#don't beat yourself over you being a person. you are struggling enough. you deserve to rest. just rest please

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it would really benefit people to internalize that mental illnesses are often chronic and not acute. Some of us will never be able to jump the hurdle of managing illness, much less sustaining a sense of normalcy. Many of us will never "recover," will never manage symptoms, will never even come close to appearing normal - and this is for any condition, even the ones labeled as "simple" disorders or "easy-to-manage" disorders.

It isn't a failure if you cannot manage your symptoms. It isn't a moral failure, and you aren't an awful person. You are human. There's only so much you can do before recognizing that you cannot lift the world. Give yourself the space to be ill because, functionally, you are.

#mental health #mental health advocacy #like... anxiety and depression are often concieved of as simple and easy to manage... #...but that isn't the case for so many of us. anxiety and depression just have a lot more research invested into them... #...and while i wish this were the case for literally every other condition it does alter people's perception of you to some extent... #...so while this is NOT solely about anxiety or depression it includes us... #...my anxiety and depression and PTSD have *destroyed* my life. this is chronic and will probably be life-long... #...and that isn't my fault. i've done the fucking work but guess what? that doesn't account for the fact that I Am Just ILL #the least we can do for each other is to be compassionate #be compassionate to those who cannot heal. be compassionate to the people who can't manage their lives. this world is scary enough #recognize that management of symptoms is something not all of us can do - even IF their condition is labeled as 'easy to manage' #i allowed myself to feel angry that i can't heal 'normally' and that was unfair as fuck toward myself #and i NEED people to internalize this so that MAYBE this could help somebody else who is where i was #i NEED them to understand that it's okay that they are where they are - sometimes shit just doesn't turn out how you expect or want #don't beat yourself over you being a person. you are struggling enough. you deserve to rest. just rest please #and just... give yourself space

[furiousgoldfish]

If you've found yourself in that childhood hell with a narcissistic parent, where every year you gain you get treated worse, and the older you get, the more unworthy and unlovable you are, this is why it's going on.

Narcissists are unwilling to be parents, but they're ready to take advantage of every possible benefit they think parenthood has. The perceived benefit is how the world sees them, someone feeling sympathetic or engaged with them, getting popularity based on your kid's talents, abilities and successes, people having compassion for their 'parenthood struggles', and of course, the idea of unconditional love. For them, not for the kid. They also then go on and take extra stuff, like having their personal emotional caretaker, or a target for all of their anger, someone to feel superior to, someone they can violate, insult, touch, beat, and blend with, without any kind of consequences from the outside world. There's very few scenarios that would allow them such power over another person, and parenthood happens to be one of them.

So, why do they prefer small toddlers rather than grown-up children? Because toddlers gain them attention. They can go with a toddler in public, and have people gush and admire the cuteness. They can sometimes teach toddlers to do little dances or sing for the audience. They can do pretty much anything to small children, and children won't complain or understand what is going on. They can neglect their toddlers and nobody will know. They can punish small children for crying. They can convince small children that they exist only for to make the narcissist's life easier.

Once children start developing boundaries, start saying no, and no longer gather the attention of the crowd, that is where narcissists are no longer getting as many benefits from parenthood and start emotionally abandoning the child, and shaming the child for 'growing up' and 'not being as easy to control and manipulate'. And this is not how normally things work, you don't stop loving your kid when they're growing up, you don't value them according to how much attention you can get using them. Sometimes, if a kid has a special talent and is able to get them attention via child contests or tournaments, this kid will not be obviously immediately abandoned. But it will be clear to this child that the 'love' is completely dependent on how well they do and how far they succeed. The second they stop, they know that the parental love will be withdrawn and they'll be rendered a failure.

Narcissists will ask you to go not just out of your comfort zone in order to give them what they want, they will ask the downright impossible, and when you inevitably can't give it to them, you will be discarded, and possibly punished. You will degraded from 'special' and 'important because you can do this one thing for your parent', to nothing but a target for rage, forced to feel like you deserve it because you couldn't do what no child can - make a narcissist act like a normal parent. They convince children that they would be loving and thoughtful parents, if only the child was not so x, and y, and z, and the list is endless. Endless excuses not to love their child, because withdrawing that love will make the child absolutely desperate in their attempt to please the parent, and be good enough to deserve love.

This is not what would normally happen to a child. We're meant to be celebrated for growth. Our progress into adulthood should be about us, about what we can do now, how much new experiences and excitement it brings to have a bigger body, how much more capable and safer we are, what new skills we can develop, new games we can play, better connections and understanding with others we can now achieve. It's not supposed to be about whether we are of a benefit to someone, our growth is about us becoming a happy adult! Appropriating this entire process and reducing it to 'grovel endless to deserve love, and feel guilty for growing because you're of less use now' is absolute torture to a child, who doesn't understand that it's not meant to be this way, that they were never supposed to be a tool to use.

As we mature with the narcissist continually building this narrative of us not being good enough to deserve love, we end up having no other narrative, and believe that we're fundamentally, intrinsically lacking in something, and this makes us unlovable. It has nothing to do with the truth, and everything to do with a continuous lie that someone made up about us when we were still small, that we exist as a tool and a resource, and every hint of free will and desire and personal goals and boundaries is us failing to live up to that use. We were never meant to be exist for them, there was no achievable goal, us even trying to 'deserve their love' was nothing but a waste of our time and energy. We're not unlovable. We just don't a parent. We had someone leeching off of us, taking instead of giving, convincing us we don't deserve attention, care or resources, unlike them, who deserve to take it all.

For any normal parent, everything about you would have been good enough, you would have been a source of joy and celebration without ever even trying to deserve it. Nobody has to deserve parental love, it's either given by default, or there is nobody willing to be a parent to you. Being unwilling to parent you, they have no right to expect anything from you. You did not break the parent-child bond, because there never was such a thing in the first place, they betrayed you from the start.

#narcissistic abuse #narcissistic parents #child abuse #abusive parents #toxic parents #parentification #using children as tools #using children for attention #victim blaming #darvo #convincing children they'll be loved if they become your tools willingly #then just using them and never loving them #pretending like there will be time when you will love them but you're lying #gross exploitative behaviour #exploitation of children #making children feel unworthy of love #future faking #tactics of abuse

[softlyspector]

Deserve

Summary: Marc never stays with you after he fucks you. You are better left in the hands of Steven. This time, he doesn't leave you.

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader)

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: smut, some references to rough sex, angst (with a happy ending) - don't let me fool you this is just touch starved marc struggling with being loved

A/N: im fine im just really out here with nothing else to do but think about moon knight

Marc was an intense person. 

He was like the patter of rain against the roof, against an open window pane. He was like the shock and flash of lightning during a storm. 

The grim set of his mouth and shoulders, the unending weight of the world that made his brows dip into that hard line. Marc felt more than he let on, was affected by things people said and did, let the blows rain like ash against his skin and said nothing. 

You had learned long ago that Marc did not welcome comfort, that he felt it was something he did not deserve to receive. Soft, shaded mornings were for his alter. Everything squishy and warm, hazed in the breathy glow of a sunrise, was for you and Steven, not him. 

Maybe it wasn’t that Marc didn’t welcome comfort. 

He craved it, wanted it, longed for it. 

And he should not long for it, want it, crave it. 

He’d told you as much, over and over, the weight of your gentle hands against his skin like burning embers. 

He wanted it. He so badly wanted to sink into that flame, but he was worried it would burn him alive, melt him down into something unrecognizable. 

It was only when something went particularly badly that he allowed some comfort. 

He loves you, this you know. 

You see it in the heaviness of his stare, in the intensity of his worry, in the way he hugged you, held your hand, worried after you like you had not survived for years on your own. 

But if you ever dared to hold his hand, hug him, drag your fingers down the length of his spine, it was too much for him. These were things he could offer you, but that you should not give him in return. These were not things he deserved, these were things better reserved to his alter, who was deserving of everything he was not. 

Marc is intense.

He’s hard and wild and something close to broken some days, when reality drifts in and out of focus, when the world is best left in the hands of Steven.

There’s always a beating heart of anxiety behind everything he does, that this time he will not be enough, that this time he will not be fast enough, that this time the universe would get the last laugh again.

So when Marc fucks you, he is intense, he is like the weight of the all consuming world poured out. Salt water in wounds. 

You don’t mind. 

The times he’s gentle with you, you get the sense that he’s mourning, like the act is grief, something lost that he’s stealing back from the gods. Something that is temporary and definitely not for him. 

This night, he had come to you like the storm he bred inside him, the hatred of self and fear of a future he could not control, of a tentative reality of things only he could see. 

Marc was rough with you.

His fingers in your mouth, his hand hard against your cunt, against your ass. He had buried himself inside you, set a punishing pace. When his mouth was on yours, his kiss had been more like an effort to consume you. When his hand wrapped around your throat, his eyes had snapped to the mirror, and you had known Steven had been cautioning him, that you were in fact breakable, no matter what you said, that he should be careful of you. 

But you’d covered his hand with your own and tightened his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in whatever bit of himself he would give you. 

~

A last stuttering breath passes your lips, eyes screwed closed, pleasure lighting up the insides of your veins, molten, like a river of fire that never ends. 

You clutch the sheets beneath your fingers and turn your face into a pillow as the last waves of your orgasam shutter through you. You bite off the moan that bubbles to the back of your throat when you feel Marc shift inside you, so full it's almost painful. 

Your thighs tremble, the insistent pressure of Marc’s hand against the back of your neck keeping you in place. His other hand kneads the flesh of your hip, and you know a bruise has already formed there. 

Marc pulls back, and thrusts into you one last time, a pleasant satisfied ache beginning between your legs. 

The firm fingers at your waist finally let you drop your hips to the mattress. 

You feel weightless and warm, content, like you’re floating through a cloud. Marc presses a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades, before the heavy bulk of his body surrounds yours. 

Disappointment darts through you in a brief little flash, because this is Marc’s parting gift to you always. 

The kiss between your shoulders, the all consuming fire of the warmth of him against you, before he hands the reigns to Steven. 

Marc never stays with you, after. The kiss against your spine is all you get from him. Whether because he can’t be bothered with taking care of you or because he feels he doesn’t deserve to, you aren’t sure. 

Steven is always there though, to kiss you back to life, to smile at you, make love to you so slowly and sweetly it was like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.  

His fingers slide up your arms, massaging as he goes, until he reaches your clenched hands, gently uncurling them from the fabric of the sheets until he can twist his fingers with yours. 

You feel him squeeze carefully, his nose dipping to the crook of your neck. 

A stillness falls over you both, silence, peace, creating a warm little bubble. 

You don’t mind his weight against you, it settles the frantic beating of your heart, drenches you in warmth. 

Normally, Steven would say something to you when he fronted, a kiss against your cheek and a softly spoken hello, love. 

Today, he’s silent, arms tight and grounding around you. 

But it's Steven, you know it must be. 

Because Marc never stays. 

You turn your head, nuzzling your nose against his arm, feeling his damp skin against your cheek. You want to open your eyes, reach up and touch the little black curl of hair you know must be stuck to his forehead at that moment. 

You’re content to stay like that with him, content to feel the gentle drift of his nose along the curve of your jaw. So you keep your eyes closed and let your mushy, sex-addled brain drift, as lips press along your jaw, behind the curve of your ear. 

And you’re happy to stay in the gentle warmth being offered to you, the glow of being loved so well.

But then, he does something inexplicable. 

Steven pulls away from you. 

He gets up. 

And he leaves. 

An empty feeling that you don’t like crawls up from the pit of your belly. A feeling that’s suspiciously like abandonment, that you know is not grounded in reality. 

Steven never left the bed, not without saying something to you first, not before checking in with you to ask what you needed or wanted. Especially not when Marc had been so rough with you. 

It was a routine that was being broken, a sacred step you didn’t know needed spoken out loud. 

You swallow thickly, peeling your eyes open. 

You don’t like the dirty, used feeling that’s overwhelming you, like you did not matter. 

Pushing yourself up is a monumental task, the ache of your bones like the grinding of cinder blocks against your flesh. You glance over your shoulder at the door. 

Then there’s a clatter from the bathroom and the door swings open, Steven emerging in only a pair of briefs. He still doesn’t say anything as he approaches and encourages you with gentle hands to roll over, the brief warmth of a washcloth between your legs. 

Which is odd. 

Because Steven would normally lie with you and talk with you, until you were coherent again, until you were secure enough for him to move away without feeling the sting of abandonment. 

Steven also talked almost non-stop to you, never without something to say. 

Normally,  you would throw on a shirt and play cards in bed, watch something on your laptop. Sometimes, Steven would just hold you and talk. Sometimes, he would make love to you again. 

But none of that happened until you were ready. 

