#anyway it's terrifying to share something that you care about so much but i want to anyway!!!

[thoseyoulove]

Hello,Can you rank your Armand favorite relationshipw and why ? (I just love reading opinions , nothing serious)

Hi!

Fistly, thank you for the question! I get sometimes sending messages can be uncomfortable and you may not receive the nicest answers, but you don't need to explain yourself. Whether is a fun or serious question, asking my opinion or sharing your own: I LOVE talking about this universe and always welcome it.

Anyway, now to ranking!

P.S. This is long and contain spoilers. These opinions are based on the sequence from The Vampire Lestat to The Vampire Armand and aren't necessarily permanent.

Lesmand / Armandstat

Favorite relationship on the books as a whole for basically three reasons: it's always interesting (even on its smallest moments), they are deeply mirrored so it provides a compelling dynamic and is often intense. They are two sides of the same coin and parallel one another so much in terms of personalities and experiences. From their first interaction, it already seemed that they knew each other their whole lives because they could read one another like an open book. There is this mix of unconscious, but immediate recognition, understanding, curiosity, care, attraction, insecurity, fear, anger and frustration because they're the only ones that fully get each other. It's one thing to know someone for what they share or you observe, but you only fully comprehend somebody when you have a lot in common like they do. Still, that's terrifying because you're completely bare, vulnerable and forced to confront stuff you want to run away from. They have a lot of sharp dialogue and arguments where they throw the hardest truths on the other's face and they know how to push each other's buttons from day one. Yet, the fascination, affection and protection are still there and they always stay somewhat close. And that results in a lot of first class tension: what brings both together also pulls them apart and they're often fighting so many conflicting emotions (as a duo and individuals) because they keep going back and forth. Obviously, they're far from perfect and have both tremendously hurt one another verbally, physically and with Claudia's death (which Armand's is responsible for). But even then, they were never enemies or rivals. I get why people would use such words, but I think they would need to hate or wish bad things for each other to be classified as such and that's never happened. Even if they did something to give that impression, it wasn't genuine and they made themselves suffer in the process too. There was definitely hate for words said and things done, but for the person it was always love. Through the good, the bad, the ugly and the complicated. This dynamic defies definitions and there aren't enough words in any language I know to fully and precisely categorize or desxribe even it. For better or worse, they're on a league of their own and I've never seen anything like it on books, movies or TV shows.

2. Armand x Bianca

I love Bianca. She's been such a great addition and it's a breath of fresh air whenever she appears. It was so satisfying to see them being friends, connecting and Armand having something that was entirely his own without Marius being involved (though considering the pattern of this book, it will probably change). I also enjoy the fact they met and bonded as humans, you know? There's something lovely and unique about it since most pairings had one or both parties already being a vampire on their first encounter. And another sweet thing is that even centuries later Armand still emphasizes how he'll never forget her. They have become really special to me.

3. Armand & Riccardo

Usually relationships where one is a small or Marius is somewhat involved don't work for me, but that's an exception. Riccardo isn't as developed as Armand and part of this (creepy) palazzo where Marius keeps several teenagers/children in, but you do know enough to grow attached to him. Actually, given the situation these boys are in, I ended up caring about the ones who don't even have a name. And despite the proximity Marius has to them, the kids have friendships of their own. Obviously, this isn't the healthiest environment and they all deserved better, but I'm so glad they had each other and a sense of family (specially because some of them don't even remember their own relatives well anymore). That brings me some kind of comfort. There are these moments when Armand gets emotional thinking about how much he loves them all and would die for them and when he almost does and they're all (with Bianca) crying and Armand is surprised by their reactions because they loved him so much... It really moved me So, I adore them.

4. Armandiel

The Devil's Minion chapter is one of my top favorite pieces of The Queen of the Damned. Its best aspect is seeing Armand on his self-discovery journey and how Daniel was just patient and supportive. And that's so important, because a big part of Armand's characterization is how he has no sense of identity. He's gone through so much trauma since early and formative years and always adapted to please others or even make out alive. This made him lose key parts of his memory and every sense of self and he definitely needed that. So, to see Daniel not tell him what to do, but instead let him try new stuff, see what he loved or not, on his own terms and pace and Daniel just going along with him... It was wonderful. The only downsides is that I believe Daniel deserved more individual development and it was rushed. Twelve years deserved more chapters, probably books plural. That said, I bet the show will take its strong points and only elevate their story. And I can't wait because I've already lost my mind with them on season 2 (they have my favorite scene on the show, by the way).

Honorable mentions:

Armand & Benji + Sybelle

Haven't seen a lot of them, but Armand opened his book saying he was full of love and excitedly talking about these children he took in. There's also this moment he asked David if he liked his kids and he just sounded like a proud dad. It was adorable. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing more of them.

Armand & his family

There's been very little of them and I doubt there will be more, so I can't talk about their relationship per se, but the chapter they say goodbye is devastating and beautiful. Those recent posts of me losing my mind were because of it. I've never cried so much with art and rarely cried like that even in real life. It was an experience I'd never had before and an emotion I didn't know was humanly possible. I was mentally, emotionally and spiritually touched to the point of exhaustion. It's been the best part of The Vampire Armand, if not of the whole chronicles. And it will stick with me forever.

[corviiids]

planning to post ch 7 of my akechi palace au, "as you like it", on his birthday 2 june so in the leadup (while i reread it and make sure im not contradicting myself) here are some of my favourite and silliest bits and pieces out of the chapters that are up so far

AND a sneak peek of my favourite part of chapter 7. for kicks

[bittersweetresilience]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ninadove 🎉💕

i wrote you a silly fluffy something featuring sentitwins and félix's relationship with horses. there is NO angst... unfathomable. such is the power of friendship.

silky brightsky lion's mane, my beloved.

concept from anarchist gang and made with this picrew though i added the color dye because i think in a world without parental rule, félix would want his horse to live up to her name.

[poppyseed799]

I have this problem that’s like the opposite of nostalgia or something where some things I remember liking a lot as a child I look back and only remember the bad times.

This is specifically about Animal Crossing, loved that game as a kid, but I have literally no idea why, cuz it was just pure hell for me from what I can remember.

[carlsangel]

CARE TO KNOCK?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get caught. twice.)

tags: SMUT!! oral sex, f!receiving, getting caught! fun!

masterlist here!

You tried your hardest to be discreet about how…active you and Carl were. It wasn’t the easiest considering Carl was the leaders’ son and it seemed like eyes were always on him, whether it was his dad’s or Michonne’s. Sometimes people in the community.

You’d try to sneak off and do what you could but with your guys’ luck, you almost always got interrupted. One time something possessed the both of you to try it in the church house when there was a community event. That went as well as you’d imagine.

“Holy mother of-” Gabriel had walked in on the both of you on one of the pews. God was it embarrassing. (see what i did there) The scene he’d walked in on consisted of you without a shirt and Carl’s hand practically groping your tits over your bra. Also you were attached at the mouth so you could see why he’d be terrified.

Obviously you scrambled to put your clothes on while Carl tried to explain for the both of you, begging to not tell Rick or Michonne. “Look man, we’re really sorry we just- please don’t tell my dad. I’m begging you he can’t know about this.” He explains worriedly. Gabriel stood there still shocked. You had to make it up to him somehow, considering you were doing an unholy act in a holy place but, there wasn’t really any real repercussions because Carl had gotten him to keep it a secret. Something about making it up to him for something Gabriel had done when they first arrived at Alexandria.

Anyway, a large reason you didn’t want Rick to know, was because you two shared a room. You were happy to almost always get away with things at night (you tried not to be too loud) and not have anyone know. It was nice. Until one particular day.

Rick and Michonne go out on Wednesday mornings to scavenge, so you two took advantage of the time you had..and got to it. It wasn’t really anything crazy, your morning sex was usually romantic and sweet. It’s not like you were going at it like animals.

One week, they’d left a bit earlier so in your mind, you were able to get some extra time.

“Oh fuck-” You spoke breathlessly, he was under the blanket eating you out. Something about the way he was ruthlessly lapping at your clit made you realize that today’s morning sex wouldn’t be so romantic. He began to move upwards and start kissing up your body hungrily. He started to place harsh kisses all around your neck, leaving small bruises around as well. “You’re so perfect.” He mumbled against your neck.

The next thing you know, he’s sitting up with your legs between his knees. He flips you over on your stomach and lifts your hips up so you’re arched for him how he wants. You giggle at his sudden movements and you’re surprised by him literally shoving himself inside of you.

“Oh-” You moan loudly, surprising yourself and immediately slapping your hand over your mouth. He began thrusting himself in and out of you with no plan on stopping. That was until the door beside your guys’ bed suddenly opened. It opened just enough so Rick could see you and your back, Carl’s arms and his face.

Your eyes go wide and once he realizes what was happening, Rick quickly shuts the door, catching Carl’s attention which causes him to stop. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his hands still resting at your hips. “Your fucking dad.” You pull away from him and Carl sits there sort of astonished. “W-wait he saw?” He covers himself with the blanket and you move to find your underwear and shorts.

“Not everything, just me I hope. He didn’t open the door open too much.” You pull up your underwear and scramble around for your shorts which Carl pulled from under the blanket he was using to cover himself. “What’s scary is that you didn’t stop.”

You throw him his own clothes which were on the floor and he feels somewhat upset he didn’t realize the door had opened. He was too busy fucking you. “Well it’s kinda hard to focus on stopping when I’m in the middle of something.” He says defensively, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. You plop on the bed, dropping your head to your hands while he found a shirt to wear. After seeing how worried you were, he walked over and kissed the top of your head.

“Don’t stress out okay? It’ll be fine, worst comes to worst he’ll take the room away but we’ll work our way around it.” He reassured. Maybe he’s right. This didn’t have to be such a big deal. If Carl didn’t make it one, you wouldn’t either.

“Care to knock? What the hell?” You both were now in the kitchen, Carl was scolding Rick who was standing with Michonne and Maggie at the island. You were standing behind him quietly. “Well I thought we were way past knockin. Plus we got home early.” Rick sort of laughs, seeming unfazed. Your eyebrows furrow at this and he notices. “What, you thought we didn’t know about what goes on in there at night?”

You look to Michonne and Maggie who were both sort of smiling at you. “What?” You asked peeved. “I mean…you’re not exactly the quietest.” Michonne reasons. Your face is flushed and you’re super embarrassed, it doesn’t help that when you turn you realize both Glenn and Daryl had been in the room as well, you just hadn’t noticed. Glenn sort of giggles at you, Daryl just…is Daryl. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself, hiding your face in your hands and Carl just stands there annoyed as hell.

“They’re not wrong though you are quite loud.” He says quietly, slightly teasing you over a conversation you’d had many times before, he always made fun of you for being so vocal, even though he loved it. You look up from your hands just to give him a pissed off glare. You give him a shove to the shoulder and make your way back upstairs.

“Fuck off.”

a/n: sorry guys for this HAHAHA idk how smutty anon wanted this request but they got smut..sorry pookie :| ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed, currently deciding on closing my requests cause im gettin a shit ton but we’ll figure that out later!!! love you bye!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𖥔

summary ; after being struck by a peacekeeper, coryo puts aside his differences to clean you up.

pairing ; coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; pls coryo may be a little ooc in this but i tried. ok? i tried! physical violence, mentions of blood and death, as well as the events that take place in the hunger games universe, spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

the blow sent a stinging sensation through your cheek, the level of force behind it knocking you to the ground on impact. you had always wondered what it would feel like to be hit in the face – if you would be able to take it – and well, now you knew.

you sat there on the ground, a spectacle among the crowd, and all because you were helping an elderly lady and unknowingly stepped into the peacekeeper’s way. you didn’t mean to, and before you knew it his leather glove was colliding with the side of your face. 

you loathed the peacekeepers, everyone did, but specifically the way they thought they could belittle you and your people just because of their job title. and yet, it terrified you to know how harsh they were over something so small, you couldn’t even begin to think how torturous they could be behind closed doors. 

once the peacekeepers move on, laughing among themselves at what they had done to you, a man and his wife help you to your feet, and you dust yourself off. your palms burned from the rubble you had landed on, small rocks sticking into your skin, and your head was ringing, but nothing compared to the side of your face. 

you were tough, there was no doubt about it, but having the peacekeeper’s hand collide with your face with such force had you a little shaken up. 

