#y'all this ship has consumed me body and soul

[fleabagoftheendless]

Me when I read or watch something really interesting and realize a Dreamling fic set in that universe would work insanely well

[murdertoothpick]

Crosshair - fem!reader

Angst / nsfw

“I fell in love with you”

“Why?..” or “Don’t..”

follow you

(previously 'the cut that always bleeds', now 'follow you' by bring me the horizon)

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader

Warnings: ep1 spoilers, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blaster use, star wars swear words, angst, major feels. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+

Word count: 1801

A/N: man oh man this ruined me,,, and it's my first piece of nsfw writing so feed on it horndogs. also yes the only fics I've posted so far have been crosshair but DW im getting to my requests for other characters. anyways, its currently close to 2am here so im about to pass out. see y'all in the morning.

'What are you doing?' Hunter hisses at you, attempting to pull you back behind the crate he was taking cover behind.

But it's too late. You're already out in the open. Blasters are lowered as you stand there with arms raised, facing the man that has utterly stained you—body and soul.

The imperial troopers exchange glances, confused, unsure of what to do next.

You had to do this. It would allow a small window for the rest of the Bad Batch to get to the Marauder, offering a freedom their brother could no longer have. And you, you were tied to him, your fate intertwined with his. You could never leave him.

'Please,' you beg, only loud enough for Hunter to hear, 'Go.'

Falling to your knees, you lift your gaze to meet the sniper, standing tall several feet ahead of you. Even as you hear Hunter's orders to get to the ship, shortly followed by the engine of the Marauder as it takes off, your eyes never leave his.

You do, however, flinch when a trooper raises a blaster to your head. 'What do we do with her sir?'

You look at him in anticipation, waiting for his response. He rolls his toothpick between his teeth, his cold eyes glaring down at you, seconds before pulling out his sidearm to shoot you.

'Lock her in the barracks and let me know when she wakes up.'

The troopers nod, going to lift you up. 'Oh and trooper,' Crosshair taps one of them on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper,

'Let's keep her capture between us.'

-

When you wake up in your own bed, you're inclined to believe it was all a dream. But the emptiness of the room that greets you says otherwise.

Sighing, you reach into your pillowcase, retrieving a photograph taken several moons ago, creased at the corners. It's the only photo you and Crosshair have together, taken sneakily by Tech who had gifted you the photograph for your birthday. You and Crosshair are sitting on the floor, you between his legs and facing away from him, your mouth wide open in a laugh after you had fallen and knocked him down with you.

You kept this photo hidden away, not wanting the Republic to know of your relationship with the clone, fearing he'd be decommissioned. And yet, you never could have anticipated that this is where the two of you would be. In these moments, you feel completely alone.

The sound of footsteps pulls you out of your sorrow, urging you to quickly slip the photograph under the pillow, and yourself under the covers. You're facing the wall when the door opens.

You hear his voice before he touches you.

'They told me you were awake,' he tells you, hand grazing your arm.

You want to reciprocate his contact, but this isn't the Crosshair you know. The facade that you spent so long tearing down has consumed him, the man you love is gone.

You sit up in the bed, avoiding his eye contact. It's probably late, he's not donning his armour, only in his blacks.

'You shot me,' you say firmly. You want to yell, scream, cry...you really do. But you're exhausted and don't know if you can face him emotionally.

'How perceptive,' he sneers. A brief sense of familiarity washes over him. He recalls being with you, Omega, and his brothers in the cell. He recalls you tugging at his hand, begging you not to leave with the other troopers. He doesn't remember much after that.

'Why aren't I in the cell?' you ask, as if hearing his thoughts. You wait for his response, clinging to the hope that Crosshair, your Crosshair, is in there somewhere.

He doesn't answer, instead firing back a question of his own, 'Why didn't you leave with the others?'

You don't need time to think. The answer comes to you immediately. You're just not sure if you want to tell him. But you need to, the words weigh heavy on your tongue.

'I couldn't leave you,' you mumble, hoping it's a good enough answer for the sniper, sharing truth while concealing the deepest caverns of your soul.