Steven still doesn’t speak to you as he climbs back into bed, handing you Marc’s discarded shirt, which he gingerly helps you sit up and slip on.  

Steven’s head twitches toward the mirror, and you watch him watch his reflection for a moment. You frown, wondering what Marc could be saying to him. Marc, who always and without fail disappeared and walled himself off from both of you. 

And then it dawns on you. 

In your post-orgasm haze, and without the sound of his voice, you hadn’t noticed the signs that this was very clearly Marc still fronting, not Steven. 

Marc never stayed with you, never. 

Your throat is tight when he doesn’t say anything, his head is still swiveled toward the mirror, brows drawing tighter together with each passing minute. 

“Hey,” you clear your throat, “c’mere.” 

You snuggle down and hold out your arms. 

You half expect him to huff out an exasperated breath and lay back but avoid your touch. 

But he doesn’t. 

He curls into your arms, nudging his nose into the hollow at the base of your throat. He cradles you close, inhaling gently. 

But to your utter surprise, he lets you smooth your hands over his shoulders, through his unruly curls. The motion of it soothes you, comforts you. 

You glance toward the mirror and wish that you could see Steven there too, so you could ask what was going on in Marc’s head, why he was pretending to be Steven. 

“You okay?” You say as he lets you run a hand down his face, over the ridge of scar above his brow. 

It takes Marc a long time to respond, buried in your skin as he is, breathing you in, tracing rough hands along your hips and over your thighs, massaging where he knows you must be sore. 

You kiss the top of his head, blearily giving him all the love he was usually too prickly to receive.

He nods against you, so you slip hands down his back, over his hair. You aren’t sure why he’s pretending, but you find you don’t mind. It’s the kind of love you always want to shower Marc with but that he rarely allows. 

You want to ask him why, why he didn’t let Steven front. But you worry he might think you’re asking to see Steven, that you don’t want him there with you. 

Emotionally, Marc was a fortress, impenetrable and soldily quiet. Things simmered down in his gut, pushed away and down down down, until they overwhelmed him, until they burst to the surface in a violent torrent. 

Most often, it was when someone he loved was in danger, when the past became something he could no longer stare down, when the things he avoided were impossible to ignore.

And you’re terribly afraid that if you say anything now, he’ll clam up, shut down, pull away from you, leave the flat and take your heart with him. 

Gently, you slide down, until you’re eyelevel with him, one hand against his neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw carefully. 

You feel Marc’s hands go to the small of your back, big hands gingerly tugging you closer, until your nose is touching his, until you share the same air. 

And you can hardly believe that the man who had smacked your pussy, held you down and fucked you until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, whispered filthy things in your ear that you can hardly remember, that your brain fuzzes out when you think about too much - is now holding you so gently you may as well be made of delicate glass, is now allowing you to stroke your hands through his hair, pet his broad shoulders. His eyes are closed, trust you didn’t think Marc possessed pouring over you in waves. 

You know why. 

You know why he’s doing this. 

Marc would rather accept love in the guise of his alter than ever believe he was worthy of it himself. 

You think about the hatred that lives inside Marc, about the self-hatred that loomed always at the back of his mind. The hatred that ran so deep, that he felt so potently, that even his alter had thought the worst of him at first. 

Killer, mercenary, cold-blooded. 

Things that Marc accepted into the folds of who he was without question. 

Marc never let you hold him like this, and so you do so for as long as you can bear, tilting your chin into his so you can kiss him softly, feeling the slow drift of his hands down your sides to the curve of your ass, over the bruised skin of your hips and thighs. He hooks his fingers behind your knee and tugs your leg over his hip. 

You finger a curl at the back of his neck, the glow of brown skin molten in the low light of the flat. 

You swallow and hope that you don’t drive him away, but you can’t stand it any longer - his thinking that this is softness you would only grace Steven with. 

“Marc,” you whisper. “I know it's you.” 

Even the way they hold you is different. Of course, you can always tell. You did not need their voices to tell you who was fronting. 

Marc’s eyes flash open and you’re surprised to see fear there. 

You hold fast to him, though he doesn’t try to pull away. You raise a questioning brow and resume your gentle ministrations, trying to show him without words that you did not treat him carefully because you thought he was Steven. 

“How’d you know?”

You shake your head and press your thumb against the center of his chin, “I can always tell. It’s not something you can really hide.”

He tries to tug his face away from your hand but you don’t let him, stubbornly making him look into your eyes. 

“Baby,” you say, “You know that you are just as deserving-,”

“Don’t,” he says sharply. “Don’t do that.”

“But you are, Marc. I always want to do this but you always leave me,” you stoke a hand through his hair. “I know Steven has talked to you about it, too. Told you that you don’t have to go.”

Marc is stiff against you and you consider for a moment letting him go. 

But you don’t. 

You hold on, and murmur, “It’s okay to want this. It’s okay.” You keep feathering your hand through his hair, your touch as gentle as you can make it. “I love you, you know.” You touch the gold chain around his neck and finally glance away from his eyes, staring at the hollow of his throat instead as you say, “You don’t always have to have your walls up. I’m not - I won’t -,” you stop and consider your next words. “I love you exactly as you are.” 

There’s a long moment of silence after that, one in which your heart beats painfully fast and you wait for Marc to push you away. 

But it doesn’t come, his body slowly relaxes against yours again, your fingers continuing their careful press against his skin. 

His head tips toward the mirror on the wall, and he nods after a few long minutes, carefully plucking up one of your hands, to kiss each of your fingers, the flat of your palm, and then to curl them closed again, hold your hand against his chest. 

You can feel the steady thrum of his heart, and Marc doesn’t look at you when he says. “I want it too.” 

You wait a moment but he doesn’t say more. 

“I’m happy to give it to you, Marc.” 

“You - you give too much as it is.” He pauses for a long moment, before pushing you onto your back, hovering over you, his eyes darting over your face. 

And you’re amazed, wondering, at the love struck expression he wears, like you were the pinnacle of a universe that barely made sense, that was barely held together. 

“Steven deserves this,” he nods down at you. “He’s never-,” 

You hear the unspoken words - that is why Steven was born after all, to be all the things Marc thought he wasn’t, to shield himself. 

“Stop it. Marc, you are not your past. You are not bad. You carry around the weight of the world and these sins you think are yours alone. They aren’t.” You tip your head up to nudge your nose against his, Marc’s hands pinning both of yours to the space beside your shoulders. 

Marc is looking at you in that intense way of his, brows furrowed, mouth tilted in that overly-serious line. 

“And what if I don’t think I deserve it, huh? To get you like this?” 

“Don’t listen to you, then. Listen to me.” You hitch your knees up to frame his hips, holding him against you, levering pressure into the backs of his thighs until he drops down fully against you. “You deserve it. More than most.”

You know everything he’s ever done is flashing through his mind. His brother’s death and his mother’s wrath. His time as a mercenary, his time in the military. The way he thinks he breaks and folds and isn’t strong enough, never strong enough, not enough. The mistake of Khonshu. The way he thinks he failed Layla and Steven, and that he will do it all over again. 

“Hey,” you nudge his jaw again. “Quit that.” 

Marc nods slowly, intense stare pinning you down. “I deserve it.” He says it like he expects you to disagree with him, to laugh. 

“Yes,” you breathe. “I’ll remind you of that.” He releases your wrists, burying his nose in your neck, the breath he sucks in is shaky and wild, the drum beat of a storm he stored inside the stoic stone that surrounded his heart. 

You cup a hand against the back of his neck, your other hand sliding down his side, tracing the violent scars that dot his ribs. Carefully, you slide his boxers down his thighs. Your touch is soft against him, your body already welcoming to him, and he slides into you with a quiet groan. 

It’s not like making love with Steven, who was sillier and goofier than Marc would ever be. 

It’s different to how Marc normally fucks you, when the mood strikes him to give it to you slow. 

This time, it's sweet, it's like the smoky burn of incense, like the homecoming he’d been waiting for for years. Marc kisses you softly, groans into your mouth when he was normally quiet aside to talk to you, demand things from you. 

You tighten your legs around him, encourage him to move slower, push deeper. 

“Fuck,” he whispers against the delicate skin of your neck. 

Sweat beads on his forehead, the glow of him against you like the sun. When you push the curls back from his forehead to look into his eyes, you catch something vulnerable in your heart, like the knife of everything Marc was storming into you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs again. 

He ducks his head to kiss a path along your throat, where earlier his palm had circled the flesh. 

You drag your nails along his back, rub a hand through his hair, rock the cradle of your hips along with his. 

Marc reaches for one of your hands, kisses your fingers before guiding your hand to your cunt, “Sorry baby, I’m not gonna last. Need you to touch yourself for me.” 

You’re only a little bit shocked, but you tip his chin up to kiss him. Marc normally had a stamina that could win awards. 

Not now, it seemed. Not when you had given him permission to be slow and gentle and soft. 

Your breath is squeezed from your lungs, the heavy drag of him inside you almost enough to make you come. 

Marc doesn’t let you breathe, his mouth an insistent press against yours until you pull away with a gasp and you hear the sound of a quiet laugh against your throat, teeth digging into your jaw. 

You come unexpectedly, hips jerking up to meet him as Marc gives a harder thrust, looping an arm beneath one of your knees to open you up more, to slide that much deeper. 

The spot he hits within you makes your toes curl, makes it hard to catch a breath. 

“I can destroy you like this too, huh?” Marc asks, grinding against you, hips swirling as you groan from the breathless pleasure darting up your spine. 

“Don’t ruin this, Spector,” you huff, nipping at his jaw, only laughing a little. 

“Keep touching yourself. I didn’t say to stop,” he answers. 

Your eyes roll back when his tongue curls against the hollow of your throat. “I want you to come again,” his voice is a husky rasp in your ear.  

You’re still wearing Marc’s shirt, but when he releases your leg to palm your breasts through the fabric, you regret ever letting him partially dress you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, “You’re so tense. Come for me again, hm? Come for me.” When he pinches your nipple and rolls it between his fingers, you do. White hot pleasure courses up your spine, makes your mind go blank. “Fuck, are you coming?”

“Yes,” you moan, “I’m coming for you.” 

“For me,” he repeats. “For me.”

“Marc,” you whisper, pleasure making your vision go fuzzy, your exhausted body trembling. “Marc, I love you.” 

His hand goes to your ass, angles your hips, before he thrusts so deep you see stars and he spills inside you.

You make sure to wrap your arms around his head, tightening your grip until he wiggles. “Can’t breathe, baby.” But you don’t want him to go anywhere, you don’t want the idea to even occur to him. 

You loosen your grip but say, “Don’t leave.” 

Marc’s jaw tightens, “Sorry about that.” 

“S’ok. Just don’t go.” 

“Not going anywhere tonight, honey.” 

You nod, nuzzling your nose against his cheek when Marc takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your fingers and wrist, your forearm, the crease of your elbow. 

“Stop that,” you grouse, a giggle at the tip of your tongue.

“I’m obsessed with you. I can’t.” 

You do laugh then, and he rolls you onto your side. He slips free from you and you feel the emptiness immediately, but then Marc is kissing you again, insistent and demanding, and it's forgotten. His fingers dance up the column of your spine, tracing the delicate vertebrae of bone with soft fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whispers. It's so rare to see him without that stoic facade, the burned in self-hatred, that your heart gives a painful thump. 

You kiss his sweaty brow and think to remind him of something. “You’re so good, Marc. You deserve good things. You deserve kindness.” 

He doesn’t answer and you know he’s fighting down that automatic response, so ingrained into him it was almost a part of his DNA. 

“I deserve it,” he murmurs eventually and you figure it's as close as you’ll get to agreement. 

Marc lets you hold him, and he doesn’t try to move once. 

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight

[rowdyhughesy]

congrats on 300 followers!! can you do “you don’t always have to suffer in silence you know” with eddy

Thank you sm! I hope you like it🖤

You once read John Greens book The Fault In Our Stars. You didn't think much of it at the time but there's a quote hidden between all those pages that's been stuck with you ever since. Resonates with you. Crawls to the front of your mind every time you feel yourself sinking down a dark hole.

That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.

And you guess that's true. Because you're here again. Limbs feeling like it's made out of led, eyes glazed over staring at the ceiling. Everything feeling pointless. Numb.

Ever since you could remember depressive episodes have been a part of your life, not something you talk about in fear of being judged. Fear of people seeing you as weak or defective. That there's something wrong.

That's why you haven't said anything to Ethan, your boyfriend of six months. Scared of it scaring him away, the hardships that comes with dating a person that struggles with mental health. And to top it off his hockey career. Going into every game with the mindset of winning and showing New Jersey why he deserves a spot on the roster when the season ends. You don't want to be another thing for him to worry about. So you stayed quiet.

