#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ titled「 hard + harder + hardest 」

[keulixeutin]

Hard, Harder, Hardest

a/n: hi.

summary: during a hero panel, bakugou thinks about how he can’t help but orbit you and obey.  bakugou x fem!reader.  

cw: suggestive. 18+.  no pronouns used, but fem!reader in mind while writing + mention of female anatomy; also, reader wears lots and lots of pencil skirts.  bakugou pining after you and imagining the nasty.  sub!bakugou and dom!reader vibes (at least, i tried anyways lmao).  reader wears glasses.

word count: 2,183.

Despite the nonchalant way Bakugou was leaning back in the chair, anyone could see he was stiff and irritable: he was scowling and rigid, the curve of his back not quite following the curve of his seat.

He couldn’t help it though.  He was supremely uncomfortable.  He hated this shit, hated being on the stage, following some stupid itinerary, dealing with stupid activities and games to get people to see the “softer” side of him.  What the hell did people need that for?  Wasn’t it enough for him to do his job, protect the city, beat down the shitty villains, and be the fucking best?  Number two hero or not, he didn’t sign up for this stupid celebrity shit.  They could write a slew of articles complaining and criticizing him, but he hated sitting around in the spotlight.

You, his personal assistant, fucking knew this, yet you still, behind his fucking back, worked with his PR team (and that fucking Shitty Hair Hero) to accept the Hero Convention invite and add it onto his schedule (his schedule that you knew he didn’t look at because he trusted you to be good at your job)—and then to not even to tell him until ten minutes before he was supposed to get ready for it?  He had been fuming.

Bakugou’s leg shook underneath the table impatiently and irritably.  A woman dressed in a maid outfit with home-made Hawks wings stepped to the microphone and asked Round Cheeks about her martial arts usage in battles.  The next fan, someone with blue scales scattering across their face and arms, asked a question to a sidekick three seats away whose name Bakugou didn’t know and didn’t care to know.  Internally, he was pleased with this current line of questioning.  As long as no one addressed him, he could sit and pass the time with an annoyed glare until this whole thing was fucking done.

But, obviously, the universe loved dashing his hopes.  The next person that stepped up to the microphone was cosplaying an older version of the Dynamight costume, which was ego-boosting and cool to see, of course, but that itself wasn’t enough to make any of this entertaining or interesting.

“This question is for Dynamight,” the fan began.  “What would you consider your hardest battle?  Also, I’m your, um, number one fan…!”

It was an easy question.

People wanted to know battle specifics, but his hardest fight?  To date?  Currently?  

Controlling his fucking raging hard-on whenever you with your stupid perfume and your mean laugh entered the room.

Bakugou hadn’t wanted a personal assistant.  Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes stubbornly pushed their agenda onto him whenever they noticed at the beginning of the year that he had been swiftly losing control over his wildly hectic schedule.  Between the patrol, the agency work, the hero work, and the unending meetings—all just the tip of the iceberg—he had been struggling to find any time for himself, personally and professionally.  Despite his violent vehemence, Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes still strong-armed him by nagging him until they were red in the face and accepting applications on his behalf, narrowing it down to a set of five that he was to choose from.

He had picked you because you looked meek in your photo and you were soft-spoken in the interview; he figured that you’d run off after being on the end of his short fuse for a week straight.

But, by the end of that week, with him having just yelled about the type of tupperware his food was packed in, you had very softly and very firmly told him to watch his fucking tone, or you’d make sure that the only time he sat down for the next six months was on stage in front of an interviewer and audience with a fiercely binding contract that ensured he couldn’t skip without heavy monetary punishment.

(“I have my ex-lawyer-boyfriend wrapped around my finger,” you had said, your voice deadly calm as though you were telling him you had started a new hobby and not threatening your boss, the number two hero.  “I will make sure there is so little wiggle room in that contract—every single Hero Convention from here to goddamn China will have you by the balls for the next six months in the strictest legalese.  Do you understand me?”

He couldn’t lie—he was shocked into silence by how fucking hot that was, how fucking hot you were, wearing the tightest pencil skirt, shifting your metal glasses while you threatened him.

“Now eat your rice.  The leeks, too, please.”)

He couldn’t explain it.  Ever since then, things were—different.  He was hyper aware of you, of how far away or how close you stood near him, of how you were usually in some sort of skirt; his eyes were glued to your backside, to the sneak peek of upper thigh every time you shifted in your seat, mind wandering to how it’d feel to have that thigh pressed against his neck and his face. He was suddenly obsessed with how you spoke, realizing he had mistaken your quiet for meekness, for submission. You were soft-spoken, yes, but there was a weight to your words, one that required obedience from those you were speaking to.  Now he could see that your smile sometimes curled at the corners into a sneer, and that your eyes were sharp, narrowing with a finality he found himself unable to ignore.

Fuck, he was even aware of how you smelled.  He often caught himself inhaling deeply as you passed by, trying to preserve the smell of your shampoo inside his chest.  Whenever you leaned over to show him something on his calendar, he had to fight the urge to press his nose into your hair, to bury his face into your neck where your veins pulsed with perfume. Once, you had left your jacket at his place after a long night of explaining and rearranging the weekend itinerary to ensure nothing would be amiss while you were out of town. He had fallen asleep with his face pressed into the fabric the entire weekend, your scent lulling him into the most comfortable and serene sleep of his life.

Things got even harder when you caught on.  Quick, too, two months in.  The skirts got shorter; your shirts were unbuttoned enough for a heated glance of cleavage; and he frequently found you in compromising positions, bending over his table to grab something instead of walking around, or dropping things at his feet requiring you to lean over to pick up.  It was hardest when you used this newfound power of yours to get him to do things he didn’t want to do—like attend interviews or take off-days.  In his frustration and confusion in the early days, he had once furiously asked if you had a quirk he didn’t know about, to which you laughed wildly in your eyes but coolly said no.

“Dynamight?”  The host pulled him from the memory that had began to take over Bakugou’s attention—the one where, after getting caught in a heavy downpour, you had graciously changed in front of him and cruelly wouldn’t let him touch.

Bakugou was about to respond that nothing had been hard because he was too fucking strong, but he made the mistake of glancing to you, standing off to the side with your phone against your ear.  You were good enough at your job that you were able to efficiently multitask, paying attention to both the conversation on the phone and the Hero Panel.  As if you could feel his intent, you gave him a hard stare, your fine eyebrow raising expectantly at him, almost daring him to put one toe out of line in this nationally broadcasted panel.

The look boiled his blood—and the heat went straight down south.

Yes, things had gotten extremely bad when you had realized your effect on him.  

He was grateful for the table.

Bakugou gave an answer about a villain whose name he couldn’t remember but whose shadow soldier-producing quirk had irritated him the entire fight, and then he ended the response with a muttered thanks to the fan.

He glanced back to you, another mistake—“Good boy,” you mouthed.

Fuck.  He bit back a groan.

There was a mean glint in your eye as you held his stare; it wasn’t a long one, but it was enough to create a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach; it was enough to make his heart stutter and jump.  You turned away first, breaking the eye contact to finish the conversation on the phone, yet it felt like he was the one who had caved.

The rest of the panel continued with Bakugou scowling at a spot on the table or the wall behind the audience, but he participated more than he had originally decided to.  He answered the questions directed at him and remarked offhandedly on other people’s answers whenever he felt like it, eliciting laughter from the fans and eye-rolls and playful arm smacks from Round Cheeks. 

At the end of the panel, the heroes had twenty minutes to decompress before the meet-and-greet. Bakugou and the others were ushered off the stage and back into the make-up room to relax.  After the make-up artist checked that nothing needed to be reapplied, you appeared with a phone against your ear still and a tote bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll check his calendar and get back to you,” you said.  “By the end of tomorrow at the latest.  He’s currently doing the Hero Panel, but if I can find a moment to check and confirm, I’ll let you know earlier.”  

You paused, listening to the person on the other side.  Bakugou took the moment to rake his eyes over your form.  Your pencil skirt stopped inches above your ankle, but there was a slit over your left leg that traveled up—up, up, and up—to your tantalizing thigh.  Your skin was creamy and smooth with lotion or oil.  Whenever you shifted your weight in irritation at something that was said, the fat of your thighs rippled in a way that had his mouth watering.

 “…As I said,” you continued, “Dynamight is currently occupied with the Hero Panel.  If I can grab a moment, I will check with him and his calendar, but I’ll be sure to give you an answer by the end of tomorrow.  Yes, of course.  Yes, you, too.”

Your voice was light and polite, but dry and firm.  You hung up, and then your attention was fucking finally on him.  

You pulled several plastic containers out of your tote bag and set it on the table in front of him.

“Don’t scarf it all down,” you advised.  “But eat a little.  Regain your energy and pick up your mood so you can meet the fans.”

“Not hungry,” he grumbled, wondering if he could convince you to let him rip the slit a little higher.

“Eat the fruits at least,” you said, moving the containers around until the smallest one was on top and opened, revealing grapes and cut apples and mangos. 

“You eaten yet?” he asked.

“No, but I’m fine,” you said, but you picked out a grape anyway.  His eyes honed in on the way your fingers push the fruit past your plump lips.

Bakugou swallowed, neck tense, heart hammering in his chest.  He didn’t know when the leash had tightened so heavily.

“What?” you asked, noticing his gaze.

“Nothing.”  He averted his eyes.

“Oh, I see,” you said, amused, and he found that he hated your tone and simultaneously ached for it.  “You want a reward for earlier, hm?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to.  Despite his attempt at disgruntled nonchalance, his body was obedient to your voice in a way he couldn’t physically deny or control, no matter how much he dug his nails into his palms or ground his teeth.  There was always a twitch and shift in your direction; there was always a fiery red on his cheeks; there was always the need to orbit and obey.

“You don’t get anything for properly answering a question the way you’re supposed to, Katsuki,” you remarked.  

“Tch.  Whatever,” he grunted, suppressing the involuntary shudder at his name on your lips.

“But if you do well today”—you plucked another grape and then pressed it against his mouth—“maybe you can get a reward later.”

You slid the grape into his mouth, fingers lingering at his lips in a scandalous way that journalists would kill to capture.

His body was buzzing at your words.  He couldn’t help but hoarsely ask, “What’s the reward?” 

“Whatever you want it to be,” you answered, smug as if you could read his thoughts, as if you knew he was imagining you suffocating him with your cunt and thighs, as if you knew that he hadn’t been able to help himself on stage, looking to you as though he would’ve said anything to hear good boy again.