It's not. Maker, he's really torturing you. 'Why?' he urges.

You shakily exhale, no longer able to contain your tears. 'Because...I fell in love with you,' you confess, clambering to escape the bedsheets that have become too hot, too confining. You don't feel any better, opening your heart to the callous shell of the man you love.

Crosshair is screaming inside, behind a wall of sterility and unkindness that masks his turmoil so well.

It's the part of him that didn't tell his superiors about you—the part that told Tarkin that you had escaped with the rest of the Batch, when in actuality you were here, right in front of him, inside the room in which you had sought each other's comfort thousands of time before.

Sure, you're in front of him, but not with him. The distance you maintain between the two of you is sure to haunt him for a lifetime.

But here, nobody is telling him what to do. He is free of the watchful, unforgiving eyes of his superiors, his troopers, the whole kriffing galaxy, and he finds himself crumbling down, back to a man of pure adoration, completely enamoured of you.

Crosshair is broken, thinking he's at the point of no return, and he can't, won't take you with him. But you're here anyway, and as much as he wants to tear himself apart for dragging you into this mess, he can't help but move towards you, a silent confession that assures you that his heart belongs to you.

His lips mould to yours in a heated and frantic kiss, professing all the things the chip works to inhibit. You melt into him, losing all resolve, and for the first time since Kaller, you're not ridden with anxiety and fear for the marksman. You're here, with him.

Pulling his face away from you, you catch your breath, whispering a soft 'I love you' that tastes like sugar on your tongue. You utterly, completely ruin him.

His eyes visibly soften, only for seconds before narrowing again. His words betray him, 'Don't.'

And then his lips are back on yours, a desperate, unspoken plea for you not to leave him—as if you could ever do that.

He pushes further into you, backing you up against the wall to press his body close to yours. Your mouth gapes open when he slots his thigh between your legs, grabbing at your hips.

His lips leave yours to trail a line of kisses down to your collarbone, grazing the skin with his teeth. He groans into your neck when you rut your hips against him, the vibration of the sound caressing your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

The heat that radiates off your bodies is intoxicating.

You wrap your arms around his head, bringing his lips back to yours. His tongue explores the warmth of your mouth, baring himself to you, exploring your vulnerabilities.

And the sniper's hands, usually so firm and steady, fumble against the zipper of your pants, desperately seeking to remove the layers of fabric that separate the two of you. He lowers himself to tug the fabric down your legs, then goes to grab the back of your thighs.

Effortlessly, Crosshair lifts you up, your feet instinctively finding purchase behind his back and your legs wrapping around his waist. You breathe him in as he holds you there, his close proximity keeping you in a state of ecstasy.

He grinds into you, hands going to his hips to free himself from the blacks that have become just too confining. His length springs out, the sight of it enough to make you drool.

One of your hands snakes down between your bodies to pump his erection, the other bringing his face up to look at yours. He is in pure bliss, wanting so desperately to be surrounded by your warmth. Sensing his desire, you move his tip to your soaked entrance, looking in his eyes to assure him you want this, you want him. You don't know how much he needs you.

His lips go to yours one more time and he pushes your panties aside, then starts deliciously thrusting into you.

Your mouth opens in a silent cry as he slides his cock back and forth inside of you, causing you to grip his shoulder tighter. It's intoxicating, feeling him like this, stretching you out. And when his mouth resumes their assault on your neck, Maker...you're whimpering. Nothing has ever felt so good.

'Darlin,' he hisses, pulling you to him with the sound of his voice, 'I'm not gonna last.' He begins punctuating his thrusts, repeatedly pushing you up against the wall. 'Kriff...how are you. So. Tight?' he openly wonders, suffocated by pleasure.

'Crosshair...' you whimper, attracting his attention, 'I'm so close.' It's too much for you. But you take him in excess. You always do. You could never have enough of him. Words get lost on your tongue, unable to speak, rendered incoherent.

'Shhh, it's okay, I've got you,' he hushes, getting closer to the edge. 'Please, let go.'