Until now when the pain becomes too much and all you want is Ethan.

Shaking hands as you dial his contact, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you wait for him to answer.

Beep.

What if he’s busy?

Beep.

What if he breaks up with me?

Beep.

What if-

Your heart the small klick as Ethan answers. “Hi bubs!” His tone of voice is sweet and you can hear soft music playing in the background. He’s probably in his room doing homework.

“H-hi Eddy, can you come over?”

It’s silent on the other end for a millisecond before you can hear shuffling and a door slamming closed. “I’m on the way bub don’t hang up alright?” You can only manage a hmm in response but it seems to be enough of an answer.

The sophomore house isn’t far from your apartment and by the breathing you hear from Ethan it’s clear that he’s running.

It’s only five minutes before Eddy speaks up again. “I’m gonna hang up now but I’m outside so I’m coming up okey.”

Ending the call you barely have the time to sit up on the bed before the front door of your small one room apartment creaks open. Ethan is dressed in the pale yellow crew neck you bought him for your six month anniversary. The sentimental value of seeing him wearing it makes you choke up, tears gathering in your eyes.

He doesn’t hesitate to walk over, big body plopping down on yours and arms enveloping you. Laying there for a couple of minutes with just Ethan’s soft breathing in your ear and one of his hands rubbing circles on your back.

“You don’t always have to suffer in silence you know? I don’t care if you think it’s insignificant because I love you.” It’s the first time anyone of you have ever said those three words and it makes you feel as if you’re suddenly on top of the world.

Ethan loves you, and every doubt you’ve ever came up with inside you crumbles into a million little pieces. He’s not going anywhere. You’re not scaring him away because he loves you.

Turning your head you lay continuous kisses on his lips, worry fading away as you say it back.

I love you, I love you, I love you. Repeating over and over again in your head as he hugs you tighter against him. Lips pressed to your temple and heartbeat beating in time with yours. You’re not alone in this anymore and that is the most at peace you’ve ever felt in your life. With Ethan close and holding your hand in his through it all.

#rowdy300celly💌 #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards imagine #hockey blurb #umich hockey #umich blurbs

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch, this is kinda silly but I feel icky about myself sexually bc I lost my virginity VERY young (like 12) it was totally consensual m and it was just as underwhelming as you’d expect, but do you think it’s weird/bad for me to still feel crummy about that? I don’t know anybody else who’s had an experience like that where it was csa and I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel about this. Right now I just feel kinda ashamed.

hi anon,

come in, have a seat. grab a beverage. comfy? okay, cool.

nothing about this is silly, or weird, or bad. your emotions are yours, and you can feel any kind of way about your own experiences without having to justify why you feel them. there is no way you're "supposed" to feel about anything; there's just what you actually feel.

now, I've spent long enough in therapy to know that while all feelings are valid, that doesn't necessarily mean every feeling is good for you. in this case, it seems like you're using feelings to beat your self up a bit, both for how you lost your virginity and for your uncertain feelings about it now. listen - you're going to have to stop doing that. because once you come to my inbox you're one of my students, and I don't like anybody being unkind to my students - not even themselves.

I think that probably every single person on earth over the age of twelve feels crummy about something that they did when they were twelve. I know I do! the circumstances were different for everybody, but twelve is a weird and hormonal age where a lot of shit happens and there's a terrifying abundance of opportunities to create emotional baggage. frequently that baggage comes in hindsight, once we've gained the maturity and perspective to have second thoughts about something we did in our younger years that seemed totally fine at the time.

please believe me when I say that you contain room for multitudes. you don't have to feel great about this happening when you were twelve; I wouldn't ask you to! you're the only one who can decide how you feel about your own sexual experiences. I am giving you permission to feel icky about it; that's not weird.

but, having said that, you can feel ambivalent about it without tying yourself down in shame in the present day. no one is defined by things they did when they were children, or by their sexual history, or by the places where those two histories overlap. your regrets don't have to weigh you down.

this is like SUCH a classic cheesy therapist move, but like. imagine yourself when you were twelve. aww, what a cutie! really focus on Baby You. would you want them to spend their whole life struggling against shame? man, I hope not. because they're just a kid, right? they've got their whole life ahead of them, and so much to experience! places to go, people to meet, passions to discover, the whole deal. surely it would be cruel to define them totally by one (1) thing that happened when they were so little and didn't know anything about anything yet. sure, maybe it's something that won't feel great in hindsight, but come on - they're only twelve!

okay. we don't want Baby You to feel bad forever, right? we want the best for them, to live a healthy and happy life, don't we? awesome. so let's just slip that weight off their shoulders and remind them that they have nothing to be ashamed of. aaaaand okay awesome, now let's transfer that over to you, because You Right Now is just Baby You plus a few years!

you're allowed to feel however you want about your past. and also you deserve to live your life unburdened by shame and regret for things where you weren't your fault and are impossible to change.

be kind to yourself.

#sex edventures 2022

[decentgarbage]

hai i wanted to write you a short thing for the letters asks but i blacked out and when i came to i was staring at the tumblr equipment of my super long essay for literature class (/ref) so.

"miiiitsuba! i heard you weren't feeling well. are you nauseous again? amane once told me that licking a pinch of salt when you're feeling nauseous can help! he said it'll either make you go ahead and throw up, or it can make the urge to throw up go away. if you've got a headache, i can help with that, too. have you eaten and had something to drink? dehydration and hunger can make your head hurt— did you know that? oh, but if you did eat and you did have water but you still have a headache, it might be stress. you should take a minute or two to just close your eyes and breathe, maybe. it might help you relax a little. also, tylenol, maybe.

if you're not sick, are you upset in some way? sad? angry? either way, it's okay. you're allowed to be sad and angry. i won't ask what you're upset about here, since it's a public platform and some things are better asked in private, but you can talk to me if you need to. plus, you've been through a lot, y'know? it's natural to be sad or angry when you've been through as much as you have. you're always so hard on yourself. you might not say it out loud, but i can tell. you don't have to beat yourself up for feeling bad things or struggling to cope. it's okay to be upset when things are unfair. plus, you're still a kid, too, so it's natural that you'd get overwhelmed with stuff!

you're doing a great job, and i'm really proud of you for making it this far even though it was really hard. your efforts are definitely not going unnoticed! you should be proud of yourself, too. think about it — you're fifteen, right? that's fifteen years, so 180 months or 5475 days, i think. that's a lot of time! you've worked so hard to make it to this point. i know i can't magically make everything perfect for you, since that's just.. not how the world works, i mean, no one is just happy forever as life is unpredictable and bad things happen unexpectedly, but the least i can do is acknowledge how much you've gone through and how hard you've worked to get here, so i'm proud of you. i think people should praise you more, you deserve it!

please try not to stress yourself out so much over the little things. i know it's hard not to, so if you ever do find yourself stressing over it, you can always ask me for help, for comfort, for advice, or you can just vent and i'll be there to listen. you're not pathetic for letting your grades slip, you're not worthless for making a mistake, and you're not a bad person for going against your family's religion, or any of that. also, i know you might not be insecure about it, but there's nothing wrong with you being nonbinary or for being that super secret orientation you told me about recently (that i'm not going to state here for your comfort), either! you're your own person, you have your own thoughts and opinions and feelings, and it's up to you to decide what to do with that. you don't have to change yourself for anyone's comfort, and you don't have to force yourself to believe in something you feel isn't right for you. it's okay to make mistakes, and it's okay to be wrong sometimes. nobody is perfect— if anyone was perfect, don't you think others would follow in their footsteps and everything would be fine? garden of eden right on earth, right? try not to put perfection on a pedestal; you're trying your best, and that's enough.

don't let anyone make you feel bad for being who you are personality-wise, either, okay? no two people are the same— even identical twins! if everyone on earth were the exact same, the world would be very, very boring. don't you think so? plus, this world is full of bitter people who live miserable lives and take their hatred out on others, so do try to pay them no mind. don't let anyone stop you from living your life how you want.

and i know sometimes it's hard to process things, so if you need a distraction or something, i can help with that! like, did you know the heaviest train ever recorded weighed 99,734 tons? isn't that cool? that's, like, over 198,000,000 pounds. the average person only weighs between 199 pounds and 170, depending on sex and age, so that train was obviously suuuper heavy. the train operated 170 miles with 682 loaded iron ore cars, and the train itself was super long, too– it measured 4.57 miles in length!

anyways. i do believe i've rambled enough, so i'll get out of your hair now. i hope yesterday was good for you, and that today is nice to you, and that tomorrow you magically gain four million dollars— spend wisely, please, and save some for later! i miss you a great deal, and i love you a lot! pay me a visit soon; you know where to find me ♡

- tsukasa, with lots of love (and a hamster, some lint, and natsuhiko's toupee in my pocket)"

um. this might not make any sense but in my defense i was playing genshin while writing so Yeah 👍

UFJRJRDJRGITGJHHHHJ

(Btw if anyone is confused why it says “Mitsuba” I also go by Mitsuba QwQ)

#CRYING AND GIGGLING #I LOVED THIS SM #:3 #THANK YOUUUU #self ship #Lane needs to shut up #🦇: be mine…forever!

[risu5waffles]

And a rare score of TEN from Sweden.

i don't know what that's even supposed to mean. What sport would i possibly be playing at the international stage? Competitive Vague Weird Girlery? Whatever. i decided we'd work wiv TEN for this bit, and i'm sticking to it.

A fun enough level for what it is. i always feel like, when i run into these old, straight-forward races, that they must have been a hoot multiplayer. You can still get a feel for it, but it's just not the same by yourself.

This is a cute little one. It's rare to run into one of the old Pitagora Switch levels that actually still run, tho' this one is probably saved by having no pistons in the mix. Even then, you can see some of the bigger dominos really struggling wiv momentum. i'm glad it all ran smooth in the end.

Those bikes were always so easy to turn turtle, weren't they? i don't know what was going on at the midpoint of the level, maybe if i had waited around longer an elevator would have dropped, but i figured it was broken, so i took the scenic route of "LBP1 players didn't know they'd eventually add 16layers to the game." i was lucky the scoreboard was on the floor. i've run into levels on stream where we could use that trick to get around a break, but the scoreboard was up someplace we couldn't access anymore. i think it's kind of cute i'm the only person who beat this level. Like, even the creator said, "i dunno, it's kinda shite, tho'?" i didn't think it was shite, Snakeryder. Not, perhaps, particularly great, but i had my fun wiv it.

We talked about this one last Friday. It's still as weird as it was then.

So... this one starts as a "save the kids, destroy the kindergarten" level, and it ends as an offroading, mountain climbing adventure(?). Really liked the 4WD, it was a neat little vehicle, and i'm wondering how they set up the suspension. The first half is definitely the stronger bit, a lot of little details, or at least as far as we could get from simple LBP1 techniques. It's fun enough, and worth a quick playthrough.

We talked about this one a little along wiv Vanilla Breeze last week, and it's still a neat, inventive, artistic, frustrating as heck piece of work. Like i love the presentation, and i dig what Kipmonlin was trying to pull off, but gods... just such a pain in the butt from almost start to finish. i wonder how this played natively in LBP2. i know the jump off paint technique doesn't quite work in LBP3 the way it did back then; but i don't think translation would account for things like how poorly the sackbots track you during the paint the targets bit. Still love the animated paint(? liquid? something?) bit. Like, that's just magical.

i wanted to like this one more than i ended up doing. Alpenglow02 does really good work, and there're some solid ideas here, but i feel like the presentation can get a bit confusing in what platforms you can actually interact wiv, and it's just a touch overbight. i really liked the sine wave platforms in concept, like, they're really cool to look at, but the longer section before the secret kirb was just miserable to try to time. i actually got to talk to Alpi some about that, and he did say that he struggles nailing proper difficulty at times, and that's a feeling i can definitely understand. That being said, the glowworms? Loved 'em. Neat effect, cute as heck, right level of challenge for the area. And the central mechanical conceit was a cool one that really added to the level. i feel like i've only seen folx go all in on that idea a couple of times, so it was really nice to see it here.

i am cursed by LBP1-era horrible gas. It is just the worst. i would have given this one more chance, but having to redo the entire slow section, just to get to a bit i could barely visibly read, get killed, and have to do it all over again? Like, i'm sorry, i really am, but i only have so much time to work wiv, and 14minutes was more than this one deserved. The submersible was nice, an interesting workaround to that kind of vehicle in LBP1, and i did dig on the eely enemies (even if they were a total pain in the bum to actually hit); but, yeah... this one really needed checkpoints.

