#i feel like my anxiety is more severe than that but who care you know

[loveofastarvingdog]

😁👍 i'm winning at therapy

[erythristicbones]

i think making my own discord server for my original stories was one of the best decisions ive made in awhile tbh

[lettuce-seize-the-day]

mental illness is a rollercoaster and i want OFF

[aftermathing]

.

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[moon7jay]

WANT (l.hs)

Warnings : angst, cum eating, smut, basically filth.

"I think he doesn't find me sexually attractive"

There.

U said it.

Your worst fear. Out loud.

your best friend looked at u like u had grown two heads

"Tf does that even mean? Isn't he dating u? "

She said it like even the thought of what u said was incredulous, but how would she know the things you were seeing and observing with your very own eyes.

Your lower lip trembled just thinking about all the times he had pushed u away. As if u were a turn off. Maybe u were.

"I mean yeah, but it's been 6 months and he hasn't.. " your voice trailed off as u felt the onslaught of tears approaching. Damn it. Damn that man for making u feel like this about yourself.

"Y/n no. He hasn't touched u?? like at all?? "

He did touch u, he held your hand when u were outside, intertwined your fingers when at home, kissed your forehead, pecked your cheek and lips. And he would pull away just as fast whenever u tried to kiss him deeper, or press urself closer. It was like u made him uncomfortable. Maybe u did.

You shook your head and broke down in tears, it was too much for ur fragile heart.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your body clad tightly in a wine red mini dress, the chest cut lower to display your ample cleavage. You looked sexy. Or so u thought.

The entire night went just like it always did. heeseung called u beautiful, he kissed u and held u close, told u everything about his day and asked u about yours. You were laughing with him but u weren't quiet there. Cuz u would catch several men ogling at u throughout the night but never heeseung . It was like. U weren't visible to him.

By the time he dropped u off at your apartment, ur mood was all the way down. Getting inside and taking ur dress off haphazardly, maybe u heard some fabric ripping but who cared. Silent tears falling down ur face as u sat in front of your vanity and looked at yourself blankly. Were u that unattractive? Did u lack sex appeal? Is that it? Because u couldn't turn ur boyfriend on no matter how hard u tried.

He barely ever seemed affected by u or ur display of your body. Ur insecurities ate away at u the entire night and u cried ur way to sleep.

"U haven't been answering my calls"

His voice echoed in the kitchen, u tried ur best to not turn around and run into his arms. After all he was still your heeseung , u loved him. And now more than ever u needed him. But he just seemed so far away.

The stirring of spoon in the coffee u were making got faster, ur anxiety getting the best of u. U hadn't been purposefully avoiding him. It's just that u didn't trust yourself to not break down like a loser in front of him anymore.

"I'm talking to u y/n"

"I'm sorry" u whispered, ur voice barely audible, the stirring of coffee got even faster, warm droplets spilling out of the cup now.

"Baby what r u sorry for? " His voice was still far away so u assumed he was still standing at the entrance of the kitchen. This gave u a little bit of strength as u cleared ur throat and dumped ur mess of a coffee into the sink

"For forcing u to be in this relationship" U replied, opening the upper cabinet to take out the coffee beans with ur shaking hands.

Pulling out another cup to start stirring again. It was the only thing keeping u calm right now.

"Y/n look at me" His voice was commanding and ur stirring stopped.

"Please"

U took a deep breath and turned around. It was about time u faced ur demons, how long were u going to run away from ur self anyway?

He was a few feet away from u, probably hesitating to come closer because of your behavior. But he never came closer anyway.

His face looked helpless and worried, like he couldn't quite understand what was going on

"What are u even talking about? " He asked carefully

U shrugged

"U started dating me out of pity hee, u did not like me from the get go and u still don't, I get that, and I'm ready to let u go"

His mouth gaped open, floundering for words

"What the fuck y/n?? Where the fuck is all this coming from? Yes I didn't like u from the get go, but that's because I didn't fucking know u! U confessed to me and I AGREED to go out with u. That's all there is to it." He sounded angry, mad even. But u couldn't bring ur self to believe his words.