And you do. You hug him tighter as your orgasm blinds you, wantonly moaning against him. 'Yes!' you chant, rutting your hips against his.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock makes Crosshair absolutely feral. His thrusts become erratic, faltering as his head falls into the space where your shoulder meets your neck. He's a babbling mess, leaving a string of Mando'a on your skin.

C'yarika. Ner kar'ta. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.

None of which you could translate. But you understand the confessions of his heart all the same. It's everything. You want to help him, be there for him. Be his favourite hello and worst goodbye.

'Please, Cross. Let go,' you repeat back to him, the softness and implied intimacy of your pleas pushing him to his release. He cums, hard.

He paints your walls with his spurts of whiteness. It's only fair, with the way you stain him. It's poetic, and the heartfelt exchange is euphoric. At a loss for words, he places his forehead against yours, hand reaching to feel the beating of your heart.

But when your hand goes to touch his face, he flinches, abruptly detaching your legs from him and moving backwards. His eyes avoid yours.

You slump to the ground, legs feeling like jelly. 'Cross-'

'Don't,' he cuts you off, slipping his length back into his pants. It's harsh. But it doesn't compare to the stinging of your heart when he rushes out the door, leaving you to sit in the empty room. Cold and alone.

[bowandarrowgirl]

You’re Not As Lonely As You Think You Are (I’m Trying to Tell You) - Chapter 11: Home is Whenever I’m With You

(read on ao3)

Title from “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros Enjoy! :)

"WHAT Y'ALL DID WAS RECKLESS, DANGEROUS, AND STUPID!" Fury yells at the newly renowned Guardians of the Galaxy.

So, here's the gist of what the hell happened...after they defeated Ronan, and parted ways with the Ravangers, Peter immediately handed the real orb over to Nova Prime, who in exchange, sent them to the finest medical center on Xandar to be treated of their wounds.

As soon as everyone was patched up, they headed to Nova Headquarters for a debriefing, where Nova Prime told Peter the truth about his heritage - he was only half Terran. The news didn't surprise him, however, due to the fact that he was able to hold an infinity stone without, well, dying...It wasn't long after that Nova Prime contacted Fury, notifying him that the group of teens were safe in her custody.

Fury arrived two days later, only staying long enough to give Nova Prime his gratitude. Now, here they are - back on Earth, in his office, receiving another lecture.

"Fury, we-"

"SAVE IT, QUILL!" Peter immediately backs down, leaning further back in his chair. Fury takes a deep breath and sits at his desk. "With that being said, y'all did save an entire planet, not to mention, possibly the entire damn universe." The group of teens look at Fury with a hint of hope in their eyes. "Y'all are off the hook this time," The kids let out a sigh of relief. "But! I see any of you taking on a mission this dangerous without permission again, I will not hesitate to give any of y'all the punishment you deserve. Now, get outta my damn office."

As the teens begin to exit Fury's office, Gamora notices the one-eyed man pulling Peter aside and whispering something in his ear. Peter rips out of the man's grasp and meets up with Gamora in the doorway. As soon as the door shuts behind them and they begin to walk, Gamora grabs Peter's arm and pulls him into a nearby supply closet, locking the door behind them.

"Woah, what-"

"What did Fury tell you?" The Zen-Whoberian asks with her arms crossed against her chest and a expression on her face that the half-Terran couldn't seem to read.

Peter is speechless and begins to stutter a bit. "I-I...It was nothing important." Gamora raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "G, I promise, it's nothing to worry about." The boy places his hands on the girl's shoulders, looking into the souls of her eyes.

Gamora pushes his arms out of her way and turns her back to him. "It didn't seem unimportant. It seemed to piss you off, if anything." Peter lets out an exasperated sigh. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Because, I-I-I can't, Gam."

Red and black tresses whip around to face Peter once again as Gamora stomps the few feet over to him and stands beneath his chin. "Don't start this with me, Peter. Why don't you trust me with whatever Fury told you?"

"It's not about trust, Gamora. Fury just-"

"He just what?"