A level that plays itself?! Naw dog, sorry, changes to physics and pistons makes this a level that throws you into spikes whether you touch the controller or not. i was disappointed, but it wasn't the creator's fault. Although, to be vaguely fair to Sumo, which is as much as i ever feel like doing, these kinds of levels tended to be fiddly even in their native state, and plenty of them wound up broken all on their own. Can't say for certain which is the case wiv this one.

i really wound up liking this one, even if i struggled wiv it at times. A really neat take on the Wedding theme, using a lot of the decorative and collected objects flourishes, but to its own ends. Really the best way these kinds of levels can end up. i'm going to have to go back to anrga7ightwish on one of our streams; i'd love to see if they have some other levels that'll click wiv me like this one did.

---------------------------------

So, that's our TEN this go about. Some real nostalgic ones in there, and some very solid on-their-own standouts, and aside from the Minisub one, nothing i feel like i could walk away from and say i didn't enjoy at least something in them.

We're going into another really busy period here in meatspace. Well, kinda meatspace. i'm going to have to scramble after blowing through the entirety of a three week backlog on a mixture of a depression spiral (really bad) and gender clinic-ery (really good! But kind of annoying! But really good!). i want to try and rock up to the next clinic on Monday. Their website said there was no appointment necessary, which is good, because i couldn't get ahold of them by phone. i'd wanted to spend yesterday boning down (shut up, it doesn't mean that!) on some HRT specifics that i could talk to the doctor about. The scuttlebutt i've heard is Japan's not super great on what and how much they prescribe, and i want to be able to say to the doc "ok, but what about [X], [Y], and [Z]?" And not have to say, "[osmotically sourced, but ultimately vague, nimbus of knowledge from a dozen different conversations]" Like, i feel like specific details would help my case, but specific details are very much a sometimes treat when it comes to memory retention for me. i mean, even if i do get to talk to the doc, it won't be more than bloodwork, and initial talking points, but still. Here i am, i want to keep moving.

#littlebigplanet #little big planet #lbp #lbp1 #lbp2 #lbp3 #LittleBite-sizedArchive #LBsA #just a tired little trans lass #Youtube

[fragileizywriting]

"you're fear," kitty tells her, watching blanche struggle to get back up. collapsed, on the floor of the roof, a spattering of brick and shingles everywhere from where noire beat her back into a crawling position. "i'm not... i'm not listening to you," kitty coughs out, emboldened when blanche groans. "i know you. i know you. all you are is"—a brief hesitation to let in a cough or two—"fear."

"does that make you feel better?" blanche wheezes out. there's blood on her cheek, dribbling down her jawline and staining that white suit a beautiful red. "having a label on me doesn't change the fact that i'm you."

"i'm not—"

oh. oh. it's a two-way street, isn't it? she is blanche. blanche is noire. a mirror, even though shattered, is still her.

blanche takes the silence as opportunity. "of course you are. i'm you, aren't i?"

"maybe i'm afraid," noire tries. "and maybe i'm anxious... but that isn't the only thing i am—"

"—he doesn't love you. he won't be waiting for you at the end."

"we don't know that."

blanche makes such an ugly noise when she laughs. "of course we do. he said it."

"no, he didn't. your memory is wrong."

"you don't sound so confident." that smile on her face gets a touch too wide. a touch too genuine. a touch too fragile. "poor, poor little kitty, got so lost in your own little head that you're forgetting to be rational. you're behaving like a little girl, believing that you can still fix this by 'being better', by 'being the person you're supposed to be', by 'being kind to yourself'. but he's not going to be there for us when you're healed up and have me locked up in a cage, all he's going to do is think about when's the next time i'll get out and loose and fuck everything up over again."

noire frowns. "doesn't it hurt to be so mean to yourself?"

"what?"

"if we're the same person, doesn't it hurt to see this?" she gestures to the shingles. to the world around them; paris in tatters, torn, empty and vacant. in her head, when she dreams, when she's allowed to be vulnerable with the different parts of herself, paris is never this... quiet. not until this week, when rationality flew out the window like a poor attempt at defenestration. letting what was a small little sliver of noise at the back of kitty's head blossoming into a full person. destroying the city in her head until it's flooded and it's demolished and it's poisoned. "i don't want this. why do you?"

"i want to get worse."

"i don't," kitty tries. "i want to get better."

she's found a keystone. blanche's bitter, cold, insipid attitude cracks from it, wide eyed and caught off guard. little by little, blanche shirks, weirded out by her honesty. "why would you ever?"

"because i don't want to be upset and angry anymore," kitty sighs. "i'm tired. i don't want this. i want hope."

is this what she looks like when her face contorts into a snarl, as blanche sneers in her direction? "hope from what? from who? no one deserves us."

"that's not true. we were really mean to people; to adrien especially. no wonder he left and found someone else."

"he shouldn't have left. he shouldn't have left. he should've been happy with us."

"he should've," kitty agrees. "but we hurt him. he should've been happy with us but we didn't give that to him because we were mean. bitter. angry."

blanche doesn't reply for a long, long while. at this point, noire is under the impression that it's okay to sit down next to her, and stare out into the mess they've made out of the city. at least there aren't any casualties, but maybe the casualty being just herself is enough to make her feel worried.

blanche doesn't bother with looking offended with noire sitting down next to her. her hair is long and rope-like and beautiful in this glossy white, though ruined with rubble and blood. noire probably looks the same way. "mom ruined us," blanche spits out.

"she did."

"she made us hate ourselves."

"yeah."

"she made us hate wanting to like others."

"yeah..."

"she's the one to blame for all of this."

"no. well, maybe. but we still said those things. awful things. mean things. frustrated things. i don't want to say those things anymore. we haven't in a long while, but we need to prove it that we don't mean them."

"and you think doing the right thing for a few months will convince him to come back?"

"i'm hopeful," she whispers. "but rationally, i don't think so. not that quickly, at least. but i could see myself kissing him again in the next year..."

and she longs for it. she longs for it so, so much. she dreams of the moments she'll be able to wrap her arms around him and listen to his heartbeat. she dreams of the moment she'll have conquered her fear of intimacy and give him all the kisses she's desperate to give.

blanche snorts. "what's the point of this, then? are you willing to put in this much effort just for a possibility?"

"yes. because the point is i want to be healthy. i want to get healthy for the both of us." paris is so strange without any noise around. "i have so much to climb in order to get better. and i'm more worried about how exhausting the climb will be, especially since you keep trying to pull me back down."

blanche's voice is so tiny and soft when she murmurs: "huh. am i that much of a hassle?"

"you're fear," she reiterates. "you're not a hassle, but you're so, so scared about people not liking you so you strike first, and hard, and no one deserves that. mom taught us perfectionism, but we don't need to listen to it anymore."

"but—"

"i'm tired," noire cuts her off with a sigh. "i'm exhausted. you're such a difficult emotion to tame and keep still. but you need to give up. i don't want to listen to mom. i don't want to listen to anyone who keeps telling me to change my mind; to pick a new goal, because this one isn't worth striving for. it is for me."

"you didn't care about him this much."

"you and i both know that's not true. i want it with every stitch in me. every hexagon on my suit. i want to prove that i've changed and i'm a good person."

"he's not going to come back."

"i want to prove you wrong. and i'm going to prove you wrong. and you're climbing with me, even if it takes a whole year or so, just to see it at the end."

#speakizys #sharks and sugar

[tbh-entp]

Hi fellow entp friend , as you I'm an entp girl and I'm really struggling these days and start to feel guilty having this thought : I really find anyone around me so boring and it totally drains me ( idk if it's clear lool being tired for not having enough real social interaction/debate/deep talks, it's like people's monotony is draining my soul and I know I can even fall into depression being socially alone for too much time ) am I a jerk for thinking like that? Is this the famous reputation of entp being the most introverted extrovert in display ? What do I care so much but don't give a shit about anything in the same time

Hi friend!

I’m sorry you’re feeling this way. I don't want to assume, but this exact feeling was very much approaching depression for me, and beating it is no easy game. And you’re not a jerk for thinking like that--I’ve had the same thoughts when I wasn’t doing so well.

It's true that we're often called the most introverted extroverts (it's either us or the ENFPs, and I think it's us actually). But everyone is individual, as is our abilities to handle interaction without it draining us. When it gets to the point of you being completely bored, drained, and not caring.... it's not the introversion of your personality, you're just in a bit of a rut! Which is ok, it totally happens, and the goal is to get you out of it.

As someone who was pretty depressed for maybe... all of college, I'm not a stranger to these feelings, and the good news is that they don't have to last forever. It does require a bit of effort though. And the really symptom for me was actually not being able to be around people without feeling annoyed, frustrated, bored, and kinda useless. It doesn’t last forever though with effort! So that’s the good news.

Therapy is always a good thing if you can find it and/or afford it

I did group therapy in college for literally half a second, and although it wasn’t the best (and a lil expensive), it gave me some friends who I related to in this way

Friends who understand is very helpful, I’m actually living with someone now who is a little depressed, and though I’m not anymore, we relate over it, and we both understand when days are hard 

Take it slow and be proud of any small success or even effort

Did you brush your hair? Way to go!

Did you not brush your hair? It’s ok, you deserve a break, maybe you’ll get to it tomorrow. 

Just be kind and know things take time, and try to be pleased with what you do in the middle

If you can, take care of yourself!

As in, try to eat healthy, take time to rest, exercise if you can etc. 

Even if things aren’t finished, don’t work too much... stop when the time is up. Leave time for a hobby thing or something that doesn’t employ your brain or creativity

do a puzzle, take care of some plants, listen to music, etc. 

And don’t feel bad for stopping!

Also join clubs, find groups that do things you like

sometimes having responsibility or a reason to do things, someone to count on you, helps

even doing this stuff online helps

Eventually your spunk will come back, but really taking care of your mental just like any type of health thing is important

#mine #text #depression #ask #answered #it's amazing because i've beaten it actually #i have moments at home where like... #i'm stressed #tired #lonely #but i'm ok #and happy with what i've done and who i am #and being proud of myself #forgiving myself for not doing things #just being kind to myself #goes a reallllllly long way #like.... i'm doing my best most of the time #and when i'm not #i deserve rest lmao #plus #i've grown so much in the past couple of years #and i'm really proud about it #and sometimes #like i'm like #i've grown #i'm not there yet #lool but look at that positive trajectory #so you got it #really making effort to both do healthy things while also being kind to yourself goes a long way #but also therapy because i'm no expert

[umflowers]

hello my dear, i truly hope everything is perfectly alright with you ❤️ feel free to not answer and ignore this if you want to

it's been sometime since I've been feeling so bad about my own writing, it's like I've been bullying myself over this... thinking about how pathetic my writing and and I'm silly for writing fanfic

well, how can I overcome this? I'm asking particularly you because you're one of the warmest people here, who certainly know how to bring comfort to anyone 🥺

i hope this doesn't makes you uncomfortable or anything! I'm sorry in advance if it does bother you

why hello, my lovely! i hope the same for you! :3 firstly, you're very sweet for saying that and i appreciate it 🥺 if i may ask, and i'm not trying to intrude, has something else got you down lately? sometimes when i'm upset about something else, it crowds my mind and just pollutes every thought i have about myself and everything that i do. you deserve much more than that, to be kind to yourself even when life is being cruel <3 i'm not 100% sure what aspect of writing is bothering you, so i'll just address a couple common causes: i know this is cliche, but try to remember that writing, and all hobbies, just aren't a contest. you don't have to be "good enough" to do them. they're meant to bring you joy! joy is something you very much deserve. this is something i struggle with too, believe me - you should see my knitting oh my god, and sometimes i get down about it, but if it's a good day and i can perk myself up, i just remind myself that the more i do it the better i'll get and get back to it, or if it's a bad day i set it aside and just do something else. there's no deadline, i don't owe knitting to anyone, just like you don't owe your writing to anyone! it's okay to set it aside until you can feel good about it again. nothing in life is worth you beating yourself up over. (and, let's be honest, we're all our own worst critics and our brains are usually full of shit and we're doing just fine.) also? i bet your writing brings joy to others (if you share it)! you don't owe writing to anyone, but since you're putting it out there anyway, you're brightening up the days of other people and that's just. such a cool fuckin' feeling, lbr. sometimes helping people is taking food to a homeless shelter, sometimes it's giving another person having a rough day a story that makes them smile or makes them feel something or distracts them. and even if you don't share it, if you're trying to write it, it's clearly something you want out of your head and onto paper/screen so you can read it, and even if it's just making you feel something, that's important too! if it's just the very idea of writing fanfiction that's got you down, please don't 🥺 the idea that enjoying fandom and writing fic should be limited to certain people is unfortunately invading our spaces, but it's just frankly untrue and ridiculous. fandom exists for everyone and there's no age you turn that negates your right to be happy and create and enjoy things. you're obviously a sweet person - you wouldn't point at someone else and say "you! you're pathetic for writing fanfic! stop that!" and you'd think anyone who did was cruel, so don't do those things to yourself <3 you certainly haven't upset me, love c: i'm sorry if this hasn't been of any help, or didn't address your problem - you can always send another ask or even fall into my inbox with an "oh god okay so here's the problem" and we'll hash it out 😊

#💗 #lovely people being lovely <3 #ask #answered

[the-raven-raynes]

Reality checks don't feel so good do they? Well. You're in fucking need of one. You don't get to cry and whine and complain if you're not willing to do anything about it. That's being an attention seeking bitch. You're just using people. Using them for their kindness with no intent to change. It's so manipulative. It's disgusting. You deserved when he hurt you and you deserve this right now. You want to play victim but you're the one doing harm. You've never committed to change. In your whole life. You're pathetic. You're toxic. You're weak.

