#thank you for reading … my writing process vents 😭

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i am once again nothing but a liar ……... i think i’m gonna post the gojo fic tmrw ;;; it’s just a tiny little thing really but i wanna proofread properly in the morning …… so it ends up good ………. maybe experiment a little with the layout :’3

[jilsthings-rb]

CAN I GET AN AMEN IN THE HOUUSEEE YOOWWWWWWWWWWWWZAAAAAAAAA‼️‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥💢🔥‼️‼️🔥🔥‼️💢‼️💢🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️🎉‼️🎉🎉🎉🎉‼️🔥💪🔥💪‼️💢🔥💢🎉🎉🎉🎉‼️‼️🔥🔥💢💢‼️‼️💢🔥💢‼️💢‼️💢🎉🎉🎉‼️🔥🔥

I Really Wanna Stay at Your House

Sypnosis: Pico invites Lara to sit down and talk with him. What she didn't expect is the reason for it.

Ship: Pico/Lara 💚🩷

Word Count: 3k

WARNINGS: Hurt/Comfort, Degradation (Pico @ himself, I need to save this man). Not sure what else so lmk!

Happy PicoLara Anniversary!!! The long awaited fic is finally here! Just as a little funfact but this was originally supposed to be a comic but the script got too long bc I kept writing... oops. So it's a fic now! Hope it's a good read still. I haven't written in a long while and this isn't completely proofread but enjoy still 🫶

DNI: prosh1p/comsh1p do not even touch this post.

May 13th, 2024. Monday afternoon. Today was their anniversary, and it was luckily a quiet and slow day. At least it was supposed to.

Pico finds himself seated on the couch, back slouched on the backrest, fiddling his fingers as he was staring at the ceiling. He was feeling nervous.

He wasn't usually like this most of the time, especially on days like these. But today was different, because today, he invited his girlfriend to sit down and talk with him because there was something important he wanted to mention. No, it wasn't about the anniversary– they were both fully aware of that already. It was something more personal to him, something that has been troubling him for quite a while now. He couldn't start on that conversation just yet though, because she wasn't there with him.

She was still in their bathroom cleaning herself up. He had knocked on the door prior to this– asking her to join him on the couch once she was done. She agreed of course, and now he was just waiting for her to finish. But as every second passed by, he was starting to get a little more restless.

He was alone with his thoughts for the time being, his mind swirling around the topic he wanted to talk about with her. It was terrifying, imagining all the made-up scenarios on how this one conversation he'll have with his girlfriend could go wrong. He should really try looking on the brighter side more often, but right now he can't.

Right now he feels his stomach twist and turn, and it almost makes him want to throw up. He clenches one of his hands into a fist until the knuckles turn white, forgetting his own strength of all things. He hates how uneasy he gets with simple confrontation, even though this wasn't a confrontation at all. It was really just a simple little talk. But the fear of it still gnaws at him from the inside out.

All those negative thoughts die once Lara enters the room.

"Hey, what's up?" She smiles, and it's as almost as bright as the sun that's shining through the window. Maybe if Pico stares hard enough, he could see the faintest outline of a halo right above her head.

He notes her appearance briefly. She's wearing shorts and a loose tank top. Her hair was slightly fluffed up, an effect of hair-drying such thick hair after taking a shower. She looked so relaxed and refreshed, and it makes his heart skip a beat. She looks so pretty.

Pico clears his throat as he finally loosens up, lifting one hand up to wave at her. "Hi, hey." He greets, and the words come out more quiet than he'd like. He feels like he's staring. He's definitely staring. It's so obvious to her that it makes her chuckle, the soft laughter finally snapping him out his trance.

"Here, take a seat." He moves to one side of the couch, making room for her to sit on.

Once she's seated, she looks at him expectantly. "So..." She starts, looking off to the side momentarily before returning her gaze on him.

Being on the spotlight like this makes a lump form in Pico's throat. There it was again, that sinking feeling of how this whole thing could go wrong. He clears his throat once more, pushing his fear back before speaking.

"So... about what I wanted to talk about." He pauses, trying to find the right words to describe the topic he has in mind. "It's... well, pretty serious."

"Did something go wrong?" She instantly asks. She tried to keep it casual, wanting to keep the light and airy atmosphere despite the topic (whatever it may be). But she couldn't stop the worry that slips in her tone when speaking, her protectiveness starting to override.

"No, no- everything's fine actually. I mean it as- this is really important, at least to me." He explains, and it makes her sigh in relief. He wouldn't want to give her a heart attack this early on.

"I'm listening."

"Well, you see... it's not really easy to talk about."

"Something personal?" She asks carefully, wanting to make sure she's not overstepping any boundaries. She knows he should know he can decline answering if it touches on something private.

"I guess you can consider it that way." He answers with a shrug, seeming unsure himself if it could be deemed as such.

"Well, whatever it is, take your time. I'm listening whenever you’re ready."

"Right, uhm..." He mutters, finding himself a lot more hesitant all of a sudden. He doesn't know why he still finds himself this way, scared to open up and be vulnerable still. The person across him has witnessed him at his complete worst. They've both been through hell and back for each other, yet there's still unease despite it all.

He gulps again, trying to swallow down his dread. "It's just..." He groans, and it frustrates him how complicated he's finding this. "It's- it's really not that easy. I-"

"Hey, it's okay." She immediately tries to reassure him, reaching out to hold him. Her hand rests gently on his arm, hoping it provides some form of comfort. "Like I said, take your time. But if you can't tell me then there's no need to force it-"

"But I want to tell you!" He cuts off, his face practically pleading. "I've been dying to tell you this and it's killing me, I-"

"Pico-"

"Lara," he grips her by the arms, white eyes staring straight into her own. "You are the love of my life and the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. You've stuck by my side after all this time even after everything. After every breakdown, argument, every time we'd wake up in the middle of the night because one of us had a nightmare. Even after I've hurt you-"

"So did I-" She's confused and startled. She wasn't expecting this yet she's still listening. She just couldn't help but butt in during that one sentence.