The hazel color of Peter's eyes shift anywhere in the room besides her. He lets out a frustrated sigh and places his hands on his hips. "He just said some shitty things." This time it's Gamora who lets out a frustrated sigh. Peter finally relaxes and pulls Gamora into his embrace. She slowly returns it and digs her head into his chest. "Listen Babe, I promise, I promise you, it's nothing you need to worry about. It was just a shitty comment he made, that's all."

Even though Peter said it was nothing, Gamora is still bothered by the fact he won't tell her what Fury said. However, at the moment, she's in Peter's arms and that's all that matters to her.

"Now, listen to these words: Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier. Ooh-oo child, things'll get brighter. Then, you gotta bring it down hard!" Peter begins to do the running man as Ronan lowers his war hammer.

"What are you doing?" Peter smirks a little. It's working.

"Dance off, Bro. Me and you!" He continues to dance before reaching out to his girlfriend. "Gamora-" She thinks about it, but she doesn't know how to dance besides the slow dances Peter has taught her. The ex-assassin shakes her head quickly. "Subtle, take it back."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Ronan's nerves get the best of him as the Terran doesn't stop.

Peter chuckles a little. "I'm distracting ya', you big turd blossom."

Their plan works. Rocket fixes the Hadron Enforcer and blasts the infinity stone out of Ronan's weapon. After that, time seems to slow down. "Peter, no!" Gamora cries out, reaching for her boyfriend as he recklessly catches the stone in his hand.

The boy falls to the ground and shakes violently as the power of the stone rips him apart from the inside out. Tears stream down Gamora's face as the power from the stone creates a powerful wind storm. She grasps onto a piece of the destroyed ship, feeling useless as Peter's painful cries break her heart. The girl squints in his direction, noticing that he levitated into the air. She pushes through the storm, trying to reach him again. "PETER!" She cries. "TAKE MY HAND!"

Peter looks at her with tears in his eyes and reaches out to grab her hand...but it's too late. As soon as his hand makes contact with Gamora's, he begins to slowly deteriorate from his hand to his arm to his entire body. "I'm sorry, Babe. I love you." It's the last six words he says before the stone completely consumes him.

Gamora's eyes shoot open as she begins to hyperventilate. Shifting her eyes to look at her surroundings, she notices she's back in her room at the academy. The heavy breathing subsides as she lifts a hand to her face, feeling the trail of tears streaming down her cheeks combined with the perspiration caused from the nightmare...at least she thinks that's what it was. Oh, God. She hopes to God it was just a dream.

Her eyes shift to the top of Nat's bunk, noticing that not only was she still sleeping, but Steve had snuck into their room in the middle of the night and fell asleep right next to her. As carefully as she can, Gamora pulls her sweat-filled blanket off of her and swings her bare feet to the cold floor. Like the assassin she is, she soundlessly creeps to the door and quietly pulls it open, wincing at the loud creak it makes. She glances back at Nat and Steve to make sure she hasn't woken them up. A sigh of relief escapes her lips as she continues to exit the room, believing it was best to keep the door cracked to prevent waking the couple.

Just as cautiously, she creeps over to the door of Peter's room and slowly opens the door, wincing once again as it creaks and almost hits the side of Peter's dresser. The fact that none of the students awoke at the noise of the door surprises her. She approaches Peter's bed and carefully sits on the edge of it. Her eyes shift up as she notices the white Freddy Mercury poster beside her. After staring at it for a moment, she shifts her gaze back to Peter, watching as his abdomen rises and falls with each breath. Lying on his back, his left arm is draped across his abdomen, while his right is being used as a pillow and his legs are making the shape of a backwards P.

The Zen-Whoberian shifts closer to the sleeping boy. She brushes back one of the curls covering his forehead and plants a lingering kiss in it's place. The gesture wakes Peter up, but he doesn't seem mad about it. "Gamora?" He asks sleepily, sitting up just enough to be able to see her as he squints. "What's wrong?" A stifled sob escapes the girl's green lips as she throws her arms around Peter and buries her head into his shoulder. Peter slowly wraps his arms around her and rubs his hands around her back. "It's okay, Babe, I'm here. I've got you."