"U didn't have the heart to reject me"

"I didn't WANT to reject u"

U sniffled. No this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to tell u that yes u were right and he didn't want to be with u. So why was he being like this.

U bit ur lower lip to stop it from trembling, looking down at ur feet, unable to look at his love filled eyes anymore

"Y/n please talk to me baby"

His pleading voice made ur heart squeeze, u were hurting him.

"So why don't u want me? " U whispered quietly, too scared of his answer

"What? " His eyes met yours in confusion and worry. He seemed distressed, not knowing what changed so much in a week's span.

"Am I not sexually appealing? like, do u not find me attractive that way?... or any way.. "

tears started to fall once u said it out loud. Oh god u wanted to disappear, away from the way his eyes searched ur face.

He was going to be disgusted with u and then leave. Oh u were a fool, u hated ur self.

What u weren't expecting was for him to walk towards u, u watched him walk closer and closer until u could feel his breath on ur face.

Your watering eyes met his

"Is that what all this is about?" he asked, his voice an octave lower, dark eyes gazing at u in a way u had never seen before.

U looked down embarrassed, more tears falling freely now

"of course it is, it's been 6 months, u don't touch me, u don't kiss me, u don't even seem to care all that much when - u were cut off with a bruising kiss, his large hands cupping your face as his lips moved furiously against yours. Your eyes widened and u unknowingly moved ur hands on his chest, fisting his shirt. The way he was kissing u could only be described one way.

Hungry.

He was hungry.

He bit your lower lip and u screamed into his mouth, eyes closing in pain, focusing on the way he slithered his tongue into your mouth taking advantage of your scream, the feel of his tongue on yours made ur knees weak.

as if sensing ur light headedness he moved one hand to grab onto your waist. U gasped, the bare skin of your waist burning from his touch. U couldn't comprehend what was happening and if the person kissing u was your heeseung .

The kiss was messy, your lips connected with a string of saliva when he pulled away

U were panting, his hot and heavy breaths fell on your face. His eyes stared down at u with desire, the intensity so strong ur fists on his chest tightened.

You watched in awe as he loosened your hold on his shirt's fabric and took ur hand in his own, moving it downwards. Ur breath left ur lungs when u felt his hardness, he squeezed his length with your palm, a groan escaping his parted lips. U watched him frozen with wide eyes.

"This is u, all u" he panted on your face as he continued to rub himself over his pants using your soft hand. Your pussy tingled in arousal at seeing your boyfriend like this for the first time. Even from feeling him above his pants u could tell he was big.

"And everytime u kiss me, everytime u touch me, this is exactly how I go back home. Hard and throbbing, do u feel me baby? "

U nodded dumbly, not quiet deciphering his words. U turned him on?

"Yeah. Feel me more, press harder, I'm tired of jerking off with my own hand imagining it is yours"

His words make u gasp, your hold instinctively tightening on his dick. He curses kissing u on ur bleeding lip again, suckling the plump flesh into his mouth.

"U.. U j-jerked off to me? " U asked in a whisper, not wanting to jinx it. So in disbelief u didn't notice how fast u were rubbing his boner now. He moaned into ur mouth, taking ur hand and pulling it away from his dick only to unzip himself and slip it inside of his jeans.

You moaned when ur hand met his hard and throbbing cock, holding it and running your fingers on it softly. So big and thick. How was he gonna fit in u.

"Every night, jerked off to u so so hard. Came for u so much baby" He groaned into ur mouth at your soft hand finally holding him.