Pico huffs. "That's not the point. My point is that you still stayed. Stayed to love me, care for me. Made the best out of the fucking mess I am. Everything. And I just-"

"Pico-"

"You're everything. You're seriously fucking everything to me and I- I don't know where I'd be without you. Not here, not right now that's for sure. I'd probably- no, I'd definitely be dead sooner or later if you didn't come into my life."

"That's not true!"

"It is. It fucking is and you know it."

"Pico- please," she's the one pleading now, worried on where his words are going. Although she appreciates his adoration for her, she didn't want it to come at the cost of him demeaning himself. "I- you're shaking."

"You're just... I don't want to loose you." He admits weakly as he looks down, feeling his grip loosen when she moves his hands away. They're wrapped around hers now, slender and soft fingers cradling his shaky and calloused ones. He intakes a breath of air and it's an unsteady one. "I can't loose you."

"I'm not going anywhere, love. You know that." She responds, gripping his hands tightly into hers. "We've talked about this. I'll always be right here for you, just like you will for me."

"You're- that's not-"

"What? What's not? Explain it to me, I don't-"

"Fuck. Just-" He's exasperated now. He knows he's not making any sense and the conversation isn't going the way he wants it to. But he just can't bring himself to say the right words. The direct ones.

It's when he finally pulls a hand free from her hold, reaching into his pocket before dragging something out. He places the item on the palm of her hand, albeit a bit roughly.

"Just take it."

"Wh-" She's so much more confused now.

When she finally looks down and reluctantly opens her hand, she finds a small, golden colored band, with a shimmering stone encased neatly on it that she knows is worth thousands. It's settled gently on her palm, and that's when realization hits her.

He was proposing to her.

"Pico- This is-"

When she looks up to look at the ginger, she finds him facing away from her. He was trembling ever so slightly and... is that sniffling she hears?

Oh.

It makes her sigh, free hand reaching out to tap him gently on the shoulder. The action makes him flinch for a second, but she hopes it makes her lover look at her once more.

"Pico..." she says softly.

He slowly turns around to face her again, and that's when she sees it. The state of his face, eyes filled with tears that couldn't stop themselves from spilling, and the flush on his cheeks that was evident. This isn't the first time she saw him get this emotional, but the reasons for such a breakdown is different this time around. It makes her sigh again, reaching her free hand out to hold him.

"Oh, Pico... love..."

"'m sorry."

"Don't be."

She softly whispers, cradling his face now, letting her thumb wipe away some of his tears gently. It makes him instinctively lean into her touch, nuzzling into the palm of her hand despite the wetness. Soon enough, he moves closer, starting to embrace her now as he hides his face away into the crook of her neck. She lets him do so, the action second-nature as she moves her hand to his back now, starting to rub soothing circles on it.

"I could've worded this whole thing better." He mutters, his breath hitting her skin and making her hair tingle.

"You did fine."

"No I didn't. I'm such an idiot."

She sighs once more, a bit more frustrated this time. "You're not! You're the smartest person I even know honestly." She contends, not tolerating his degrading comments any longer.

"Seriously though, you did okay, I promise."

Pico merely stays quiet, gripping his hands a little tighter on her waist as he contemplates things. The silence takes over for a few minutes, but it doesn't bother her. Not one bit, at all. She'd wait for eternity on him if she needed to, but luckily she didn't have to when she hears his voice once more.

"You don't have to... y'know, say yes."

"Now why would I do that?" She tilts her head to try and look at him, even though the only thing she can really see is the back of his head.

He hums for a moment. "Multitude of reasons. Main one is that you aren't ready."

"Well, are you ready?" It felt redundant to ask such a question, considering he did just propose to her. But knowing him? She knows immediately that despite him taking initiative- he still had some reservations in doing this whole thing. She knows him like the back of her mind at this point, and it wouldn't exactly hurt to ask still.

Just as she expected, she feels the hands on her waist grip tighter for a moment, while the face that was hiding in the crook of her neck lets out a muffled answer. That was all she needed to know his true feelings. He was still hesitant.

"I'm taking that as a no, then?"

"No- I mean-" He finally looks up to her now, revealing his face from hiding. His eyes meets her once again and it makes him feel like he's caught red-handed. His voice was a bit more raspy and strained, but he cleared his throat before speaking again to let his words sound clearly.

"It was... hard. I thought about it a lot, so many times, for a long, long time." He admits now, his voice slow and almost quiet from the shame he feels. "Every time I thought of proposing, it scared me shitless. I didn't feel ready- I wasn't at all ready. But the more time flew past us, the more scared I got about losing you. Scared you'd get bored eventually with how long we're still dating. But it also felt too soon. But I still wanted to show you much you mean to me- how precious you are. But I'm still-"

"Hey. Hey, breathe. you're shaking again."

"Sorry, I-" He intakes a deep breath of air. When that wasn't enough, she guides him with a breathing exercise to help calm his nerves properly. When she sees he's finally relaxed, she speaks up.

"It's okay. It really is." She gives him a gentle smile, wanting to reassure him. "I can understand how hard this is for you, I'm not mad at you or blame you for feeling scared. But I want you to know I'd never get bored or leave you just because we've been dating for so long now. Do you really think I'd throw away all of this—what we have—just because you haven't proposed to me sooner?"

"No, but..." He trails off, realizing soon enough how she has a point.

It was purely paranoia on his part, clouding his common sense and reasoning. Even after all the progress they did to lessen it and make him feel safe in this relationship, the doubts still crawl back into his mind every now and then. Now is one of those moments. His face shows the inner conflict that he's going through, and it makes her frown. She places the ring in her hand on her side for a moment, before using that same hand to cradle his face fully to make him look at her again.

"I love you. I love you so much, Pico. I could care less when you'd propose to me, so please don't worry about it too much. Do it whenever you're ready."

"But I want to do it now. I want you to- I just want to show how you're everything to me. I don't want to push this back any further."

"So are you proposing now?"

His breath hitches, but he nods. "Yes."

"Then I do. I mean- sorry," she giggles, and it makes the ginger chuckle in response too. "I mean yes. Yes, I will marry you."

His features finally relax as it contorts to give out a relieved smile. His laughter becomes louder now, more joyful as he wraps his arms around her tightly. It pushes her back onto the couch with him on top of her now, still embracing her as he sounded and seemed so happy. It makes her laugh back in response, the laughter contagious.