It's Peter's idea to spend the rest of the night in the lounge area: a fairly small room filled with retro arcade games, a large mounted TV, and a long, Lawson couch that sits underneath the windows that separates the rest of the room from the kitchen. The boy opens the wooden, glass door for Gamora, carrying a large blanket in one hand.

As Gamora approaches the TV to turn it on, Peter sets the blanket across the back of the couch and plops down onto it. After Gamora finds the remote, she turns around to her boyfriend laying across the entire couch. His signature smirk is tugging at his lips as she walks over to him. "Where do you suppose I will sit?" The smirk only grows on his face as he lays on his side and scoots as far back as he can. Gamora playfully rolls her eyes and lays beside him, her back comfortably pressing up against his front.

Peter takes the remote out of her hand and begins to channel surf. He lets out an exasperated sigh when he's unable to find anything to watch. "I forgot...there's nothing good on this early...or this late?" It comes out more of a question. Gamora chuckles a little and retrieves the remote back from him, turning off the TV.

"Why don't we just turn it off then." The Zen-Whoberian sets the remote on the floor and shifts her position to face him. They stay like that for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes. Finally, Gamora decides to press her lips to his. It's gentle and quick, but Peter loves it all the same. She chooses to turn things up a notch and continues to kiss him more passionately. Peter wraps his arms around her and rolls them onto his back. Gamora lets out a yelp in surprise, causing her and Peter to break apart and start laughing.

As their laughter dies down, Gamora sets her chin on top of her crossed arms. Peter's smile fades as he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "What was it about?"

"My nightmare?" Her smile fades as well when Peter mouths a 'yeah'. "We were back on Xandar...fighting Ronan. Everything seemed the same at first, except-" Tears start to well up in her eyes.

"Except what, G?"

"It-it killed you."

Peter swipes the tear that escapes from her eye and pulls her as close to him as she could get. "That's in the past. You'll never lose me, G." He presses a kiss to her temple, before grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over them. It isn't long until they both fall asleep in the comfort of each other's arms.

[miitzwrites]

Hey y'all. This Drabble was written immediately after FDTD ended. It’s a bit weird because it was used as a guideline for my character when I was an active role player. I’m still very much into this fandom, and I’m planning to write a fic based on an illegal club, with an undercover agent and yes, lots of sethkate.In the meantime, if you have a prompt for this fandom -i accept most ships-, please sent them over @ mitzwrites.tumblr.com.That’s it. Enjoy!

-as always, English isn’t my first language, and this piece was unbeta'ed-

—–

Kate didn’t immediately tag along with the Geckos, yet she stayed for a couple of weeks to heal, physically and mentally.

She slept twelve hours straight once her head hit the pillow. Her body was tired, but her mind remained wide awake. Things would’ve been simple for her if the nightmares hadn’t begun. She stayed in bed the whole day, smiling softly when Scott or one of the brothers came to check her. It was easy at first, “it’s nothing, I’m just tired,” she would say, but the truth was that now that the adrenaline was leaving her body, Kate could finally feel the aftermath of her actions.

She found herself staring blankly at the wall, vaguely hearing the knocks at her door. “You sure alright?” Seth asked her once, and she nodded once, folding her hands in her lap. But the true was, that she wasn’t.

Her breakdown was triggered by her reflection. After walking up, she entered the bathroom to take a shower. She peeled off the layers of clothes that were wrapped around her body, like an armor that protected her other persona. And then, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, and she felt her heart sink. Her eyes were empty, like two green orbs filled with darkness. Her make was all smudged over her face, and bruises adorned her body. The wound in her arm and wrist were still fresh.

Almost like an automat, she stepped into the shower, but the hot water did nothing to soothe her. Memories of the almost eight months living inside of her own body crashed through her mind, and she shook her head furiously, dropping down to the wet floor. Kate let out a sob, and then another, and soon, they didn’t stop. Her body was shaking, and she felt the guilt and sorrow were finally crashing her down. Yes, the preacher’s daughter was long gone now, but there it was a victim, a monster, a murderer.