His words had u pressing ur thighs together and squirming against his body where he had u trapped against the kitchen counter. You started jerking him off in the earnest

"Yeah just like that, where'd u learn how to do it so good baby" He asked, his head thrown back, your hand gathering the precum at his cockhead and spreading it all over his cock, watching how ur hand looked working him inside his jeans. His hold on your waist tightened, moving up to grope ur chest making a pornographic moan rip through ur chest

"Practiced with my dildo"

u barely heard him curse before hot white liquid was flowing over your hand, a dark spot forming on his jeans. He groaned and captured ur lips in his own again. U couldn't believe u had made him cum. U had just made ur boyfriend cum by barely doing anything.

You pulled out ur hand from his jeans and watched in awe how his white seed looked on your hand. As if in trance u found ur self tasting it, your tongue licking your fingers and slurping all of his thick cum from ur hand.

When u met his eyes he was looking at u like a hungry animal, his jaw ticking as he traced ur movements with his eyes.

He pressed u closer to the kitchen counter so that there was no space left in between your bodies. His hands groping your ass harshly making u whine, ur hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

"U fuck urself? Ride ur dildo? " He asked, his voice dark and heavy with lust.

U nodded, squirming against him from his perverted touch, he was squeezing ur body like those men did on buses. Like it was an object of pleasure.

"Yeah? What do u think of? "

"You" u moaned as he twisted ur nipple painfully through ur crop top.

He groaned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against u.

"Tried so hard to hold myself back, I knew u were a virgin so wanted to take it slow with u, wanted to show u i want u for more than just ur body. But all this time- he squeezed the flesh at your waist making u moan his name-all this time u have been dreaming of getting used"

He picked up your leg, wrapping it around his waist, his dick settling between ur legs, grinding against ur pussy through ur soft cotten shorts.

"Oh I'm gonna use u alright, gonna use ur fucking pussy to get myself off, that'll make u happy won't it? " He asked rutting against ur cunt, rubbing your genitals against each other,both of you panting together.

U nodded. This was all u ever dreamed of.

He moaned and kept rutting against u, u rutted back, pushing ur hips against his, gasps and pants filling the kitchen space. He dug his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck

"Can't believe I could have been beating this fucking pussy red all this time"

His words made u drip. U had never been so fucking turned on.

"heeseung put it in please, please I'm ready, please please" Tears sprang to ur eyes as his grinding motion gave u ecstasy, u were so close to cumming just like this. "Waited so long please" U begged, his furrowed brows and sharp eyes watched ur face, still grinding against u, but u both wanted more friction. He started pulling away and hurriedly pulled his pants down,starting to unbutton his shirt. U didn't waste more time and took off ur shorts and panties along with ur top, throwing them across the kitchen. You were feeling too impatient, rubbing your naked body against his, the fire burning inside u at its peak.

He pressed u against the counter again. Pressing his body to yours, but not penetrating u, just rubbing his hard dick against ur naked wet snatch, watching how they created a mess together. Your movements matched his, grinding back, rubbing and rubbing, the wet and messy sight between your rubbing genitals was so lewd u could feel ur self getting close.

"wanna make ur first time special, won't impale u on my dick right now, but let's fuck like this yeah? Wanna have sex just like this right now" He panted and groaned. U nodded, digging your nails into his back, rubbing ur pebbled nips against his bare chest.

The pleasure was too good, u had never felt something like this before.

His cockhead was hitting ur clit just right, the squelching sounds increasing as u both moaned and groaned in pleasure. He loved it. Loved how u both were rubbing ur sweaty bodies against each other like animals in heat.

His tongue entangled again with yours, fingers digging in your hips as he picked u up and made u sit on the counter, positioning u in a way that had u leaning back on your elbows, his desperate hands pulling ur hips off the counter and holding them like a sex toy. Grinding and rubbing his cock against ur velvet folds.

"Fuck yeah, baby we gotta fuck like this again"

He groaned and his thrusts started becoming rough. U chanted his name like a mantra. He was basically fucking u without actually being inside but u couldn't fathom anything feeling more good than this. Your elbows got tired and u let yourself lie back and just get used

"Gonna fuck ur pussy whenever I want"

"Bet it's tight as fuck baby, gonna have so much fun tearing u up"

"Oh yeah fuck back on me"

"Grind baby come on, what a whore"

His filthy words pushed u over the edge, coming over his cock.