"I'm glad. I’m so fucking glad..." He sighs, before pausing for a moment as he looks up to her. "Ah, where's the ring actually?"

"Oh, I set it down somewhere on the-"

"Found it." He says with a chuckle before lifting himself up from his fiancé now. Right, she was his fiancé now, and so was he to her. He could get used to calling her that.

He sits up properly to look at her now, and it makes her do the same. He holds out his hand to her, making her understand immediately and comply as she put her hand on top of his.

Slowly and gently, he slots the diamond ring into place, watching as it glimmers slightly. Once it was in place, Lara brings her hand up to admire it, shifting her hand in different angles as she observed the precious ring now wrapped around her finger. It makes her smile.

"It looks beautiful." She whispers.

"Glad you like it."

"Like it? I love it! But also... you shouldn't really have gotten me something so expensive."

He scoffs. "But you deserve it."

"I'm scared I might loose something so precious. The guilt of doing so would eat me alive."

"Nonsense. I'm sure it wouldn't slip off your finger that easily. How does it feel?" He eyes the ring closely now, running his thumb over the jewelry to check if he got the right size for her.

"Fits perfectly." She answers, and that alone makes his insides swell with pride.

"See? No need to worry. Even if you did loose it, I don't mind buying a new one."

"Pico!"

"Whaaat?" He shrugs innocently, but there's already a clear smirk on his face that he was anything but such. "Buying that one didn't even leave a dent in my savings. Surely another one wouldn't hurt." He says it so playfully that the angel couldn't help but just sigh.

"You're unbelievable."

"C'mon. Let me spoil you every now and then." He wraps her arms around her once more, gently guiding them both down to lay on the couch again. He nuzzles his face into her neck and it makes her laugh.

"It's not that- just..." She looks away as she hesitates on continuing, her cheeks heating up from the next few words she thought of saying. It only makes the ginger all the more curious, trying to encourage her to speak up. When she does, her voice is soft and quiet, and reasonably so.

"Save the rest of your money when we settle down, yeah?" She says sheepishly, but there's also a hint of sweetness to it. It doesn't help the gentle expression she has on that sets butterflies loose in his stomach.

"So soon?" He teases, although it did make his heart skip a beat just thinking about it. "Not like I can get more as extra."

"I'm just saying. Better to be safer than sorry."

"Fine, fine." He sighs playfully, surrendering to his lover's decision. He moves his head to be on top of hers now, pressing their foreheads together. There's that same adoration in his eyes as he whispers. "Love you."

She can't help but chuckle, smiling as she returns the same gaze. She feels her heart swell with the love she has for this man that it almost feels overwhelming. "Love you too." She replies, before feeling the soft press of his lips against hers.

She moves her hands upward to run through his hair, and it makes him smile during it. They'll be here for a while.

[revelboo]

Hello!❤️😭 first ask oh my goodness, I just wanted to say I’ve been enjoying your work(s) so incredibly so! Especially a clearly popular one (Everything is Alright)

I’m relatively new to the transformers fandom, courtesy of a friend forcing me to watch the first movie with her!😊 ever since I stumbled upon your page I genuinely can’t consume any other transformers x reader or just in general fanfiction ever since 😭 whenever I try I silently shake my head and go back to your page for whatever character I’d been reading about.

Thank you for all your work❤️ love the new profile picture by the way! Best regards

Thank you so much! I wasn’t really intending to do all this, mostly just trying to get over a writing funk, but I’m having too much fun now. I’m in a Starscream mood today and I was so glad for the new movie, because it reminded me of why I loved Transformers to begin with.

18+ mass displaced mech 🌶️

Inside Out Pt 6

TFO Starscream x Reader

• That temptation pulls at him, making him want to give in and entertain this madness. Satisfy this obsession with you once and for all. Just get it out of his system and maybe he can let you go and pretend this never happened. That this weakness never happened even though he knows taking what he wants, needs, won’t curb this fascination with you. You’re like a drug and he just wants a taste knowing where it will lead. Wants to give in and would it be so bad? Servos wandering against the bare skin of your back under your covering, he feels you shiver against him. Shifting against him.

• Sprawled on him, those servos trace along your spine, his touch branding you with heat that spills through you. Becoming hunger you don’t dare examine too closely, because you don’t know why you respond like this to him. Body heating and aching for something you can’t have as the scent of him thickens around you, all dark, metallic spice. And then you’re falling, crying out as an arm curls around you and you don’t hit the ground. Still sprawled on Starscream, but his face is inches from yours now, those red optics staring at you almost as if he’s as surprised as you are. He’d shrunk? “Well, that’s an unpleasant feeling,” he rasps, servos flexing against your hip. Making you realize that he’s now closer to your size and that you’re straddling his hips.

• Venting roughly when you try to scramble off of him, rubbing yourself against him in the process, he grips your hips and pins you in place. Can feel his spike straining where it’s trapped as his lips part and he hopes to Primus right then that you’re compatible. Your little hands are planted on him, still squirming right over his trapped spike, trying to get away. “Let go,” you demand, face reddening.

• “No,” he rasps, reaching up to cup your cheek. His other hand still gripping your hip almost bruising as heat spills through you, aching inside you. Wanting to lean forward and claim his mouth as he just stares up at you, expression hungry. That pull and warm familiarity singing through your blood to take this. Claim it as yours, not even realizing you’re moving against him until he makes a noise that almost sounds like pain. “Don’t stop,” he demands when you freeze, his own hips lifting slightly. That hunger pulls you taut, what harm could come from satisfying your curiosity? It won’t mean anything at all beyond pleasure.

• Leaning up over him, your lips are shockingly soft as they brush his. A slow cautious slide of your mouth against his, servos sliding against you, trying to figure out your coverings before giving up and tearing them. Hearing your startled noise and sinking the servos of his other hand into your hair to keep you from pulling away. Taking control, glossa sliding against your tongue as you make a low noise of need that goes straight to his spike. Freeing himself, and shifting up onto an elbow so you’re pushed back. So his spike can slide against you, groaning into your mouth at the feel of the wet heat against him. Feeling you rub yourself against him.