“i’m okay, everyone,” you let the group of onlookers, and those that had helped you, know. with a faux smile and a reassuring nod, you quickly return to helping the woman pick up her belongings that had been knocked over in the midst of it all. 

“oh, don’t worry about me, dear. go take care of yourself,” she gestures to your face and your hand instinctively reaches to feel the wet cut that had formed on your lip. a small speckle of blood now on your fingers as a metallic taste fills your senses. it ached to touch, and if it looked bad now, you could only imagine how bad it was going to be later. 

you take your leave from the woman and make your way home along the seam. the sun was beginning to disappear behind the clouds as the sound of the town drowns out behind you and into the distance. people watched as you passed them by, noticing the blood on your face and probably wondering what had happened. 

you didn’t mind the stares, not much happened in the district, and it wasn't as if you had anything to be ashamed of. well, not that anyone knew of anyway. 

you eventually make it to the last stretch of the dirt path before your house when your name gets called out, stopping you in your tracks, and in the direction it had come from were a couple more peacekeepers. though, these ones didn’t instil fear in you the same way the others had. 

they were familiar faces – faces that you were somewhat glad to see – however, you weren’t sure how they were going to react seeing the new feature that had been ever so kindly bestowed upon your face. 

sejanus waves you over, tapping his partner on the shoulder once he notices, and gestures towards you. coriolanus stands beside him, turning your way after seeing the panicked look on his friend's face, and his smile drops the second he sees the cut on your lip and the bruise that had already begun to form. 

“y/n…” he speaks your name delicately, a forbidden whisper, before rapidly scanning your surroundings to make sure the area was safe. it was. “what happened?”

he wants to reach for you, to pull you into his arms and kiss you better, anything he can to make sure you were okay, but he can’t. he knows that. it would be too much of a risk in such an open space and he wasn’t going to be the reason you end up with another bruise, or worse. so he quickly fixes his posture and positions his gun against his shoulder where it was meant to be. 

“oh, this? it’s nothing,” you wave them off, even adding a wink to further convince them that you were fine.

sejanus smiles, even stifles a laugh at your nonchalant attitude, but not coriolanus. no. he could see right through the smile you were presenting them with. how could he not? he had spent far too much time staring at you, his lover, whether it be from across the town square, or beside you in your bed. he knew every which way your face contorted and exactly what it meant. 

he could see you were in pain. 

his jaw tightens at this, fighting the urge to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder so that he could take you home. it was one thing to have to watch the horrors and physical brutality that went on in the district every day, most of which he had become numb to, but seeing you be the victim of it filled him with not only rage, but fear. 

he wanted – no, needed – you to be safe. 

“is there anything we can do?” sejanus offers. “anything we can get you?”

“don’t worry about me. i’ll be fine,” you smile once again, though this time, coriolanus refuses to sit by and watch you lie. 

“can you cover for me?” he asks, though you know it’s meant for sejanus, who instantly nods at the request, further proving his loyalty to his friend. “go home and wait for me. i won’t be long, just don’t touch it.”

while you wanted nothing more than for coriolanus to follow you home, you knew he couldn’t. it wasn’t safe, not while the sun was still out, “no, i’m fine. i promise.”

“just do what i say, okay?” his eyes bore into you now, an urgency in them as his protective side comes into play, and you knew there was no point trying to argue with him when he got like this. 

you nod, begrudgingly, and lazily salute the pair before continuing on down the path to your house. it was only a little ways away from where the boys had spotted you, but the second you see the chipping wood and beaten down stairs that you called ‘home’, you’re overcome with relief. 

upon entering you immediately splay yourself down on the sofa — one of the few pieces of furniture you still owned after your parents — and wait, just like coriolanus had asked you. your head had stopped ringing a little, but the throbbing pain in your cheek was still there. nonetheless, you knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight come morning. 

minutes pass, twenty-seven to be exact, before you hear shuffling at your back window, followed by heavy footsteps. you knew it was coriolanus. he regularly came through the back of the house so as not to be seen by your neighbours, but like you always tell him, barely anyone bothered to come down your way. 

the second his face comes into view, you let off a weak smile, more so as he begins to remove his uniform, placing it down on the table in the corner of the room, alongside his gun, “i don’t have long. sejanus is covering for me, but even he knows it won’t be long before they start wondering where i am.”

“you really didn’t have to come. i told you, i’m fine,” you sit up now as coriolanus meets your side with a small package in his hand. 

the look in his eyes shifts as he gets a closer inspection of the damage that had been done to your face, a heavy breath falling from his lips. coriolanus believed people deserved to be punished for the things they did, but not you – never you. you were his girl, his flower, his love – and he had been doing everything in his power to make sure you were safe. 

he knew it wasn’t his fault what had happened earlier, but he still couldn’t help but feel somewhat to blame. he should’ve been there to stop the situation, de-escalate it in any way that he could. he had been doing everything in his power to keep you off the other peacekeeper’s radars, away from any potential danger, and selfishly, away from him ever losing you. 

you watch as the stiffness in his jaw goes slack and his shoulders slump a little, eyes downturing as his lips push out into a pout ever so slightly. you reach for his hand, “coryo, what’s wrong?”

“i just… i don’t like to see you hurt,” he pulls his gaze away from you now, wanting to avoid thinking about it, and begins to unwrap the small package in his hand to reveal a mini first-aid kit. “i grabbed what i could without anyone seeing me, though i doubt you’ll need most of it.” 

you watch as he gathers a small cloth, coated with a disinfectant solution and gently dabs at the cut on your lower lip. it stings a little but you didn’t mind, you’d do just about anything to get a moment alone with coriolanus. perhaps getting hit in the face wasn’t all bad, at least the outcome of it anyway. 

once the cut was cleaned, he pulls out a small bandage and presses it across your lip. you weren’t sure you really needed it but it felt nice to be looked after. as for the bruise, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do. 

“how does it look?” you sigh, and he reaches up to gently brush the tender skin. 

“it looks… like it needs something,”

“and what’s that?” coryo’s lips quirk up into a roguish grin before he slowly leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. it’s soft and sweet, and gentle. all of the things coryo was when it was just the two of you alone. “you know what? i think you might be onto something.”

coryo’s laughter reverberates through his entire body, looking at you with glistening eyes, but he gives in, pressing another kiss to your lips, and what starts as a light brush of your lips on his becomes much more when you find yourself pushing him backwards on the sofa. he doesn’t protest and lets himself fall into the cushion behind him as you situate yourself on his lap. there’s no hesitation when his hands cup your thighs, running small comforting circles into your skin. 

you stay like that for a few moments, small trickles of laughter escaping you both as you continue to kiss before you evidently decide to curl yourself up into him. you nuzzle your head into his chest, one leg still draped across his as the other burrows in next to him and instinctively his hand searches for yours - fingers idly grazing one another before he threads his through to hold you. 

“so, what’s the verdict doc? will i make it?” you smile. 

“as long as i have anything to do with it,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, but you can’t help but feel like there was another meaning to his words. 

[bucks-babe]

I’ve been here before lol. I just had to let you know, your virgin Bucky stories live rent free in my head. I hope one day to see him become… not a virgin 👀 if you feel like writing it of course ❤️

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, loss of virginity, slightly sub Bucky, soft!dom reader, riding, multiple orgasms (both), overstimulation, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (Don’t do that), copious amounts of cum, like so much, Bucky has a big dick, cumming untouched, cumming in boxers, ball riding (I know, there’s something wrong with me), crying during sex (Bucky this time, not reader lol), crying after sex, aftercare, Bucky is so sweet, taking care of Bucky, washing Bucky’s hair (This is a warning), my limited ass vocabulary (It’s a warning), actual brain rot, no use of Y/N, check tags at the bottom

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This has been in the works for so long but I took so damn long to finish it. I would have never guessed that so many of yall would be so invested in this story and Bucky’s journey. This is not the last you will see of these two, don’t worry. I think we should give them each a nickname. Leave a comment on what each of their names should be. Legit just had them call each other baby this entire fic. If I end up giving them nicknames, I’ll go back and put them in for all their stories. Anyway, enjoy!

As you slowly open your eyes, feeling the warmth and comfort of Bucky's embrace, a sense of safety washes over you. His strong arms are wrapped tightly around you. As you turn to face him, you see that Bucky is already awake, his deep blue eyes gazing at you with adoration and love. You can feel the rhythm of his breathing, steady and soothing against your skin. In this moment, nothing else matters except for the love and contentment you feel in each other's arms

"Good morning," he whispers, his voice husky with sleep. The sunlight filters through the window, casting a gentle glow upon his face, accentuating the lines of worry etched there.

With a small smile, you shift closer to him, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. "Good morning," you reply softly, tracing circles on his chest.

Bucky's fingers instinctively tighten around you, as if afraid to let go. "Last night... I didn't mean to let go like that" he admits shyly, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue. "I didn't know I was into that." Bucky felt embarrassed, not being used to letting go and having someone else take care of him. It was such a foreign feeling, yet he loved it, being able to trust someone completely, trusting you more than he does himself. Your heart swells at his vulnerability.

"Oh Bucky, it's okay. I liked it, I liked taking care of you. There's nothing to be ashamed about."

Bucky's eyes soften, relief flooding his features as he takes in your words. "You liked it?" he asks, his voice tinged with both surprise and hope.

A gentle nod escapes you, your fingers continuing their soothing motion on his chest. "Yes, Bucky. I enjoyed every moment of it," you reassure him, your voice filled with sincerity.

He exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "I've never let myself be vulnerable like that before," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of losing control."

A tender smile graces your lips as you cup his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "Bucky, being vulnerable doesn't mean losing control. It means trusting someone enough to let them in, to share yourself completely." Your words carry the weight of understanding and acceptance.

He gazes at you, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and hesitation. "I don't want to disappoint you, you know? You've been with experienced men before who knew how to pleasure you. I'm not sure if I can do the same for you." The poor thing was terrified of letting you down. He loves you so much, but what if he can’t please you? Would you leave him for someone better? How many people would even want to be with a man who knows almost nothing about pleasing a woman? 

Your hand reaches out to cup Bucky's cheek, your thumb brushing across his rough stubble. His skin is warm and soft under your touch. As you sit up, your hand still resting on Bucky's chest, feeling the faster beat of his heart under your palm. His skin is warm and smooth against your fingertips, a reassuring and comforting touch.

"Last night you gave me the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced with a man. Those other men? They think that one trick that worked on one woman will work on every woman. But you, my love? You listened to me and my body, which is more than most men can say."

Your voice softens as you look into Bucky's eyes, seeing the raw emotion and vulnerability that lies within them. "Bucky, I don't want to give you the impression that you're not enough. You were amazing last night, and I’m glad that you trust me enough to share that part of yourself."

His eyes soften, a look of gratitude and relief washing over him. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his hand brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "Thank you," he whispers, the words feeling like a heavy weight finally lifting off his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, and you can see a newfound confidence and determination in his eyes. "I want to learn, to be better for you. To make you feel the way you felt last night, every time."

A smile tug at the corner of your lips as you lean in to kiss him gently. "I believe in you, Bucky. And I know that you'll learn and grow, just like you did last night. And I’ll be right there to show you how." With a reassuring nod, Bucky pulls you into a deep and passionate kiss, his hands cradling your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, he pulls away from the kiss, leaving behind a trail of electric energy on your lips. "I want to make love to you today," he whispers. "I want to give you everything I have, and show you just how much I care." Your heart swells with love for the man who would give you anything.

“Are you sure, Bucky? We don’t have to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable doing. I’m perfectly fine waiting for you, however long it takes.” You cup his face, staring into his eyes, seeing determination yet anxiety in his eyes. He wants to do this, have you be his first and only, he’s sure of it.

“Yes. I want more, I want everything with you. Last night, making you feel good, it sparked something in me. I want to do it again. Fuck, you looked so sexy when you came.” Just at the thought of the taste of your pussy and the image of you writhing on the bed in pleasure makes his cock throb, filling with blood. The feel of your naked breasts pressed against him is doing nothing to stop it either.

“If you’re sure, baby, we will. You want to follow my lead or experiment by yourself?” The thought of you trusting him enough to let him do whatever he wants to your body makes him whine, bucking his hip into your bare core, the boxers doing little to hinder the feeling on his sensitive dick.

“Want to follow you, please.” As you take the covers of the pair of you, Bucky’s eyes go right to your tits, hands moving on their own accord to cup them. You’re proud that he was comfortable enough to touch you without hesitancy. 

