his fingers teased you all over; going from slightly brushing against the swell of your breasts to playing with the plump flesh of your ass.

toji didn’t touch any of your sensitive spots. after all, he loves teasing you to the point that you beg him for it with that pretty voice of yours.

you swallow your own saliva, slightly pulling back from his lips with a flustered expression on your face. “h- honey,” any further words were interrupted by a quiet “shh,” from him.

“no need for words,” toji whispers against your lips before moving them away to leave small and ticklish kisses against your neck, “just focus on me, yeah?”

you could feel his tongue glide against a small spot on your skin before toji sucked on it slightly. he could feel you shiver in his arms from the feeling and that’s exactly the reaction he needed.

before your brain could register it, your husband picked you up effortlessly and placed you on the kitchen counter. he stood between your legs and his hands moved to hold onto your bare thighs.

toji pulled back a bit just to be able to see you sit there in front of him, caged between him and the kitchen wall. the way you bit your lip ever so slightly and the way the thin blanket barely covered anything of your body anymore—

god, you knew just how to drive him absolutely wild and he loved it.

“you knew damn well this’d happen,” toji whispers in a low tone. his sultry voice sent a shiver down your spine, “walkin’ in here with only a blanket covering your body, huh?”

a deep grunt left toji’s throat once he felt your fingertips run over the scratch marks on his back that you had left the night before. it was like you were silently teasing him as well.

toji let his lips wander all over the skin of your neck before going back to kiss your soft lips once again. this time he let his tongue mingle with yours, letting your salivas mix.

this went on for quite a while before your husband finally pulled back to catch his breath. your lips were covered in his saliva, causing them to glimmer underneath the sunlight seeping into the kitchen.

the sight was one that could get any man hard and your husband was no exception. you could see it in his half-lidded eyes; the obvious lust and desire.

it was also then that you snapped back to reality. the smell of something burning filled your nostrils. you cock your head to the right and see the pancakes burning on the pan.

“ah, crap.” you curse and try to reach out for the knobs to turn the stove off.

toji’s fingers quickly wrapped around your wrist and restrained you from doing so. he guided your hand back to its place on his shoulder.

“told ya to focus on me, doll.”

you look at the burnt pancake and then back to your husband, “b-but.. the food.”

toji chuckles at your innocent remark. in his opinion, that should be the last of your worries at the moment.

“that ain’t stoppin’ me from getting my breakfast,” he replies while he squeezes the flesh of your thighs gently with both hands,

“now. spread your legs f’me.”

[revelboo]

Rambles/ clarification of my nonsense

• I just wanted to go ahead and clarify something before you guys make the connection between the TF One Megatron fic and the latest Thundercracker bit and start asking. First off, I have a fated mate series I write. I do love that trope, but I have an issue with how it’s handled sometimes so I will gently poke fun at it from time to time.

• I don’t like the insta-love eyes meeting across a room and falling hopelessly in love that some novels incorporate. I prefer love/affection to be earned over time through actions. Insta-love always comes across to me as losing a piece of yourself to another person, losing free will. Instant attraction or lust? I can work with that, tie it to a sense of belonging that keeps dragging you into that person’s gravity whether you want to be there or not. Just because it’s fated doesn’t mean it’s perfect or easy. I want the characters to clash, to fight that sense of need and maybe even resent that bond at first. Slowly building up trust and getting to know each other.

• If I write more TF One characters, I’ll probably use fated mates in that universe because I’m a gremlin and I like writing conflict. I wouldn’t mind writing that version of Starscream, B127, or Optimus Prime at some point.

• This blog started as a venting space. I needed to work on manuscripts, but I was so burnt out and my usual tactic of just swapping to a different project wasn’t working. I’d open the documents and just stare at the screen in dread. So, I wrote a silly little Starscream snippet, because I used to write fanfiction on FFN years ago under a different handle. And I missed writing silly, self indulgent nonsense that didn’t have to be perfect. The quick bullet point snippets I do are actually how I quickly get scenes down to expand later.