He kept rubbing his cock into your cumming pussy, cursing and gritting his teeth as the heat in his loin became unbearable. Cumming all over your stomach and pussy, grunting in pleasure "fuck fuck fuck"

He rubbed his fingers on your folds, watching how raw and abused your cunt looked.

U didn't know what u had opened the door to. heeseung wanted to keep u away from his sexual urges as long as he could. He was rough, he was demanding. But most of all he was sex crazed. He didn't want u to see that side of him so soon into the relationship. And it was hard for him, feeling ur soft body pressing against his arm everyday but he always clenched his jaw and pushed u away. Rubbing his dick raw again and again just remembering how heavenly u felt.

But now that u had summoned his demons out, he was gonna play. He was gonna fuck u again and again until u r trying to run away from him. Until the pleasure turns into pain. He was going to show u exactly why he kept u away from him for so long.

His want was not casual, it was obsessive, it was destructive. And u were going to find out the hard way (No pun intended)

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[cassandraclare]

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

[themoonsbeloved]

I still need help

Its now the 8th of January and despite being told by my friend who spoke with her boss 3 weeks ago during their meeting that he was to hire me in the beginning of January and would reach out to me, he hasn't. I'm hoping somehow, eventually, when this man finally bothers to, he will contact me for a job offer since he reassured me back in november that he still intends to hire me. But since I have no idea when that will be, that means I'm left hanging completely.

long story short I am mentally ill and disabled who was dismissed from my last and only job that I struggled 2 years to get, only to be fired in 2 months in June because of my chronic fatigue and abusive managers. I rely a lot on my henna but bookings are not consistent enough to make regular income, and majority of the money ends up going to contributing to house bills for my family.

My therapy picks up again this week, very honestly been the only thing keeping me from harming myself at this point with how painful life has been and I want to be able to continue getting it low cost (£25 per session), my therapist is so amazing and we recently came to the understanding that I have complex-PTSD, and plan to look into it more this year. I'm too mentally ill to try and look for jobs right now and am basically doing 3 jobs already (one being joint caring duties with family members for my grandparents since I live with them, which I'm not paid for obviously) with inconsistent money coming in/sessional work that I will be paid for once completed further into the year.

I have so many other costs that are coming in the near future, like paying for more medication, and for more lazer hair removal sessions for my severe hirsutism, which usually is around £300 if I'm lucky to catch offers. This is another I thing I mentally can't afford to stop doing, struggling with severe hirsutism and the trauma of it all my life means its important I can feel and live somewhat comfortably in my body. Lazer hair isn't permanent and I'm looking into electrolysis, but again, I don't have that money yet and would prefer to not leave a huge gap where I don't do lazer and the mental torture of watching my body hair grow back. I also haven't gotten my eyes checked in over 3 years, and know I will need a change in perscription and need new glasses. I hate nothing more than what its come to. I'm just exhausted and burnt out from the constant anxiety and depressive episodes, I'm barely eating or sleeping, I'm sick of everything and everyone and I just wish god would give me a break.

With all of the above in mind I'm aiming for about £600. This is all basically to help me just function and continue getting the things that help me not succumb to my mental health issues. If anything, my birthday's coming up in feb so I would appreciate it if folks gave some money if they have the means to. Anything is fine at this point.

Thank you so much

https://paypal.me/iffiia?country.x=GB&locale.x=en_GB

£0/£600

[sidekick-hero]

Carry you

(steddie | rated t | wc: 4k | cw: drug addiction, hurt Eddie Munson, post break-up, hopeful ending | @steddielovemonth | prompt by @starryeyedjanai "Love is letting someone take care of you" | AO3)

When Eddie opens his eyes, he has no idea where he is.