You roll onto your back, Bucky following without a second thought, hands still on you, Bucky sits on his knees, admiring the view of your spread pussy. “I want you to finger me. You remember how, baby?” Of course Bucky remembers how, he remembers how much it made you moan and wiggle on the bed, how you were clenching on them when you came, how fucking tight you got. Bucky nods, right hand moving to your pussy. He needs to use his right hand, needs to feel how wet and tight you are. 

Thumb moving to your slit, he gathers the wetness that has been pooling there since you felt his hard cock through his boxers and drags it up to your clit, rubbing it just the way you taught him, the small gasp that leaves your lips lets him know he’s doing it right. His eyes can’t leave your pussy, memorized by the wetness leaving it. He trails his middle and ring finger down and slowly enters you, cock somehow getting even harder at your feel.

His metal hand comes down to rub your clit as his fingers speed up, wanting you to cum so fucking bad. “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so fucking well. Making me feel so good.” Bucky can feel his heavy balls pulling up, cum about to burst from his cock, hips thrusting in the air, meeting nothing. Heat creeps up his cheeks, he knows he’s going to cum before you without even touching anything. He wants so fucking bad to jerk his cock, coaxing his huge load out, but he can’t leave your pussy.

You clench tights around him, your orgasm building up as well. Bucky can’t handle it, the way your head hits the pillows, eyes closed in pleasure, moans getting higher in pitch. Within seconds, Bucky’s cock bursts, cum pouring from his tip, immediately soaking the front of his boxers, leaking down until it lands on the bed, his moans louder than yours. At the sound of his pleasure you cum, clit twitching under his fingers, waves upon waves passing through you. 

As you come down from your orgasm, you realize that Bucky is still cumming. “Baby, why won’t it stoppp, fuckk, please, feels so fucking good, shitt, please.”At his words the last of him cum dribbles out. The sight of his flushed cheeks and the soaking wet boxers almost makes you cum again. Sitting up, you push Bucky off the bed until he stands, taking off his underwear and pulling him back onto the bed, laying him down.

“You still want to do anything else, baby?” You desperately want to have his cock inside of you, have him cumming that much in your pussy, letting it leak out all over his balls down to the bed, but if he doesn’t want to go any further you’ll stop, no questions asked.

“Oh fuck yes! Want you to ride me please.” The whole of his sentence comes out as a moan, cock still sensitive and hard, ready for you to take it however you please. Straddling him, you grab him lining him up with your pussy. You look at him and at his nod, you start to sit on him. As soon as the tip breaches you, he cums, and he cums hard. “OH SHIT! FUCK, YES! FUCK I’M CUMMING!” He’s practically screaming, but he can’t find it in himself to care, the most intense orgasm of his life coursing through him. 

Hands flying to your hips, he pulls you all the way down, bucking into you with so much force you have to grab the headboard. “ OH FUCKING SHIT!  DON’T FUCKING STOP! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” It’s not like you could even if you tried, only option to take his assault, and fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing. Your moans almost match his in volume, pussy still trying to adjust to the size of him, balls slapping against your ass. After a few seconds, you already feel his cum being forced out of you to make room for his cock. His cum now all over both of your sexes, his balls, your ass, and the bed.

His orgasm lasts minutes, the amount of cum leaving his cock never slowing down, hips never stop slamming into yours. During his orgasm, you cum too, the sight was so hot you couldn’t help yourself. When your pussy was clenching around him so tight he somehow got louder. Eventually, he orgasm abated and his hips stopped, laying limb on the bed. 

Shame washed over him, at how much he lost himself to his orgasm, how rough he was with you. “I’m so sorry, baby. Please tell me you’re okay. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.” 

“Fuck, Bucky, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting you to be so turned on by his orgasm. His cock was still rock hard inside of you, giving you an idea. “What position do you want to do next?” Bucky almost cums again at those words, he knows what he wants, but is almost embarrassed to ask. However, his cock is thinking for him, washing away his inhibitions.

“Can you ride me?” You just smile and start to pick up your hips but he stops you. “From the back.” You throb at that. He wants to watch your ass bounce on him. 

You pull off, hissing at the empty feeling and turn around. You grab his cum soaked balls and you feel them twitch in your palm. Pulling them up you turn your head to Bucky. “Do me a favor and close your legs for me.” He doesn’t ask a single question and does so immediately. You let his balls fall on top of his legs and put his cock right back in, not waiting a second to start bouncing, grinding your clit on his slick balls at the end of every bounce.

“Oh, fuck. How does your ass move like that, shit. Looks so sexy.” His hands ghost over your cheeks, not knowing what to do with the sight in front of him.

“Smack my ass, baby.” He groans, and lays a light slap to your right cheek. “Harder, Bucky. Leave your mark on me.” His Oh shit is ignored as he slaps you a little harder, still not hard enough, cock pulsing at the sight of your ass bouncing, feeling it move under his hands. “Don’t be a little pussy, baby. Give it a slap like a fucking man.” Maybe it was a little mean, but you needed to feel his hand coming down on you. His near constant moans get louder, clearing enjoying the degradation. The next slap is hard. “Yes, little harder, baby. Fuck! Just like that, keep going. Don’t stop, want your handprints all week.”

He keeps going, smacking you harder each time. His balls rubbing on your clit pull up and he cums once again. This time, though, he pulls out, jerking his cock, cumming all over your ass. “Fucking shit! Wanted me to mark your fucking ass? Well I’m fucking doing it. Cumming so much. Maybe I’ll just stick my dick in your ass and cum in there too.” You don’t know where that came from, but it makes you ride his balls faster, ass jiggling as he continues to cum on it. “That’s so fucking hot, keeping moving that fat ass on me.” You really don’t know where his dirty mouth is coming from but you don’t care because holy hell is it hot.

 Seconds later, Bucky can’t take it anymore and shoves his cock back in your pussy, spreading his legs back out and planting them on the bed so he can fuck up into you. With your ass moving so much with his thrusts, his cum is going everywhere. Bucky lands a hard slap to your cheeks, smacking his cum into them, spreading it all around.

Just like before, he cums for minutes, cum flowing out of your pussy. The entire of both of your hips and your ass and the bed is completely drenched with his cum. When he’s done he pulls you off his cock and spins you around so you’re facing him again. “Baby, my cock is still so fucking hard, I don’t know what to do.” You coo at him, setting your hand against his cheek.

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you.” Instead of slipping his cock back into you, you grind against it, with every roll of your hips his sensitive tip rubs your clit. “Does this feel good, baby?”

“Uh huh, so good.” You see his adam's apple bob and his bottom lip wobble. The feral part of his brain that was fucking you earlier is gone, now your sweet boyfriend is left. He’s not even looking at the way his tip pops out between your folds, no, he’s staring right into your eyes. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him, every part of your body touching his in some way.

You rest your forehead against his and meet his gaze, tears spilling over and running down the sides of his face. You gently wipe them away but they keep coming. One of his hands goes in between your bodies pushing his cock back inside its home, your warm walls enveloping every inch, both of you gasping. Bucky can’t decide if he wants to keep going or stop, a twinge of pain biting its way up his cock, but you just feel too good. He can’t leave your pussy, needing to cum one last time. The slow grind of your hips never speeds up, gently fucking him, no, making love to him.

Bucky tries to kiss you but the pleasure you’re giving leaves him putty in your hands. The kiss is sloppy and wet, but one of the best kisses you’ve ever had, feeling the words neither of you can get out at the moment. The hairs at the base of his cock rub your clit, building up your final orgasm, Bucky not long behind, trying to hold out for you.

“You’re okay, baby. Want you to cum for me, not far behind.” Any restraint left in Bucky’s body disappears, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he cums for the last time.

“Fuckkk, baby, love you so much, please, I need you to cum for me. Need it so bad.” The slow roll of his tears before shifts to full on sobs, pleasure too much. You pull yourself off his cock, knowing that it’s now too much for him. “No, no, I need you to cum, please.” Your hand trails down your body, fingers rubbing your clit, the sight of you makes Bucky whine, and pull you down into a kiss, where you cum, moaning into his mouth. 

You roll the both of you over, placing Bucky’s head on your chest, lightly scratching his scalp, tracing shapes on his back with your other hand. When his tears subside, Bucky is the first to speak. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

You feel a lump form in your throat. Of course you would always take care of him. There is nothing that you wouldn’t do for him. “I love you so much, Bucky. I could never hurt you, only want to give you the best in life. After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I could do.” Bucky doesn’t say anything after that, not knowing what to say, not being used to such unbridled love. 

A few minutes pass before the amount of cum and sweat surrounding you gets uncomfortable. “Come on, baby, lets get cleaned up.” Bucky whines but complies anyway. “Get the shower started for me? I’ll change the bed.” He nods and heads to the shower. You work as fast as you can to get the sheets off and a fresh set on. Still naked you run to the washroom and throw the soiled sheets in the wash and start it before running back to the bathroom. 

Bucky is waiting outside of the shower for you, eyes still red from crying, almost shying away from you. Grabbing his hand you lead him into the hot water. “You did so good for me, Bucky. Made me feel incredible. You know, if that was your first time, I’m going to need help from the gods to handle you when you practice more.” That gets a small smile from him. “Don’t get all bashful on me, big man, after you rocked my world back there.”

“Stop it, baby.” His words hold no heat to them, secretly loving your complements. “You did too, rocked my world, you know? Didn’t know it could feel that good. There isn’t anyone else I would rather do that with.” He’s going to make you cry one of these days, saying all this sweet shit to you, and you know he means every single word of it.

“Yeah? How do you feel? Feel okay? I know that was a lot for you.” He dips his head down when you reach for his shampoo, letting you wash his hair, then grabbing the soap and lathering the wash cloth, running it along his body. At the feeling of your soft hands on his body, taking care of him after he gave himself over to you, Bucky can’t respond, too caught up in your love. “Bucky?” Your hands stop, fearing the worst at his silence.

“Feel so good, baby. I…” Bucky chokes up, tears resurfacing. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. You pull him to you, hugging him until he stops. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I just, you make me feel so safe, I can’t control myself, I just feel, you know?” You know because he makes you feel the same way.

“Yeah, I do, baby, I do.” 

“Can I wash you?” After you took care of him, Bucky wants to do the same for you, never wanting you to feel like he was using you. You nod and Bucky takes extra care to get all of his cum off of you, cleaning you up just like you did to him. By the time you’re done in the shower, the water’s cold. Bucky takes a towel and wraps you up first. Before he can reach for his, you take it and dry him off. 

“What do you want to do now? We can cuddle, get something to eat, watch a movie, whatever you want.” You know how important aftercare is, especially when Bucky was feeling so vulnerable after his first time. 

“Can we just cuddle?” He looks almost scared to ask you for such a simple gesture.

“Of course we can.” Taking your hand, Bucky leads you to the bed, foregoing clothes. You pull the blankets up and let him rest his head on your chest, listening to the beat of your heart and steady breathing. Not too long after you hear his light snoring and know he’s asleep, you following soon after in the arms of the love of your life, excited to experience all of Bucky’s firsts with him, seeing him grow, not only in experience, but also confidence.

[kromato]

Hey what's up it's me with a special interest in weapons and I wanted to share my thoughts about Nikto's machete (no that's not an innuendo for once)

Had a bit of a solo-mandela effect going on because for the longest time I thought it had a modified 'billhook'-like feature on the back of it for whatever reason (but smaller than what would be considered a traditional billhook, more like a hoof pick blade).

I kind of enjoy still HCing that it does have it because a) it looks kind of cool and b) a terrifying thought to think this man whips this giant intimidating blade out, flips it deftly in his hand to the hook side, just to sink it into flesh and yank people back in when they try to run. Also it allows me to think about a scenario where, resident karambit knife enthusiast Sebastian Krueger, can teach proper blade hooking techniques to our beloved plural man. Anyway back to the knife - It's like a cross between a coup coup and a bola? But has a cool flare like a Tapanga for his newer mwiii model. Also like a vintage Senegalese french machete, which were known for their high quality (might technically be the same thing as the coup coup, just with the locale specified I think, both entrenchment machetes). That curve also kind of reminds me of parangs but it's not particularly drop-pointed.