• I only meant to make a few characters and scenarios and then go back and start fleshing them out like a properly formatted story. Then you guys started asking questions, asking about different characters. So I just kept going, because I honestly missed writing for fun, for myself. Nothing serious, just telling a story to amuse myself. I needed an outlet for the stress and this is it.

• So, thank you guys so much. I’ll keep these going as long as folks want to read them, because I really did miss the Transformers community. There’s a sense that when you swap to professionally writing, you’re not supposed to keep doing the fanfiction stuff. You’re supposed to grow up and just write novels, nothing else. And that’s why I stopped ten years ago, but this makes me happy. I can do both and it’s not like I follow normal writing rules anyway. I’ve been told my writing can be too visceral, too much like a stream of consciousness instead of a literary work. That used to bother me, but that ship’s not only sailed, it caught on fire and sank with no survivors. Never been great at following rules anyway.

• And maybe someone else needs to hear that. You don’t have to stop what you enjoy because it’s ’unprofessional.’ Keep it separate, but keep doing it if it makes you happy. It shouldn’t be a trade off.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Write About You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Writing About Their Sex Life

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N finally get to take a class together, but maybe she didn't choose the right class to share with him.

Masterlist

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have let Rafe take an elective with her. She should’ve called it fate when they didn’t get into the same class during the fall semester, but Rafe was very determined to be in the same class as her. She honestly does love being able to spend time with him during class; it’s just that maybe a creative writing class isn’t the best for both of them. Rafe respects her boundaries during class, letting her focus on taking notes and listening to the professor, so that isn’t the problem. No, the problem is that Rafe hates creative writing as a whole. He isn’t great with words and the only topic he wants to write about is his angel. So far he is skating by with his assignments; however, he needs to do decent on his final portfolio to pass the class. Y/N makes it her mission to make sure her boyfriend passes and she is starting to regret it. For the past assignments, she didn’t have time to go over his work before he submitted it, so she was unaware of the recurring theme in all of his work. 

Rafe’s eyes bore into her as she read over his work, anxious for what she had to say. He doesn’t care about passing. If he doesn’t pass, he can always let his dad’s money pass hands to change that F into a B. Except this is a little different, Y/N wants him to do well so he wants to do well. Y/N glances over each word and heat starts to build inside of her heart. 

I don’t believe in religion, 

yet I do believe in Angels. 

Because I found mine, 

And she is absolutely divine. 

I live for her smile.

She makes my life worthwhile. 

She stole my heart

Because she is a work of art. 

His poem has no structure and isn’t long enough per the assignment requirements. It does rhyme, yet she has to admit it isn’t very good. She is sweetened up by the fact that he chose her as his subject. As she reads the rest of his pieces, she notices how she is his only subject. She finally reads the last piece and looks up at him with a soft smile. “You wrote about me,” she states, flipping through the pages. He nods, “Yeah, you are my muse, Angel. Do you like it?” “It’s really sweet, Rafe. I just don’t know how I feel knowing that you wrote about our sex life for your short story and that our professor is going to mark this,” she explains. He flashes a proud smile, “Yeah, I think I really captured your beauty in that one. I was thinking about reading that one during our last class when we can share our work. Show that guy, who sits in front of us who keeps looking back at you, just how satisfied you are with me.” Y/N’s eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head. “Rafe, please don’t read this in class. In fact, I think we need to work on some of these pieces because you can’t only write about me,” she begs, turning the stack of papers so he can read her feedback. He frowns, “Come on let me write about you, Angel.” 

“You can, but if you want to pass, you have to choose three other topics to talk about. You can choose one piece to keep about me.”

“But I only want to write about you. Plus, I can’t choose because they all have to do with you so I love them all.”

“I know. Maybe we can alter the topic so it is still about me but not as obvious. My favourite is this sudden fiction. Your stream of consciousness is really good and you bring the scene to life with the senses. So let's see what you can write about for your other pieces.”

Rafe nods at his girlfriend’s suggestion. His heart flutters at the thought that she likes one of his works. He takes a second to seriously consider what she says and a light bulb goes off. “How about for the poem, I write about the future family that we can have?” he considers, already writing down the lines he is thinking of. She reads over what he writes and a smile blooms across her face. “That is a great idea. Now, we just need to look at two other topics.” 