[callmerhynner]

We’re family, we grieve together. ||

synopsis: After the head of the mansion engages his final plan during his battle of wits with Muzan Kibutsuji, you are left with the traumatized children and depressing memories that the passed family left behind.

tags: gn!reader, angst, a bit of fluff(?), sad vibes, spoiler warning!!, giving the underrated family of ds some love w/ sadness, sad children, trauma

pairing/s: Ubuyashiki Kagaya & Bestfriend!Reader, Ubuyashiki children & godparent!Reader, Amane & family friend!Reader

Author’s note; Art by me :DD, practicing a new art style and thought i might as well try writing angst for the first time. Hope you enjoy!!

⇱ ♥︎ ⇲

"Life's already been hard, being sickly was making it even harder, and the world being infested with human flesh-eating demons gave everyone more reason to fear the moon. The sun was everyone's savior, each demon slayer thanking every deity that no demon came into their homes and killed them in their sleep. And, to everyone's unfortunate truth, if the lowest ranks were fearing for their life, their master had to mourn their death alongside the people they'd left behind.

Their master, the leader of the undiscovered by the government demon slayers, Ubuyashiki Kagaya.

The man that had an army ready to charge to their own undoing if he so requests of them to. The same man that was as sickly as an overworked farmer with tubberculosis, as weak as a toothpick, had the power to control the most determined and powerful men and women in the country. Out of all the country's population, the master with swordsmen that's been trained to face death and survive, was the weakest of all.

Strength, you should remember, isn't always physical. Sometimes, it's their mentality that earns control and respect. Kagaya Ubuyashiki reflected the day's calm view with his moral ideas, only gaining more respect when he has the kindest voice, and the kindest eyes a human can possess. A man of true ethereality.

The master of the mansion, unfortunate enough to be given such a heavy title at a young age, was a man everyone could love and respect. That could make the coldest person feel warmth. Give the hardest stone a soft spot. A man of true charm."

Without you noticing, tears roll down your face, eyes never leaving the last remnant you had of your best friend, an ashy-edged portrait. You had your hands gripping at the canvas' sides, hugging it to your chest as you grieved in front of the destroyed mansion, never daring to move your legs, in fear that if you touched another flick of grass, you'd lose the memories you had with the now passed family. From the father, who you loved like a brother--to his children, that would tire themselves out at the end of the days when you would visit the mansion. His wife, who would treat you as if you have always been family, and the home of which they all felt safest who would welcome you with a flowery breeze.

All of which, gone, only the black ashes that it left behind.

You sat still, the portrait with smudges of black on it's bottom still in your grips, as your salty tears kept decorating your skin. You look to the space in the sky, where one would've seen the master's mansion, before turning your head to spare a sad glance to the young, terrifed children survivors you had managed to save from the explosion. The white of your eyes were visibly red, water never stopping the dripping it slid on your cheeks. You finally gain the strength to ease the children, watching their tears pour out broke your heart like seeing an abandoned puppy, you let go of the portrait and extending your arms to their direction.

"We are family...we grieve together.."

In an instant, the three Ubuyashiki children run to your embrace, letting out their voices and wailing into your clothes. The girls wrapped their arms at your waist as they screamed their grievances out to you, you pat their white hairs as Kiriya couldn't hold his loud sobs into your chest. You sat them all down, their faces still wetting your clothes with their emotions (you were no different), as you wrapped your arms around them in a protective bear hug. They'd lost their father, you lost a best friend, and every demon slayer had just lost their master.

You all sat there, all of your letting your sadness out amongst each other, only calming down when the crying had ceased everyone's energy. The kakushi and hashira had arrived, you knew they have probably been there the moment they heard the traumatic booming, but they unanimously agreed to let all of you pass out from exhaustion to not trigger any more intense emotions. It was a depressing sight to see, and hear, three children screaming their hearts out to the only person left that they considered family (that weren't the slayers); All the while, the person they sought for comfort, felt as much grief as they all did combined.

"Your father was a good man, Kiriya. He deserves to be honored, and i know you can do that for him." you whisper to the little boy as you gently pat his sisters' hair, voice a bit scratchy from holding in the scream you were desprate to let out. "I know we all can do it for him." you continue, a single tear rolling down your cheek as you tried to give him a hopeful smile.

"You won't have to face it alone." you finish, kissing the top of his head as the young boy let out a yawn, curling into your lap. Kuina rested her head just next to him, with Kanata laying down on the ground, using some of your yukata's cloth to protect her eyes from the dirt. "Master," you add, barely a whisper, eyes lingering back to the portrait as the hurt of your heart continues to spread across your chest, finally closing your eyes to rest alongside them when you knew they were all asleep.

[xi-writes]

Title— Dedication

Prompt— Shiny Hunter

Safety— SFW

Additional Tags— Super Fluffy

1. Rika never seemed to be the type to take gifting as a favourable form of affection, her love language more touch then anything. Of course with this in mind, when you decide to give her a little something to show how much she means to you; this couldn’t be a quick cheap fix. With perhaps the best luck ever or the most patience in existence you chose for one of the hardest things you could think of. Shiny Hunting.

2. Knowing how much Rika adored her Clodsire and treated that adorable bundle of joy like her own child the hunting choice was pretty obvious. Completely losing track of how much time you spent hunting down the elusive Wooper; when you finally had one to show you immediately made a run for her. A surprised but amused Rika catching you with ease after busting through the league doors and practically jumping into her arms disregarding everyone else around you entirely.

3. Leaving yourself no chance to back away after pouring so much hard work and love into this single gift you quickly found the pokeball buried in your bag safely; holding it out to her with both hands practically begging her to take it. At first she simply raised an eyebrow, perhaps wondering why you would choose her of all people to look after one of your pokemon but she was far from dense and caught onto what you were doing rather quickly when you didn’t budge, especially with the fact you handed her a cherish ball of all things.

4. A little stunned maybe, Rika grabbed your wrist with a light grip turning your hand over to lean in and place a kiss over the back of your hand as a small gesture of thanking you. Taking the pokeball before you could protest or even drop it in surprise to her actions. Her soft lips leaving a lovely warmth burnt into the little spot on your hand, prompting you to pull back and hold that hand close to your heart after she had the cherish ball safely in her grasp. The cute response you gave bringing a smile up to her lips again.

5. Curiosity winning her over quickly, Rika opened up the pokeball sending the little bundle of love out to settle itself on her desk. The soft little happy Wooper sounds echoing in the room briefly before a rather long silence followed shortly after. At first you had to wonder if maybe this was a bad idea, she already had a Clodsire and giving her a small Wooper to take care of on top of her duties already? Luckily before you could think any harder about it you took a brave glance up and saw her slowly reaching out for the Wooper, picking the little one up in a surprisingly gentle way. Holding the shimmering Wooper close to her chest Rika didn’t care at all about her shirt; far too used to washing out copious amounts of dirt and mud on the daily.

6. Turning to you immediately with the little one curled up in her arms making soft little happy noises Rika gave you a gorgeous, bright and wide smile, her eyes full of tender love and affection; looking between the two of you with a sheer happiness you had never seen her express before brought an unexplainable joy for yourself as well. Although now it seemed you had another contender for her attention...

7. Every single time you seen her from that point forward the shiny Wooper had always been close by, more often then not snuggled into her lap while she worked on ridiculous amounts of paperwork again, seeming rather content with being forced to do all this work now she had the Wooper to hold. If the little one wasn’t in her lap it was absolutely close by, you had come by to see it playing with her Clodsire or Poppy on occasion as well. Sometimes it would even wait for you.

8. The little Wooper had become Rika’s second child of sort and perhaps even somewhat your own, every little thing that shimmering bundle of love did Rika absolutely had to tell you about it. New moves, silly mistakes, any level ups, if you could name it you would have been told about it at some point. Even the smallest of things never got left out such as the time the Wooper got itself miraculously stuck in a trash can when Rika glanced away for a few seconds; that story had gotten around particularly well even Poppy told it to you a few times.

9. Rika made sure you had no room to be jealous however, any time you came to her for affection she included the both of you with ease. Sometimes you would even end up on her lap with her Wooper curled up on yours, Rika always made sure to clean off your clothing for you after times like these; although she never let you bring spares of your own and had you wearing her clothing as you left each time. No one who saw said anything but you were sure you had seen Larry give an understanding and approving nod once before.

[whosthatdccharacter]

Heyo! We've done six of these so far and it's been fun running this little game for yall. I hope its entertaining for you!

Now that we've got some under our belts I wanted to open up for feedback on a few different points. Im going to go over how ive done stuff so far, so if you have any thoughts on aspects of it you can chime in.

Putting the rest under the cut since it's kind of long.

1. Timing

So far I've tried to post new ones at sort of random times in the day so it doesn't give any one a consistent advantage. Im US Eastern and posts might go up anytime between 8am and 2am. I might even use the queue to schedule round the clock.

Another timing thing is that when someone guesses right, I give at least a few hours more before posting the reveal. It's just to give people a little more time to play, even if someone gets the answer right away. That's not to say you cant play after the reveal posts go up, but if youre anything like me, as soon as the ability to see the answer is available im clicking that link lol.

And since the reveal post tags the winner, I wait at least a few more hours for the next silhouette post so the prev winner doesnt have the advantage of being notified of the next one.

So a question here is should I wait longer or shorter on any of these areas? Do you like that its only one unrevealed at a time?

2. Difficulty level

This has been the hardest because it's a learning curve to find what's easy, what's hard, and why. There are SO many characters and runs, so it's hard to know if something I thought was memorable was even a blip on other people's radars. So ive tried to do a mix of difficulties.

Easier ones mean more people have the satisfaction of guessing and maybe getting it right, but if it's too easy then it might feel like these are puzzles for babies.

Harder ones mean a challenge and a lot of satisfaction if you figure it out or know that it's some niche thing. But if it's too hard then nobody gets it and it can feel kind of bullshit.

So what im wondering here is, do you feel like these have been too easy or too hard? Do you like it being a mix?

3. Character and image selection

If I put up a straightforward silhouette of Etrigan, everyone's going to get it and there's no challenge. On the flip side if i did a silhoutte or jason blood standing in a contextless room its like that could be literally any random man, so itd lead to random guesses. So ive been trying to find the sweet spot of the silhouette being somewhat familiar but not completely unique, and the rest of the image with some stuff going on. I think that's been going well but it does mean it relies on me and my ability to make a good little puzzle of it. So i hope I've been doing an alright job in that area.