I HC Nikto as a very brutally pragmatic but particular man, so it doesn't feel too far off to think that he went out of his way to acquire something niche like that. Some kind of custom-made machete that fits his needs just right. The length of it, as well as the curved, ergonomic grip makes me think he's gotten it to do some serious chopping, so it's also probably heavy and weighted forward to make that easier when swinging. I don't see him as a flashy fighter personally, and though maybe it was a stylistic choice for the game devs/artists, I think it's a neat feature that speaks to his character. I do think it's made of hefty steel; weight is important in chopping knives, and though steel rusts, it's sturdy compared to a lot of other metals. Not to mention - I feel like oiling and caring for his weapons, machete included, would be a ritual source of peace for his sometimes loud and chaotic mind. Grounding when he can feel the weight and texture where his nerves aren't completely damaged, smell the oil, have tangible proof that it's reality when he sees the maintained blade even after he becomes unmoored.

Now this is just me WAY reading too much into it, but it gives me a little giggle - The hole at the end of the handle is for a wrist lanyard, so you can loop a piece of paracord rope to secure it around your hand. It's an important safety feature just in case the machete goes flying out of your hand while chopping, lest it hit people in your vicinity (accidentally...?). In his 19 model, he doesn't have the paracord rope attached; Nikto says "Fuck your safety" but also huge ego of "I would never accidentally fling my knife!!"

Could also be because it gets caught on stuff if it dangles off his hip though - he's got one on his newer model where he wears the blade on his shoulder, which looks like a place where it's less likely to snag on things. Could also be because he's been increasingly featured in larger factions, so he works with more people and was asked to have one on hand maybe?? I don't know. In either case the knot in the middle of the rope makes it too small for his wrist which could also be read as a passive-aggressive "Here's the fucking safety rope it's on there ALRIGHT" and yet he's also made it nonfunctional for its intended purpose lmao Okay that's all byeeee

[talkbycolor]

I deserve this

A/N; at this point its obvious that i inspire in rebzyyx songs

Pairing; "Your Boyfriend" x AFAB!Reader (cus people are scared of the word trans)

CW; reader becomes willing at the end i swear / unhealthy, obsessive and possesive love / sensitive topics such as mental health, depression, anxiety, fear of abandonment, dissociation, suicidal thoughts / a crazy concept: he talks about his emotions!! / non-con, violence, like, i cry while i masturbate

It's quite blurry trying to remember how it all started, it seemed harmless to accept a date from a stranger, he gave you a beautiful rose and was quite kind to you.

Feeling that people could like you, that someone could be romantically interested in you, because of who you are, your personality, that they knew your… desires?

Because you had dreams, of course.

…

Your dream was to live, to live a quiet life, a stable, pleasant job, with good pay, a normal and peaceful life, where the deep emptiness in your heart was non-existent, years had passed and the monotonous feeling did not disappear, you had already accepted the pain, after all, if you felt that constantly it was probably because you did something wrong at some point, right?

But that was a personal dream that would never be shared.

And it's not like that matters now, not when you're in… A room, that's funny, your last memory is of Peter slamming you against the table to tie your limbs since their last date didn't end as expected and It was time to go home.

Return to an empty home, for what? Peter was more than willing to take care of you, why was he so scary? Accepting it would have made things easier, but you ruined everything by trying to run away, you even fought tooth and nail, that was too pathetic now that you remember it, maybe you DO deserve all the shit that is happening.

You could have saved yourself so much terror and attacks.

"PETER ENOUGH! PLEASE! LET ME GO! NO! NO! FUCK, PLEASE!" You tore out your throat with terrified screams and tried to claw at his skin until your fingers were bloody, biting the hands that tried to stop your screams, hitting his face with your elbows and kicking him away, crawling like a dying animal away from him. "PETER!" You sobbed sharply before losing consciousness.

But nothing worked, resisting only made all that shit worse and now you were tied up, in Your boyfriend's old clothes.

You barely remember how you got to that place, or if time passed, anyway that doesn't matter anymore, from one day to the next you find a very small piece of clothing that turned out to be yours, time passed, your body grew but your mind didn't, they keep lying but you know that your life will depend on how well you do it.

And you're not doing it right, you tried to adopt toxic happiness but you couldn't even maintain it for a while before exploding, sadness was already an everyday thing and you just weren't feeling it anymore.

"Dear?"

Just peace please, how hard could that be? It was annoying, you even felt angry for feeling so empty, because people were so rude and the constant rejection killed you socially.

It was hard to breathe, wasn't it?

"Love? Do you hear me?"

It feels like the end, your soul is bleeding, you wish your stupid job made you feel a little more alive and motivated to continue.

And now you have done so many things to escape from that monster that pulls you back to the room to devour you under the bed.

"Darling!" Your boyfriend's voice echoed through the room, making you look at him once and for all, your eyes tired despite having been unconscious most of the time.

"…" You wanted to respond, really, but what were you supposed to say?

"You must be exhausted, you didn't even touch dinner" It was a tricky phrase, he had tried to feed you since you were tied up.

"Peter-…"

"I already told you that I prefer to be called other way, honey" He responded with a smile and a definitely not irritated tone.

"I want to sleep" He left your lips, he was being so caring, taking care of your health.

He kidnapped you.

And you couldn't even thank him for it.

He knocked you out.

You really were an ungrateful shit, weren't you?

He locked you up.

You wanted to return the signs of affection.

Soon the ropes left your body, Peter helped you stand up and you both walked to the bedroom, he was still carrying a small plate with a light dinner, he refused to let you go to bed without having eaten dinner.

Once in bed, he made sure that you had a proper dinner, and he helped you change your clothes so that you would be comfortable in bed, he also did the same with his attire and now you were both lying down. It always made your stomach churn when he looked at your half-naked body.

"Dear" He murmured next to you while you tried to sleep as soon as possible, so many things had happened those last few days that the only way out was to sleep, you had probably already been fired from your job for not showing up. "Honey, love, darling," he said sweetly as his hand went up to your cheek, he simply looked at you with a huge and probably painful smile on his face, almost tattooed, you made him so happy with your mere presence.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, your mind still cloudy enough to refuse anything, so you just went up to kiss him, the room was very dark and there weren't even crickets echoing at night, the amount of silence was overwhelming… of course, that didn't count the lip-smacking they shared.

So it continued.

For a long time.

"Pet-…uhm, I mean, honey, I'm tired and I want to sleep" You interrupted the honey session.

"Please, you don't have to do anything, just let me love you, darling" his voice was soft, soothing to that darkness but not to the painful weight in your heart and the knot in your stomach, his touches felt strange.

You know that's wrong, you don't like it.

You didn't stop him, just like he said, you let him love you as you closed your eyes and a buzzing sound echoed in your head, like television static, your bottom clothes had disappeared, but that didn't matter.

You couldn't hear anything, you didn't see anything, your body reacted but your mind was very far from that place, you wandered through your memories, fantasies of a life you were never going to have.

It was really digging into your cunt, huh? Even when your mind wanted to flee somewhere else, it was undeniable how he held your thighs and you gasped heavily with each thrust.

His member was still dripping his seed, did he use protection? You don't know, you don't care.

It doesn't matter.

B e cau se s oon y o u w il l b e d ea d.

"Honey? Didn't you enjoy it?" Peter asked with a worried frown.

What the hell is wrong with you? Do you no longer have respect for yourself? You know it's going to hurt you.

Don't you mind dying? You lost hope and you don't even try to help yourself anymore, damned and pathetic attempt at being human, really unnecessary.

"Honey…" Peter caressed your cheeks and brought his forehead to yours, sighing softly and carrying your body to the bathroom in the room.

You didn't say anything either, you just felt how it was cleaning your body, the water was warm, the bathtub full of bubbles, and it smelled pretty good, like coconut soap. Peter hummed quietly as he treated your body with the utmost affection, you were sure he was whispering things in your ear but you were barely aware of your surroundings.

When your eyes finally focused on something you could see the ceiling of the room thanks to the moonlight, Peter was behind you, hugging your body, caressing your hair, and sniffing the soapy fragrance.

"You are so sweet, so unique, so kind, so special to me, a truly exceptional person, I will do everything to make you feel comfortable, darling, I love you so much, my adorable-…"

"Peter"

"… Yes love?" This time he didn't argue about that name, you were finally talking and that was good.

"I'm sorry I feel so alone, I know you're here but…" You wish you could give him an answer but that was something even you hadn't figured out yet.

"It's okay, honey, I'll be with you to hold you, forever."

♡

[mt-oe]

felt like this would be cutteee, but can we get a small writing maybe of reader x modern!mizu in their shared apartment, but there is a fly and both the reader and mizu start arguing (lovingly) on who will kill it? mizu just doesnt want to and reader is scared to death of the flies, just a silly idea!

i hope you are doing well! take care! <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for this idea <3 I really love fun and quirky requests like these. They're so unique and, at the same time, so cute and silly.

Part two link? Kaboom!

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, suggestive themes, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

This was just ridiculous.

Did you really just panic-call her a million times for this?

Yeah.

Did she really just go past the speed limit for this?

Umm...yeah.

It was early evening and Mizu had just wrapped up a meeting with her client. Stepping into the elevator, she watched as the numbers descended, mind busy with thoughts about what could you be doing at home today.

Maybe folding the laundry while watching a show? Oh wait, did you eat already? Maybe she could bring you something delicious today. Oh god, she really wanted to see you already. To bury her face against your shoulder while you did your own thing like read a book or a comic.

Her thoughts were cut off by the loud 'ding' sound from the elevator. The doors opened and just as she was about to step out, her phone was suddenly bombarded with texts all coming from you.

: mizu wya pls come home : hurry : pls : pls : pls im going to cry : answer me now pls : pls ;; : pls oh my god he's here : come home NOW plsplspls im scared : baby im really going to cry pls go home nowplspls

He?

Who's he?

Her eyebrows furrowed at your messages. You never really texted her when you knew she was at work except for the occasional 'update me or u're sleeping on the couch' text. And who was this 'he'? A tightening feeling squeezing at her throat from the rising anxiety from how scared you seemed. What got you so worked up anyway?

The anxiety she felt rose even more when she heard her phone ringing. You were calling her. But just as she was about to answer, you had ended it immediately. Then, another call. Ended. Another call. Ended.

"What the—?" Her eyes narrowed as this little game of panic-calling her and ending it before she could respond continued. Finally, she was able to answer the call, only to hear a small terrified squeak and a loud thump. The sound of your footsteps scurrying and running around the room could be heard before she heard you pick the phone up from the floor.

"Oh shit, nonono please," she heard you say through the phone before you let out a disgusted sounding whine then...buzzing? followed by the sound of something being thrown. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she continued to listen, trying to figure out what was happening behind the phone. "Dove, what's going on? Why are you—"

"Mizu, baby, please come home now please. There's—oh my god it's so fucking big.." Your pleading cut off with a gasp before she heard another thing being thrown and another disgusted whine.

What.

What was so fucking big, huh?

Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask, the sound of you dropping the phone and the call ending cut her off. Flustered didn't even begin to describe what was boiling inside her. The hairs on the back of her neck standing as she hurried to her motorbike, footsteps fast yet quiet.

'Just what was so fucking big?' she thought, hands subconsciously buckling her helmet more aggressively than usual. Even the way she pushed her bike off the center stands was more brash than usual, almost as if she was about to throw it around.

Her mind was fogged, boggled with what could possibly be happening at home. An intruder maybe? But she couldn't hear any other footsteps aside from yours. Maybe the intruder was quiet? But that seemed so unlikely, what kind of intruder would break-in early in the evening with light footsteps?

Fuck, she didn't know anymore. She just wanted to get home and make sure you were safe. Her hands cranking up the engine further, going past 100km/h on an 80km/h road. Absolutely no fucks given if she got a speeding ticket. Fuck getting caught. Fuck the police. She needed to make sure you were okay.

As soon as she reached your shared apartment, she steadied her breath as she took off her helmet, preparing for what ever could be happening behind the door. Her mind was sharp and focused, ready for anything.

...

Well maybe except this...

Upon opening the door, she was greeted with a soft buzzing sound followed by your figure covered in a blanket from head-to-toe, running away from something that was flying around. Your breath hitched as the unidentified flying object..insect..whatever landed on the basket of apples on the kitchen counter. She blinked in clear confusion, fully expecting something worse.

As soon as you saw her enter, your eyes lit up as if your savior had arrived before running towards her and pulling her in. "There! Hurry!" you lightly exclaimed, pointing to the basket of apples resting on the kitchen counter, lightly pushing your still-confused towards it.

On top of the apples was a fruit fly. A pretty big one at that. Soft buzzing emanating from its small dark green body as its red eyes shining ominously, small grubby hands rubbing itself together. This was what you were panicking about? This was he? This was what was so big?