———

Y/N is studying in the library when Rafe comes rushing to her with his phone in his hand. “Angel, Angel. Look what I got on my portfolio,” he announces. His phone shoots before her eyes and she has to hold his hand to keep it steady. Y/N looks at the screen, reading the B- on display. She claps her hand in celebration and then wraps her arms around his neck. “This is amazing, Rafe. I am so proud of you,” she kisses his cheek. He revels in her pride, “It wasn’t all me, Angel. I have you and your brilliant brain to thank for the help. You make me smarter every single day.” Rafe couldn’t feel more lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend, who helps him grow as a person and succeed.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

[k0yaz]

drink from me.

Pairings: shenhe x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, vampire au, vamp shenhe yayay, mentions of violence, blood obviously, men, reader being scared at first because she’s a PUSSY, GIRLS LIKING GIRLS OH NO, she walks in on reader changing like once but it’s not meant to be weird you absolute freaks, I USE THE WORD TITS OMG SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE??? Reader kinda 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (not really), bloodsucking yummy, lowkey cringe wee woo wee woo jk I don’t give a fuck if it’s cringe, not proofread

A/N: YAYAYAYSYS VAMPIRE AU YAY I had to down two bottles of tea while writing this one ngl I wasn’t feeling as creative but I might write a part 2 for this who knows 🕯️

Wallowing in the swift rushes of wind grazing your unconscious body, your knocked out self remained perplexed as to what was occurring within your surroundings while your current view was pitch black. All you felt was a set of calloused hands situated firmly below your back, and your curled up form pressed against someone’s chest.

A couple moments ago, a stream of agonized, low cries erupted from several individuals circling you, that being the only thing you heard once your vision went dark. Likely, it was the screams of the armed circle of men who had backed you up into the woods, actively targeting you. Your hands had scrabbled backwards desperately against the dried leaves, palms stinging from the light scratches from the crunching leaves.

The mist clouding both your vision and cloaking your perpetrators into a menacing silhouette only served to heighten the sense of helpless dismay fogging your mind. You choked out a sudden weak hiccup as your back abruptly bumped against the rugged wood of a large oak tree towering above you, leaving you at a dead end. It all seemed to flicker out of view as what seemed like a cold steel rod collided against the side of your head, causing your body to rock slightly before collapsing onto your side.

Thin trickles of blood ran down the corner of your ear, occasionally rolling down your cheek to the ground to stain the dried leaves a bright red. You knew you were finished. They were going to kill you. You were knocked out already left with your final thoughts of turmoil, while the crunching of one of the men’s footsteps grew louder and louder, indicating he was getting closer. Suddenly, the crunching came to a halt, a shriek now piercing your bloodied ears, along with a swift splatter noise following it.

Your unmoving, curled up body remained buried in leaves as the string of shrieks followed by splatters rang in your ears. Despite being unconscious, you didn’t know what was here, yet your gut wrenched at the gnawing feeling that this unknown savior was coming for you next. Instead, you felt yourself elevated off of the rough earth, this person’s arms not being softer, yet making you feel a bit more at ease in their arms clutching your form.

The cold wails of the breeze fluttered against your skin, rigid goosebumps blooming onto your skin as your body shivered from the stinging cold. Slowly, you began to regain faint traces of consciousness, eyes slightly squinted as you briefly opened them. Your body jerked upon opening your eyes, your vision clearing up to reveal a woman with ice white hair staring off into the distance with a stern gaze plastered onto her rested face, pale pupils fixated ahead of her as you noticed that you were moving abnormally quick along with her while situated in her arms.

She didn’t seem to react at your minute movements as you jerked in her arms upon regaining consciousness. You winced as you felt her fingers tighten into your back, strengthening her grip when she realized that you were awake.

“Don’t let go. Hold onto me.” She commanded, her sharp voice making you flinch and comply with her while she still avoided looking over at you. The feeling that she wasn’t normal racked your body with a shiver, eyes trailing her figure as your arms tightened around her neck, cold fingers tracing along her nape and making her sigh. Her nails seemed to rake along your clothed back in thin motions while she held you. Abnormal speed, pale skin, and sharp nails? Not to mention the intricately suited clothing fitted onto her body? Yeah. She wasn’t human.