Choosing from particular runs is interesting. I usually think of a character first then go find something they were in. Im finding the stories with other characters and team ups are good options to provide that extra context. But then the tricky part is that i have to be at least somewhat aware of whats popular and whats not. I dont want to use a panel from a run nobody read (unless its really good), and I also dont want to do one so infamous that everyone knows it like the back of their hand. So as with choosing particular images, I hope my choice of titles I'm sourcing these from has been fair.

4. How to guess

I went with tags so it encourages people to reblog and hopefully spread awareness of the blog. I think its also the easiest way people are inclined to interact per post. We couldve done asks but sometimes those get dropped by tumblr, and all the reveal posts would be answers to asks instead of standalone posts.

I like the idea that even for old ones people can still play and have fun with guessing on their own. Not sure if theres a clever way to encourage that.

And i hope the leaderboard is fun. Just a small incentive to participate. Its like saying nice job, thank you for playing.

5. Hints

As mentioned previously, if over a day goes by and nobodys got it ill post a hint. I've only done one hint so far and i was really not sure how subtle or overt i should be. Idk if anyone has thoughts about it?

--

So that's it. That's the process behind things and kind of where my mind is on it. I want it to be fun and chill, so if you ever have feedback about something you can always send an ask. It can be about the topics here or really at anytime about anything.

Thanks for playing everyone! Keep it up!

[puuvillaa]

Hello, love! So much fun with the 2023 in review ask game! Could I have 9, 18 and 24 please?

Hello to you too!

9. What fic meant the most to you to write?

I answered this one here

18. What was the hardest fic to title?

I hate coming up with titles! It's even harder than tagging stuff. So, pretty much all of my titles have been hard for me. But the hardest... I think I'm going to choose the unposted crossover fic, because I've already changed the title twice, and I'm still not sure if I'm going to keep the current title

24. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

I know I get surprised regularly, but I also have a bad memory, so I can't remember any. I guess Maybe We Could Pretend surprised me by becoming a fic in the first place because I was so uninspired to write it and forced myself to do it anyway. Another example would be the last chapter of By Appointment Only, because that was not supposed to exist at all, but their last conversation in ch20 didn't go fully as planned, so I needed them to have another conversation to resolve some of the unresolved stuff

2023 in review

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Let's Talk About Comp Titles

It's time to talk about the very worst part of writing. No, not revising, no not synopsis - comp titles, the worst part is comp titles. A comparison "comp" title is a published work that can be compared to your novel in several ways - similar in tone, topic matter, tropes, etc.

Why do you need comp titles?

If you are traditionally publishing, comp titles will be important at every stage of the journey. First, most agents prefer at least two comp titles in queries. When you get to the stage of selling the book, the editor will also want comp titles to help pitch it to their team. You'll want comp titles when marketing the book to pull in readers who want to find more of what they want to read.

Even if you're self-publishing, comp titles are very useful, so it's a good idea to keep them in mind. Comp titles are a pretty important part of publishing a book.

What can you use for comp titles?

Comp titles, unfortunately, have some pretty rigid set of rules. The general rule of thumb is:

Recently published (within the last 2-3 years is ideal)

Same genre and marketing category (YA books for YA, sci-fi books for sci-fi, etc)

Same format (comp books for books, graphic novels for graphic novels, etc)

All of these rules are pretty important, and also very easy to bungle. It's very tempting to cite an older book for inspiration, because it probably was. It's also tempting to pick a movie or TV series, because it would be easily recognizable.

However, you have to remember that comp titles are for marketing purposes. You want to use them to prove you're familiar with the audience you're writing for as well as appeal to readers who are specifically looking for books (not movies). So while comparing Our Flag Means Death to your book for a quick twitter pitch is fine, you'll want to stick to the rules for querying.

How do you find comp titles? Part One

Ah, the hardest part. We're told to write something original and special to us, and then told to find things that are Just Like It in order to pitch it to someone. Not only does that sting a little, it goes against most of the writing process, so comp titles tend to be difficult to do.

First, take your book and try to boil it down to basic themes. You'll want to lay out:

Genre and sub-genre (Romance and rom-com, fantasy and contemporary fantasy, etc)

Common elements (Court drama? Sword-fighting? Dragon fantasy versus faerie fantasy? Types of magic?)

Audience (Middle Grade? YA? Someone who buys books at the airport, or is hunting for the next massive sci-fi series to follow? Cosy mystery readers and thriller mystery readers might overlap, but you'll want to pin down the biggest group of people who would read your work).

Tropes (found family, enemies to lovers, subverted chosen one, etc. Embrace those AO3 tags, my friend. They will help you seek out the right titles)

Authors you're similar too (harder, but if you know you fit into a certain style, embrace it)

How do you find comp titles? Part Two

The actual hard part - no matter how well-read you are, finding comparable books is actually hard. Here's a few methods, none of them perfect, to try to get started.

Amazon's "customers also bought" recommendations - (obligatory pause for boos) But actually pretty helpful if you've found one book and need similar.

EBSCO Novelist - A search engine for libraries, usually available through your local library if you're in the US. If you can't find it on their website, ask your librarian - or see if a buddy from another county can loan you their card number for access.

Goodreads Lists - There's a lot of bad about Goodreads, but one thing the userbase is great at is creating lists of books by genre, market, and publishing year - and can help you see how they're described.

Monthly New Releases - Multiple cites track new releases by genre, and it's a good idea to get on top of the market you want to sell in as soon as possible.

BookBrowse - Extremely thorough book recommendation site, just don't get lost. It's very tempting to get lost.

Literature Map - Suggests similar authors based on your input.

Writer's Digest, The Writer, Poets&Writers - and any other current magazine. They often interview newly published writers and have a good thumb on what's being published.

Your local librarian - Seriously, someone at your library is working very hard to keep on top of new releases, and they would love to help you find what you need. The only librarians that eat people are in Night Vale, so you should be fine. Unless you live in Night Vale, which in that case, my condolences to your interns.

Wrap-Up Questions

Are you sure I can't comp a movie/TV series/manga? It's highly recommended to only comp books if you are trying to sell a book (in a query to an agent, specifically), but hey, I can't tell you what to do. You might have the perfect pitch, and agents are fickle beasts. Whatever works, works.

What if I really want to comp [insert very popular older series here]? The problem with comping Super Popular Thing Everyone Knows is that your book is obviously not Super Popular Thing, so it's not useful to gauge the tone of your work. This isn't true for all things - Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd century Space works, but avoid Game of Thrones. You don't want to rouse the r/freefolk crowd, I promise you.

Is there anything I should not comp? Every single video game comp I've seen has bombed hard. They just don't fly, probably because people who work in publishing don't have time to play video games.

What do I tell my friend who thinks their book is too unique to comp? There's no getting through to them, you just have to let them find that out the hard way. Comp titles are for marketing, and you'll need to market your book. It'll get easier. I think.

Should I read my comp titles? Yes and for the love of nachos, if you don't have time to read it, make sure you have a thorough understanding of the plot. The last thing you want is to query an agent who has a hard no against sexual assault scenes and whoops, one of your comp titles has a notorious sexual assault scene. Spare yourself the grief and make sure your comps are appropriate to your work.

[loveislattes]

1 + 10 = Dark and Primal (Predator/Prey) Kink

Summary: Exactly what the title says!

Warnings: Reader is gender-neutral but does own a vagina, primal kink roleplay, semi-public sex, dom/sub, squirting, multiple orgasms, and dirty talk. Ye have been warned!

A/N: This is the first fic drabble to come from the number prompt game!

Tag List:

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations/tips and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Tell me something,” A deep, rich voice spoke suddenly, “What’s a darling thing like you doing out here, all alone, so late at night?”

Instantly your head whipped to the side, eyes narrowing to scrutinize the tree line for any sign of the stranger, but found nothing other than darkness in return. You were about ready to continue on your trek and blame it on the sleepless night when the intruder let out a rumbling chuckle, the noise echoing around you in every direction.

Hairs now standing on end, you clutched your bag tighter to your body and asked nervously, “Who-Who’s there?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Your lips suddenly felt too dry, the night too cold, the lamp posts too dim, as you belatedly realized that you’d not seen another person on this sidewalk for way too long. It was just you and this stranger.

“I-I’m just walk-walking,” you stammered pitifully.

Dread pooled in your gut and the sense of being utterly alone and helpless intensified egregiously as one by one all the lamp posts in your line of sight flickered out.

“Ooh fuck,” you whispered.

Finally, your self-preservation instinct kicked in and you took off running. It was a dark night, the moon a sliver in waning crescent and providing almost no light. Every slap of your shoes on the ground felt like a league farther from the man. Even as your heart pounded in your ears and your lungs burned with the taste of blood, you didn’t dare slow down. How far would you have to run? Did you dare take your chances hiding out in the woods?

As soon as hope started to rise, it was quickly dashed back down.

“You humans, so fragile.”

The whispered voice in your ear tore a frantic scream from your throat, fear locking up your legs, sending you tumbling forward. Of course you would fall! It wasn’t until he laughed, a smooth luscious sound, that you realized you were braced tight for an impact that hadn’t come.

“What the…”

When your eyes finally opened, you saw the concrete of the sidewalk uncomfortably close to your face but not touching. And then you were lifted. Darkness shrouded your view as arms tightened around your torso and brought you back to your own two feet. A cool gentle breath caressed the shell of your ear seconds before you felt the familiar shape of a nose against your neck.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” he huffed bemusedly, “Think fast but run faster, little fawn, for it will take all of your abilities to escape me.”

“W-Who are you?!” you gasped out.

As the darkness left your vision and the hands retracted from your sides, he purred almost imperceptibly, “I go by Dark, but you may call me sir.”

Then all at once, you were alone. You hesitantly looked around, eyes wide with fear.

“RUN!”

A fearsome screech of terror scratched your throat raw as you stumbled and took off as quickly as possible. You knew if you stayed on the paved path he’d only catch you just as easily as before. You had to chance the forest.

No matter how quiet you tried to be, it felt like every noise you made called out to him thricefold. Your breaths sounded like alarms in your ears and the forest floor cried out like little spies with every timid step you made.

“Oh little fawn, where might you be?”

“Shit,” you whispered in shock.