You don't deserve love. You draw people in and once they're attached you make them suffer. They have to watch you struggle over nothing as you claw at yourself, refusing help. You deserve nothing. You're an awful abusive person.

So here's what we're gonna do. If you don't plan to search for a solution to an issue, you're not going to say shit about it. Enough torturing the people around you. And if you do slip up and say something, well, I'll be waiting right here, to beat you back into your place. Since you seem to be getting a little too comfortable lately with that. I'll give you fucking consequences until you can act right. I'm not afraid to hit those existing bruises. Everyone would be better off without you. You deserve to be all alone. You are poison.

#mine

[andytheconstelation]

Letter they I'll never send to the person it is directed to :

I loved you y'know? It's hard. Really hard. We never kissed, we never went on date, we never did anything. I know I'm being selfish you can't control your feelings but I can't help but feel robbed. Robbed from my time, my love my affection, my everything. I gave you my everything. I'm not mad at you, and if I was it would not be because you broke up with me. Believe me I know what it feels like to have someone be in love with you but not reciprocate the feeling but still accepting to date them. I know how horrible you feel, how how the guilt never stop tearing you apart, I know it all too well, so how could I be mad at you? You are already beating yourself up about this more than you will ever deserve. But I can't help but feel horrible. I know it was for the best, I know that if you stayed longer it would have hurt even more. I tried so hard, I know it was useless, you don't love me. And how can I blame you? Who would even want me? You say that I deserve better but I don't. I'm not "nice", I'm just a people pleaser who has no real identity. I can't be hated but I can't be loved either. It used to hurt me so much y'know? That you never answered, that you acted so distant. I was always on edge, always thought I would do or say something that would upset you or make you snap. I tried to prove that I worthy of love. I tried to show you how much you meant to me. I gave you love, gifts, affection, confort and sometimes you would give me love and affection back. Those times were the best. But it just made me feel even more anxious because I didn't wanna ruin everything. Turns out I had failed before I even started. I thought I would be with you for the rest of my life, I thought that every morning I would wake up and see you beside me, that every night before going to sleep I would hug you and kiss you goodnight, I thought that I would make you breakfast and drawing and write you sappy poems and make huge over the top romantic gestures. I thought that we would be together forever and it hurts. I couldn't get you out of my mind when we were together, why would I be able to get you out of my mind now that we're apart? I love you so much. It's not your fault. I told you before I know your struggle. You were just making the same mistake with my heart that I did with his. So, if anything you're just giving me karma.

"The end of a relationship is not always a failure. Sometimes all the love in the world is not enough to save something. In these cases, it is not a matter of fault from either person. Some things cannot be, it's as simple as that."

– Ashly Lorenzana

Bye sweetheart

#vent #venting #letter #guilt #one sided love #people pleasing #break up

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 4)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 5.3k

warnings: smut!!, overstimulation, oral f receiving, lots of dirty talk and begging, very very subtle d/s dynamics if you squint, slight angst??, awkwardness, pining 

Bucky’s heart was racing as he tried to prepare himself for what was coming.  It was never easy to watch that scene of you being fucked by somebody else— even if it wasn’t real, and even if it was technically your character that was getting fucked— but it was going to be an entirely new struggle with you a foot away, laying next to him on your bed.

“We only did two takes of this,” you remembered, talking over the conversation on-screen.  The smash cut to you being shoved against a wall, lips fighting for dominance in a searing kiss, made you chuckle.  “This we had to do, like, a million takes.”

Bucky’s hand tightened into a fist at the idea of you kissing this guy over and over.  “I’m sure he was real broken up about that,” he grumbled sardonically.

“No, I promise he actually was,” you defended, “I was terrible.  I kept laughing and ruining it, and it meant we had to keep starting over.”

That relieved some of his jealousy, hopeful that laughing meant you weren’t attracted to your co-star or turned on by filming a love scene.  He still felt his heart clench as he watched your shirt get pushed up and two hands (both flesh, like he was showing off or something) grab at your breasts.  Sooner than he was prepared for it, you were being thrown down onto the bed and moaning loudly, nails digging into his back as he stared down at you.

“I can’t even imagine how many guys have gotten off to this scene,” you shuddered.

I can’t believe I’m one of them, Bucky thought as he swallowed dryly.  “What about the guys on set?” he wondered aloud.  “Do they ever, you know, get…” he whistled and pointed his finger up straight, hoping it was enough to get the idea across.

You laughed, playfully shoving him on the shoulder.  “They have tape for that, to keep everything down in case they get a little too into it.”

Glancing to the screen, he wondered how this guy didn’t pop the tape right off.

“Have you ever…?” Bucky pressed, heart rate picking up as he pushed the boundaries a little bit.

“Have I ever… been turned on, while filming?” you finished his question.  “No,” you scoffed, sounding bemused and taking another swig of your drink.

“Why not?”

“I guess they’re just not my type,” you shrugged.

“Movie stars aren’t your type?” Bucky joked, but your answer was completely serious.

“Nope.”

He nodded slowly as he contemplated that, taking a moment to build up the courage to ask his next question.  “What is your type?”

You smirked a little, and he wasn’t sure at all what it meant aside from the fact that he was done for.  Whatever you were gonna say was sure to break his heart.  “Tall, dark, not famous…”

He could so picture you picking up fans at bars; you must have no trouble at all finding guys to mess around with.  Yep, totally heartbreaking.

“Good driver…” you continued, voice a little quieter and a little deeper.

Bucky cleared his throat anxiously.  “I guess that rules me out.”

“What?  You’re great; haven’t even blown any red lights or made illegal U-turns.”

“I mean, good drivers don’t eavesdrop on their passengers,” he explained, “especially when they’re with tall, dark, not-famous friends of theirs in the back.”

You laughed a little, half-lidded eyes looking him up and down.  He felt very exposed under your gaze.  “I didn’t mind,” you shrugged.

Oh god, oh fuck, Bucky’s mind raced, we’re talking about it.  All this time and we’re finally talking about it.  What the fuck do I say?  “I still shouldn’t have—” he began.

“I wanted you to,” you interrupted firmly.

“You… wanted me to look?”

“Wanted you to do a lot more than that,” you admitted.

He looked back at you with wide eyes, entirely devoid of thoughts or words or ideas on what to do in the moment.  Sure, it was pretty heavy flirting, but it wasn’t necessarily an invitation.  You said wanted, past tense, it didn’t mean you wanted him now.  Maybe you were just letting him know he missed his chance.  If he did the wrong thing and upset you, he’d never forgive himself.

“Seemed like you were pretty satisfied with what he was doing,” he remembered, hearing the waver in his voice and cringing.

“Only cause I was thinking about you,” you grinned.  “I do that a lot, actually.  I’m just usually alone when I do it…”

He shivered as you shifted onto your side and leaned towards him, reaching across his body to set your beer down on the bedside table next to him; with you so close, he feared his heart would beat out of his chest.  With the beer set aside, all you had to do was let your hand pull back to rest on his chest, and lift your leg up to rest on his, and you were straddling his side like it was the most simple, casual thing in the world.

But it wasn’t.  It was the most insane thing that had ever happened to him.  He looked down at you and blinked a few times, confident the hallucation would end but nope, he could feel the warmth of you radiating through his clothes, threatening to burn him alive.

“I’m usually in this bed, right here,” you continued slowly, and he had trouble keeping track of what you were saying with your finger trailing along his chest through his shirt, “warm under the covers, wearing a lot less than this, knowing you’re just a few rooms away and wishing you would come in here and touch me…”

"I’m here now,” he replied, just louder than a whisper.  “Can I touch you?" 

“Take off the gloves,” you requested softly.  He was quick with the right one, but hesitated before removing the left— the moment of truth.  Your breath hitched as the light caught the golden and black metal, and he winced.

“That bad?”

“No, no,” you denied, “it’s… sort of beautiful, actually.”

With you wrapped around his left side, it was natural for his right hand to move up your thigh.  His left hand brushing against your face seemed to surprise you, though.

"I'm sorry, is it cold?" he asked gently.

"A little," you giggled, "but I don't mind."

Demonstrating how little you minded, in fact, you slowly kissed the tips of his bionic fingers, getting more and more adventurous until you were suddenly slipping two of them into your mouth and down past your throat.

"Fuck," he shivered, silently thanking whatever gods were out there that technology made him capable of feeling the wet warmth of your mouth on his fingers.

"Just skin everywhere else, right?" you smirked.  "It's not a Swiss army knife down there?"

"Nope," he laughed, "flesh an' blood."

The blood aspect was especially salient as his cock filled so fast he thought he might pass out.  Your hand slipped down and started to ghost over the front of his jeans, and he fought every instinct to keep from bucking up into your hand.  You started to go for his belt but he sat up a bit.

“Wait,” he requested, clutching your shoulders a little; as soon as you looked back at him, he pulled you into a kiss, probably a little too aggressively but he was too pent up to care.  After all this waiting, he actually had to hold himself back a bit compared to how he really wanted to kiss you.  He moved his lips against yours slowly but with determination— and it was you, in the end, that started to slide your tongue along his lips until he opened them, giving him a chance to taste your mouth like he’d dreamed of for so long.  Past the beer was the unmistakable flavor of you, and he was instantly addicted to it.  His arms wrapped around you and held you close, one hand tangling in your hair a bit as you started to lean into his palm.  Your hands clutched at his shirt, the warmth of your touch managing to permeate through to his skin, and he heard the softest moan from you right against his lips.  It was perfection, and he would’ve been happy to stay like that forever if it weren’t for you sitting up to straddle him.  He couldn’t decide if it was the sight of you on top of him, or the weight of your body on his, or the feeling of your thighs clenching a bit just above his throbbing cock— it was probably all three, but he suddenly became so needy for you that his head was spinning.

Still absorbed in the kiss, he reached down and gently pulled at the knot holding your robe shut, letting it fall open before pushing it off your shoulders slowly.  You smiled against his lips and sat up, taking it off the rest of the way to reveal your entire nudity underneath.  You’d think that he would’ve wished to be naked with you, and that certainly would’ve made a few of his ideas a lot easier to act upon, but something about your bare body compared to his covered one— something about your mound grinding on his jeans like that— drove him fucking wild.

“God, baby,” he praised with a purr, running his hands all over whatever he could reach.  A movie could never do a body like this justice.  It deserved to be appreciated and worshipped in person, which was exactly what he planned to do.

“Your turn,” you giggled as you leaned down, unbuttoning his shirt hastily.  He was proud of the way you bit down on your lip as his skin was exposed, though he was also a bit embarrassed to reveal he was wearing his dog tags underneath.  “A little more metal under here than I was expecting,” you smirked, trailing an errant finger over the silver chain.  “There’s always more to you than meets the eye… what other secrets are you hiding, hm?”

Right now, he wanted you to have all his secrets.  He wanted to give you everything.  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted first.

“I don’t think that’s that much of a secret,” you smirked as you finished the last button. 

He sat up to help you discard the shirt, shivering as your touch trailed over his chest, his abs; then his scars, and the rest of the arm.  He used it to pull you down by your neck for another kiss, testing the waters by getting a touch rougher and letting more of his desperation seep through.  You responded very well, your moans gliding from your tongue onto his as your hips started to rock on top of his.  “Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he gently mocked, smiling as he started to kiss down your neck and onto your shoulder.  “Ridin’ me through my jeans, like a damn teenager dry-humping after prom.”

“Hnng, Bucky,” you choked, slowing down.

He grabbed your hips with both hands.  “Hey, I didn’t say to stop.”  

With a moan and renewed vigor, you moved faster on top of him, the rough denim clearly a bit too much for your sensitive clit as your thighs began to quiver where they were clamped down around his.  The stimulation on his cock, alternatively, was rather dulled through such thick clothing— it was just enough to keep him desperate, but not enough to get him too near coming, which was the way he wanted it at the moment.  If anything, it was the sight of you rubbing yourself on him desperately that put his restraint at risk.