There wasn’t any time to worry about things like that though. Once you had recovered completely, you planned to thank her for saving your life. A large, dark architecture filled your sight as her pace quickened, dim golden rays adding a barely visible glow to the windows inside. The woman halted before the lavish mansion, her gaze darting down to you so rapidly that it was strangely uncanny. You only blinked in confusion as the doors seemed to part themselves for her, your mind flooding with a flurry of questions as to if you were dreaming or not.

However, when she opened her feverish lips to breathe out a relaxed sigh, your train of thought was suddenly pushed back upon catching a quick glimpse of a strangely sharp set of fangs adorning the corners of her teeth.

“Can you stand?” The woman inquired, iridescent eyes transfixed onto you. It was quite intimidating to be honest—mixed with the revelation that she was possibly a blood sucking vampire on the verge of devouring you, caused your stomach to drop in fear of what she could’ve possibly brought you here for. “I…I think I can.” You muttered out in a shaky voice, stumbling over your words out cautiously.

Lowering yourself onto your feet, your statement proved to be wrong as your wobbly legs buckled inward. The woman reached over and almost immediately caught you, arm snaked around your waist before you could topple against the glossed marble floors. You exhaled a relived huff as your face was in line with the hard surface, cringing at the thought of your skull cracking against the marble. Her fingers laced into your hair as she heaved a sigh, brushing a few stray strands out of your face. She effortlessly hitched up your body into her arms, curling them around your waist to keep a hold of you from slipping as she carried headed toward the stairs.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a maid carrying a tray beholding a small cup and a bowl, before she set it down on the table and headed over to the two of you. She backed up slightly, seemingly out of respect before lowering her head.

“Miss Shenhe, is there anything else you need?”

Huh. That was a pretty name for someone who might murder you later.

Shenhe shook her head, before replying. “We do have a fresh spare room, right?” The maid simply nodded, raising her chin to gesture towards a spruce door on the right of the second floor. “Thank you. I’ll call you back if I need anything.”

Once Shenhe had carefully stepped along the polished stairs with you situated in her arms, she leaned over against the door, pushing it open with her shoulder while still holding you. Your eyes widened in awe at the opulent decor of the spare room, scanning the dim lighting from the chandelier hung by a short chain branched from the ceiling, and the gold and porcelain decorations stacked atop various shelves and tables.

Your back pressed against the fleece silk of the pure white bedsheets, eyes nearly fluttering shut at how your body sunk into the soft blankets. Shenhe looked you up and down, her expression still calm and unfeeling as she attempted to affirm that you were comfortable.

“Make yourself comfortable. You can go ahead and get out of your dirty clothing, I’ll go and fetch you some fresh clothing.”

Letting out a small “mhm,” you apprensively continued to track Shenhe, making sure she left the room. Once she shut the door behind her, you heaved a long breath which you felt like you’d been holding in for ages, your constricted chest and tense muscles seemed to relax when she left. You don’t understand why you’re so cautious of her. Sure, she may be a vampire, but she had saved your life. On top of that, giving you a room without you asking was awfully kind of her. Perhaps you should ease up a bit around her.

You hunched one shoulder up, leaning your cheek against it as you began to slide down your soaked and bloody clothing. Before you could reach over for a towel after completely stripping down, the door swung open, smacking the wall with a large thud and revealing Shenhe holding a set of neatly folded black robes in her hands. Almost immediately, you gripped the edge of the blanket, throwing it over your exposed self, while your hand instinctively covered your chest as your face was flushed bright red from embarrassment.

“Can you knock?! And how did you get here so fast?”

Shenhe simply shrugged and set the robes down on the bedside table, turning her back to you and proceeding to walk out. For a moment, her hand rested on the side of the door quietly as the clock’s ticking reverbated through the room, cutting through the silence.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, before shutting the door behind her. It was as if she didn’t mean it, but just wanted to be polite, considering that she took into account that humans weren’t a huge fan of being seen nude. You sighed out In slight guilt, hearing the door creak as it clicked shut. She was treating you so kindly, yet here you were yelling at her for something as trivial as almost seeing your tits. Reaching over, you proceeded to slip on the silk robes, allowing the left end to hang off your shoulder loosely and expose it.