She groaned, rubbing her face in her hands and shaking her head. Her eyes narrowed at the pest, staring it down to its very soul as if cursing the fly from its current life up to its ancestors. If looks could kill, the fly would have been toast by the moment her blue eyes landed on it.

"Kill it. Hurry," you whispered to her, wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter as you took a few more steps back. Your body shuddered as your eyes stared at the insect's eyes. You swore the fly was looking back up at you with its ruby red eyes, plotting to murder you in your sleep and frolic around in the blood. Creepy.

Her eyes continued to stare at the insect before glancing at you and stepping away with a loud sigh. "Dove...it's a fly. I'm sure you can handle that," she sighed out tiredly, setting her helmet down on the kitchen counter beside the basket of apples. The impact of the helmet on counter causing small vibrations, startling the fly and prompting it fly away.

As soon as the little menace took off, you immediately pulled your girlfriend near, hiding behind her. The buzzing sound growing louder then softer then louder again was making you freak out. "I can't! It's disgusting!" you whined, making Mizu snort softly.

She placed a hand on top of your head, giving you a pat despite how flabbergasted she was from the absurdity of this situation. Did she really just go past the speed limit because you were freaking out over a fruit fly? Really...she didn't know whether she thought you were adorable or frustrating.

"...I'm going to put my things away," she sighed out, turning around to walk off before being pulled back in by you. Your eyes glaring at her before glancing at the fly which had now made its place on the sofa. "I..I'll wash the dishes for a week. Please just kill it," you pleaded. She rolled her eyes at your proposition, but made no move to pull her arm away from you. "You do that anyway. What difference would it make?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

A nervous gulp went down your throat as your eyes watched the fly move around the cushions in search for whatever it could eat. You swore it was rubbing its tiny arms menacingly at you, making a threat that only the two of you could see.

"U-Umm...laundry for a month?"

"Our laundry isn't too bad for that to be tempting."

"Food? Any dinner you want for a month?"

"That...Hmmm..Do you think I care what food you cook?"

"A massage?"

"Not interested."

"Oh c'mon, Mizu! Just..Just kill it already!" you whined, tugging at her arm. The glare you had earlier was replaced with a pleasing look. So adorable, she almost wanted to give in. "Don't want to. I'm pretty tired and your little messages didn't really help," she replied, turning to head back to the bedroom.

Panic set itself on to your face as soon as she pulled her arm away from you. More so when the little pest started fluttering its wings again, the piece of shit buzzing again. Shit...what could be a tempting offer? Something you know your girlfriend couldn't resist...hmm..

An idea popped up in your mind, making you blush a bit. You were hesitant but your desire to get rid of the fly invading your territory was stronger. With a bit of hesitance, you opened your mouth to make the offer..

"Phone sex while you're at work..?"

...

She was sold.

The moment the offer escaped your lips, she froze immediately. Her body heating up slightly and a slight dust of pink making its way to her cheeks and the tip of her ears at the thought. Your naughty pictures while she was in a meeting, maybe a voice recording on her lunch break, sexting while waiting for the next client. If she was lucky, a video call during a 'bathroom break'.

She really did miss you while she was at work. There were times when she wanted to just bail out of a meeting or call in sick just to be with you, but she knew she couldn't do that. As much as she hated talking with insufferable indecisive clients, she loves providing for you.

And your offer? Your offer might just be the cure to her unspoken problem.

Removing her jacket, she opened the window and approached the fly. The two of them having a stare-off while she approached it with slow, quiet footsteps. As soon as the insect started flying, she used her jacket to swat it off, guiding it towards the window until the buzzing little creature was flung out of your apartment. She immediately closed the window, locking it before looking over at you with a slight smirk.

"Make sure you add some videos in for me, okay?" she chuckled lowly, handing her jacket over to you before heading towards the bedroom. You really couldn't back down from this anymore. "You're lucky I love you," you sighed out, following after her, a smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm lucky you're a wuss."

"Oh shut up!"

[stargirl-writes]

denial

pairing : force healer jedi! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.5k

masterlist

summary

anakin skywalker confessed his love for you. except, you turned him down, reminding yourself of your duty to the jedi. weeks would have passed and you're reaching a breaking point where you can no longer deny how you felt about him.

tags : angst, mutual pining, fluff towards the end,

warnings : pretty much just denial of how reader feels, and angst with a happy ending (!)

notes : hi lovely people! this is the first thing i'll post under this blog! thank u for taking interest in my little imagine, i hope you like it!

likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated !

It has been a few weeks since Anakin Skywalker told you he loved you. For a moment, the cruelest thing to do seemed like the sweetest thing he could say.

For you both know that the Jedi Council will forbid you to delight in this feeling.

No attachments, live to serve the good, clear lines. No devotions.

You didn't understand how loving someone can be so corrupting, after all, the Jedi Code taught you compassion for all things. That in itself is an act of love. Living so detached from things just makes it all feel... meaningless.

Why hurt for love? Why hurt for not loving?

But now, ever since Anakin told you he wanted you, you are held by a ravenous grip that left you feeling breathless. Suffocated.

Because the truth was simple: You wanted to hoard Anakin in your heart and keep him there. You wanted Anakin.

Of course, you didn't mean it. Anakin Skywalker is the only one who truly knew you. He shredded down your walls to find you where you're most vulnerable and loved you anyway. He wasn't scared of the things about you he didn't understand. Things you, too, find difficult to accept.

But caught by the abruptness, you could only tell him "We can't" before storming out of the room that one night.

You were perplexed, because for the longest time you have resigned yourself to the idea that you were the only one feeling it.

And now he says he loves you. All along.

He loved you.

He loved you despite, despite, despite...

And you turned him down.

Because you can't....

You were bound by duty first. And your duty is to serve the Republic. You can't have Anakin, not if he is supposed to be the chosen one.

You still cried in your sleep; angry and tremendously sorry you turned the closest thing to love away.

You can't take the Republic's only chance of surviving this war. He was meant for something larger than you are. Larger than both of you. You understood this, but it didn't really make it hurt any less.

It fell into this odd... silence between both of you.

You'd catch yourself looking for him in every room you find yourself in. A force of habit. His force signature used to be a warm beacon of light to anchor you, now every time you sense Anakin, your heart aches.

Haunted by the images in your mind of what could be if you allowed him to love you. Terrified that you've allowed yourself to want to share a lifetime with him.

You can't. You wouldn't.

You shuffle in your bed, unable to find a spot so you can comfortably rest. You were becoming more frustrated, for your mind just won't turn itself off.

You grabbed your robe and pulled your hair away from your face, tying it back.

With a sigh, you sit up. It would be futile to attempt any sleep, dawn was already breaking from the windows of the Jedi Temple.

Force healing is something that not every Jedi practices, for it requires a deeper state of discipline and precision. Besides, there are medical droids that can take care of the wounded.

The council had briefed you on your mission for today, you're stationed at the med-bay to overlook the casualties after the recent attack on Kamino.

You valued healing; no matter how forgotten it may have been for the Jedi Order. So, this mission is equally important to you as fighting in the front lines.

The halls of the temple were still quiet, deep in sleep. You wander around, not really knowing where to head.

You hear a shuffle from behind, and instinctively, you turn.

You halt at a balcony— entranced by the rising sun. You breathed deep, wondering when all became so complicated.

A pair of blue eyes meet your doe-eyed gaze. You surveyed him, he looked like he just came from battle, his robes were covered in dust, and his eyes were glossy as if he had been awake for some time, too.

"Anakin" you breathed out, realizing it had been the first time you addressed him after the night he confessed.

"[Name]" He answers, sounding tired.

Your heart thumps, unsure, and half-terrified that if he calls your name again, you might fall to pieces.

"How did the mission on Kamino go?" You say, trying to find any topic other than—

Anakin steps forward, leaning against the balcony. You hold your breath. Being so close to him felt like all air vanishes.

"It went alright" Anakin answers, his gaze falling into the horizon.

Your eyes trail on his arm, noticing the dried blood, a gash maybe, you step forward, wanting to get a closer look, your healing instincts telling you something was off.

"You're hurt" You say, your hand carefully moving his robe.

Anakin sharply turns at your touch. Then his eyes bore into yours. You lifted your fingers, realizing you may have startled him.

Anakin always had you. Part of the reason you were persistent in learning healing. Because the anxiety of him hurting never settled, and you wanted to be equipped to take care of him.

"Let me do this, it won't take long" You insisted, because you knew Anakin too well, and he'd not get it checked until someone else forces him to sit down at the med-bay.

The wound started closing and after a moment, it was like it wasn't there in the first place.

Anakin nods, his eyes never leave yours.

You felt it, a ripple through the force. A very specific frequency. A jedi might mistake his hurt as that of a physical one. But you have memorized him too much to read through his pretenses.

The wounds hurt, yes. But he is carrying a lot more pain than he lets on.

So, you continued. Your fingers graze over his skin, channelling the force, willing it to heal the gash.

You withdrew your touch. The silence lingered. It's a silence that makes you feel mad, because it feels like this is how it'll always be for you and Anakin now. Delicately dancing around the elephant in the room.

The silence amplified the voice screaming in your heart.

You may as well just say it out loud because your force signature is latched with it. It involuntarily pours your heart out.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

"Anakin" you began, your lips opening and closing unable to find words to express how you felt.

He turns his head, standing straight, he had an expression you recognized. Some sort of braceness, like he was already anticipating for you to break his heart again.

"I'm sorry" was all you could say.

Even if you would've ran away with him if he asked you to.

Clear lines. No attachments. You'd cross them all if he asked you to.

This was the right thing to do, you think...

"Don't" Anakin shakes his head "Don't... I know you don't mean it" His eyes fall to his feet.

"No, I do" You answer swiftly— no longer able to deny how much it had hurted you too.

You felt tears threatening to cascade down your face. You've heard it said that love turns people soft, but you have never felt more broken now that you have loved something you can't have.

"Anakin, when I said we can't, it's because I can't take you for myself. You're meant for larger things. Only with the Jedi can you fulfill your destiny" You rambled, verbalizing the thoughts you convinced yourself to believe in at night.

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed, but you continued "It doesn't mean I didn't, that I don't—" You halted, your heart and mind tearing you apart.

"[Name]" he calls, "You are no small thing in my life" He tucks a loose strand of hair to your ear.

"I meant it when I told you I love you." His palm presses on your cheeks.

You thought you could crumble beneath his touch.

These weeks, the small amount of time you spent trying to convince yourself that his feelings will eventually pass, never faltered the way how you felt. His absence felt like half of you was missing. And now, he was here, insisting softly.

You can't hold it in anymore.

So, in the absence of words, you pressed your lips against his— slowly, gently, slipping into the intimacy you only ever shared with him.

I love you.

You say between the kisses, hoping it'd suffice for you can't quite bring yourself to say it just yet.

Nothing in the world belonged to you, just this love you were overpouring with. And this kiss— it felt like the beginning of something eternal.

Whatever that may be.

© to @cafekitsune the dividers!

[smileyerim]

the urge to kiss your wine stained lips

The lines are blurring between friends and lovers and you wouldn’t mind taking advantage of it, leaning in closer until you can taste the gin cocktail on his tongue.

pairing: haechan x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive (MDNI!), slight angst

length: 3.5k

warnings: heavy makeout, reader gets tipsy

net tags: @kflixnet @neowritingsnet

happy early 300 followers (still 20 away!)

You’re not naive. Okay, well, maybe you are but that’s not the point here. The point is that your relationship with Haechan is something you care about. Cherish, even. So much so that the idea of screwing it up with him is terrifying. So terrifying that you feel like running away any time you feel those little sparks fly through you any time he does anything that could be perceived as anything other than friendly.

You’ve heard the warning, that guys and girls can’t just be friends but you never bought into it, using your friendship with Haechan as proof. That is, until he got his dick sucked for the first time and dyed his hair pink. He gained such an attractive confidence and his regular teasing jokes started to feel more like flirting and suddenly everything you used to find endearing about him became straight up torturous.

The worst part of it all is that you aren’t just attracted to the new Haechan, you have grown real life big girl feelings for him too. The scary ones, the friendship ending ones. The ones you’d never have the courage to confess to him. The ones you desperately hope he reciprocates but aren’t quite sure if he does.

It’s all come to a head tonight. Of course it does, your hormones are insane and he just got his roots touched up and his hair is styled in a perfect quiff.