• You try to pull your head away to see what you’re grinding against, but his servos tighten in your hair to pull you back. Mouth demanding against yours, kissing you with a desperation that echoes through you. And his spike slides against you, until your tipping your hips up in invitation when he finds you and the hand on your hip pulls you down. Feeling the hard length of him stretch you, sliding deep. He growls against the corner of your mouth, servos flexing against you as he rocks himself deep and stays there. Hands splayed on him, you push against his grip. “I need to move,” you groan and he growls, but relents. Letting you brace and move against him, lifting yourself almost free of him and rocking down to take him again and again. Breathing growing ragged as you ride him, reluctantly meeting his optics. And the way he’s watching you, makes you go taut. All hunger and need, undone because of you. Because right then, you have all the power.

• Hands on you as you take his spike, he can’t stop staring at those hooded eyes dark with passion staring down at him, the feel of your wet heat gripping his spike, knows this is going to be an addiction, because you really are a drug. Servos helping you move faster as your little needy sounds grow more desperate to mingle with his growling snarls. And then you’re tightening on him, fisting his spike as he struggles to keep driving up into you. Coming apart at the feel of you against him, dragging you down with him as he sheaths himself deep to release. Servos sliding over you as his lips brush your sweat slick cheek, tasting the salt on your skin. Because this can’t be a mistake when it feels so right, like coming home. Feeling the wild tattoo of your heart against him as his spike pulses inside you. That pull echoing through him sweet as poison.

Previous

[idyllic-affections]

i just read both of your muichiro works and I’m really impressed 😭😭💓, so I would like to request some thing. What would the reader (gender neutral pls) have to do to cheer giyuu,obanai and muichiro when they are is sad 

what might one need to do to raise the hashiras' spirits?

summary. how do you comfort the hashiras?

trigger & content warnings. no applicable warnings.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. reverse comfort. muichiro tokito & reader, kyojuro rengoku & reader, tengen uzui & reader. 0.7k words. no pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. hello lovely!! thank you so much. muichiro is like... my favorite ever, so recieving praise for the content i write of him is so heart-warming <33 on a more serious note, please please remember to read my rules before requesting. like any writer, i have boundaries. it states who i do and don't write for, and as of right now, i'm just not comfortable writing for giyuu or obanai. i replaced them w/ kyojuro and tengen. muichiro's is the longest though bc i love my son <3333 also this is kind of a different writing style than my usual content? if you guys like it enough i might try to use it more often.

T. MUICHIRO—

oh this boy. this poor boy.

i like to think that he goes through random bouts of sadness and frustration, especially before he regains his memory; he doesn't even know where his deep-seated rage towards demons come from! that fact just perpetuates his frustration. he can't understand why he's so angry and that only serves to anger him more.

also, let's not forget that he's a child. he is a fourteen-year-old child. he has a hard time processing his feelings and working through his trauma alone. children need love and support, love and support that he does not get enough of.

(the other hashira try their best, but let's be honest—they're all always so busy. they wouldn't realistically have time to attend to the emotional needs of a child.)

i don't care how independent canon muichiro seems to be.

he is a child. he grew up too fast.

to ease his soul, i think the best course of action would simply be to dote on him.

he needs the attention. he really does.

dote on him.

brush and braid his hair (braiding it would have practical value, after all!) with his permission, cook for him... just small, familial gestures.

he may or may not cry.

if he does, squeeze his hand and run your thumb over his knuckles. he's like a cat; do not make any further contact unless he initiates it first.

he probably won't vent because he doesn't know what's upsetting him. just let him cry it out. don't expect an explanation (and don't be surprised if he forgets about his breakdown soon after it happens).

give him a lil forehead kiss. he deserves it.

R. KYOJURO—

kyojuro is an interesting one!

i personally think that doing little domestic things with him would be a good way to cheer him up.

or even just doing things with him, spending time with him.

take a walk! go out to eat! make friendship bracelets! any activities done together are always a good bet with kyojuro.

simple little gestures are definitely the way to go, too. he's got a big heart. it's really not too hard to cheer him up, as long as your efforts are genuine.

also, definitely give him a big hug. he'd love that. squeeze him like your life depends on it. it won't hurt him; he's a hashira. he'll be fine.

i headcanon that he's a very good cook!

he is, however, a disaster with baking.

doing things like cooking and baking with him would raise his spirits so so effectively. trying to teach him how to bake would be really good for making him laugh, because i guaruntee that you & him would end up covered in flour and shit like that LMAO

be sure to listen to him talk if he decides on opening up. he'll appreciate having someone that listens.

U. TENGEN—

we all know this man is flashy and loud!

because of this, i think the best way to cheer him up would actually just be sitting in the silence with him.

no words, nothing. just calm silence between two friends.

observe the stars at night with him. listen to the wind rustle leaves and blades of grass.

anything that's simply low effort and relaxing would be good for him, i think. he's got so much energy all the time. tengen spends so much time being... loud and—obviously—flashy.

because of that, every now and then, he needs quiet time to recover.

he needs to decompress sometimes.

like kyojuro, i think he'd appreciate a good hug too. in his case though, it would be best and most effective to hug him once he's feeling better, not while he's feeling bad.

with his permission, massage the tension out of his shoulders. that would help too.

really, he just needs a judgement-free safe space in which he can wind down. i don't imagine him as the type to vent, so that's not something he'd be doing. he just needs someone who understands his need for the quiet, someone who won't pressure him to open up when he just isn't ready to.

he just needs a friend to be there for him.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[e77y]

relating to that vent, i getchu so bad. i feel like in general, the internet might worsen compulsions & obsession within ocd + etc. i have a similar feeling (wouldnt say identical cause i know u from tumblr n yaknow yaknow) that tells me everything i do needs to be 100% morally correct or [insert awful things] will happen to me or someone i love. and this is easier to deal with when you're offline, because there's a limit on the people that can get mad at you. half of the world won't get mad at you because only 0.00001% (or whatever) of the world knows you, yaknow. on the net, it feels like everyone who has an account knows you. your brain telly you anyone who has an account on here might see what you posted & they might be mad at you & they might make a callout post or whatever. even though they don't know you. which is a terrifying thought for many. i dont think youre alone in this, genuinely. and i feel it can be improved. some stuff that's helped me: - making separate accounts w private stuff (doesnt rly work on tumblr but like a private account on insta & etc etc) - rationalising thoughts (an example of this would be thinking: is it really likely many people will agree with someone being mad at me? or: how many people actually do see my posts? is that proportional to the amount of followers i have) - and talking ab it w friends. genuinely, the communication + processing of these thoughts & feelings is soo helpful. sending u soo much love <3 if u wanna chat a bit ab it you can dm me :) (ask can be published or responded 2 privately, whatever u prefer!)