How were you ever to evade him? It was obvious he wasn’t human. There was no possible way a human could catch up to you without making noise, could track you so perfectly in a nearly pitch black forest. Of course there were also the insane reflexes, catching you so close to the ground, and his ability to speak clearly to you while being nowhere in sight.

Oh so slowly, you let your guard down as you shuffled carefully through the heavily wooded area and got lost in your thoughts; finding out what he was, felt as important as hiding from him. A soft noise of triumph escaped your lips as you spotted a rather large hollow in the base of a giant tree. Your eyes darted around one last time to make sure you didn’t see anyone before you ducked into the wood shelter.

Just as your back pressed up against the trunk, you heard a twig snap outside. The forest was uncannily quiet, no sound of animals nor wind to impede noises made by either you or him.

“A smart little thing you are, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught as fear slammed your heart into your ribcage like a drum. His voice was close, too close. Another crunch of branches and leaves drew your eyes to the right of your hollow. Even in the darkness of the woods, his black pants stood out against the greens and browns. Your assailant was wearing… suit pants? Despite the silliness of the situation, your nerves only increased as he crept closer and closer to you.

“Where are you?” he sang out lowly.

Hushed humming graced your ears delightfully as he passed you, hands clasped behind his back as if simply taking a nice stroll. You couldn’t control the way your stomach fluttered as the beautiful cadence of his voice filled the hollow. Someone so dangerous shouldn’t sound so inviting.

A quick rush of air released from your lungs as he continued on without incident and relief filled your veins. Head falling back, you let your eyes close and took deep slow breaths.

“It’s adorable that you think you’ve won, my little fawn.”

There wasn’t a word deep enough to describe the bone-chilling terror that flooded your body at the sound of his voice so close. Slowly your eyes fluttered open, only to discover a pair of legs standing in front of your only exit.

“Come out now, admit defeat, and I might even be gentle with you, darling,” he offered slyly.

“Fuck you,” you grit out.

Before you could second guess your actions, you bolted forward, right into his legs. While you were sure you didn't harm him, your actions surprised him enough to allow you the room to shove by. You had made it only a couple feet when hands were on you, one gripping your shoulder while the other pinched around the nape of your neck. A cry of shock and pain fled your lips as he shoved you face-first up against the nearest tree and pinned you with his body. Escape was looking more and more like a fool’s dream and yet you didn’t stop wiggling, trying your hardest to break free to no avail.

“Mmm, I do love it when my dinner puts up a fight, makes you smell all that more delectable,” he purred as his thigh slipped between yours, “And don’t fool yourself into believing I can’t smell just how aroused you are.”

Mortification burned up your face and you bit your lower lip hard to contain the distraught noise that threatened to break forth as he leaned into you. The pressure of his thigh served to further argue his point, your panties soaking up the slick between your thighs.

“P-Please,” you whispered shakily.

“Please what?” he mocked, “Please let you go? Now, you know I can’t do that, darling. I’m absolutely ravenous and you’re ripe for the taking.”

Teeth gently grazed the tender flesh of your throat and sent goosebumps across your flesh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had such a sweet little human to play with,” he groaned quietly.

Fingers teased the sliver of skin poking from beneath your top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with languid little strokes; teeth mimicking the action against your neck.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, darling. I’ve smelled your interest since the instant you started to run,” he whispered, giving another gentle roll of his hips.

Before you could contain it, an excited little squeak escaped as you felt the hardening bulge grind against your ass.

“There it is. Give in to me,” Dark murmured, “I promise this will be an experience unlike any other.”

You didn’t dare give an answer. The words felt too wrong on your tongue despite the sudden urge in your body demanding an agreement. As terrifying as he was, there was something about his presence that intrigued you. It felt like there was a war going on in your head as you gingerly wiggled your hips back against him and tilted your head to the side, allowing him full access to your neck.

The moan he gave in return made your knees weak.

In one rough movement, you heard the tell-tale rip of your shorts being ruined and then your hips were lifted in the next.

“Ooh, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, little fawn,” he cooed mockingly as a finger danced across your lips, “It will be all the easier to make you mine.”

That was your only warning before his cock was lined up against your cunt, thick head breeching every so slightly before he slammed in. Tears sprung up into your eyes and you buried your face harder against the bark as a pathetic cry warbled out. It was devastating and heavenly all at once. When he didn’t follow up immediately, you couldn't help but arch back into him.

“What a needy little thing you are,” he chuckled, “I’m going to have so much fun with you before I destroy you.”

Never in a thousand years did you think you’d find yourself in this position, being hunted down and fucked in the middle of the forest, and yet there wasn’t a place you’d rather be in that moment.

Dark’s pace was brutal, the position even more so. Every thrust of his cock rocked you up against the tree, bark scraping and digging at your skin. Every attempt to move back sunk him deeper inside you. It felt like a never ending sea of desire. It wasn’t long until you were begging for more, until the sting of the micro cuts on your skin was just another layer to the destructive pleasure coiling in your core.

“You want more? You want to come? Then touch yourself,” he ordered huskily, “Rub your clit and make yourself come on my cock while I claim you as mine.”

His meaning came through loud and clear. He intended to mark you in the most primitive of ways, in ways no one had before. You’d never let any other come inside you, too afraid of the risks.

“N-No, don’t-”

Fingers dug into your wrist and jerked your hand down between your cunt and the tree, forcing you where you wanted it most.

“It’s no use, darling, it’s too late,” he snickered, “You’re already in the lion’s den and there’s no escape. Not anymore. You belong to me now.”

You could feel his teeth bared a wicked smile against your skin before they clamped down around your throat. Pain exploded and pulsed through your veins with every beat of your racing heart, and yet it pervertedly only urged you faster. Your fingers shook under the duress of all the sensations assaulting your nerves but you worked them nonetheless, too lost to the desire.

His moan rumbled through your very being as you tightened uncontrollably around him, teetering just on the edge of bliss.

“Mine.”

That one word was spoken with such conviction and punctuated with absolute abandon, all sanity lost as you seemingly became a means to an end; a prey to claim and fill.

“Mine! All mine,” he snarled against your shoulder, “Give yourself to me, now!”

His hand came to cover yours and joined in the efforts, frantically abusing your sensitive nub until finally it all snapped.

“Ah f-fuck, D-Dark, oh my god!”

Your ruse slipped as his name spilled from your lips, but you couldn’t care less as everything coalesced with a vengeance. The pain, the pleasure, the emotions. It was all worth it as your pleasure drenched your thighs, a sob falling from your lips in debauched relief. Pulse after pulse of ecstasy rocked through your core as he fucked you through your first climax into another, and then another.

Stifled grunt and moans shifted gradually into full blown snarls of bliss as he threw your hands up against the tree, pinning both with one while his other arm wrapped around your waist and held you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Shot after shot of hot cum filled your core, palpable with every throb of his cock, and you couldn’t resist melting back into him. With a final few thrusts, he released your hands only to pull you in close and hold you upright as he turned, putting himself between you and the tree as you both came down from the high.

“Holy hell,” you giggled, head tilting back to look up at him.

Dark gave a little chuckle and cupped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and directing you up into a gentle kiss.

“I promised the full experience. Was anything too much?” he asked.

“Mm-mm. It was perfect,” you whispered.

As best as you could in the awkward position, you snuggled back into him and pulled his arms around you.

“You can hunt me any time you want,” you admitted cheekily.

[speedmetalqueen]

More works: Masterlist

part II

This was inspired by ‘Good 4 U’. This will have a part II.

I wrote this in honor of meeting Bakugous VA tomorrow so I wanted to write something!

Thank you for reading✨

September 17, 2021 Friday

“I can’t believe that asshole is already dating someone! Not even a month has passed and he’s already got himself a girlfriend!” You yelled your displeasure to Kirishima who was unlucky to be around you at the moment. “I’m sorry Y/N I didn’t even know, that’s totally unmanly.” He eyed you as you bore a death glare into your phone screen. Every social media was plastered with the new power couple- or so the title says. You were pissed- sure you were the one who called off the engagement, but you never thought Katsuki would move on much less so quickly.

Your hands trembled from pure hot rage as you clenched your teeth to stop yourself from crying. Kirishima being the sweetheart that he is wrapped his powerful arms around you into a tight embrace. “I’m here for you, let it out.”

The suffocating burning knot that occupied your throat crawled onto the surface as you let the tears finally break free. Wailing into Kirishima's chest as you grasp onto his shirt, holding on for dear life. You buried your snot covered nose into him as you cried endlessly. Your painful muffled screams bouncing through your shared apartment, and poor Kiri who had to witness one of his best friends go through something like this.

It felt as you were dying all over again, the feeling of being drowned in your emotions hitting hard. Your heart was already in pieces but this made them absolutely disintegrate into oblivion. This wasn’t supposed to happen you thought to yourself- you’d always believe Katsuki would wait for you- maybe even beg for another chance. You were so sure of it- he’d always say to you no matter what he would always love you and no one would ever replace you. You believed him, and that was your fault for being so selfish.

-

The next morning you woke up to a sore throat, the screaming didn’t stop till late into the night. It was indescribable, this feeling of betrayal and abandonment. Not even when you broke up with him did you cry this much- this was an emotional territory you’ve never experienced- and honestly it scared you. You were the one who called off the engagement- even letting the idea fester in your mind- making sure this was something you wanted to go through. So why did this hurt so fucking much? Why is this affecting you the way it is now?

You’re so toxic to yourself- scrolling through his social and tags- everything about her and him. Only causing you to go into hysterics again and again. You couldn’t help it- you were self destructing.

-

A couple of weeks passed and each day it got a little easier but also a little harder. You were so thankful for Kirishima- even though you felt so guilty for him having to pick up the pieces. The hardest days were when your agency would have to team up with Katsuki’s. You both were professional about it, but inside you were screaming in pain. Kirishima would always give you a glance assuring you that it was okay and he was there if you needed him.

You were sure Katsuki could feel the pain you were in- just because things ended between you both doesn’t mean all those years of being together he didn’t learn your behaviors and emotions- which was more embarrassing, having him able to read you like a book.

-

One day you overheard Kirishima talking on the phone- he was always bad at keeping his voice down.

“I don’t know man. I still think it’s pretty shitty that you got a girlfriend not long after Y/N dumped your ass.”

You guessed it was Katsuki on the other line. Why were they talking about you? Why did Kiri sound so irritated?