Fuck his hairstylist.

You’re scowling, thinking about the damned attractive man in front of you as you down your final sips of red wine in your glass.

“Woah,” he grabs your wrist and that makes you want to groan. “What are you going so fast for? I’m not done yet and you’re already on your second glass.”

There’s a reason for your sudden affinity for binge drinking, but you can’t tell him. He had grown interested in sophisticated life skills recently for some godawful reason and decided tonight was the perfect night to show off his new cooking skills to you.

So now you’re here in your kitchen that you’ve never so much as turned your oven on in, while your “best friend” flies around in an apron making you a meal.

Goddamn. He looks so fine.

You sink, dropping your glass down onto the counter you’re sitting on beside you.

“Bad day I guess.” You lie, swinging your feet back and forth.

He chuckles an extremely attractive chuckle, “Cacio E Pepe will make it all better.” you frown at that, you’ve never even heard of such a dish but it sounds amazing and totally not something that your best friend would know about either.

With the courage of a wine glass behind you, you allow your curiosity to get the best of you.

“Why are you doing this anyway?” You ask, words slightly mumbled from your tipsiness. With a soft groan you pull the cork out of the wine bottle you were supposed to share with him with no difficulty preparing to pour another glass.

He frowns, his eyes not leaving the pan as he stirs the pasta, perfectly pretending not to have heard the cork pop.

“What do you mean, cooking for you?” He asks.

You take a sip, “No, the learning to cook thing. Why? Trying to impress girls?” You try to hide your bitterness but you aren’t sure how well you’ve done it. You take another sip.

He looks at you this time and you want to hide.

He pauses for a minute, an unreadable expression on his face before he looks back down to his pan and says softly, “Something like that.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at that, the jealousy burning alive at the idea that he’s using you as a trial run.

“Well, thank whoever she is for making you want to get your act together.” You jump off the counter and brush past him on your way to the fridge.

Bending over, your head half in the vegetable drawer looking for the gin you keep stocked for nights like these.

“So I’m your fake girlfriend for the evening?” You ask, avoiding his eyes as you shuffle through your fridge.

He giggled to himself at your comment before saying, “I guess so.”

“What was that giggle for?” You tease, poking his shoulder, making him rock a bit and let out another chuckle.

“Nothing.” He says casually before grabbing the pepper grinder and twists, adding his own flair as he flicks his wrist.

Fuck, you’re going to go crazy. If he was anyone else you’d make fun of him for the stupid moves he’s pulling clearly in an attempt to impress you. The issue with that, of course, is that you want him to want to impress you.

So you draw your attention to the cocktail you’re stirring up for him, your own little sophisticated life skill you picked up around the same time Haechan began cooking.

Something about all of this feels insanely domestic and it’s comforting. As selfish as it sounds, you don’t mind stealing the memories from Haechan’s future girlfriend. It’s a life you wouldn’t hesitate to steal from her provided the chance, too.

You squeeze the lemon peel once to spritz the glass before pouring in the spirits and taking your knife to the lemon to curl a perfect twist for his drink.

Satisfied with the cocktail you’ve created for your fake boyfriend (gag, by the way. You’ve never been into cute stuff like this. Of course, until now.) you turn around, placing a hand on his shoulder to grab your attention and hand him the glass.

He smiles down at the glass and then once he’s caught your eyes he says, “Thanks, fake girlfriend for the evening.” His arm loops around your waist, pulling you into him as he plants a delicate kiss on your cheek.

Your brain goes haywire as he doesn’t let you go, taking a sip of the drink. You’re not quite sure what to do as you stand, slightly stunned by the proximity.

Lowering the glass from his lips, he smacks them together and grows a thoughtful frown on his face, “This is your best one yet.” He says looking into your eyes again with a glimmer.

Your stomach drops the moment your eyes lock. And as if he has some sort of insane agenda, his sparkling eye winks at you before letting go to give his attention back to the pan in front of him.

Your wine is calling your name again as you try to will away the blush that’s definitely arisen on your cheeks.

As much as you probably shouldn’t, you pop the cork and top off your glass, situating yourself back up on the counter to watch him again.

You sit quietly and sip, watching his every move. Every once in a while he’ll sneak a glance out of the corner of his eye, a smirk growing on his lips watching you turn your gaze quickly elsewhere as to pretend you weren’t just staring at him.

He’s getting confident, aware that he’s had some sort of effect on you as he pulls out his tricks, gallivanting around the kitchen, faking a French accent as he explains the ingredients to you.

Your face is warm with flush from the wine you’ve been drinking all night and a permanent small smile is on your face as you watch him, eyes low with relaxation.

Maybe it’s the wine, or the “fake girlfriend” title, or the intimacy of the moment that boldens you to flirt the way you do next.

“We should do this more often.” He looks at you, surprised by your first words in a while.

“I cook for you all the time!” He fakes offense and that leads you to laugh and stretch out your leg to kick his hip.

“Not ramen, but this sort of romantic dinner thing.” You half speak into your wine glass, the embarrassment catching up to you but but enough to prevent you from saying it all together.

“Ooooh,” he teases, shifting his weight from one hip to another, “you like the romance, huh?” He giggles and with a smile he attempts to catch your eye.

You blush outright this time, the butterflies in your belly erupt from their cage, sneaking up your sternum when you make eye contact. Quickly, you look away and giggle.

“Shut up.” You whisper, both hands on your wine glass in your lap. You stare down and try and preoccupy your thoughts with counting the bubbles that come to the surface, playing with the overhead light reflection in the effervescent pale yellow.

Thankfully, Haechan does shut up this time and you watch him again, this time he’s lost his playful edge and you feel the tipsiness rock you back and forth, setting your glass down beside you. Maybe it is time to slow down, you don’t want to forget tonight.

He looks more pensive as he continues, he’s standing up straight and is looking straight ahead at the pan. It worries you how when a song you know he despises comes on shuffle and he doesn’t move to change it or complain to you how it’s still on your playlist although you know he doesn’t like it.

The butterflies have settled down probably a bit too much, as you feel a sinking feeling of embarrassment that you spoke too candidly earlier, the flush on your face taking on a new meaning.

“Y/N,” he says with a small voice, looking over to you.

“Yeah?” You croak out, watching with wide eyes as he looks you up and down. You gulp when his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. What has gotten into him?

He drops the wooden spoon in an act you weren’t expecting one bit and traverses the 3 steps over to stand in front of you, his hips inches away from your knees.

His hands find your knees and it feels like fire as he pushes them apart to make space for himself between them. While he’s doing this his gaze is locked on you. Well, your lips, that is. You swallow thickly, trying to figure out his motive as his hands trail farther up your legs and finding their home eventually on your hips. You’re still sitting quite stiff, until he looks into your eyes as if to ask permission. When you don’t protest, he moves in closer and closer until your lips are finally together.

The sparks that are present every time he touches you seem so small compared to the absolute lightning you feel as he kisses you. It’s slow at first, his soft lips moving against yours gently and carefully. He’s holding back in a way you wish he wouldn’t, your hands moving to find the back of his head as you kiss him harder.

He takes the hint, his hands holding you just a bit tighter as he licks into your mouth. You can’t help the moan you let out, absolutely shocked at your own reaction. This is your first kiss with your best friend. Yet you can’t seem to hold it together.

Unsurprisingly, he can’t either as his hands move down just a bit further to tease at touching your ass. You move off his mouth to trail kisses down to his neck where you begin to suck and lick. He’s panting in your ears, his hands grabbing a full handful now.

“So, uh, Y/N,” he says, and you hum in response not picking up on his tone. You’re on a mission you don’t particularly wish to be taken off of.

You hum, moving your hand to his hair and kissing him again, humming to urge him to go on.

“Can I tell you something?” He says and you lean back to get a proper look at him. He looks unbelievably sexy, but you have to ignore that for the slightly worried look behind his eyes. This is not the same man that boldly started this make out session with you. This is Donghyuck, your best friend of 9 years.

“Yeah.” You say, your hands intertwining behind his head, forearms on his shoulders.

“I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend.” He breathes out, avoiding eye contact and looking back down at your lips as he begins chewing on his own.

“Oh?” Your confidence takes over as the butterflies are released from their cage and flutter upwards out of your belly and light up your body in a strange tingly feeling.

“What do you want to be then?” You whisper, eyes wide waiting for him to look back up at you. He does, but only in short sequences as his eyes find yours and then back down. He’s holding his breath, you can tell by how his fingers that were dancing across your skin before have stilled uncomfortably.

He’s taking too long, you decide, so you make the executive decision to get back on track with the original plan by pulling on the back of his neck to join your lips again.

It’s the right call obviously as he kisses you back almost immediately and the tension from the moment before is expressed through strong squeezes of your thigh and ass flesh as his tongue enters your mouth again.

The same guy that kissed you in the first place is back as he situates both his hands on your hips and pulls you forward harshly so that his hips can officially meet yours.

You moan, letting your head fall back at the feeling of him underneath his jeans meets your core. You wrap your legs around his hips as he kisses down your neck, pressing his hips harder into yours and sliding up to offer some much appreciated friction.

“Hae- Haechan.” You stutter, blissed out and he responds with a hum, clearly not appreciating being interrupted on his mission to mark you.

“You- oh fuck” his hand slithers up your shirt to grasp your breast, thumbing your hard nipple through your thin bralette. He smiles into your neck as he listens to you breathe, gauging what makes you make the noises he loves so much.

“You never answered my question.” You half moan out and that makes him lean back from his work on your neck and look into your eyes with an incredulous look. Taking in your stunned features at him halting his work on you, he groans and lifts you up from the counter.

With a squeal you wrap both your hands around his shoulders as he moves to carry you out of the kitchen.

“Wait-“ you smack his shoulder.

“Haechan! The stove!” You point from your look over his shoulder.

“What? Oh” He then chuckes a deep chuckle before walking back into the kitchen, releasing his grip on one of your thighs to turn the knob and remove the sauce pan from the stove.

“Thanks for that.” He smiles at you and gives you a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth drawing a giggle from you.

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for, right?” You joke and something switches behind his eyes, the fierce sexy guy who was just about to carry you to his bed is now looking at you with the same soft heartbroken eyes that he had when he got stood up that one time freshman year.

He sighs long and loud before letting you down. Your feet touch the floor with unceremonious thuds as you watch him take a step and a half back from you, a pained expression on his face as he lets out a sharp breath through his pursed lips.

“What?” You say, concerned by the crease between his eyebrows and the way he won’t make eye contact with you.

You suddenly feel exposed, and extremely stupid. Your roommates were right about you, you are the dumbest bitch on the planet. Why would you say something like that? Bringing up a fake girlfriend joke when he’s trying to hook up with you freaked him out.

“Ouch, I mean ouch, Y/N” You don’t say anything, continuing to stand and stare at him with wide eyes.

“Damn, that hurt to hear. Do you know what you just implied?” He finally looks up at you and you can finally read him— he’s hurt.

“I mean I’ve been trying to prove to you that I’m into you for months. Like months, Y/N. I’m here now cooking a romantic dinner for you and I just kissed you. I don’t know what else to do here. You don’t get it at all.” His hands are flying about, exasperated. His words cut you like a knife.

Your heart sinks and you can’t pin down the emotion that is creeping up inside of you. Similar to relief and shock but it’s more than that, much more.

“You were okay with the fake girlfriend bit before, how was I supposed to know it would hurt you now?” You say, finally landing on your feelings of offense at his words. How dare he make this into something more than it was?

“I was fine with it until I kissed you! I did that and was about to do a whole lot more and yet you still think this is a game to me?”

That shut you up fast. You didn’t know, you truly didn’t.

“I- I didn’t know.” You say, your sternum stinging with the telltale sign you may start crying soon.

“Of course you didn’t, I didn’t tell you but trust me I’ve tried. I just thought you understood.”

“I’m sorry.” A tear slipped. Overwhelmed with far too many emotions of finally having the awareness that the man in front of you is familiar with his own demon of having feelings for you.

At the notice of your tear, Haechan’s face changes from anger to concern as he steps into you, toes touching. His hands find your cold biceps and he rubs his hand up and down to comfort you.

“No, no don’t be sorry. Please don’t be sorry. It’s me, it was my job to tell you how I felt and I was expecting you to read my mind.” He sighs to himself, head hanging low to try and meet your eye.

“I just thought you wanted to hook up. That’s all you’ve been doing nowadays anyway I thought that was happening here too.”