“Can you feel how hard I am, baby?” he growled a little.  “Can you feel how hard you make me?”

You nodded with a little gasp.  "God, Bucky, I want it in me now."

"Not yet, pretty girl,” he soothed with a smirk.  “I need to taste you first."

He flipped you onto your back and settled on top of you between your legs; he kissed you one more time, resisting the urge to rub his hips on yours again before heading down south to suck your nipple between his lips.  You were so sensitive, moaning loudly each time his tongue circled the bud, and he moaned at the feeling of the skin hardening against his tongue.  He made sure to give some attention to the other one before making a show of kissing down your chest and stomach, looking back up at you with a stare that he could only hope carried all the weight that he was feeling.

"I get it," you grinned down at him, "this is how you reclaim your territory.  You're gonna do what he did to me, but so much better until I can't even remember his name, right?"

"Sweetheart, you didn't even remember his name thirty seconds after it happened,” he reminded you between kisses, moving lower and lower on the bed.

"So you're not trying to assert dominance over sexual competition?" you pressed with a gleam of challenge in your eyes.

"You need to stop reading those evolutionary biology books," he laughed, but then got a bit more stern. "Think of it this way: I don't see any of those stupid boys as competition.  They're nothing.  It's you who needs to know that nobody can make you feel as good as I can."

That seemed to shut you up for the moment, and he smirked before getting back to work kissing along your spread thighs and shaking hips.  He could already smell your need in the air, intoxicating to the point that he struggled to stay focused on mercilessly teasing you.  He wanted to taste you so bad, but he needed to hear you beg him for it.  He started with one finger gently exploring your folds, slow and light, until he felt your hips trying to push up into him for more stimulation.  Then all he had to do was kiss that spot right on the inside of your thigh that wasn’t quite where you wanted him, and you arched your back with a desperate whine.  “Bucky, please,” you whimpered. 

He laughed a little, amused by your little sobs and the way your hands clutched at the comforter beneath you.  “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

“Your mouth,” you gasped.

“Where do you want it?” he asked innocently.

You snarled with irritation but answered anyway.  “My pussy.”

“I don’t think I understand,” he encouraged, voice getting deeper on accident as his own arousal became too intense to ignore.

You growled frustratedly but got what he was getting at.  “I need your mouth on my pussy, Bucky, please…”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, darlin’?  All you had to do was ask,” he grinned as he roughly grabbed your thighs and buried his face in between them, sloppily exploring you with his tongue until your taste coated his mouth and overwhelmed all his senses.

“Fuck!” you yelped, shivering against him.  “Oh god, yes, Bucky, oh my god…”

“Is this what you wanted, pretty girl?” he asked, pulling back just as much as he needed to to speak.

“Yes, Bucky, just like that,” you nodded wildly, “feels so good, don’t fucking stop, please—”

He dove in again, finding a pattern that allowed him to suck on your clit and push his tongue inside you simultaneously.  That was the combination that seemed to rile you up most, your hands searching for something to hold on to until they suddenly found purchase gripping his hair, guiding him as your hips bucked against his face.  That was fine with him— more than that, in fact, cause he thought it was so sexy when you demanded control like that— until you switched from pulling him in to pushing him away.  That wouldn’t do at all; with a growl, he grabbed your wrists and forced them down beside you, holding them firm as he licked at you rougher and faster.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you sobbed, back arching so much that he had to fight to keep you in his mouth, “right there, right there— oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

He nodded, but it wasn’t permission; it was ‘of course you are.’

Your walls clenched so hard that your entire sex was pulsing in his mouth, your taste getting stronger in the same way your moans got louder.  He wanted to hold you there as long as you could, and that turned out to be quite a while; he stopped when your screams of pleasure started to push too far into pain, finally letting you rest… for a moment, that is.

He watched your panting breaths catch as he slowly pushed a finger into your hole; it was still pulsing a little bit from the orgasm, and was unbearably hot and wet.

"Fuck, this pretty little pussy is tryin' to suck me in, you see that?  Wants me so bad…"

"M-more, Bucky, please," you whispered.  He obeyed and slipped in a second finger, slowly twisting and trying to open you up for him.

"You like that, pretty girl?" he asked with a smile as he watched your back arch, returning to suck on your clit without waiting for an answer.  He relished the weight of your thighs on his shoulders, taking mental note of where he had to touch you to make them clench around his head.  You kept repeating 'yes' but he didn't think it was intended as an answer to his question because he was pretty sure you hadn't even heard the question.  Still, it was answer enough nonetheless.

He could tell it wouldn't take that long to get you there again, with your g-spot all swollen from the last one.  He didn't push too hard on it yet, just letting his fingers curl ever so slightly to apply a teasing amount of pressure.  

"Don't you wanna fuck me?" you moaned between sobs.

His cock seemed to process that question before his brain did.   "Yes," he answered quickly, even though he thought it was rude to talk with his mouth full.

"Then get on with it," you suggested desperately.  "Come on up here and fuck me."

"I'm not done with this yet," he insisted.

Your head fell back as you hissed frustratedly through your teeth.  "Damn you and your… thoroughness."

"No point in doing anything if you're not gonna do it right," he laughed.  "Besides, I couldn't stop now when you're about to come."

You looked back at him for a second like you didn't agree with that assessment, until he curled his fingers again and your walls rippled erratically around him.  "Fuck," you shuddered.  “Please fuck me, please fuck me, please,” you sobbed, “I need it so bad, I need you inside me— Bucky, pleasepleaseplease—”

He growled against your skin, struggling to resist that but desperate to make you come just one more time before he gave in.  His cock really hated that he wasn’t giving you what you wanted, throbbing and weeping another drop of precum just to remind him of his own desperation.  But he stayed strong, focusing on his task as he felt your walls tighten around him with another orgasm.

You nearly screamed with this one, your voice breaking as your nails dug into the bed beneath you.  You looked fucking perfect with your head thrown back in pleasure like that— and you tasted even better as a gush of your arousal coated his tongue.  

He kept circling your bud with his tongue until you started to sob a little and try to push him off of you, “can’t take anymore, please—”

And he took pity on you, for once— or maybe it was moreso pity on himself as he sat up and palmed himself through his jeans.  He was so hard it hurt, and you looked like you could tell by the way you looked up at him: a glimmer of mischief in your eyes, still, even with the way they’d glazed over a bit from coming so hard.  “Get over here,” you purred as you sat up and pulled him down on top of you, kissing him again as your hands slipped down to clutch at his chest.

Of everything he’d imagined, he had never even thought to consider what it would be like to be undressed by you.  Those nimble fingers fiddling with his belt, working open his fly and zipper with such unabashed desperation, like you needed him more than you’d ever needed anything… truly, it was intoxicating.

Then again, it was nothing compared to your hand slipping into his boxers and wrapping around his cock.  He was sure he’d never gotten so much out of just one touch before, and he had to fight off the moan bubbling in his throat.  Your hands were so soft as they started to gently stroke him; his hips moved of their own accord as they started to thrust into your grasp.

“God, I need you to fuck me,” you groaned, “please, Bucky, need it so bad.”

Entirely speechless as this point, all he could do was nod as he pushed your hands off of him, pushing his jeans off quickly so as to be away from you as briefly as he could manage— and then he was on you again, kissing you everywhere he could reach, moaning when he finally let his cock brush between your legs for a moment.  Even just that and he was already coated in your slick: the rewards of demanding to be thorough, clearly.

“Please,” you sobbed, “put it in me, can’t wait any more, I’ve waited so long…”

It almost made him stop to think, because it was ambiguous if you just meant tonight or more.  But you were begging him for his cock so he wasn’t really in any position to think.

So many times he had wondered if your real moans sounded anything like your fake ones from the movie.  He fantasized for months about a chance to make the comparison.  But with you in front of him, under him, biting down on your lip as he pushed into your perfect warmth, he couldn’t even remember that you’d ever been in a movie.  He couldn’t think about anything else but this moment, right now, and he didn’t want to.

“God, Bucky,” you sighed, as if the two were being regarded at the same level in your mind— and he wasn't even halfway in yet.

Equal parts of him wanted to ease you into it and to tear you in half.  You'd always ignited this paradox in him, this instinct to protect and to destroy, this desire to cherish you and dominate you, but it was most apparent now.  It made him worry that he could never really give you what you deserved, but naturally, he was at his most selfish in this moment.  He had only just begun to push himself into you and he was ready to justify anything to get the rest of the way and bury himself to the hilt.

Your body opened up to him slightly, enough that he felt mostly right about going a little deeper; you gasped and clutched at his forearm, and that was only just barely enough to stop him as a sick pressure of arousal made his gut twist.  Oddly enough, your nails biting into his skin did more to egg him on than it did to slow him down.

He kept his eyes trained on where your bodies were joined, watching in awe at the way you looked stretched out around him; he could feel your struggle to take him in the way your walls quivered and quaked, but he could hear how much you enjoyed it as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"I want it all, Bucky, please," you begged.  Just because he needed to, he was rough with the last inch— not enough for it to be really brutal, but plenty to elicit a precious little sob from you.

It felt so good to be all the way in you that it nearly made him dizzy.  

"Baby," you whispered, and it sounded just like the way you'd said it in the back of the car, just like the way he'd committed to memory and stowed away in his mind to visit whenever he needed to feed his addiction.

How could his chest not burn with jealousy when he remembered that night?  How could he cope with that jealousy with anything but pinning you down and fucking you hard and fast like it was the end of the goddamn world?

You all but screamed as he did it, your whole body shaking as he pounded into you.  He feared it would be more than you could handle but you went from wet to dripping in an instant, your moans loud and hoarse but undeniably a sound of pleasure.  It turned him on even more to know that you liked getting fucked this hard; maybe he didn't need to worry so much about holding back, if this was gonna make you bite your lip and look up at him like that.

"Bucky, oh my god," you sighed, a hint of disbelief in your tone, "it's so good, fuck, you feel so good…"

He wanted to hear more, but he couldn't resist capturing your lips in a kiss first, sloppy and aggressive and needy but overall perfect.  It was almost like he could taste your moans as they vibrated over his tongue, until he could barely tell his apart from yours anymore.  Pulling back, his dog tags were dangling over your face, and you looked so damn good with his name tickling your skin.  

When he lifted your legs and pushed them back up into your chest, you snarled and clutched at the sheets beneath you.  "Too deep?" he asked, not sure himself if it was concern or taunting or somewhere in the middle.

"So fucking deep," you answered, "but not too deep."

"Then maybe I'm not deep enough," he smirked, and you laughed.

"You're trying to ruin me, is that it?" you pressed.

He was afraid to be entirely honest, but your tone wasn't one of fear.  "Something like that," he admitted after a moment.

"It's working," you sighed as you pulled him down by the chain of his tags, kissing him again as your arms slipped around his neck and held him close.

His hands squeezed your thighs, before taking a detour to run up and down your legs.  It made you shiver, and he felt it from inside you which was overwhelmingly erotic.  The time he’d spent making you come so many times was paying off: for one, you were so wet it made him feel a little-lightheaded, but also it meant that he felt familiar with your body now.  He knew what it meant when your walls tightened just so, when you bit your lip that way, when your moans sounded all breathy and strained.  That being, of course, that you were about to come— and he couldn’t wait for you to come just from being fucked, make a mess all over his cock.

And yet, there was still so much more to discover: like how it felt when your legs wrapped around his hips to keep him inside, or when your fingers dug into his shoulders as you looked up at him.

“Gonna come,” you warned him with half-lidded eyes and your mouth fallen slack, “oh my god, Bucky, you’re gonna make me come.”

He growled and tightened his grip on your thigh— something to stabilize him as he fought so hard to stave off his own orgasm.  You felt so good and he could probably come just from the sight of you like this anyways, let alone being inside you right now.  Think about baseball think about baseball think about baseball—

“Yes!” you screamed.  “Right there, oh fuck, Buckyyyyy!” 

“Fuck,” he hissed, completely unable to think about anything but you, lost in the way you cried out his name as your walls fluttered and pulsed around him so perfectly.  

Maybe he was disturbed for thinking you looked pretty with your eyes filling with tears.  He was definitely disturbed for taking some pride in making you cry.  Of course, only because he was making you cry from this.  If he had it his way, Bucky would make you cry in only this way, every day, forever— and make sure nobody made you cry in any other way, while he was at it.  You hiccuped your sob as he continued to pound into you, refusing to let up even as he leaned down to kiss away your tears.  “S-so good,” you mumbled weakly, “Bucky… please…”

"Fuck, gonna come— I'm gonna come," he stammered his warning.

"Inside me, please," you whimpered, "I want it inside me."

"Jesus Christ," he hissed, shaking his head in some form of exhausted shock.  You grinned, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer to you until your lips brushed against his ear.