“Look you’re my bro and I’ll always have your back, but I cannot forgive you for the way you hurt her.” He paused. “She’s fine. But I hope someday you two can reconcile and fix this mess.”

There was nothing to fix- he moved on and you wanted to do the same.

-

That was a couple months ago back in the summer, it was winter now and you haven’t seen or worked with Katsuki since then. You were actually doing better- throwing yourself into your career and even climbing the hero ranks, earning you a spot to attend the Hero Awards. Kirishima was also invited as well, he climbed the hero ranks earning his spot at number 3 and you at number 2. They haven’t announced who was going to be number 1 but you were too excited to worry about that. You had asked Kirishima if he would be your plus one to the event, it was so much easier to coordinate since you were roommates.

When the night finally arrived you were having the time of your life, even seeing some old classmates that you haven’t seen since U.A.

The time came when they announced the new hero spots and you coming in at number 2. Everyone clapped and cheered as everyone was introduced- and now they waited on to see who was the new number 1.

If this was a cliche movie you would have guessed that the last person you would want to see was kissing your ex fiancé. You watched as Katsuki got up from his table and kissed his girlfriend on the lips as she smiled and mouthed something to him earning her a smirk.

Your mouth became dry and that all too familiar feeling in your throat returned. You watched as he passed you to receive his award and take the stage for his acceptance speech. You felt like you were stuck in a Petri dish and everyone was examining you through a microscope. Any little movement and the press would have a field day.

You swallowed hard trying to get rid of the constricting feeling in your throat. He looked so good, like this break up did everything for him. He looked happy and accomplished. He finally became the number 1 hero and leaving you in the past.

[angstmonsterwrites]

Self-Blame & The Illusion of Control

I write a lot on here about how to identify the typical behavior patterns of abusers and the consequences of not removing oneself from them, but it's worth talking about the behavior of someone who's caught in an abusive relationship too--especially for those cases where the cycle of abuse is more subtle or drawn out over a longer period of time and harder to pin down. If the potential abuser's behavior isn't entirely obvious, then looking at how you tend to react to them over time can be a useful piece of information.

As the title suggests, one major behavior abused individuals display is that everyday thought and life becomes very much about trying to accommodate the abuser and to avoid 'provoking' them. Unfortunately, a line of thought that tends to run rather persistently through the mind of someone who's being abused is that they are to blame for the harm being done to them, and if only they could be and do everything good enough, perfect enough, be able to predict the abuser's needs and behaviors, and make sure not to get upset, everything would be fine. In the mind of the sorely manipulated and abused individual, standing up for themselves and communicating needs becomes a type of crime or unreasonable risk that invites more harm--only the abuser is allowed to have unique interests, needs, and feelings, while the abused is allowed nothing but responsibility for everything and makes the vast majority of sacrifices.

-------

Do any of these thoughts sound familiar?

"I should have paid more attention to how stressed they were before getting upset. I really was just the straw that broke the camel's back and should have known better."

"I need to prioritize this relationship more like they asked. I should know that spending too much time with friends makes them feel unimportant."

"I owe them for a lot--giving up a few pie-in-the-sky hopes and dreams for theirs isn't too big a price tag to keep them happy."

"It's really my fault they blew up. I need to make sure I don't embarrass everyone with a less than perfect {insert thing/event} next time."

"I just go along with whatever they want. They probably know best anyhow."

"I don't really have a strong opinion about it. If they're happy, I'm happy."

"I didn't really want to {insert major life change here}, but it's selfish of me not to give them what they want."

A couple of these--like genuinely not having a strong opinion and just going with what the other person wants--might be okay every once in a rare while depending on the context, but if any of these thoughts fit the larger theme of a relationship, there's likely a serious problem. These tend to be symptomatic of someone who's trying to cope with being isolated, controlled, and hurt, and of someone who's trying their hardest to believe that just going along with it and assuming all blame will bring peace and contentment.

-------

If you find yourself watching very carefully exactly how you speak, what you do, which friends you're 'allowed' to talk to and how much, or what thoughts and feelings are safe to express around a certain person--be they friend, family, or significant other--those are all red flags. Another one to watch out for is if you find yourself twisting your head into uncomfortable knots to convince yourself that what that other person wants for you and your future must be what you want too.

(Bear in mind that if you were once emotionally abused for a protracted amount of time, but are now out of that situation, some of these behaviors may carry over into other relationships that are relatively healthy or at least not abusive. Old habits die hard, especially when they take the form of PTSD, but there's typically a much stronger dedication to that hypervigilance in an ongoing abusive relationship. Think carefully about what it is you're reacting to when you behave a certain way.)

The painful reality is that no amount of control over your own actions or the environment will make an abusive person suddenly respect you. There is no amount of sacrifice or setting yourself aside that will be enough.

But there should also be no sunk cost fallacy here. If you recognize yourself in any of this--no matter how long it's gone on--consider that it might be time to seek out the support you need to remove yourself from such a relationship, whether from community resources or individuals you trust to understand.

Your life should belong first and foremost to yourself; you are a human being worthy of autonomy and dignity, and are not meant to be anyone's trophy, prize, or punching bag.

[ditttiii]

Enchanted To Meet You || 4.5 || JK’s Interlude.

Summary:  No one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates, for that matter. Humans don't have soulmates, but shapeshifters do. What are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren't even human.

BTS is on a hiatus and ARMY thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. You believe that too, at least you did until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as Hybrids because apparently, you all are soulmates.

 (Hybrid AU // Soulmate AU) (Fluff // humour // smut // angst  // eventually NSFW) (NC-18) (Ot7 x Reader) (slow burn)

banner by: @thebannershop​

Word Count: 1336

Warnings: None for now (PG 13)

Series Master-list Here 

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you...

Jungkook is young, often called the Golden Maknae, he's the youngest in the band.

Young, most times still—'too young.'

Too young to understand why he isn't allowed to take pictures with their fans on the street, too young to understand why he couldn't just jump into the crowd to hug a ARMY who was in a wheelchair, too young to understand why having tattoos as an idol would be frowned upon by some. 

Too young, too naive to fully understand how the world works. It irks him sometimes. 

But, he doesn't always mind being called 'young.' 

No, because it means he could pick up the choreography the quickest, was the most energetic during fan meetings, danced the hardest during concerts, and would smile the brightest no matter what. 

He still has the spirit, the drive, the need to prove something. 

It isn't like his Hyungs don't. They were all driven but Jungkook was—a bull tied to a truck, huffing and puffing with pulsing, neck veins—driven. 

It was a different kind of drive. 

Tae-hyung could act, Jimin-ssi was a trained dancer, Hobi-hyung had a mixtape out, Yoongi-hyung was a music producer who had the most collaborations under his name between all of them, Jin-hyung was a trained actor and he had his face and that was an accomplishment on its own and then lastly there was Rapmon-hyung.

Rapmon-hyung, the reason behind why Jungkook is, who he is today. Kim Namjoon, an idol's idol—his idol.

Jungkook though? He knows he can do a little of everything but when he thinks about it, he wasn't a master of anything. 

Sure, he could sing—was the lead vocalist, but sometimes he thinks it's just a title. Tae-hyung had a voice like liquid, molten gold, while Jimin-hyungs was one of a kind.  

BTS could live on without Jungkook, but without BTS, Jungkook had nothing.

His hyungs would say he was pushing himself too hard, that he would one day run his body to the ground, that he didn't have to prove anything—they would love him regardless.

And he believes them, they are his family, his mates, of course, they would love him. They have known each other for years, their connection, strong enough to let them know his thoughts without him having to word them out.  

But he tries, works harder to be loved anyway, not because he doesn't trust them but because he simply wants to. 

He has always wanted to give them reasons to love him, multiple reasons, beyond just him being their mate. It was something he did without even fully realising it. Like, staying up late to help Hobi-hyung tweak a certain part of their choreography, or giving Yoongi-hyung silent company, while he works in his studio late until the first rays of the sun filter through the cracks in between the blinds. 

In a nutshell—Jungkook wants his precious people to love him. 

He cries during concerts but doesn't in front of his hyungs, sings his throat raw in the studio alone, practices the choreography until the bottom of his feet are scrapped–the steps muscle memory by that point. 

His whole persona is contradictory in ways, even he doesn't fully understand. His actions black, white and all the shades in between. So, it's hard for him to pinpoint why exactly his feelings for you are different, but he knows that they are. 

He recalls sensing your presence for the first time, feeling another, newer pull to this unknown soul somewhere. He is three, when he first feels your presence. 

It was the first time he had ever felt a soulmate bond mature. Before you, he was the youngest and all the bonds were already there. He didn't know a life without them, had always felt them with every single intake of his breath. 

But with you, he felt it grow. Felt it as it grew stronger, harder to ignore, with every passing birthday of his, until the time would be right and he would finally be able to meet you.

He knew he had soulmates, was told by his parents that he would meet them when the time was right. Was told that he was fortunate for having multiple soulmates, most of their kind didn't have any. And Jungkook was lucky, he knew it too, was reminded of the fact every time, one of his mates would hug him. 

But, when the pressure of having more than one soulmate became too much, the strain of it on his body, a heavy toll that had started to feel unbearable, your bond was the one that had soothed him. 

While the other bonds felt like a determined, burning blaze, their presence hard to ignore, yours was quieter, softer, much like a cool, healing balm. 

Sometimes he likes to think if the bonds were real and tangible, the others would be red—burning, ceaseless and passionate, while the one he had with you would be green. 

Green like a clean, clear, ocean—eternal and infinite in its depth, with hues and shades, that kaleidoscope together to form a gentle and serene presence.

When their Hiatus started, he was a little sad. All seven of them were as their careers weren't just their jobs, but also their hobbies and passions. 

It was tough to put it all on hold for a few years, but they also knew that they needed to take a break. 

Their bond with ARMY is something special, almost surreal when he thinks about it. Jungkook doesn't want to toot his own horn, but he's pretty sure they have the largest, most passionate fan base in the present time.

They also have a legacy, something tangible and real, that they have left behind in their wake. Even if he's a little sad to let go of what was almost a routine for him by now, he thinks he'll eventually be okay. Even if they never release another song, he thinks he'll be alright, because what they have done so far? He's pretty damn proud of it all. 

Which was why, even though he was a little sad when the Hiatus started, he was relieved and excited too. Ready to explore what he hadn't yet had the chance to look into, the curious child within Jungkook was absolutely thrilled, as he thought of all the possibilities. 