You say, chin still tucked into your chest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry that you felt that way. You could never just be a regular hookup to me. I- I mean I’ve been all about you for a long time. That’s why I was having all those hookups and everything. Like, for you.”

You laugh through your sniffles, finally looking up into his eyes with a teary smile. He smiles back and giggles with you.

“That didn’t sound right I just mean— I meant— I dunno, hookups are hookups but you’re more I hope you believe me.”

“I believe you.” You whisper, eyes flicking between his two. He notices your stare and his smile softens to a comfortable one.

“So, I did my part.” He draws out with a playful tone in his voice, hands still on your arms. “How about you?” His pleading eyes pierce into your heart.

You sniffle once more, hand coming up to wipe one stray tear from your chin. It’s now or never, you think as your heart beats out of your chest. You’re surprised he can’t hear it.

“I like you, you idiot.” You finally speak, giggling at the last word. His face lights up in a bright smile, eyes swimming in adoration as he stares down at you.

“Really?” He gasps and you both laugh, eyes filled to the brim with fondness for one another meeting.

You bite your lip, watching his eyes immediately stare down at your lips as you hum, nodding in affirmation.

He smiles a satisfied wide grin, “how lucky am I?”

His lips barely meet yours in your kiss, both of you simply unable to stop grinning or laughing with joy. When his hand travels down to grab your hips with more passion, you finally kiss him for real. He responds quickly, slotting his pillowy lips with yours, eyes squinting shut.

“You’re my girl now, right?” He says once you both lean away to catch your breaths, cheeks blushing and warm.

You nod again in response, a “yeah,” escaping your swollen lips through a giggle.

His eyes open fully to look at you again and something mysterious flashes in his eyes as his wide hands find the space between your ass and thighs, picking you up swiftly.

taglist: @matchahyuck @shxnz @haechanaceah @haeerisuh @haetkeeper @count-your-shadows @yamaggukie

[ndjournal]

How’s your dream going?

it’s been a while since i’ve heard about you!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Dearest anon, my dream is well and peaceful although I am indifferent to it either way now which is what makes it peaceful and effortless :)

I considered writing a post on my learnings but was a bit hesitant because it's just another version of an experience that's already been spoken/written about many times before and there's nothing particularly special about this one. However, since you've asked, I will share some things about my journey and what has helped me personally which might help other Vanessas/versions of me out there. Please only take what resonates, my journey is not a blueprint for all journeys however I have noticed some commonalities in truth seekers.

The biggest thing was quite literally giving up entirely. I actually wrote a post on giving up about 3 months ago when I was earlier into this 'journey' and I still agree of course with what I wrote however I would write it differently if I were to write it now (it would be a more expanded version); perhaps I will write a part 2 although this answer here can sort of be taken as a part 2. You see, this Vanessa's life was quite comfortable in general so when she started on the ND path, while she was very determined to "get it", I wasn't motivated or entirely willing to give her up. We spent a lot of time letting go of concepts and limitations (and that definitely helped later on so I'm not saying it's not helpful, do what resonates for you!) and Vanessa/the ego was becoming subtler and subtler but it was still something I held onto. There was still identification with not much motivation to give it up entirely - sure there had been desire and interest to 'materialize' things but when we gave that up too, there wasn't anything. I was still lost in Maya despite the dream not being all that captivating or enjoyable.

Then quite literally life circumstances all of a sudden threw some major curveballs and Vanessa was terrified despite all that she had learned - it felt like all knowledge had suddenly disappeared and she had absolutely nothing to hold onto. After trying various things and going round in circles trying to keep everything at bay, the only thing left that really resonated was to quite literally give up on everything - it felt like there was no other option for peace but to do so because she was so mentally exhausted and drained from caring about every single thing that it was so much more appealing to be nothing and no one, to just BE… oh just the thought of being nothing and no one was freeing.

4dbarbie's words here gave Vanessa a lot of strength and direction (although her answer there was for a new identity, I did not use it for that as it was exhausting to even think of a new identity. I just wanted to be nothing and no one, that was most peaceful)

Give UP: It is what it is and 'you' can't do anything about it. Just let it all happen, we all die one day and it's over anyway. Worrying, fearing, doubting, striving, searching, desiring - how tiring, you would much rather sleep a hundred years. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Expect nothing from your body or mind. Let them do whatever they want, cease caring. Literally dgaf, if life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. (Ever had a bully? They get bored when you stop reacting and they leave you alone. They may increase the strength of their punches at first, but so what? You're already getting bullied... you can do nothing about it but cease caring and let it happen.)

And also this from 4dbarbie helped me understand the indifference that I had to embody:

I did not fake a lack of disturbance, I just let things happen to 'me' painful or not, I did not try not to react, I just didn't get involved emotionally with what was going on because I was tired, completely, of both desiring and being scared. The emotions didn't interest me anymore, I became indifferent to whatever was happening, neutral. If 'I' got what I wanted, whatever, if I didn't whatever again. I didn't try to change anything, the events just passed without leaving a 'footprint', all the bad/unwanted things had no reverberations anymore, it was like they never existed. Then there comes the idea of: what if they never actually did? And you fiddle and play with that a little. It's just play because you don't really care anymore, it's a real feeling of being unaffected, it's not manufactured because you aren't trying to get anything, not even 'realization', you want nothing anymore. This detached feeling, of needing nothing - it brings a lot of power, try to at least reach that and worry about the rest later.

She knew she had to stop trying to fight life but she was afraid of what would happen if she did stop trying. Eventually she got exhausted and had nothing left. Then no longer wanting/searching/trying to make happen any particular outcome or caring anymore, just pure indifference being in the present moment with no conditions/labels/problems is what gave her peace and then things just starting to ease up on their own. Things even happening on their own with just a random thought without any particular input.

I realized all the practices that Vanessa did before the curveballs had a 'doing' intention, a 'purpose' behind them (quieting the mind, self-realization, dropping beliefs etc) while afterwards, the same 'practices' were engaged again but with the intention of just being with no labels, no agenda, just being nothing and no one and this made all the difference - when you are no longer doing anything - you are not the doer/body/ego/mind; you're just being with no identification and no longer care about anything. And the indifference here is not forced or pretend like she used to have before as a defense mechanism, its genuine true indifference and full acceptance of everything (see the second 4dbarbie excerpt above - understanding and experiencing this subtle difference will help a lot).

The reality only comes when you give up yourself, when you give up your ego, when you give up your needs, your wants, trying to make something happen, desires, when you give up trying to become self-realized, when you just give up. - Robert Adams

Life is just a giant mirror of your Self. When you stop fighting it, it will stop too. But you have to be the one to initiate it. It takes courage and faith for sure to take that leap.

It has no choice but to die. What you take to be reality is the same, take away your identification and it soon ceases to be. - 4dbarbie

It can be easy to get lost in the dream again if you get caught up in the 'materialization' aspect - it's all still a dream even if forms change. Lester also talked about this in No Attachments, No Aversions:

I knew these things were not to be latched on to. I knew that if I got interested in them, I'd stop progressing. I had seen by this time that this world is a mentation - a dream. So to get interested in the dream again through interest in powers would trap me back into what I was wanting to get out of. - Lester Levenson

Also remember these things happen on their own, it's not the ego that's doing any of this and Self doesn't 'do' - Self is just effortlessly being. There's no 'doing' involved. If there's effort, it's ego as Lester said.

Now when I read my past blog posts or read Lester or Robert, there's an entirely new level of understanding and resonance with their words from before. This excerpt from Silence of the Hearts speaks more on what I was experiencing as well.

Let go of everything. Do not hold on. Stand naked before God, without any crutches, without anything to hold on to. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to stand naked before God. By standing naked I mean no scripture, no fancy words, no preconceived ideas, no spiritual intellectual knowledge. - Robert Adams

Perhaps without those curveballs, Vanessa would have continued to live in the illusion like an NPC in a Sims game until something like that happened to her and forced her to completely give up on everything and stand naked before God (her Self).

A day will come when you will long for the ending of the dream with all your heart and mind, and be willing to pay any price; the price will be dispassion and detachment and the loss of interest in the dream itself. Once you have seen that you are dreaming, you shall wake up. - Nisargadatta Maharaj

Now I know all happens by itself and I am just witness to it all. To all Vanessas out there, I know you got this. Follow your heart and trust in what resonates! And remember not to compare yourself to others, we are all One. Everything will be okay 💜💜💜

[solarmorrigan]

May I request a thrupple for the angst quote prompt?

“Please I just… really need space right now.”

With ChissyxStevexEddie. If not the thrupple then a pair of your choice from those three characters.

Hello! I'm sorry, I didn't quite manage to work Chrissy into this one. Honestly, this particular fill argued with me so much I'm kind of glad I even got Eddie and Steve in there. I hope this is okay, anyway!

[post-S3 Steddie AU; CW: Deals with the aftermath of torture, heavily discusses non-consensual touching (not inherently sexual, not between Eddie and Steve), contains the theme of trying to help someone through trauma. This is very soft, though, I promise]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

The Steve Harrington who comes home to Eddie from the hospital on the fifth of July is not the same one who had kissed him goodbye before his shift at that shitty ice cream parlor two days prior.

He’s still Eddie’s Steve, of course he is, but he’s also – he’s withdrawn, and he’s jumpy, and he’s so, so hurt.

Eddie had seen the aftermath of that fight with Hargrove (who hadn’t? Though Eddie had even had the privilege of watching the last of the bruises fade from up close as he and Steve became friends), but this is worse. Eddie can’t articulate how at first, but it is.

At least back in November, Steve had been able to talk about how he’d gotten his injuries; this time, he has to hide behind some fucked up cover story – because bull-fucking-shit had he gotten hurt by falling debris in a freak mall fire.

Debris hadn’t left marks like fucking boot prints on Steve’s back and chest. It hadn’t bruised and rubbed his wrists red and raw. It hadn’t left the distinct shape of fingers in purple and blue, wrapped around his arms on both sides.

Eddie had tried exactly once to address this, when he’d first seen the extent of the damage hidden under Steve’s shirt. He’d tried to demand answers, tried to get out of Steve who had laid their fucking hands on him, but Steve had gone grey under his bruises and shook his head.

“It was a fire, Eddie. Nothing else. I need you to understand that,” Steve had said, more serious than Eddie had ever heard him, his one good eye wide with urgent anxiety – with something almost like fear. “It was just a fire.”

Eddie hasn’t brought it up again.

It makes him burn to know that someone had done this to Steve and that he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. It makes him want to scream, it makes him want to find whoever had been responsible and make them hurt, but more than anything–

More than anything, it terrifies him.

Because this Steve is different – his Steve is different now, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

It scares him to see Steve slinking around the trailer like it isn’t his home (more of a home than his parents’ house has ever been). It scares him when he forgets that Steve’s left is his bad side and that if he comes up on him too fast, he’ll startle the shit out of him. It scares him that Steve has a bad side. It scares him when he reaches for him, unthinkingly going for the contact that Steve has always been so hungry for, has been so comforted by in the past, and instead Steve flinches away.

Eddie has never really had to take care of someone else, and he feels like he’s fucking it up at every turn. He feels like he’s hurting Steve even more, that he’s no better than whoever did this to him, no better than Billy fucking Hargrove, no better than Steve’s parents; he’s afraid he’s going to ruin things, break Steve beyond repair, because he doesn’t know how to care for this new version of him.

The only thing that gives him hope that he isn’t doing too badly is the fact that Steve is staying. He still wants to be in Eddie’s company, still reaches out sometimes and tentatively slides his hand over Eddie’s while they’re watching TV together, still shares Eddie’s bed at night. He’s been stubbornly insisting that he’s fine, he’s fine, he just needs time to heal, but beyond a refusal to admit that anything is wrong, he still trusts Eddie to help when he’s not at his best.

Of course, no matter what he says, Steve isn’t actually fine, and even if that weren’t made apparent just by looking at him, it becomes abundantly clear when the lights go out and they lie down to sleep – when the nightmares hit.

Sometimes, they’re small things: quickened breath and inaudible murmuring, furrowed brows that eventually smooth out as Steve is released back into deeper, more peaceful sleep.

Sometimes, though, they’re loud and sharp and violent.

Sometimes, like tonight.

Steve is half twisted in the sheets, struggling in a way his broken ribs really can’t afford, arms flailing and jerking as he tries to fight something off, as he mutters no and stop and please. Eddie sort of wants to cry, thinking about what could be making Steve beg, but more than anything he wants to wake Steve up.