Thank you so much for this message omg :’) ❤️❤️❤️❤️ So thoughtful. This made me tear up a little haha. I’m posting it here so I can look back at it later; hopefully that’s okay.

I’m really glad to hear other people feel the same way/have the same worry… like logically I know that it’s something a lot of people worry about, but idk; my brain has a way of convincing me I am the only person in the world who has done anything ‘bad’ ever LMAOO. So this was really nice to hear

Also I’m a very talkative person! Like I’m definitely an introvert, but I do like to talk about myself and my interests and my feelings etc. Especially when I have a forum (cough Tumblr) to post into the void 😭😭 So I guess that’s part of my issue; IRL, there are less people to be upset if I do/say something ‘bad’, and most of them are my close friends and know I don’t have bad intentions. But online, I walk on eggshells bc 1) strangers online DON’T know my intentions and 2) I just think my mutuals are really cool lol. So I don’t want to do/say anything ‘bad’ or even embarrassing in their presence yk? And online, their ‘presence’ comprises literally all the time w everything I post

I should probably make a more private account 😅 This one is kind of that (just bc it has far fewer followers than my other blog), and I have one on Instagram with like two people following it that I haven’t touched in a while, sooo maybe I will go back to that for more personal vents and whatnot 🫡 I try not to post anything TOO personal on Tumblr, anyway. I just also really like creating fan content, which sort of inherently puts me in a public space even if I don’t WANT to have an ‘audience’ (regardless of how small that audience is; ik there are people who look up to my writing, and that puts a lot of extra pressure on me, but I don’t want to stop writing, either…. Agh)

Idk this is probably overly personal and also very disjointed bc I just finished writing a 1,800 word essay and my brain is mush lol. I’m just sort of reiterating everything you said. Sorry for making you read all this lmao 😭🙏 But thank you for the kind words, seriously ❤️ I really really appreciate it :’D !!!!!!!

[rottenstawberrygirl]

Friends !!! The winter holiday-themed Fyodor x Reader fanfic I had requested before has finally been delivered. And it tastes sweeter than honey. I couldn't get enough of reading it.

I would like to start by thanking Quality profusely for creating this beautiful masterpiece, you have indeed answered my prayers. What an actual cutie you are… ;> I cannot tell you how incredibly happy I was when I saw you posted this. I wish you a Merry Christmas in advance. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas with your loved ones. Sending you lots and lots of kisses and affection. 🤍💌

This was so so so warm and fluffy that I think my heart, no, my soul has been finally healed from all that angst I've had read. I genuinely had no idea how much I needed this. I feel filled with peace. If Fyodor was a medicine, he would be a cure for everything. He's the sole reason I keep my standards high. How can one find a man like him? This fic has made me fall in love with him all over again for the thousandth time. If my delusions are going to be full of him, then I see no problem with being a delulu. ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

I must also comment on your choice of a more unique plot, which I enjoyed very much. I don't remember reading a Fyodor fanfic that involved; going out to choose a yolka and decorating, him preparing eggnog for us, making cookies together while throwing flour at each other and creating those very cute moments aughhh… that kiss… That's what I call a chef's kiss.

That intimate scene of us sitting cozy in front of the fireplace together and drinking eggnog... You know what I, the reader, desire. It was so heartwarming and I loved every second of it.

AND THEN HIS GIFT FOR US!? HAHAHA, I WILL NOT SPOIL IT IN CASE THERE MAY BE SOMEONE WHO HASN'T READ IT YET. That was so in character for him, I would have probably fainted. I love himmm. Maybe in the future (or next Christmas), you could write a fanfic featuring that gift, you know, it's an idea worth putting in a corner.

.

.

.

You have written everything in such great detail and managed to build an ambiance so harmoniously that you made me feel like I really was there once again. How can everything a person writes be so perfect? 😣 Oh, you and your ways Quality... I believe you are the best present I was given this year, I am truly happy to have met you. I feel tremendously grateful to be able to read your work. And you are one of the most warm, thoughtful, and understanding people I have met on the internet. You truly do have a way with words and you possess a very creative imagination in my eyes. May the beginning of our friendship be celebrated with the new year. ^^

Fyodor and Reader's chemistry, they are so in tune with each other. I even don't consider myself worthy of being the Reader anymore. 🥺 She has her own personality and I simply adore her.

I know who you pretend I am~

Do, mi, ti

Why not me~?

Why not me~?

(I love to dramatize anything lolol.)

…..

I really think that reading this kind of stuff makes me over-idealize love in my imagination.

Just the other day, while chatting with my friends at a cafe, they told me that guys are going to break my heart a lot in future because they think that I am thinking too naively when it comes to romance and stuff, and they pictured me; with a bottle of wine in my hand after finding out that I’ve been cheated on by my boyfriend, my hair messy and makeup ruined, looking out the window, crying and watching other couples being lovey-dovey with each other within at least five years. 😭 It would have hurt less if they had just directly cursed at me. I have never been so offended in my life. Now I'm scared to get into a relationship because I've never had any experience before, I’ve always been that hopeless romantic kinda girl and I don't even have the slightest idea how people do the flirting process... I don't want to get used. I don't want to fall in love with a man who doesn't love me like I do. Ah, anyway, thank you for reading my little venting. 😓 I must not despair, I can never know what fate has in store for me. I don't think I'm a naive person and I think I'm quick to recognize when people are trying to manipulate me or others or when they’re acting unusual. I believe in my ability to spot people with malicious intentions. I know that despite all our imperfections and perfections as human beings, there are many kind souls out there who may share the same yearning as me. Love and connection.