You admired the craftsmanship and comfort of the silk covering your body as you struck various poses into the gold rimmed mirror, praying nobody would walk on you doing the most embarrassing shit known to humankind. After a couple moments of admiring yourself, you headed over to the bed, flopping down and allowing the plush mattress to engulf your outstretched frame. Thin transparent curtains cascaded down either side of the bed, and blocking out the already dim light shining from the lamp and chandelier. The cloud like softness of the bed made you instantly relax, feeling like royalty as comfort and ease flooded your senses.

All of a sudden, a brisk knock tapped at your door, making you jolt and sit up straight—albeit a bit sluggishly considering that you were practically sinking into the mattress. You groggily wavered back onto your bare feet, opening the door hesitantly to peek out through the small gap.

“Shenhe?”

“May I come in?”

Wow. She really decided to listen to your last harsh comment about her knocking.

You nodded, extending a hand to gesture her to come in. She gratefully slipped inside, looking over at your bed and then back to window before your bed, revealing the crowning rays of sunlight beginning to rise, indicating it was nearly morning. Strangely enough, Shenhe seemed to repel away from the sun rays, snapping her head to the side swiftly. She carefully walked over and tugged the curtains shut, her already pale skin fostering an almost sickly white hue when she caught a glimpse of the bright sun.

“Are you alright..?” You asked with your head slightly cocked to the side, clearly attempting to make up for being so defensively rude earlier. Shenhe nodded, composing herself and standing upright, before situating herself beside you in the bed. “I’m fine. Just slightly parched.” She hummed, those pale pupils of hers still seeming to not show any signs of vulnerability and still sharp.

And just like that, you felt a twinge of unease and discomfort, knowing fully well she was referring to blood. You subtly retracted your arm from her, trying to push back the annoying vexations of your human instinct. Shenhe suddenly interrupted your little internal turmoil, breaking the uncomfortable silence with her voice.

“I might just go find a blood bag in the wild, it’s nothing of concern.”

You couldn’t help but feel your apprehension replace with guilt at your stereotypical assumptions of her. She had just saved you and provided you with a place to stay for a bit, while also trying to be polite, yet here you were assuming things about her just cause of the fact that she was a vampire.

“…do you want to drink from me?”

She paused, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“Wouldn’t that hurt for you?”

“Yeah but it’s not unbearable I hope. Plus I want a way to repay you for saving me back there.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You rolled up the sleeve of your robe until the cloth bundled up to your elbow, before sticking your arm out toward her, wrist facing up. “If you insist.” Shenhe rasped out, her throat probably dry from her thirst. Gently taking a hold of your hand, she wrapped her fingers around the space below your elbow to keep your robe sleeve from sliding back down, flipping your hand over so that your palm was face down. She lowered her head to your knuckles, a surge of different emotions building up inside you as her breath fanned over your skin.

You sucked in a breath upon feeling the initial sting of her fangs prodding at your forearm, biting back a pained gasp as you felt them bury within your skin. You continued to stare down with a couple labored breaths as she lapped at the occasional blood trickling down your wrist. Surprisingly, the way she was drinking your blood didn’t seem as painful as you thought, and you let out a sigh as her expression seemed much more relaxed with each sip of your blood.

A sudden lightheaded ache washed over you once Shenhe pulled away, grabbing the bandages conveniently situated on your bedside table to aid your wrist.

“Thank you.” She whispered, guiding you against the mattress as she raised a hand to caress your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered lower at her tender touch grazing your skin, tilting your head against the fluffy pillows. She rose to her feet suddenly, heading out as the door creaked behind her upon closing.

You sank back as silence enveloped the room once more, eyes closing peacefully as you barely felt any lingering pain in your wrist by now.

Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: OH MY GOD THIS WAS LONG anyway wawawawawawa NO THIS ISNT A SESBIAN LEX FIC YOU FREAKY PEOPLE. Jk love yall

Yay :3