He shakes him by the shoulder, dodging the jerk of his arm, and hopes he can call louder than whatever’s going on in Steve’s head.

“Steve. Steve, c’mon, wake up,” Eddie shakes Steve again and Steve jerks away with a wounded noise. “It’s just a nightmare, baby, come on. Steve!”

Steve’s eyes snap open with a sharp gasp, like he’s been holding his breath, but his gaze is still hazy. He’s awake, but he isn’t present, and he immediately starts shoving at Eddie’s hands, trying to scoot away on the bed.

“No, no, get off– get off me!” he shouts, managing to make it as far as the edge of the bed before the tangle of the sheets holds him in place.

“Steve it’s– it’s just me, it’s Eddie, it was a nightmare, you’re–” as reassuring as Eddie is trying to be, he can’t help the distressed crack in his voice. “Baby, you’re safe, I fucking swear.”

Finally, Steve stops struggling. He lies against the mattress for a moment, breathing heavily, before he ventures a small, “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m right here,” Eddie promises.

He shuffles closer on his knees, reaching out for Steve, hoping to comfort or soothe or ground or something, but Steve flinches away, tossing up an arm to halt Eddie in his tracks with a quickly barked, “No.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes out, and he doesn’t mean to sound so fucking broken, but he should be the one person Steve is never afraid of, and he’s fucking that up.

“I… Please, I just…” Steve stutters out, still catching his breath, trying to sit himself up against the wall that the head of the bed is pressed to, “…really need space right now. Just– just leave me alone for a while.”

And all at once, even if Eddie knows nothing else, he knows that isn’t right.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now, sweetheart.”

Steve, now propped up against the wall, lets his head hang with a heavy sigh. “Eddie…”

“No, look, I’m not–” Eddie scrambles off the bed and moves across the small room, until he’s got his back to the opposite wall. “I’m not gonna touch you, I’ll stay over here, you don’t even have to look at me, but I’m not going to leave you by yourself.”

Steve had never wanted to be left alone when things were bad before. When he was alone, his anxiety would consume him; without the anchor of another person, it would carry him away, and Eddie is certain the same thing will happen now if he leaves Steve to deal with the aftermath of his nightmare in solitude.

For a long moment, Steve stares at him, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears in the low light of the bedroom, but he eventually looks away again. He says nothing, just curling in on himself in a way that must be hell on his ribs as he leans back against the wall, and Eddie takes that as the best permission he’s going to get.

He slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his knees pulled up in front of him in a loose mirror of Steve’s position. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, but he’s there, and he has to believe that’s worth something.

It startles him when, some thirty minutes in (probably the longest Eddie’s ever been able to sit in silence without something to occupy him), Steve speaks.

“I can still feel their hands on me.”

His voice is a quiet rasp, but the words hit Eddie like hailstones. He wants to ask who, he wants to demand what, but he knows if he says anything now, Steve will clam up, so Eddie keeps his mouth shut, and he waits.

“Even before they– before they started hitting me.” Steve isn’t looking at Eddie, instead addressing the wall, gaze distant and unblinking. “They grabbed me and… searched me, cuffed me, they kept – putting their hands on my face, grabbing my hair, and I couldn’t…”

Couldn’t stop them.

Eddie feels a little sick.

Steve is quiet for so long after that that Eddie begins to wonder if he should say something, but Steve breaks the silence before he has to figure out what.

“Out of everything, I don’t know why that… why that left the biggest impression, but I–” he breaks off, turning and finally looking at Eddie. “I want to feel you again, but any time someone touches me, I can only see them.”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s going to survive this. His heart is going to fucking break.

He needs to do something, he needs to help, and maybe he has no clue what he’s doing, but this is his Steve, and he has to try.

Slowly, Eddie levers himself up off the floor and moves towards the door, where he hits the switch for the overhead lights, making the entire room go bright.

Steve winces at the sudden change, turning a wary look on Eddie as he approaches the bed.

“Eddie, what…”

“Just– just trust me. Let me try,” Eddie says, soft and earnest, holding Steve’s gaze as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Please?”

It takes a long moment, but Steve gives a hesitant nod, and Eddie scoots closer. He leaves space between them, still, but he gets close enough that he could reach out and take Steve’s hands – which is exactly what he intends to do.

“Look at me,” Eddie says, quiet and firm. “Just look at me, nowhere else.”

Steve does as he’s told, and Eddie manages a smirk.

“Just pretend I’m the most interesting thing in the room,” he tries to tease. “Like there’s nothing else you’d ever wanna look at.”

“Don’t have to pretend,” Steve murmurs, eyes locked on Eddie’s face, and Eddie’s smile melts into something more genuine.

“There you are,” he says softly.

He reaches for Steve’s hands, and slowly, Steve unwraps them from where he’s been clutching firm around his legs, and lets Eddie touch him.

His hands are cold in spite of the summer heat that invades the trailer no matter how hard their crappy little air conditioner works, and they’re trembling slightly, but Steve doesn’t pull back. He stares right at Eddie and holds on.

Eddie brings one hand up, cradled in his own, and presses a gentle kiss to the knuckles. The bruises there have already faded (their presence had been the least distressing out of all the damage; Eddie likes knowing that Steve had at least gotten a few hits in), but he attends carefully to each knuckle, anyway. He kisses the back of Steve’s hand, feeling a little like a courtly lord from one of his own campaigns. Steve is starting to look at him like he might be one.

The bruises around Steve’s wrists are taking longer to heal; the damage is deeper, and the colors still paint livid rainbow circles on his skin (his face is going to take longer, still; Steve says the doctor told him he’d lucked out with a minor fracture to his orbital bone that will heal on its own with time. Eddie looks at the discoloration there and feels like he has some choice words for the doctor). Eddie moves his attention up, brushing his lips featherlight across the top of Steve’s wrist before turning his hand over and paying the same devotion to the underside.

“Eddie…” Steve breathes, and Eddie presses one last kiss to the palm of Steve’s hand.

“It’s me,” Eddie promises, bringing Steve’s other hand up now. “Watch me, sweetheart, it’s just me.”

He keeps eye contact as he lavishes Steve’s left hand with the same attention he’d given the right, and it occurs to him that he’s been inside the boy in front of him, but this is somehow the most intimate thing they’ve ever done.

Eddie doesn’t move beyond Steve’s wrists, doesn’t push any more than he already has, and Steve’s eyes are still on him by the time he finishes, wide and soft and glassy.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly, dropping his hands to hold both of Steve’s in his lap.

Slowly, Steve nods. He looks away at last, turning his eyes to their joined hands, and tightens his fingers until he’s holding onto Eddie properly.

They sit like that for a long time, quiet and close, until Eddie can feel himself flagging and he can see Steve’s eyelids drooping.

“Let’s try to get some more sleep,” Eddie says around a stifled yawn. “You do need your beauty rest, after all.”

Steve laughs, a little huff of a thing, and casts a quick glance up at Eddie. “Can– can we leave the light on?” He rushes the words out, like he hates to even ask, but Eddie only nods.

“Whatever you need, Steve,” he promises – and he means it.

Maybe he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing, but he’s not going anywhere until he figures it out.

And when Steve settles down beside him in bed, and scooches just close enough that their arms are pressed together, Eddie figures maybe he’s not doing too badly, after all.

[cursed-peanut]

About the reunited au (tw suicide)

What if after realising how bad sukuna is reader ends her life instead of moving someplace very far and starting a new life. I mean she finds herself in a completely different era and the man who she loved for so long isn't who she thought he was. Plus the guilt from sharing stuff about gojo, i could imagine she would have a very hard time and it would be interesting to see how sukuna would react if she ended the turmoil for herself in this way. Would he destroy everything in a fit of rage or feel responsible and guilty for her death and stop? Idk i think this could be interesting but i do realise its a quite heavy topic so no worries :)

TW// SUICIDE

This is definitely something that could happen.

Reader was last in the real world 1,000 years ago, the world has changed hugely since then. Sure, they know some things about the new world (curtesy to the students at Jujutsu High and Gojo) but everything’s so new and overwhelming. So starting anew in a world Reader doesn’t know would be daunting and terrifying.

The only consistent person in Reader’s life was Sukuna, but after finding out who he truly is, Reader would become even more lost in this new world. With the realisation and guilt that Sukuna was exploiting Reader’s love to get information about Gojo and then Gojo’s death, everything would shatter.

In every version of the ending, Gojo’s death will always be the tipping point for Reader. He’s helped them so much and was a great guy who only wanted the best for Reader.

I can 100% see Reader being so devastated and overwhelmed that they would end it all.

Sukuna would be absolutely destroyed by Reader’s death, and even more so because they took it themself. He would blame himself for Reader’s death (which it is), and then it would go one of many ways.

Sukuna would become so depressed and ashamed, he would end it all as well.

Sukuna would become so angry about Reader’s death, he would destroy the world, kill everyone and then himself.

Sukuna would carry on with his plan for the perfect future in the name of Reader’s legacy and memory. However, he would never truly be happy as they are not there but he continues to live his life anyway as punishment for pushing Reader towards their demise.

Sukuna would stop all the killing, make amends with everyone and try to become a better being for the sake of Reader. However, he still would be unhappy as his one true love is gone and he will never see them again thanks to his blindness and stupidity.

There are many more possibilities where he lives, but if he does, he would never be truly happy. Reader is the only person he actually cares about and to have them dead is effectively killing Sukuna.

————————————

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[writingquestionsanswered]

hey, i love your blog, you’re so kind for doing all of this. kudos.

i was wondering if you have advice on how to not be terrified of sharing your work with the world? i write a lot of fanfiction (and someday hopefully some original stories) but i get so so anxious about ANYONE reading them so they usually end up rotting in my google docs, and eventually i stop writing them because i don’t get the motivation that comes from reader responses

but the issue is i’m not sure how to tackle this anxiety. as someone who has published works, do you have advice for this?

Tackling the Anxiety of Sharing Your Work

For my answer, I'm going to cobble together some bits from previous posts and add some new stuff. ♥

Sharing our fiction with others is one of the biggest steps we take as writers, and it can be scary no matter what you write. But, if you want to be published, it’s a necessary step. As with so many things in life, doing something that requires courage is often just a matter of taking a deep breath and doing it. "Ripping off the band-aid," as they say.

However, there are some things that might help ease the associated anxiety a bit:

1 - Try to Pin Down Your Specific Fears - One of the first things you may want to do is try to figure out what you're specifically afraid of or what's making you the most anxious about the prospect of sharing your work. If you can find the root cause, it might be easier to tackle the associated anxiety. Are you worried people:

will think your writing is bad?

won’t like your writing style?

won’t get your story/characters?

will judge you for what you write about?

will think less of you for writing at all or what you write about?

will blab about your writing to others?

will steal your ideas?

will see similarities between your story and others?

will make you feel tied to a project you might not complete?

I tackle some of these in the writing-related-fears portion of my Motivation master list.

2 - Don't Rush It - If you take the time to properly revise and edit your story, you can be confident in knowing you've put in the time and effort to make your story the best it possibly can be.

3 - Start Small - If you can, try sharing your story first with an "alpha reader," or in other words a trusted friend, family member, or community member who can appreciate your story. In this case, you might say you're not looking for specific feedback but just a general impression of what they liked about the story. This way, it's not about getting constructive criticism so much as getting over the hump of sharing it and getting the little boost of what they like about the story.

4 - Gradually Go Bigger - From there, you might try sending to a couple of beta readers and opening up to a bit more feedback. The great thing about this is not only are you conditioning yourself to sharing and getting the opinions of others, you can potentially use the feedback to iron out kinks in the story if there are any.

5 - Use a Pen Name - You might want to consider using a pen name for anonymity. Pen names have many different purposes, but much like wearing a mask at a party, they can decrease your inhibition a bit because it creates a bit of a buffer between the real you and your writing.

6 - Post and Let It Go - Many writers get around the issue by simply not engaging with reader feedback, and if you're someone who cares what other people think or are likely to be daunted by the prospect of criticism, this may be the best route for you to go. Now, I know that with fan-fiction in particular, reader feedback is often used for improvement. But the truth of the matter is, you shouldn't rely on reader feedback for improvement anyway. Alpha readers, beta readers, critique partners, and editors are a much better metric for where to improve. When you get your feedback elsewhere, you can post your story and let it fly on its own without worrying about what others are saying.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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