Kate wasn’t sure who found her under the stream of cold water, shivering as the tears didn’t stop flowing from her eyes. Next thing she remembers, she was laying on the bed, with the lights off and Scott’s hand holding hers.She was getting worse by the seventh day. Nightmares would wake her up every night, and when she closed her eyes, she felt Amaru there, by her side. Kate had seen her gone, but that didn’t mean she would abandon her so easily. Her nightmares were always the same. She saw herself killing the people she loved, consuming their souls, finishing Amaru’s job. Kate had seen Xibalba by first-hand. She had been there, too, and that wasn’t easily forgotten.

By the tenth day, after restless nights she was going weak, again. She didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, didn’t say more than monosyllables. And her demons never stopped haunting her. Damn Seth Gecko for not pulling the trigger when he had the chance, for not doing the favor that she knew she would never be able to do, for not being able to put her out of her misery.

(They didn’t dare to leave her alone again when they found her in her bedroom, pieces of glass spread over the floor as she held one dangerously close to her wrist. “She was here!” Kate said, “She was looking at me.”)

They asked her what she needed, and even Richie suggested that he can use his power to help her forget, but she shook her head.

In one of the moments of clarity, she told them she needed to do this on her own, that this is the only way she would be able to forgive herself for her sins, even if that had been all Amaru doing, she had been weak, incapable of doing nothing. “You wanted my forgiveness, guys, well, you have it, you’re forgiven. That doesn’t mean I forgive myself.“

She didn’t say anything else, but a few days later, she packed up her belongings and leave the place, not before writing a letter for each of them. Amaru had left a mark imprinted in her body, and as any other mark, they would leave a scar. It might take time, but she had to heal first and find herself again before trying to have a life again. After all, she has people worth fighting for.

[onotherflights]

LONG ASS POST WARNING ⚠️

This is for people who have read my fic Guys my age / Pure… it's a messy stream of consciousness big surprise.

Okay so if you're here, you either follow me on tumblr and are curious (thank you) but may be confused because I'm in the YOI fandom or you're from the 5sos fandom and are confused because when did I become a YOI blog? Well, I didn't expect the show to eat me alive but that's what happened oops.

Anyway, this is about Pure. Because I didn't update for a long time but now I've finished it and I'm going to be releasing the last chapter so I just wanted to talk about that and my A/N was already too long lol.

For one, I just want to be very upfront about saying that writing Pure was a turning point for me, both in my writing and just in life. When i first started writing Pure, I was getting over a bad breakup, my first real one ever actually. In the relationship I was in, I was very emotionally uncared for. I wouldn't say it was abuse by any means, but I wasn't understood. I wasn't supported emotionally. My views were seen as naive and in time surely I would begin thinking “the right way”. I was very suppressed, and parts of me have been suppressed my whole life, even out of a relationship. In this relationship, I never felt desired, I never felt beautiful. “Cute”, “quirky”, “smart”, sure. But those are things anyone can pick up from the outside (or not). But I never felt like the person I was with could see me for who I really was, or who I wanted to be, no matter how much I tried to tell him.

Since then, I've gone through another breakup and a series of failed dates. I'm young, I'm going through that time in my life where this is to be expected.

But writing pure helped me so much.

I wrote Luke that way for a reason, and I wrote Calum that way for a reason. (And Ashton and Mike too). Luke is me, he's young and he doesn't have a clue what he's doing but he finds someone he connects with and not just on a level that people can see from the outside, but on a level that is very private to them and it's more unspoken, indescribable. They're soulmates.

At the end of the day, Pure started out as just a weird au where Luke finds a boyfriend on a bdsm blog but it really turned into me exploring who I am, what I want in a relationship, my sexual awakening tbh… everything. Writing this story showed me that I deserve someone who understands my mind, body, and soul. Someone who can love me patiently and passionately…. I guess it helped me realize I need my “cal” lmao.

But anyway, this isn't about my personal/writing journey. To the story.