"Bucky, I want you to come inside me," you repeated in a slow whisper.  "I want every drop of your come in my pussy, I wanna be so full of you, I wanna feel it leaking out all night, I want you to make me yours."

How was he supposed to hold back anymore, with you talking like that?  With you weaving your fingers into his hair and tightening your legs around his hips, with you kissing him deeply and suddenly?  A weak moan was lost to your lips as he filled you, warmth washing over every part of him until he thought he might just melt.  You smiled against him, and he summoned just enough strength to not collapse on top of you and surely crush you with his weight.  Instead, he gave you one last kiss before burying his face in your neck, laughing exhaustedly.  

"Mine, huh?” he remembered.  “You really mean it?"

You hummed quietly, holding him tightly.  "I probably shouldn't answer that question just after you made me come a dozen times."

"No no, you should,” he pressed as he pushed up to hover over you.

You smiled and looked back up at him.  "I'm yours, Bucky."

He growled, leaning down to give your neck light teasing kisses.  "Fuck, keep talkin' like that and I'll double that dozen."

"My body couldn't take it," you asserted.

"I'd make you take it," he promised.

You bit down on your lip, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little.  You weren't as good at feigning innocence as you seemed to think.

"Oh, you like that," he posited.  "Maybe someday I'll tie you down and make you come until all you know how to do is say my name, hm?"

"Bet it wouldn't even take you that long," you admitted.  "I already feel pretty braindead."

Testing that theory, he reached down and drew light circles over your swollen clit with his thumb, even just that subtle touch making your legs and inner walls quiver as your back arched.

"Bucky," you whimpered as you tried to push his hand away, "s'too much, please…"

"Nuh uh, pretty girl, I wanna see you fall apart again.  You know how many times I dreamed of making you come?"

You shook your head.

"Me either, but I wanna keep doing it until I feel like I've reached a number that at least comes close.  I've finally got you in my arms and I won't let you go until I've made up for all the time I wasted."

Notably, his cock which had begun to soften inside you was now getting hard again, from some combination of watching you and feeling you in this moment.

“How do you feel about a second round?” he suggested with a smirk, even as his muscles ached already.  Your eyes went wide but your walls clenched, too.  That was answer enough for him.  “I might break you,” he warned.

“Promise?” you smirked.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

[typewriting101]

it’ll be okay.

pairings: draco malfoy x reader

warnings: sad & fluff

word count: 1.5k+

genre: fanfic romance

⟶ summary: reader isolates herself after getting cheated on by her long time boyfriend, and draco comes to her aid

a/n: i got cheated on by my long time boyfriend twice and i definitely needed a draco in my life. writing is a way i heal so i hope if you’re in the same spot this helps.

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You decided not to go to your classes today, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. You already felt humiliated enough, you didn’t need to increase that on your own will. You had Hermione tell all your professors that you were ‘sick’, but only she knew what was actually going on.

Your longtime boyfriend cheated on you, and your heart was in complete despair. You didn’t get out of bed at all yet today, and it was past lunchtime. You brushed your messy hair out of your eyes that were flooded with your never ending tears. As you brought the duvet covers up to your face, you turned your back to the door, watching the birds fly outside, and you could even make out the Quidditch pitch in the distance.

You heard the door slowly creek open and it quietly closed behind the person entering. “Mione, please. Don’t force me to leave today...please.” Your voice was filled with cracks and sobs, you couldn’t even contain yourself for a regular conversation.

Immediately, was a rushing of a cloak and someone knelt beside your bed and you felt an arm on top of you and another under you, wrapping you into a hug. It struck you, you knew who it was. You burst into tears and felt his head dip into the crook of your neck, his blonde hair coming into your vision, which confirmed your accusation.

Draco Malfoy.

Eventually, you turned to him and his eyes filled with worry at your state. You knew you looked nothing like yourself, and he’d never seen you cry. You always hid the sad parts of you from Draco, he had his own struggles, and you never wanted to burden him with even more.

Sniffling, you slowly sat up, and he quickly sat on your bed to face you. He was never good at emotions but when it came to you, Draco tried harder than ever to express them.

One good look at you now, he knew you were shattered, a fraction of who you used to be, and he hated it. You couldn’t even look at him, your face was red from crying, your cheeks tear stained, and you were hugging yourself as if you wanted to disappear from him, which he would never let happen.

He couldn’t stand seeing you in disarray, he never had before and he wished he didn’t. He grabbed your trembling figure, his hands on your head and back, as you leaned into him, you clung to his arm as if your life depended on it.

“Let it out.” He whispered into you, feeling his warm breath and the vibrations from his voice from the closeness. He knew you would need a push.

His heart shattered when he heard the sound you made. It was the sound of a broken soul, something he never wanted you to feel. He thought he could save you from everything, but life doesn’t give what you demand. He knew that now.

You didn’t realize the cry you made was even a sound you could produce. It was then you truly realize how destroyed you were, how hurt,

How broken.

As you cried into Draco’s arms, he began rubbing circles into your back, rocking you back and forth slightly. He didn’t shush you, he didn’t tell you to stop, and he didn’t even try to talk over your cries. He did not tell you it was okay,

Because this is not okay. None of it is.

He let you be the first to speak, after a long time of tears. “You know?”

His heart dropped into his stomach hearing your voice, it sounded so lost. “Yeah… I do, y/n.”

“How?” You sniffed, head still on his body.

“She told me you were sick, but I didn’t believe it. So, I interrogated your Granger friend, I found her alone in the library.”

He felt you smile for a quick moment. “You’re mean.”

“I know.” He boasted, proudly.

He grabbed you and laid you down, then took off his shoes to get under your covers. “Since school is in session for a few more hours, nobody else will be in here, so I’m staying. If you like it or not, I don't care, I don't want you alone feeling like this.”

You didn’t care, you actually wanted him there, you suspected he knew that, you know he has trouble expressing his feelings. He pulled the covers over the two of you.

“Speaking of mean…” he turned on his side to face you. “Y/n, I wanna hurt this guy. I wanna hurt him so freaking bad for what he did to you, say the word and I will.”

“Nothing you could do would ever even out to my pain, it doesn’t matter.” You whispered, looking away from him. “I just learned the hard way is all.”

“Leard what?” He asked, as he watched you stared endlessly at the ceiling. He saw you opened your mouth a few times, but nothing came out. He saw tears roll down your cheeks, and Draco turned you towards him.

You watched as he sat up on his elbow to wipe your tears. The angle was so beautiful, watching his eyes bore into yours, his blonde hair flowing from his head looking down on you.

“Learned what y/n?” He said again.

“That I don’t deserve to be loved.”

You let more tears fall with a sob and went to turn around, but Draco’s hand grabbed your shoulder flipping you back towards him, causing you to gasp at the harsh movement.

You felt his hand go to your waist gently, and he pulled you into him. You burst into tears yet again, they were uncontrollable at this point, and he knew.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Draco demanded, as he let you cry. “You deserve more than what that bloody git ever had to offer you. I know you loved him, y/n. I saw the way you looked at him. He even looked at you that way too, some people just… lose their minds. It’s not your fault, so please,”

He pulled you off of him and his hand cupped your face, brushing over your cheek to wipe the tears away. “Please don’t ever say you aren’t worth it. You are worth being loved.”

“Are you sure?” You whispered, touching his wrist gently from the hand on your face.

“Positive.” He whispered.

“Will I be okay?” The desperate sound of your voice, killed him inside. He looked down at you, and he realized you were nervous.

You were nervous he would say you would never heal. Which was wrong, but he knew you thought that. He has always known you inside and out.

“It’ll be okay, I promise you.”

All of this was a lot coming from Draco. He wasn’t beating anybody up in the halls. He wasn’t brushing off emotional talk, he was here. He was trying so hard to express everything he could. You could even tell he looked a little drained, as if he was trying so hard he was losing energy.

He really meant this.

Your uncontrollable sobs continued up again, and he pulled you back into his chest. He rubbed your head and let you cry without complaint. You were so grateful for this man, you could never overlook how he was always there. No matter what.

Eventually, you were falling asleep to the smell of Draco Malfoy and the warmth from the two of you under the shared blanket. You felt him kiss your head and you drifted off to sleep.

Draco knew your sleep would be uneasy, so he refused to leave. After all, Draco loved you. He couldn’t tell you like this, because he knew you needed to heal. Otherwise his emotions would get shut down, he wasn’t about to put any pressure on you, or mess up that big moment.

He watched you sleep, with one more tear rolling down your cheek. He rubbed it away and kissed where it had been, rubbing your cheekbone over and over.

Even crying you were beautiful. He wanted to call you his, so, so badly. To take you to the manor and share his giant bedroom, or to take you on long walks. He wanted to buy you everything in Hogsmeade, and do things just to hear that laugh you make. That’s his favorite sound.

You are his favorite everything.

How could someone not see what he does? It took all of his might not to break everything when he saw you with that guy, and after all this time that man didn’t even treat you like you were the world.

He tossed you aside. How dare he?

His heart broke at the thought of you finding out, so he couldn’t imagine what yours felt like, someone you love, just destroying your soul. From this day on, he was going to keep you safe, no matter what became of him. Even if it came at a price, he would.

When the time comes, he will make it memorable, he will prove he has emotions and that he truly cares. You won’t ever have to worry. He’d not just say he’d give you the world.

He’d show you, he’d prove it.

After all,

Words are nothing without taking action.

He can’t wait to tell you, and one day he finally will, but for now, you needed him like this. And right now, Draco wouldn’t have it any other way.

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a/n: wowww. emotional. sorry this is kinda short for me but i hope if you have ever felt the endless sinking hole from something like this, that it heals. stay safe guys. you’re incredibly loved by me <3 my dms are always open!

#fanfic #fanfiction #draco #dracotok #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x depressed!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader cheated #draco malfoy x dumped!reader #draco malfoy #slytherin #draco malfoy x gryffindor

[merminns]

The pain that comes with love

Armin Arlert x Reader

❧ Content/Warnings: fluff, angst, very very slight smut at the beginning 

❧ Word count: 2.3k

❧ Notes: this is a repost from my old blog

It started out sweet; how he kissed you while his hands rested gently on your hips. The kiss channeled every word his lips failed to say. You felt so much love in the way he held you, the way his lips moved delicately against yours.

The pure emotions in the kiss had you melting in his arms, yet to him, it wasn't enough. His heart held so much adoration for you that it was impossible to express.

Slowly but surely the small kiss turned into a make-out session. Both of your breath growing shallower as you tried to take in as much as you could from each other. It felt as if his very soul was trying to become one with yours.

His grip on your hips tightened as his hips started to grind into yours emitting sweet moans from your lips that he was happy to swallow. He let out groans of his own when you returned the action, the friction between your bodies increasing. You had to pull away for oxygen after what felt like forever, your bodies stilling. Your forehead rested on his, eyes closed as you both regained your senses.

You didn't know what to make of the situation, it was obvious how you both felt for each other. It was blindingly obvious what you both wanted, yet was it right? To be here, sharing this moment with your friend's ex. How would she feel about it? Would she think you're the reason he broke up with her? Would this mark the end of your friendship with her?

One of Armin's hands moved from your hip to your cheek causing your eyes to open. He lifted your face gently urging your troubled eyes to meet his.

"What is it? Was that too much?"

His question surprised you, your eyes meeting his to see them full of concern. It made your heart clench; he stopped moving his hips the second you did. He didn't stop to calm himself like you did. He stopped because he thought you wanted to.

He wasn't going to push you to anything, he wasn't going to make you uncomfortable, not even after the raw emotions you just shared through the kiss.

You had been waiting for any reason to pull back, to get out of his arms and leave, forgetting this ever happened, for the sake of your friend.

The sincere concern he's showing, the way his body remained pressed against yours uncertainly, not knowing whether he should let go of you or pull you further into him, the way he poured his very being into that kiss, the kiss you were sure you'd never forget whether you decided to stay or leave. All of these were reasons that pulled you into him more, combining with the feelings you already hold for him.

It was too much. But not for the reasons he thought. It was too much because you loved that boy with every fiber of your being but there was a pang of undeniable guilt filling your heart whenever you thought of your friend.

You tried to keep your mixed emotions in check as you cast your eyes to the side, your friend's name leaving your lips in a whisper low enough for you to pretend you never said it, yet clear enough he was sure of what he heard.

It didn't take long for the realization to hit him, he suddenly understood what was troubling you, with your presence in his arms, he forgot about anything else he ever knew, but your whisper had been a slap grounding him back into the reality of your situation.

He took a tiny step back both hands now on each of your cheeks, turning your face towards his for your eyes to meet his again.

"I've been in love with you for a very long time," He said slowly making sure you understood every word he said, "long before I started dating her."