One of them was, of course, finally meeting you. It was a sort of unspoken promise between the members that they would use this hiatus to finally find out who you were. They all loved each other and were glad for the other's presence, but without you, it always felt as if something was lacking. 

You were the missing puzzle piece, the final bond, their last mate—the one that would tie the lot of them together. 

They were anxious to meet you, they didn't know who you were, where you lived, whether you were a fan or not, or even if you were okay with having seven soul mates. What if you didn't want them? What if they overwhelmed you and made you run away, forever leaving them behind?

The possibilities of things going wrong and the metaphorical shit hitting the fan seemed endless to Jungkook. Even though he wasn't ready—wasn't ready to finally put a face to this presence, wasn't ready to meet you only to lose you. 

He was ready to tell you how much he loved you, how much he wanted, needed you. How much just sensing your presence through their bond had helped him. 

He was anxious and scared but he was also ready, as prepared as he was going to be. 

He believed he had thought of it all, the absolute worst of the worst possibilities, but nothing in the world, would have prepared him for the realisation. 

The realisation that you were a human. 

His soulmate, his hyungs soulmate—their soulmate was a human. 

Refer to this post, if you aren’t sure what this interlude is for. 

Also, I’ve tagged everyone who’s asked so far. If you have asked to be tagged and I somehow forgot to put your name in, please let me know. Also originally the tag list was down here, in this post but Tumblr is trash and didn’t notify people so I’ll be tagging everyone down in the comments as apparently, that is the only way it seems to be working. Let me know if you have any idea why this is happening to me. 

Also if you STILL weren’t notified, let me know that too. Refer to this post here.

Next chapter will be out soon as well 💗

Tag-list for the story can be found here.  Due to the running issue of tumblr and it’s unresponsive tags, I’ll be putting the taglist down in the comments.

[sheerfreesia007]

Lipstick Stains

Title: Lipstick Stains

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Tequila x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 2,694

Warnings: soft smut, dry humping (I feel so juvenile typing this but that’s what this is), public dry humping

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo

Author Notes: This was inspired by looking at a picture of a lip print on a mirror. So this was much softer than I had planned but I loved it! I’m so soft for Tequila.

The sun was beating down on your back as you bent over the ground piercing your shovel into the hard earth. Grunting softly you strained your arms and lifted out another shovel full of hard dusty soil. The soft thud of the dirt sounded out in the air as you tried to diligently work at the roots of the rotted dead apple tree in your front yard. But while you tried to work the sun was making it harder and harder not to stop and just lay out in it’s heated rays. Not to mention the sweat that was pouring off your body at the moment.

The soft clink of another shovel piercing the earth reached your ears and you turned your head to look over at Tequila, your best friend. Grinning softly you stand to your full height stretching out your muscles and groaning softly. The two of you had been working for a good few hours now and the hard labor was starting to seize your muscles. You would be feeling this all tomorrow.

“Ya know I can’t thank ya enough Tequila for helpin’ me out.” You say softly as you swipe the back of your hand across your forehead whisking away the sweat that beaded your skin. You lean against your shovel and watch as he stands to his full height as well and pulls his gray t-shirt away from his stomach and brushes it across his face clearing away the sweat that has gathered. Your eyes dart down to the exposed skin of stomach and you have to stop yourself from melting at the sight. His bronzed skin glistens in the sun and you can see the six pack that he’s been hiding. You feel yourself begin to drool and shake your head looking back up to him hoping he didn’t see you ogling him.

“Are ya kiddin’ me? I wanted to spend my day off pulling up a rotted apple tree.” Tequila teases you good naturedly and you roll your eyes at him in response. He lets his shirt fall back down to rest over his stomach hiding it from your view before he slams the pointed tip of his shovel into the dirt and it stands tall next to him. Your eyes widen then as you watch him reach an arm back behind his head and grab the collar of his shirt and slide it slowly up his body and over his head. “ ‘sides Ma would kill me if she heard you were trying to pull this up on your own.” he chastises you with a grin as he swipes his shirt across his forehead and then down his body before tossing it over to your little cooler that you had brought out earlier for your water bottles.

You feel your breath leave your body and with it you think your soul has escaped as well. Your eyes are darting all over his topless form and you try your hardest to pull your eyes to safe territory like his shoulders and up. But as your eyes slowly trace his body traveling upward you feel a heated blush start to overtake your face making you that much more uncomfortable in the heat. When your eyes do reach his shoulders you admire the thick muscles that he’s developed there and you feel your knees weaken slightly. Gripping your shovel’s handle tightly your eyes finally come to rest on his and he’s smirking wickedly at you.

“Ya done inspector?” he asked teasingly and you blushed even harder at being caught checking out your best friend. Scoffing softly you turn back to the stubborn apple tree root and Tequila chuckles gleefully next to you. “You know if you wanted a closer look all ya gotta do is ask honey pot.” he teases you using your childhood nickname that he had given you. You feel flustered at hearing the old nickname and whip your head to look at him and see that he’s standing much closer to you now. He’s grinning widely at you and his ice blue eyes are sparkling with that teasing light that you’ve seen throughout your whole relationship. You watch silently for a moment as he leans even closer and you suck in a breath before he’s turning with a sly grin on his face and you know he was only teasing you.

“Whatever, let’s just get this done you’re starting to stink.” you grumble out as you turn back to the root and with all your strength slam your shovel into ground again.

“You like it when I stink.” Tequila quips back and you scoff as you shake your head. “I smell like roses when I sweat.” he boasts as he begins to dig out the root as well.

“Who told you that?” you questioned incredulously as the two of you work. “Whoever it was lied to you because I’ve smelt you when you’re sweaty and it’s the farthest thing from roses.” you explain scrunching up his nose.

“I’m pretty sure it was the last lady who was underneath me who told me that.” Tequila says nonchalantly and you freeze as your mind races with images of Tequila above you sweating in a completely different way. Your whole body is heated at this point and you clenched your thighs together at the image of Tequila thrusting above you as his large sturdy arms caged you in below him.

Shaking your head you don’t respond and try to focus back on digging out the root. You’ve known Tequila since you two were in diapers, your mothers were best friends so when the two of you came along it was inevitable that it’d be the same for you. But while you were sure that Tequila only saw you as his best friend you had developed feelings for him that were more romantic back in middle school. And while now you two were now full fledged adults with careers your feelings had never changed for him, if anything they had softly grown into a beautiful secretive love for him.

It hadn’t always been easy to keep your feelings a secret from him, sometimes you felt as if he knew that you were in love with him. Or that he knew you cared for him greatly but neither of you mentioned it and it was just easier to resist the pull you had to him because you valued your friendship with him far greater than a love that you thought would not be reciprocated.

“Hey you alright?” Tequila asked concerned and you were instantly pulled out of your thoughts quickly. Turning your head to look up at him he was leaning against the handle of his shovel and watching you with calculating eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just lost in thought.” you said nodding your head as you turned back to the root. Slamming your shovel into the dirt you felt it sink in and you cheered as you pushed on the handle so that the shovel would lift the problematic root out of the earth. “Fucking finally.” you gushed out happily and kept pushing on the handle.

Tequila moved around to sink his own shovel in next to yours and help lift the root out of the ground. When the two of you had most of it out of the ground Tequila gripped the tree and yanked it out of the ground. As he dragged it farther away from the hole you cheered and did a little dance at the accomplishment. Tequila laughed and grabbed one of your hands and twirled you into his arms doing a quick little dance with you as you laughed and cheered.

Finally when your elation to finally getting the root out of the ground came to an end you realized that you were cradled in Tequila’s arms comfortably and you felt your body begin to melt into him. Panic seized you a little and you placed your hands on his naked sweaty chest as you looked up at him.

“This calls for a reward.” you rushed out happily and watched as Tequila’s eyes widened slightly at your words.

“I couldn’t agree more.” he husked out and began to lean down towards you. Completely missing his intention you moved out of his arms and raced towards the front of your house. Tequila watched in exasperation as you rushed into your house and came out a minute later holding two ice pops in your hands. He burst out in laughter at your gesture and the joy on your face. “Not what I had in mind but I will never turn down an ice pop.” he mused to himself softly as you neared him holding out the bright orange ice pop to him. He graciously took the ice po from you and the two of you moved to sit under the large oak tree in the corner of your yard.

Here the shade was cool and so refreshing after all of your hard work getting that tree root out. Tequila sat and leaned his back against the trunk of the tree absent mindedly licking the ice pop. He grinned as you sat next to him and pressed up against his side with your shoulder. Turning his head to look down at you he watched as you placed the ice pop on your tongue and closed your lips around it before slowly dragging it out of your mouth with a pop. Internally groaning Tequila turned away from you and felt his pants begin to tighten around a certain area.

“Thanks again Tequila.” you said softly as you gently leaned your head against his shoulder. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you both watched your small neighborhood in the late afternoon.

“It was no bother honey pot.” he said softly and you smiled at the nickname now. Turning your head to look up at him your eyes danced over his profile before they trailed downwards to his neck and then the expanse of his chest and shoulders. Your eyes surveyed the skin over his shoulder closest to you and without thought you leaned forward and pressed a closed mouth kiss to his skin. It was a gesture of thanks and affection for him, once you had often given to him before. Normally it was a quick peck to his cheek but today his shoulder had called to you.

When you pulled away you didn’t notice Tequila turning his head to look down at you with a bemused smile because you were too focused on the almost translucent red lip print on his skin. The contrast between his bronzed skin and the cherry red lip print made desire curl in the pit of your stomach. There was just something about marring his skin with your lip print that spoke to something primal in you and you wanted to do it more.

“Honey pot?” Tequila asked softly and your head snapped up to look at him. His eyes were dilated as he watched you looking at him. It was as if the two of you had a silent conversation with each other and suddenly you were moving to straddle his waist as his arms wrapped loosely around your hips keeping you steady against him. Your hands danced softly up and down his chest feeling the muscles under his skin jump and clench under your ministrations.

Your eyes were darting around his chest trying to figure out where you wanted to put your second mark on him. When your eyes landed on his left pectoral muscle your eyes lit up with delight. Leaning forward you slid your hands down to rest against his ribs and you pressed your lips to his pectoral muscle making it jump underneath you and Tequila stuttered out a breath. When you pulled away and saw the cherry stain on his skin you grinned widely with pride.