Beata hiems - Fyodor x Reader

Synopsys: Holiday special—On a chilly winter morning, you and Fyodor set out together for a festive task, finding warmth in each other's company as you navigate the day.

No warnings, just fluff

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! The most important thing during times like these is spending quality moments with the people you love. I realized I’ve written a lot of angst lately (and not ideal situations) that I almost forgot I can write pleasant things too :> Also, I ate way too much zacusca while writing this...

Word count: 3,300

Both you and Fyodor woke early, a habit born of necessity, yet today carried a rare air of anticipation. The quiet of the morning felt different—not the product of lingering work or duty, but a purposeful calm you both had sought together. The shared goal ahead of you—choosing the perfect yolka for the season—lent an unspoken warmth to the air, even as winter’s chill lingered outside. 

The sun had barely risen, painting the sky with strokes of pink and orange as you and Fyodor prepared to set out. You wrapped your scarf hastily against the cold, eager to step outside but not prepared for the bite of the crisp winter air. The moment you crossed the threshold, the frost nipped at your cheeks, and you tugged the scarf higher, but it was no match for Fyodor’s keen eye. 

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the soft crunch of snow underfoot. His gloved hand reached for the scarf you had wrapped hurriedly around yourself. He adjusted it, deftly tucking the fabric snugly against your neck. His touch lingered—more delicate than necessary—and his sharp violet eyes softened in the golden light of the sunrise. 

“You’re always so particular,” you said softly, your voice carrying more fondness than teasing. 

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, one only you were privileged to see. “It’s merely practical. Keeping you warm spares me the concern.” Though his tone remained calm, the undercurrent of care made your chest tighten pleasantly. 

“Practical, yes,” you said with a smile, a playful impulse to tease him flickering in your mind but quickly fading as you gently brushed your fingers against his hand. “But thank you.”

His raised eyebrow and the slight curve of his lips suggested he’d noticed your reaction, but he said nothing, instead gesturing toward the road ahead. “Let’s go. The trees won’t choose themselves.” 

--- 

The tree market was alive with the bustling energy of the season. Vendors called out their wares, offering everything from firs and pines to handmade garlands and wooden ornaments. The scent of mulled wine and roasted nuts mixed with the sharp, earthy tang of pine, creating an atmosphere that was as festive as it was chaotic. 

You walked alongside Fyodor, arm in arm, his quiet presence shielding you from the full bite of the winter cold. His long coat and composed demeanor made him seem almost impervious to the freezing air, while you found yourself fiddling with your gloves and scarf for warmth. Yet his close proximity—so steady and reassuring—seemed to cast a blanket of warmth around you. 

“Look at this one,” you said, pointing to a tall, lush pine with branches that stretched wide like welcoming arms. You tilted your head, imagining it standing proudly in the corner of your living room, adorned with sparkling lights and delicate ornaments. 

Fyodor’s gaze swept over the tree with a critical eye, his gloved hands tucked neatly behind his back as he stepped closer. “It’s sturdy enough,” he remarked, reaching out briefly to test the firmness of the trunk. “But do we truly need something so ostentatious?” 

You chuckled, the sound warm despite the chill. “It’s not ostentatious; it’s festive. And it’ll look perfect with the handmade ornaments we’re about to pick out.” 

His lips quirked into a subtle smirk, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Handmade ornaments? Are you assembling an art gallery in our living room?” 

“No,” you replied with a laugh, nudging his arm gently. “Just something unique for our tree. Help me find the perfect one.” 

The two of you wandered through the aisles, debating over height, fullness, and symmetry. Fyodor’s meticulous approach—inspecting every detail, pointing out subtle flaws in the trees you favored—somehow complemented your more intuitive choices. Where he saw imperfections, you saw character; where he sought balance, you admired the charm. 

Eventually, his resolve softened, and he let out a soft sigh, gesturing toward the very tree you’d first pointed out. “This one, then,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of indulgence. “If only to avoid spending the entire morning debating in the snow.” 

You grinned, stepping forward to examine the tree one last time, your fingers brushing against the soft needles. “I knew you’d come around.” 

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and though he said nothing, the faint upward tilt of his lips betrayed a rare contentment. Together, you flagged down a worker to help carry the tree, already envisioning the warmth it would bring to your home. 

--- 

The shelves at the decoration stall were a flood of color: glass baubles, painted wooden ornaments, strings of beads, and garlands in every shade imaginable. The scent of pine mingled with that of beeswax candles, adding a rustic charm to the lively atmosphere. Your fingers lingered on a set of painted ornaments shaped like matryoshka dolls, their intricate floral patterns catching the light as you turned them over. 

“These are beautiful,” you said, holding one up for Fyodor to inspect, the delicate ornament resting gently in your palm. 

He took it from your hand with care, his long fingers brushing yours as he did so. He examined the ornament thoughtfully, tilting it slightly to catch the light. “I do like them,” he admitted. “But do we plan for the tree to carry only traditional designs?” 

“Not at all,” you replied, already picturing a mix of old-world charm and contemporary elegance. “I thought we’d pair them with something simpler, like gold and white baubles, to balance it out. What do you think?” 

Fyodor’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his violet eyes reflecting a softness that contrasted with his usual guarded expression. “Elegant, yet practical. A perfect mix, really.” 

Pleased, you placed the ornaments into your basket and continued to wander through the stalls together, occasionally pausing to admire other unique finds. Your eyes lit up at a garland of shimmering beads hanging high above, just out of your reach. Before you could even try, Fyodor stepped forward, his movements fluid and precise, and plucked it effortlessly. He draped it lightly over his arm before turning to you, his expression unreadable but somehow fond. 

“Teamwork,” he commented dryly, earning a quiet laugh from you. 

As you browsed further, a bright red ornament shaped like a cheerful bear caught your attention. Without hesitation, you slipped it into the basket with a mischievous grin. When Fyodor noticed it moments later, he plucked it out and held it up between two fingers, his expression hovering between disapproval and amusement. 

“This one will disrupt your balance,” he remarked, the faintest trace of dry humor in his voice. 

“But it sparks joy,” you countered with a soft laugh, tilting your head as if daring him to disagree. 