That should probably scare him, but the only thing he can think in that moment between blissful nothingness and cold, hard reality is "the bathroom at the party looked different." Because he is in a bathroom, that much he can say. There are white tiles everywhere and a roll of toilet paper in front of him and... is that a plastic handrail?

Lifting his head is a Herculean effort, but somehow he manages to do it, even though it makes his stomach turn.

In front of him is a freestanding shower and a bathtub with stairs to get into. The bathroom is huge and sterile, smelling of disinfectant.

As more and more of his senses come back online, Eddie notices several things at once:

#1 He's wearing what can barely be called a gown, cold air hitting his exposed skin everywhere. His back, his legs, hell, even his junk gets more of a breeze than he likes.

#2 He's nauseous, his stomach rolls uncomfortably, and his head is killing him, a sharp pain that's increasing in intensity by the second.

#3 He knows that something is definitely very, very wrong and he can feel the anxiety rising like bile in his throat.

It's that last realization that triggers his fight or flight response and in seconds he's off the toilet he's sitting on, the sudden movement sending him stumbling, his legs wobbling and his head spinning. Everything hurts and he feels so weak. He catches himself on the railing next to the toilet and figures that's what it's there for. Although he has no idea what kind of person would have such a strange bathroom. The last one he was in, at Tim's or Tom's or Terry's party, something with a T, for sure, the tiles had been black and there had been a lot of bamboo furniture and gold accents. It had smelled nice too, vanilla and cinnamon.

He staggers to a door that hopefully leads out of this fucking nightmare. Maybe Gareth or Freak are behind this, to teach Eddie a lesson for ditching them again to go partying when they had to pack up their shit after the show. But not Jeff, he's too nice to do something like that. The next morning, when Eddie arrives with a hangover the size of his ego, to quote Gareth, Jeff will only look at him with disappointment.

Or maybe they just don't care enough about him anymore to pull a prank on him. Eddie can't remember the last time they even talked to him, beyond discussing the bare minimum for their shows.

Leaving the bathroom, he carefully walks down a long hallway with the ugliest yellow linoleum Eddie has ever seen. It hurts his eyes and his stomach gives another unpleasant churning. On his right, he sees a glass door with "Intermediate Care Unit" written in big white letters.

What the fuck?

He turns right and continues down the hall, hoping to find someone who can tell him where he is and why his body feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly.

"Mr. Munson, you shouldn't be out of bed," a stern voice calls from behind him, and when he turns around he sees a middle-aged woman in white scrubs looking at him with a stern expression on her face.

Feeling more and more like he has landed in an episode of The Twilight Zone, Eddie looks at her with an incredulous look on his face. "Who are you? And where is everyone?"

She scoffs at his answer, clearly not pleased.

"I am the nurse responsible for getting you well enough to leave this ward as soon as possible, and you would make my job a lot easier if you would go back to your bed." Before he can process the meaning of her words, she continues. "As for everyone else, well, no one else overdosed, so I would assume they're all home by now."

Eddie can only stare at her open-mouthed, disbelief and horror probably written all over his face, because her own face is softening slightly.

"Now come on, let's get you back to bed, you really shouldn't be wandering around."

She gently takes his elbow and leads him to a door with the number 719 on it. As she opens it for him, Eddie sees three beds inside. To the left and right, he sees two old men, both looking directly at him. The one on the right says, "We tried to stop him, Nurse Elli, we really did," in a high, nasal voice that is already getting on Eddie's nerves. "The kid wouldn't listen to us, would he, Harry?"

"Exactly," Harry answered, at least in a deeper, more bearable tone.

Ignoring the geriatric Ernie and Bert, Nurse Elli leads him to the bed in the middle and helps him to lie down again. Only then does Eddie remember that all he's wearing is a thin hospital gown with an open back. Well, he thinks, Nurse Elli has seen worse in her profession than his pale, scrawny ass. Besides, it's not like much of his modesty has survived the last two years of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll that have been his life.