I really hit a block after chapter 10-11. I feel like people did not like that Calum was a designer, more specifically that he designed lingerie. I actually got really pissed off because of this perceived thought that people didn't like it because there was little to no positive comments about it, but some just didn't even comment on it at all. I got pissed and I was like, fuck this, I'm going to stop writing this story and then I started writing Otayuri and threw caution to the wind.

But then I promised I was going to finish Pure (a while ago) and that wasn't because I feel like I owe anybody anything, it's because it really was my baby. It helped me. It's my story, and I wanted to take my time and finish it for myself. I think one thing I really learned was that I was looking for validation or approval, that what I was writing was good.

I've been writing fanfic on the internet since like 2011 or something. I've always been affected by comments, I've always wanted to hear that I am capable.

And chapter 10 was something I was nervous about. I had this whole idea of my version of Calum in my head and when I didn't get the reaction I was hoping for, I felt so defeated. And I fell out of love with writing this story that up until that point had consumed me the way writing should. Now I'm not saying that my writing is a masterpiece and I demand hundreds of comments, I never expect that. But at the time I was really butt-hurt tbh.

I see so many fics (especially now in the YOI fandom no tea no shade) that are so dry and boring and try to be funny but are not. And these are often stories that are the most popular in the fandom/for the ship. I understand that a lot of this has to do with taste, and I'm very sure that Pure was not everyone's taste, certainly not everyone's humor. But something awesome happened when I re-read it and was determined to finish it … it was like I had just started writing it again.

And writing the ending was perfect (for me). Every creator knows that “full circle” moment where you know your work is done. Not perfect, not what everyone wants, but done. And I'm so content with how it ends.

I learned that I don't need comments to validate me, because I love my writing. It has mistakes because I don't have a beta. It's not perfect, or popular, or moving prose. But I love my style and it makes me happy.

But what I'm trying to say, and I've reblogged so many posts about this, but comments are important. I kind of have this “I don't give a fuck I'm going to write when and what I want” now, but that's very recent and I might still be insecure about it sometimes. But not every writer is in the same place. If you're a writer yourself, you understand how hard it is to share a world you built in your mind and have no one else care. It's not a good feeling, it's definitely not motivating.

So please, PLEASE leave comments on every fic you read. It literally takes five extra minutes. I'm guilty of it too, but I sincerely try.

I also want to address that I'm basically out of the 5sos fandom, like that even needs to be addressed? I'm not really embarrassed of them or anything, I love the boys and I am so happy for Michael MY BABY like y'all don't even understand how good it is to see him so happy lately. I don't even care if people don't like crystal she's an angel for making my boy happy.

I'm still going to support the boys, I just don't care to be in the fandom anymore. I feel like it's dying out and it's so sad because I remember the good old days when things were so fun (how fleeting they were). If any Michael girls out there ever want to reminisce about the good old days I'm here for it lol.

But once I'm finished updating Pure, I'm not going to be writing any more 5sos fanfic or be posting any more 5sos content here (obviously). If you're still following me and you don't even like YOI, I love you so fucking much. Seriously talk to me anytime because you are so sweet.

And honestly, I don't know where my writing will go. I'm super happy writing for YOI now, I have a lot of ideas, but I had to finish Pure first because I owed it to myself. It's literally closing a book in my writing journey.

I don't know how long I will continue writing fanfic for (probably forever because it's my hobby), and I don't know what fandoms I will write for in the future. Will my writing ever be better? I don't know. Will I ever be a popular fic writer? Probably not. And I'm actually okay with that now, because I'm just writing for my own enjoyment now, and if you like it then that's awesome and I love having your support.

I also want to say thank you to everyone who did leave comments on almost every chapter of pure or messaged me about it here. Thank you, and I hope the ending was at least a little worth the wait.

Alright, my rant is over. If you scrolled down to the end here's a recap:

I was butt hurt

I am now slightly less butt hurt

I learned some things while writing

I finished Pure (my demon baby) !!

Luke is an angel

Yuri is an angel

I like writing about angelic blondes

I may continue to write about angelic blondes.

Thank u for ur time.

(I love you)