He regarded the ornament for a moment longer before sighing, his faint smirk returning. “Unnecessary distractions,” he muttered, though he placed it back in the basket without further comment. “Still, it’s not without charm.” 

His quiet concession made your smile widen as you linked your arm with his again. “Thank you, Fyodor.” 

He glanced at you briefly, his eyes softening before he turned his attention back to the rows of decorations. “I simply indulge your whims,” he said, though the subtle warmth in his tone betrayed him. 

--- 

Back home, the tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its presence filling the space with the earthy scent of pine. You began unpacking the decorations while Fyodor set up the stand with the quiet precision you had come to expect from him. Even the simple act of adjusting the tree seemed graceful in his hands. 

“Before we start decorating, why don’t we drink some eggnog?” you suggested, stepping back to admire the tree’s placement. 

Fyodor glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It will keep you warm after being in the cold. I’ll prepare it.” 

In the kitchen, the two of you worked in quiet harmony. Fyodor took charge of whisking egg yolks and sugar until they turned pale and creamy, his movements deliberate and exact. Meanwhile, you heated milk and spices on the stove, the warm aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filling the air. The rhythmic sounds of his whisking and the occasional soft crackle from the stove added to the serene atmosphere. 

Unable to resist the tranquility of the moment, you stepped behind him and wrapped your arms lightly around his waist, leaning your head against his back. His steady movements didn’t falter, but his voice softened as he acknowledged your presence. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. 

“Very,” you murmured, letting the warmth of the scene seep into you. You lingered there, feeling the quiet strength in his posture, before he turned slightly, nudging you gently to take the mug he had prepared. Reluctantly, you let go, accepting the drink with a soft smile. 

As he handed you the mug with a faint smirk, his violet eyes glinted with quiet satisfaction. You sipped the warm drink, savoring the rich, spiced flavor. 

“It’s truly perfect,” you said, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug. “You have a talent for making even simple things feel special.” 

His expression softened, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Perhaps it’s the company that elevates the experience, my dear.” 

Your smile widened as you set your mug down and began gathering ingredients for cookies. “Ready for the next round of teamwork?” 

Fyodor raised an eyebrow as you tossed an apron in his direction. “You expect me to assist with this?” 

“Yes,” you said, tying your own apron and flashing him a playful grin. “You’re a fast learner.” 

The two of you began mixing ingredients, your approaches naturally complementing each other, creating a rhythm that felt both efficient and effortless. As you sifted flour into a bowl, another mischievous idea struck. Without warning, you flicked a pinch of flour at him, leaving a pale dusting on his sleeve. 

He paused, slowly turning his head to regard you with an expression of calm menace. “You’re playing a dangerous game, lyubov’...” 

Laughing, you grabbed another pinch. “Am I?” 

With a swift motion, Fyodor dipped his fingers into the flour and smudged a streak across your cheek. You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. As you reached for a small handful in retaliation, his hand closed lightly over yours, stopping you mid-motion. His violet eyes gleamed with a quiet gaiety. 

“Dear...” He spoke slowly, as if daring you to continue. “Do you really wish to escalate this?”  his voice calm, though the faintest trace of a smirk betrayed him. 

Of course, mischief took the better of you, and in the blink of an eye, the kitchen erupted into chaos. Flour flew through the air in soft, white clouds, settling like snow on the countertops, the floor, and both of you. Laughter spilled from your lips, a sweet, carefree sound that danced in the space between you.

The aprons did little to catch the fallout, now more a futile shield than anything useful. It didn’t matter. The room was filled with the rhythm of playful war—dashes of flour as ammunition, mischievous glances exchanged between you both, and the occasional breathless chuckle escaping your lips as one of you narrowly avoided a flour bomb.  

When you finally waved the white flag, Fyodor stepped closer, his voice calm but laced with quiet authority. “Do not start a war you cannot win,” he murmured, brushing a bit of flour from your hair. Despite his stern words, the glimmer of mirth in his eyes betrayed his amusement. 

“Then let's declare a truce,” you said, smiling up at him. His gaze softened as he nodded, and together, you returned to baking with a newfound warmth between you. 

--- 

After dinner and tidying up, the two of you finally began decorating the tree. The room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the fire in the hearth, casting a soft, golden light over everything. The air smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of the meal, creating an intimate, peaceful atmosphere as you carefully unpacked the ornaments and strings of lights. 

“The gold garland should go first,” Fyodor suggested, his fingers brushing over the shimmering strands before he draped them with precision along the branches. 

“Quite the expert on this decorating business,” you teased with a smile, stepping closer to adjust a section he’d already placed, your fingers brushing his as you did.

“I simply prefer a bit of order over chaos,” he replied with his usual calm, though a hint of amusement flickered at the corner of his lips, betraying his composed demeanor.

As you both worked together, the sounds of soft laughter and the faint rustle of ornaments filled the air. You held up a small ornament shaped like a bell, turning it in your hand with a questioning look. “Where should this go?” 

Fyodor stepped closer, his presence quiet but commanding. His hand brushed yours as he gently took the bell from you, his fingers warm against your skin. “Here,” he said, his voice softer than usual, placing it with deliberate care near the center of the tree. 

You hummed in satisfaction, stepping back to admire the spot he had chosen, feeling a small, unexpected warmth at how he treated each ornament with such attention. Reaching into the box again, you pulled out a bear ornament—one you’d picked up earlier that day. The little bear was a reminder of your shared experiences, and it felt like a quiet piece of your heart woven into the holiday. 

Without a word, Fyodor took it from you with a reverence that spoke volumes. His gaze lingered on the ornament for a moment, his fingers caressing it gently before he placed it with quiet care on the tree, the gesture speaking more than any words could. 

You reached into the box again, this time pulling out a sprig of mistletoe. Holding it playfully above your head, you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him once more. “And where does this go?” 

Fyodor’s eyes flicked to the mistletoe, and then back to you. The air between you shifted subtly, the playful tension between you both thickening. “A kiss?” he murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unspoken. 

“It’s bad luck if we don’t,” you replied, your voice teasing yet holding a hint of sincerity, knowing he wouldn’t let something so trivial go unacknowledged. 