“You look good with my lip print on you.” you said softly as you leaned forward and placed another kiss to his right pectoral muscle. Tequila’s hands gripped your hips tighter and he dragged you closer on his lap making the two of you moan softly.

“Fuck honey pot. Before we go further I need to know you want this as much as I do.” he husks out softly. You look up at him with loving eyes and a soft smile on your face.

“I’ve wanted you this way since freshman year of high school.” you whispered out to him and watched as his eyes widened with realization.

“Since that long?” he asked in a whisper and you nodded your head eagerly with a self degrading smile.

“Knew I was in love with you back in middle school and just had my sexual awakening the night of your first football game in high school.” you confided in him. He tilted his head at you and then grinned knowingly.

“When you-” he began but you cut him off quickly.

“Yeah, yeah when I walked in on you changing in the locker room.” you said quickly trying to move on from the topic of conversation.

“Wait so when you told me that you didn’t see anything that night were you lyin’?” Tequila asked suddenly with a knowingly smirk and you felt your face flush deeply. “Is that why you had your sexual awakening?” There was no point in lying and you weren’t ready yet to confess that you had seen everything that night to him so you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his right collarbone.

Tequila shifted under you as you continued to press kisses along his skin against each collarbone. You hummed softly when you felt his tented groin brush against your core. When you finished placing kisses along his left collarbone you pressed a kiss to the hollow of his neck and he gasped out softly.

“I know what you’re doing.” he rushed out in a soft relaxed tone and you hummed absent mindedly as you trailed kisses up the side of his neck to his ear.

“You know nothing.” you whispered into his ear and he shivered as you bit down on his ear lobe gently. Tequila’s hands slid from your hips to cup your ass in his large palms and ground you down on top of him as he bucked up. The sensation of his dick grazing your core through both of your pants had you panting against his neck as he continued to grind you down and his hips bucking up.

“Oh I know everything honey pot.” he husked out as he moved your hips against his. You moaned into his ear and he began to move you faster against him. “I knew you were in love with me even though for the life of me I could never figure out why ya wouldn’t say anything. I knew you saw me that night all because you couldn’t keep that damn pretty blush off your face the whole game. And I knew I was in love with you that night.” he explained softly as he moved the two of you against each other.

You gasped and threw your head back as your orgasm rushed through you. Your hips ground down harshly against Tequila’s bucking hips and he grunted deeply. “Shit, shit, shit.” he chanted as you gyrated your hips against his. Your hands were splayed against his naked chest and you were pressing him back into the trunk of the tree as you rode out your high on him. “Fuck honey pot you made me come in my dang pants.” Tequila husked out and you grinned proudly at that information. You couldn’t believe that you had just done that with him.

“C’mon Tequila we’re not done. Let’s go take a shower and get clean. I've got a tube of red lipstick I wanna test out on you.” you whispered to him as you leaned forward and pressed a loving kiss to his lips. Tequila hummed delighted as he deepened the kiss wrapping his arms around you. Standing with you in his arms you squealed as he began walking towards the front of your house.

[emily-prentits]

1, 3, 4, 5, 15, 18, 19, 21, 23

no pressure to answer them all ajshghasgsj im very curious tho

1. tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

People keep sending me this lol- but I always have more wips so I don’t mind in the least <3 (Perfect time to talk about inthaf omg)

It’s Nice To Have a Friend (inthaf) is the title of an original fic that I’m slowly chipping away at in hopes of actually writing something original… it’s based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name. Ever since I first heard this song I’ve wanted to write a childhood friends to lovers fic but it never really fit any of my ships (surprise surprise, there's a thing called original fiction. Who knew?) This idea has been brewing in my mind for about a year and a half now, but I just started plotting and worldbuilding about a month ago! Not many details are set in stone and I want to keep it under wraps for a while yet, but the main premise is two childhood friends reuniting after years of being apart. Shenanigans (also known as the plot™) ensue. I’m really excited about this fic tho! Maybe I’ll actually finish it… (I say, as I haven’t even finished one fic)

3. what is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

A mob boss au omg. This sounds like so much fun but the amount of research I’d have to do? The amount of writing I’d have to do? I don’t have the time for another multi lol. I think I’d probably make it papertiger if I did write it though.

4. share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Cindy. Felicia smiles.

You get zero context, you're welcome.

5. what character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

answered here!

15. which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Great question great question…. Am I allowed to say all of them?

Titles usually come to me sometime while writing, or at least fragments of titles, so those aren’t super hard unless they don’t come to me lol in that case that would be the hardest part of a fic.

Summaries have been drilled into my brain for years (meaning I loathe them) but if I really need one I’ll do it, but if I’m feeling lazy I’ll just use an interesting quote from the fic as a hook and call it a day. aaty has the one summary I’m actually proud of that I put effort into lol

Honestly I don’t give a shit about tags… sometimes I use them, sometimes I don’t, sometimes I forget that ao3 isn’t tumblr and I use the tags like I would on tumblr lol

18. do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

So many of them!! I briefly thought about writing Carmen and Julia’s relationship before the events of aaty, thought about writing a fic where Carmen faked her death for an epilogue-type fic set after you’re gone (and I’m all alone), gala fics… so many gala fics for carulia. There’s actually one coming up in both of my carulia multichaps, although I won’t tell you where.

19. is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

answered here!

21. what other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

If they weren’t all fanfiction I think they’d work good as films or webcomics <3

23. what's the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Definitely aaty. Started that sucker january 2021 and only got a few chapters in before my brainrot said no more writing *cries*

writer asks

[jenseits-der-sterne]

Hi! For the writers thing about 8, 15, 22? I apparently want to know a lot👀

Hello there! 🥰

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Generally... yes? For fics, I'm into slow burns, lots of pining, things being very flirty and fluffy. I write something that I'd want to read...

But outside of fic, I am way more open to genres and styles of writing that aren't that much like how I write. This past year I read this great memoir, "Crying in H Mart," and I'd say that's a very different thing than I've ever written.

I think if I ever did try writing original works, they would draw on weird little things that happened in my life that have stuck with me, not really a memoir, but creative non-fiction short stories. I've never tried this and honestly the idea of it kind of scares me? I fear it not turning out well and that being a disappointment. And conversely, if it turned out to be good and I wanted to actually try to do something with it, like publish it or something, would I really want my family to read it??? Because the ideas I have would draw on real experiences I've had and I don't know if I could handle the "did you really feel that way?", "did this really happen?" kinds of questions.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

There are some stories where the title was always there for me, so that wasn't the hard part. The stories I've had the hardest time with a title for were "Shifting Sands," "Lost! Two Fancy Slippers and a Spiffy Beret," and "Farore's Day on Windvane Lane." My other fic titles came more easily to me.

The summaries are challenging. For a lot of my fics, I try to find a chunk from the story itself and just paste that into the summary. But with the "The Story Mill," I felt like that wasn't going to fly and that I needed to write something that was like an advertisement that would (hopefully) match the energy level of the story I was hoping for.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Yes! I just finished a reread of "The Story Mill" because I want to write another chapter and I wanted to refresh myself on parts. Initially I was just going to reread targeted chapters but then I was like "Nahhh, let's start from the beginning."

I'm glad I did! I was pleasantly surprised by some of the funny things in the earliest chapters. Like, I really liked writing Traysi: I thought that was fun and weird to try. I really like the physicality of Link and Zelda's flirting, so it was a good thing for me to refresh myself on that before going into writing a new chapter.

I've also reread the earlier chapters of "Before and After" pretty often in the past. I wrote maybe the first 15 chapters pretty fast (for me): like basically one chapter(3k-7k words) every 2 weeks. This was really exhilarating, but I think I also burnt myself out pretty intensely doing that. During the time, I was also rereading the chapters pretty often because I was excited by them! Maybe that's a bit embarrassing to admit? But also... why write if you're not going to write something you'd like to read? Maybe that circles nicely back to your first question, lol

Thank you so much for the questions, @i-love-bread! 🥰

[steviesunrises]

for the meta ask game: 5, 15, 19? <3

aaaa hi lily !!

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

I wouldn't necessarily say that i "identify" with steve, but i think he's just such a fun and inspiring character. its super cheesy but his innate goodness makes me a want to be a little bit more good too.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

oh my god all of them are hard. If pressed, i'd say summaries are the hardest though because I can never think of a concise way to describe the premise of anything. I tend to cop out and just pull an except from it instead ;-;

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

i'm constantly hedging every claim i make. For example, i tend to say "it's likely that happens" over "it will happen". (i did it again! I used "i tend to say".)

this 100% bleeds into my fic writing because no one ever does something fully. it's always "bucky nearly does x" or "steve almost feels like y." oh and also i talk about furniture. like. way too much.

[unacaritafeliz]

21, 18, 15, 8, 6, 4, 1

;)

Moth you are too good to me, beloved.

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as?

This is a little hard to answer because all my stories are fanfics, but there are so many things that would work better as drawings or short comics - especially when I just have a scene or vision in mind and not a plot. SokkaTeo Halloween AU is an example of a fic that should've been a sketch. A lot of my WIPs would be better as comics too (DaiSuga Wingman AU my beloved)

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions?

Incomplete list of potential hockey AU branches that live in my head rent free: SokkaTeo AU, ZukoTeo AU, Hockey!Lu Ten AU, Hockey!Jet Au, Lax!Zuko AU, Yue stays at Samwell AU, Samwell!Mai&Ty Lee AU (which one of them is Katara's roommate?).

Also I just posted Five Years After Goodbye and that fic was originally planned before a lot of the bullshit Dex pulled in years three and four so it was originally a bit more light-hearted and was just Chris & Caitlin trolling their besties (I had to cut Cait from it entirely. Sad.)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries or tags?

Sometimes titles are very easy and I know them either before writing or very soon after, but if I don't manage to name it while writing then that shit is the HARDEST FUCKING SHIT to do. Naming things is so hard. Summaries are also hard, but not as hard. And tags... I don't really feel pressure to tag well so it's fine.

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

My favourite thing to read is getting together/first kiss/feelings realisations and that is also the thing I find hardest to write! How do people understand or act on their feelings? Couldn't be me.

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Johnson. Truly I just love coming up with dialogue for that guy. I would make him cameo in everything if I could because it's just so much fun. (He will make an appearance in ATLA Hockey AU. Sokka will hate him).