The confusion was clear on your face, if he loved you before dating your friend, then why was he dating her? Why didn't he say anything?

You were about to voice your questions but he beat you to it.

"I wanted to tell you, it drove me crazy every time I saw you walking through the hallways, but I never had enough courage," He paused, gauging your reaction to his words. Your eyes portrayed nothing but pure confusion. ‘Then why were you dating her?’ the only thought running through your mind.  

"I knew you deserve someone so much better than me. I thought you'd never return my feelings. So, I decided I had to move on. That's when I met her and one thing led to the other." He paused for a breath, eyes still fixated on your widened ones.

"I didn't know you were friends at the time… I tried to ignore your presence whenever you were with her. I really tried to forget the feelings I had for you. " his eyes held nothing but the truth, thumbs caressing across your cheeks gently.

"I tried my best, but I couldn't lie to her anymore… I couldn't lie to myself anymore." He was panting as if the words were enough to draw his breath short and drain him off the energy.

His eyes never left yours. You felt the hands on your face tense slightly when he saw how your eyes started to water. Tears started to form in your eyes slowly as you tried to process his words. It dawned on you that you were, in fact, the reason Armin broke up with your friend. Not only that, but you were also the reason he got together with her in the first place.

He was dating your friend in an attempt to forget you, but he ended up leaving her struggling to forget him, yet you still stood here allowing his arms to hold you and his lips to move against yours.

It is true that you only developed these feelings for Armin when you got to spend time with him after he started dating your friend, but you never had any intention to act on them.

This was wrong. None of this should have happened. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have let him kiss you and most importantly you shouldn't have kissed him back, assuring him that his intense feelings were reciprocated.

Now neither of you would be able to pull back completely. Tears streamed down your face as you sat in the nearest chair, Armin kneeling in front of you. He kept drying away every tear that left your eyes, whispering sweet words to you trying to calm you down.

Maybe, you were slightly overreacting, but you couldn't help but get overwhelmed with the jumble of emotions you held in your heart, it was all too much for you.

Armin didn't dare speak again until you calmed down completely.

"She knows." Were the first words he spoke, and if you hadn't calmed down, the sheer shock they brought you would have been enough for you to forget how to cry at all.

"You told her?" The question left you in a whisper that earned a tiny nod from him.

"The night we broke up, I told her everything, " His eyes never lost the gentle look in them, his heart was breaking to see you like this, because of him, because of an awful situation that he unknowingly created.

He wanted to steal that pained expression away from your face, the one that appeared as you finally understood the odd behavior that your friend had towards you.

She had been pushing you away ever since the breakup, but then again she was pushing everyone away, right? You thought it was simply because she wanted to be alone after what happened. Could it be she only wanted to be away from you?

The thumb that moved gently across your cheek brought you back to reality. Your eyes focused on Armin's sky blue ones as he spoke again, voice as gentle as could be.

"I will never, ever pressure you into anything. I love you more than you can begin to imagine, but if you decide you don't want this… " His words disappeared as his voice broke slightly, tears forming in his own eyes. This was all it took for you to notice the slight shake of his hands. He wasn't as composed as he tried to be and it was showing.

He took a deep breath and started again.

"If you decide that you don't want me, then you can leave and we can forget that anything happened…"

You couldn't even remember what brought you here in the first place, what led to the kiss that tore you into a million pieces, leaving your soul bare in his arms.

You wanted to leave, to run from here straight up to your friend and cry on her shoulder, tell her that you love her, that you never meant to cause her that much pain.

You also wanted to stay, to throw yourself in Armin's arms and tell him you love him too. That you never want to leave him. Not for a second.

Your hand trembled as you moved them over the hand Armin was holding on your cheek.

"I love you too, Armin" Your hand caressed his slowly as your voice broke, tears running down your face again "but I don't know what to do."

"You should forget about me."

Saying these words shocked you would only explain a fraction of how they made you feel. What was even more shocking, was they weren't Armin's words.

You and Armin turned to the owner of the voice standing in the doorway. The door was only slightly open, the hallway dark outside the room, but you were both sure who the owner of the voice was.

"You two should forget about me," Your friend started again, a small smile adorning her face.

She didn't believe she was saying this, she too loved Armin, but when she looked at the two of you, tears running down your faces decorated with all of the pain and uncertainty you were feeling she knew, no love she has would ever compare to the pure feelings you both felt for one another. And she was the only thing standing in between.

"It hurts you know, to know that the person you love has feelings for someone else, " She took a deep breath, the sad smile never leaving her face "but it also hurts me to see you both like this."

She pushed the door open and walked in slowly holding a small bag in her arms.

"Sorry for creeping up on you like that, I only came here to return your stuff, " She said to Armin as she held the bag up.

After a few seconds of stunned silence she took a few steps into the room placing the bag on the ground before turning back to you, her eyes meeting with yours.

"You are the greatest friend I could have ever asked for… I'm hurt, but I'll never think of you any less because of this." The pain in her eyes was evident but it so was sincerity in her voice "We already broke up a while back… you can do whatever you want to do without thinking about me. "

And just like that, just as quickly as your friend had appeared inside the room, she turned around, leaving the both of you stunned, staring at where she was just standing.

After the shock of what happened wore off, your eyes found Armin's again. It was obvious your friend choose to sacrifice her happiness for yours. But something was off.

Her appearance so suddenly was weird and Armin seemed to think the same. You could have sworn the door of the room was not open when you first came here.

Armin stood from where he was kneeling, walking over to the bag your friend left in the middle of the room. After opening the bag and staring inside it for a few moments he turned back to you.

"It's empty… " Armin paused for a few seconds processing his thoughts "I didn't forget any of my belongings with her. She followed you here."

An almost inaudible gasp left you at the revelation. Your friend knew you were coming to Armin's room. She heard everything and decided to interfere to make sure that you don't let yourself lose your chance with Armin because of her.

Armin moved to sit on his bed, waiting for you to process everything. His eyes told you that you still can make the decision you wanted to. You could leave and both of you would forget any of this happened, or you could choose to stay.

After a few moments of silence, you moved out of your chair, Armin eyeing your every move in silence. You sat beside him on the bed, your arms wrapping shyly around the back of his neck.

The move your friend just made was making you feel guilty. This was a sacrifice on her side. But you felt like you could make your decision now without worrying about losing her.

It was true she was hurt, but she didn't blame you for it. And she certainly didn't hate you. It was true this was selfish of you, but you knew you'd never be able to live without Armin, without having your heart break a million times over.

She has guided you to which decision you should make.

As you pulled Armin towards you slowly, his hands moved over your arms settling on your cheeks.

The kiss you shared this time was shy, but it held a promise. A promise for a tomorrow where you would share plenty of kisses, each of them expressing an everlasting love.

Masterlist | Share thoughts with me ☺

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin aot #armin fluff #armin angst #armin smut #aot #snk #aot fluff #aot angst #aot smut #snk fluff #snk angst #snk smut #attack on titan fluff #attack on titan angst #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kiojin

[barsformars]

Expectations

// 

g - angst, comfort(?)

p - yunho x reader

w.c - 1.2k

t.w - (self doubt?)

c - compliments can give people strength but the future expectations that come with it can weigh one down and cause one to beat themselves up just because of a small hump in their journey; tldr -> yunho's mentally and physically exhausted.

a.n - hihi! just a piece i wrote late last night because,, thoughts. i hope everyone remembers to be gentle on yourselves, and like my dad always tells me (and now what i tell others): challenge yourself but within your own personal limits. it’s okay to be disappointed in yourself if you truly think you could have done better but if it is because you didn’t live up to other people’s expectations of you then fuck them! the more you blame yourself because of that the blurrier the line between self satisfaction and satisfying other people will be. 

t.l - @closer-stars @jeongyunhoed @fromercury

//

His feet dragged across the floor all the way to your bedroom where he finally allowed himself to completely let go and release all the tension in his sore aching muscles as he falls onto your bed, it is rare that he gets to do so without having to first check whether San was in the top bunk or if any other members were following him into the room, and it's already rare enough that he feels like this. It's not that he didn't like to be vulnerable in front of them, he just couldn't bring himself to whenever it boiled down to this same problem he was facing right now because he knew that it would shake the team's confidence and energy for at least the next week. Words like "because Yunho can grasp the choreography really well really quickly, we feel assured," and, "we are always grateful that we can rely on him," they do give him strength to continue working hard, but sometimes, it's nothing more than a heavy burden placed on him, felt like an ankle weight was tied to his feet, preventing him from executing the footwork properly.

As those words replayed in his head — a reminder that he should probably be spending this time doing something more productive, that he should be using this time to clean up his dance moves because at least one person would be coming to him for help tomorrow — Yunho shrinks as he curls into the fetal position, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. Even with his body closed up like that, he still felt like he was going to fall apart if anything or anyone gave him even the gentlest of a nudge, this was already the best he could manage in holding himself together.

Yunho knows that this was not the end of the world, no one was going to blame him for not having perfected the choreography already, no one was going to be disappointed that he couldn't help them either, in fact Hongjoong would probably tell him: "It's alright! We can all learn it together slowly and patiently, we will get it eventually." And Yeosang, who has always been the best at footwork, will probably be more than happy to lead the dance practice yet again. Yunho knows, but he can't stop himself from feeling like he wasn't doing his best. If only his body could withstand a little more...

His palms are now warm and wet, without warning, and without a sound. No shaking shoulders, no shuddering breaths, no tightness in his throat, no burning sensation in his nose, the tears just flowed down silently and slowly, whether he liked it or not. Yunho stays frozen in that position for a little while as he let his tears do whatever they wanted because if he even had enough energy to wipe them away he would rather conserve it so he could get to the kitchen and pour himself a glass of water. And when he removes his hands away from his face, he heard the front door opening and shutting, and just the thought of being in your warmth almost caused him to burst into tears again.

You noticed Yunho's shoes thoughtlessly kicked to one side and how his bag was randomly dropped in the middle of the hallway, and your heart ached for him. You already knew that he wasn't feeling good because Yunho was always honest about the reasons he wanted to visit you for, and while it wasn't your first time seeing him feeling down, this was just...bad. You quickly made your way to your room where you knew he would be, and when your eyes met his swollen ones, there was no need for spoken words, not yet at least. So you put your bag down onto the floor and sat yourself down on the edge of the bed, allowing him to lay his head on your lap. Your fingers were already caressing his hair, that honestly still felt a little moist, an evidence along with his slightly sticky skin that he had spent quite some time in the dance studio earlier on. It worries you, because Yunho almost never gets this stressed out when it came to dance, or did he perhaps dance to get his mind off whatever it was?

Yunho's eyes are closed just like when he was alone a little earlier, but this time his tears stay trapped behind his eyelids, though his nose ached a lot more now. "Do you want some water?" You asked, hearing how he was starting to sniffle. He sat up (very stiffly) and you took it as a yes, your toes already pulling your bag closer within reach so you could pull out your bottle of water.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or is me being here enough for now, or do you just need some alone time?"

Yunho scrunches his eyebrows as he gulped down a large mouthful of water, it was much more painful than he remembers it being the last time he had a good cry. He opens his mouth to speak, and then he hesitates for a little, blinking multiple times as if trying to piece the words together in his head. You don't pressure him.

"I just think I'm being stupid right now, I know what I'm feeling is so dumb and irrational but I can't stop myself from feeling like this. I know if my body is this exhausted it must mean that I did indeed gave it my all, but I can't stop feeling that I could have been more productive. I don't mind being this tired as much as I do about not feeling like I did my best. And I can't help but feel like I'm not doing anything to contribute to the team right now. If I can't even get those steps down, then I don't deserve the 'main dancer' title, and I don't deserve having the members looking up to me."

You suddenly felt guilty for thinking that there was no way Yunho would get this distressed over dance, thoughts and expectations like this from everyone who knew him probably contributed to the growing expectations that he felt pressured to meet. Of course even Yunho would face problems when it came to executing certain moves, he may be a very good dancer but there is no dancer out there, anywhere, who could master every technique of every genre of dance there was. People forget that dancers are always constantly learning, heck, everyone is constantly learning as they go on in life, mistakes are allowed.

"It's not stupid, Yunho. Your feelings are valid, everyone wants to be the best version of themselves but, Yunho, a moon is still a moon in all of its phases. Just because you're struggling with a few dance steps does not mean that you are not a good dancer, or a reliable member to your other members. You are still you, and with time, you will master those moves and shine brightly like you always have. Besides, you are not just the 'main dancer', you are also a good vocalist, a positive influence, and most importantly, a human."

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #8makes1teamnet #ateezlovenet #ficscafe #ateez scenarios #ateez reaction #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez drabbles #ateez blurbs #ateez fics #ateez #ateez angst #yunho #yunho angst