Fyodor’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as his lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was both tender and featherlight. His kiss—how can one explain it? It felt like he had nothing to lose. Like his heartbeat was yours. Like someone who has just learned a foreign language and can only speak in the present tense, with you as the subject. Only now, only you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside of the two of you fading away as he pulled back just enough to murmur softly against your lips, his voice low and warm. 

“We wouldn’t want that kind of luck,” he whispered, his smile lingering as his eyes met yours, holding you in a quiet moment of shared connection. 

--- 

The tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its soft, twinkling lights casting a warm glow throughout the space. The fire crackled in the hearth, its flames flickering and stretching across the walls, filling the room with a comforting, intimate atmosphere. You and Fyodor were curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs, the heat from the fire adding a quiet coziness to the evening. 

Mugs of warm eggnog rested in your hands, the rich, spiced aroma filling the air as you took a slow sip, savoring the creamy warmth. Fyodor sat beside you, his hand wrapped around his own mug, a soft, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. There was a sense of peacefulness between you, the quiet sound of the fire and your soft laughter making everything feel still and right. 

You shifted a little, the anticipation bubbling in your chest as you leaned toward him, holding out a small gift. “I got you something,” you said quietly, your voice carrying a hint of excitement despite the calm of the evening. 

Fyodor’s violet eyes glinted as he glanced at you, eyebrow raised slightly in that characteristic way of his. “For me?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and glee. 

You nodded and passed him the neatly wrapped box. He took it with that ever-so-gentle touch of his, unwrapping the gift with careful precision, his eyes flicking between the paper and your face. When the box was open, he held up the fountain pen you had chosen for him—sleek, elegant, with intricate golden details that caught the firelight just right. 

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the pen’s smooth surface. “I’ll put it to good use,” he added, his usual stoicism softening further. 

“I know you enjoy writing,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I thought it might be something you’d appreciate.” 

Fyodor looked at the pen for a long moment, his eyes dark with thought, before meeting your gaze. “It is perfect,” he said, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he added, “Thank you.” 

You grinned, feeling a warm rush of happiness at his words. “I’m glad you like it.” 

He cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing the soft skin with a tenderness born of awe. Then, his expression shifting to one of quiet amusement. He reached for a box of his own, setting his mug down beside him. You watched with curiosity as he gave you your gift.

When you opened it, you froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. Inside was a small, simple folder containing a series of documents. You blinked in confusion, slowly reaching for them as Fyodor’s eyes held your gaze with a steady, almost amused calm. 

“It’s a bit unconventional,” Fyodor said, his voice low and steady, “but you mentioned once that you would like to escape the city.” 

You unfolded the papers slowly, eyes widening as you realized what they were—legal documents, papers that transferred ownership of an entire mountain to you. A piece of land. A whole mountain. He had given you a literal escape from the city, just as you had hinted at so long ago. 

“A mountain?” you whispered, your voice almost incredulous. 

Fyodor’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You said you wanted to get away. I thought this might be a... fitting solution. Perhaps you’ll find it more peaceful.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity and thoughtfulness of the gift almost too much to comprehend. “A whole mountain…” you echoed, still in shock. “Well, I’ll have to plan my next vacation carefully now.” 

Fyodor’s smile deepened, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “I suspect you will.” 

You leaned into him, shaking your head in disbelief but also deeply touched by the enormity of his gift. “It’s… incredible,” you said, your voice soft and full of wonder. “I never imagined you’d actually go so far.” 

“I’ve always been one for unconventional gestures,” Fyodor remarked smoothly, his tone laced with that familiar calm but with a subtle warmth. He leaned in slightly, his lips grazing your temple as he placed a gentle kiss there. 

As you sat together, the warmth of the fire and the quiet serenity of the evening enveloping you, you realized that no material gift could compare to this moment. The mountain—while impressive—was just a symbol of the depth of his consideration, of how well he knew you, how carefully he listened to the quietest of your desires. 

You pulled the blanket around you both, sipping your eggnog as you let the peaceful atmosphere settle around you. Fyodor rested his arm around you, pulling you a little closer, and for a while, you just sat in contented silence, letting the fire and the quiet of the room fill the space between you. 

It was, without question, the kind of day dreams are made out of.

[strangerthings1975]

Eddie behaving in a way that pushes people (Steve) away because he doesn’t believe love is something he’s allowed to have wounds me deeply bestie.

And when Eddie starts to FEEL his heart opening for this man who he believes he’ll never deserve - it’s painful right? Craving something as innocent as love, but believing he’s not worthy of it 🤧 It’s all red light green light for Steve, our poor sweet boy going cross-eyed trying to process the mixed signals.

Then there was the prospect of Eddie and Steve ending permanently after coming so close, only to become strangers 🤢 Like you promise us a happy ending, and I believe you but the trauma from what you’ve written still leaves me with emotional scars lol

The only comfort I have in waiting for the next chapters is that I can vent to my therapist about the latest in MPG. I know we’re reaching the end, and that makes me unbelievably sad as I prepare for what’s to come.

Your continued support means the world to me. Thank you so much for being invested in the fic.

That being said:

You have attacked me. These songs are perfect (and painful). 🥺😭😭😭

Allow me to take this opportunity to PROMISE and GUARANTEE once more: It’s a happy ending.

Steve and Eddie will be together, and they will heal 🥺🖤🖤🖤🖤 and we can heal as well—you from the suffering and overwhelm you’ve experienced reading the fic, and me from the suffering and overwhelm I’ve experienced writing it.

Like Steve says about his feelings for Eddie. Whether they’re good or bad, they’re just always so intense that it’s difficult to endure. I think MPG is that way because the highs are so high and the lows are so low. And the catch is that all the high/happy moments come with a price for both Steve and Eddie. It’s always a gamble.

BUT in the end, the gambling and the strung out desperation will stop, and we’ll be left with a healthy and loving relationship full of trust and stability. Steve has already got himself to a mostly good place. Then, once Eddie gives himself over to Steve and lets himself finally fall, Steve will catch him like he’s always been trying to. 🥺🥺🥺

It will be so soft. 🖤🖤🖤