1. Tell us about your current projects

Currently working on: DaiSuga Big Bang Fic (Haikyuu), ATLA Sunken Ship Week (7 ATLA one shots for rare ships that didn't get ship weeks this year) and a little angsty Haikyuu one shot around Coach Ukai. Yes this is too many things to be working on at once.

[hybrid-in-progress]

9:15pm

Warnings: anxiety; worrying; paranoia; vivid imagination; descriptions of a horror story; frightened character; comfort; one kiss at the end (if there’s any warnings I forgot please let me know and I’ll add them)

A/N: I was feeling particularly low this evening and felt like I needed to write something. 9:15pm is when I felt low and my brain is too tired at the moment to come up with a better title. 

What happens to the main character, Alexandria, is something that has happened to me many times. My imagination, as proud of it as I am at times, can sometimes be my own personal hell. I’ve never read anything that deals with this, which has left me feeling really lonely and embarrassed because as people always say, “It’s just in your head”. I did not write this to upset anyone, it was just my way of getting something out that’s been digging a hole in my brain and heart for years now. I am so sorry if this has upset you and I hope you have a good rest of your day. Take care of yourself. 

I hope you don’t mind the tags, if you want to be removed let me know: @jarpad24, @natasha-romxnoff, @phoenixhalliwell, @whatafuckingdumbass 

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

***

I could faintly hear the music playing from my iPod next to me. I remember turning the volume up higher than usual, since I was the only one in the house and a particular song I liked was playing. What was the song called, again? God, c’mon Andy, it’s one of your favourites!

Madness by Ruelle, that’s it. 

As if tuning back into a radio, the music hits harder and louder on my ears and I feel my head swaying with the beat as a ribbon dancer comes to mind. Why is it always a ribbon dancer I imagine when listening to this song? 

I look down at the sketchbook in front of me, my hand lying limp on the paper with a pencil between my fingers. What to draw. what to draw, what to draw? My mind comes up with nothing interesting or concrete, only blurred things that I can’t really identify. How am I supposed to draw a blur, huh?

The blurs continue to dance in my head, slowly dragging me back into myself until I don't know where I am anymore. I can feel the bedsheets underneath my crossed legs and I can still hear the music, but it’s all very distant. Too distant. 

The blurs have a hold on me now, their shapeless forms gripping at all sides of my brain like dried glue. The view of my bedroom from my seat on the bed has blurred, too, though it’s staying back as if it’s scared of what’s in my head. 

My chest tightens and my breathing picks up, and I can feel a very small (barely there) lump beginning to form in my throat. It doesn’t do anything as usual. The lump doesn’t grow or stretch or rise, it just sits there at the hollow of my throat taunting me, tugging my heart gently but with enough pull to notice and irritate. 

The sudden urge to cry and ball my eyes out takes over, but no sting comes to my eyes to warrant tears. The lump in my throat doesn’t grow either, but I can feel my chest preparing itself for a sobbing fest. It’s like a pool is overflowing in my ribcage, spilling out over the bones and coursing over my muscles, trying to find a way out. 

My mouth is dry. My shoulders are slumped more than usual. I want to cry, I most likely need to. The blurs are still there in my head, floating amongst nothingness and contemplating what form to take. When they finally do decide my heart tightens and my throat goes raw. 

‘This is why you should always check under your bed for monsters-’

“-No.” The word comes out in a whisper as I clench my eyes shut. That horrifying story has been in my head for days; I’ve lost sleep over thinking about it!

I suddenly open my eyes again, terrified and half expecting a man with a knife like the one from the story to be peeking his head out from under my bed frame. I squirm at the thought, my wide eyes staring at the edge of the mattress expecting a jump scare like in the movies or video games. 

‘It’s there. It’s there. It’s there.’

I shake my head slightly to get rid of the thoughts, bringing my hands up to my chest and cradling them for comfort. 

‘It’s under the bed. It’s under the bed. It’s under the bed.’

“There’s nothing there.” I tell myself, my toes curling and tucking underneath my knees, “There’s nothing there.”

The lump in my throat has tripled in size now and I can feel it trying to push its way into my mouth. I let out a high pitched whine instead, my eyes narrowing to slits and never leaving the edge of the bed. My spine has gone cold and the back of my neck feels unbelievably exposed, making my bring my hands there to cover the skin. I turn my head to look over my shoulder and see if the man under my bed is behind me, waiting for me. 

He’s not there. I whip my head back around to see if he’s taken his chance to reveal himself in front of me, but he’s not there either. He’s nowhere. 

“Nothing is under your bed, Andy.” I tell myself, subconsciously rocking myself back and forth, “You’ve been in the house all day, there’s no way a fully grown man could break in and hide under your bed without you knowing. There’s nothing there.”

‘Are you sure?’

Another squeal leaves my lips and I curl in on myself even more, falling back against the pillows. I bring my shoulders up to my jaw to protect my neck, which feels like it’s about to collapse. My chest is heaving and forcing huffs and gasps out of my mouth, the occasional squirm and whine escaping with them. 

“You’re ok. You’re ok. You’re ok. You’re fine. You’re ok. You’re fine.”

My attempt at self comfort does nothing but swell the lump in my throat, forcing out another choked whimper. I’m pushing myself against the hard wooden headboard, trying to distance myself from the imaginary man under the bed. 

“Andy?” says a voice. 

I’m snapped out of my stare towards the edge of the bed and I look towards the bedroom door, where Desmond stands with his hand on the door handle. He looks worried, but not surprised. 

“Dez...” I say, the word coming out choked. 

Without hesitation he’s making his way over to me. He’s not coming at lightening speed, which I’m grateful for, but he’s not slow either. He approaches the bed at the same speed you’d approach an animal that was greatly hurt; cautious but determined and steady. 

My eyes flicker down to the edge of the bed, waiting for a hand to lurch out from underneath and grasp Desmond’s ankle. But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Desmond slowly and carefully crawls onto the bed and over to me, reaching out one of his hands as a silent question,

Can I touch you?

As an answer, I reach out both my arms like a child and instantly Desmond is falling into them, wrapping his own around my shoulders as he takes his place against the headboard next to me. I bury the side of my face into his shirt, clenching my eyes shut and letting tears fall. My cheeks are already a little wet but I don't care. 

A sob wracks my body and I cling to Desmond for dear life, trying my hardest to ground myself with the feeling of his arms around me, of the feel of his shirt in my fists, of the smell of him. He smells like his car, of the rain outside, and of something else which I’ve never been able to place but has always only come from him. 

We lay there like that for what feels like hours. My knees tucked up to my chest, my entire body shaking with sobs, and Desmond just sitting next to me, holding me as steady as a rock but still feeling as soft as a pillow. His heartbeat thrums against my ear from under his clothes, reaching out to me like a little guardian inside a hero. 

‘My hero. My guardian.’ 

Finally, the sobs turn into small gasps of breath, hiccups almost, and I feel my own heart calm down inside my ribcage, the overflowing pool being reined under control again. I let out a long sigh, feeling my entire body relax against Desmond’s. 

We sit in silence for a few minutes more, Desmond kissing my head and rubbing my back soothingly. The gesture almost restarts the tears. 

“Do you want a drink?” Desmond asks. 

My immediate thought is yes, but that would mean leaving the bed and the position that we’re in. I don’t want to leave this, just yet. So, I shake my head no. 

“In a bit.” I whisper, my voice not having the strength to speak any louder. 

“Okay... Do you want to talk about it?”

‘It’s so stupid.’

The lump in my throat, which has gradually been going down, decides to jump, threatening to rise again. I swallow harshly in an attempt to bury it. 

“It’s so stupid.” I rasp out, leaning my head into Desmond's chest even more, if that’s even possible. 

“It can't be stupid if it’s got you like this.” Desmond says, “Did you see another idiot on the internet again? Because those stupid shit-heads can make anyone cry at how hopeless they are.”

That gets a chuckle out of me, one that has my bones feeling like jelly with how tired I am. 

“Seriously, though, what is it Alexandria?”

“... I heard a stupid story a couple days ago... it was in an art tik tok I think... about how you should always look under your bed for monsters. It was about a woman who dropped her phone, then when she picked it up she saw a man under her bed, but he didn’t see her. She said to the person on the phone she was gonna take a shower, then hung up and went to the bathroom. She turned the shower on and then climbed out the window, then she called the police. When the cops arrived and arrested the guy inside her house, one of them came over to her and said that the guy was standing outside her bathroom door with a knife, waiting for her...”

I take a shuddering breath, a silent tear gliding down my cheek. Desmond doesn’t say anything, just waits silently for me to continue while holding me tight, his thumb rubbing up and down on my arm. 

“... That story’s been stuck in my head the past couple days since I saw it. Every time I’ve gone to the bathroom, whether you’re here or not, I’ve been terrified of seeing someone just standing outside the door waiting for me, or even around the corner. I’ve barely been able to sleep, always wondering or even expecting something to come out from under the bed to grab me. It’s so scary and it’s so stupid because it’s just a story but...”

I can’t continue to talk because the lump in my throat has returned. Sensing my discomfort, Desmond tightens his hold around me and pulls me into his chest, his lips pressing into the top of my head. Releasing his shirt, I grab one his hands in mine and bring it up to my chest, feeling comforted by the feeling of his fingers in mine and against the skin where my chest and neck meet. 

A few moments of silence pass before Desmond speaks, 

“You’re alright, Darling, I’ve got you. I’m here. You’re alright. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here. Besides, if any idiot did decide to break into our house you’d send them flying out the window like the spiders we find in summer.”

Once again I chuckle, my body jostling with Desmond’s. It’s true that every spider we find in this house, especially in the summer, either goes flying out the window or gets sucked up the vacuum cleaner if I see it. And those are only the lucky ones. 

“And nothing can even fit under our bed in the first place.” Desmond adds, earning yet another chuckle, a louder one this time. 

There truly is no room under the bed for anything, given with how many boxes there are filled with either family pictures, family nick-naks from holidays, a few Christmas decorations and some other stuff that can just be labelled ‘junk we refuse to throw out’. 

“Nothing is going to hurt you, my Darling.” Desmond says, planting another kiss atop my head, “Nothing is strong enough to.” 

“Thank you, Desmond.” I say, tilting my head up to to meet his beautiful eyes, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He cranes his head down to kiss the spot between my eyes, before looking at me with a smile and a determined knowledge gleaming in his eyes. 

“You’d survive.” He says, before finally leaning down and connecting our lips in a soft kiss.