By the time he's back under the covers, his nurse has turned around and is walking back over to the door. A bone-deep exhaustion has begun to seep into his body, slowly dragging him back under, but seeing her walk out of the room gives him a burst of energy.

"Wait! Someone needs to tell me what happened. What am I doing here?"

Embarrassment burns hot under his skin as he hears the tears in his voice, but the sound of it breaking at his question makes Nurse Elli stop. She turns back to him and her eyes are much kinder than before.

"The doctor will be with you shortly. He'll explain everything to you, Mr. Munson. I'll let him know you're awake now."

And then she leaves, and Eddie sinks back into his bed in the hope that the next time he opens his eyes, it will all have been just a bad dream.

It was not all just a bad dream.

The next time Eddie comes to, he's alone in his room, except for a middle-aged man who seems to be the doctor Nurse Elli told him would be stopping by.

Doctor Owens explains that he overdosed on alcohol and coke at a party at some music producer's house and had been in a coma for two full days. They quickly stabilized him, pumped his stomach and gave him fluids through an IV. Eddie is lucky he's still young and his system recovered from the shock quite well. When he showed signs of waking up, they brought him down here from the ICU to free up his bed for someone who needed it more.

"If Mr. Harrington hadn't called 911 and told them to come get you, you'd be dead right now, Mr. Munson. I'm sorry to say this, but from what I've heard, no one at the party even cared, just insisted that you brought your own drugs and they had nothing to do with it. Mr. Harrington has also been your only visitor so far."

His words should make him angry or sad, something, but he can't process them. Not when his brain is still struggling to make sense of the first part of his statement, Eddie’s heart racing in his chest.

"Mr. Harrington? As in..."

"Steve Harrington, he says he's a close friend. He's the one who called the ambulance, gave the operator your cell phone number so they could track your phone and get you to the hospital. He's been visiting you every day since. He also called your uncle, because we are not allowed to give out any medical information to anyone outside of the family. Your uncle should be here soon, I called him yesterday to give him an update on your condition."

His mind is reeling, too many thoughts fighting for dominance and one word screaming louder than any of them in his head.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

How... it couldn't be. Not after their last fight. Not after the things he said to Steve. To his horror, he feels tears burning hot in his eyes at the memory. A memory he had pushed as far back in his mind as he could because every time he thought about that night he wanted to curl up into a fetal position and cry.

"You are a lucky man, Mr. Munson. This man seems to care a lot about you, as does your uncle. You should let them help you. And if you will allow me to be very clear with you: You need all the help you can get. You're young, so your body can take a lot. But it's not in good shape. You have an old man's liver, and your spleen and kidneys are showing signs of the abuse you put them through. The echo also showed some irregularities in your heartbeat. If you continue down the path you're on, your organs will fail and you will die, Mr. Munson. Painfully. So my advice to you is to get clean as soon as possible. We have some facilities we work with, a nurse will bring you some brochures."

Eddie could only nod numbly, tears now falling freely from his eyes, his throat tight and his head aching. Everything hurt. Especially his heart.

"Okay, we'll keep you here for two more days until we're sure you're stable enough to be on your own." Doctor Owens tells him, turning to leave and get on with his day, as if he hadn't just dropped a damn bomb on his head. He pauses at the door and turns back to him.

"And a word of advice from someone twice your age who's seen a lot in his time here: stick with people who really care about you, like Mr. Harrington, instead of spending your time with people who leave you lying in a bathroom in your own vomit."

With that, he steps out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

Eddie doesn't know how long it's been since Dr. Owens left. It could have been hours, days, weeks, for all he knows, too deep inside his own head to spare any thought for the passing of time. Lying in a hospital bed, the nausea and pain raging through his battered body, Eddie finally breaks down and lets the thoughts come.

He's lost in his memories, thinking about everything that led him here, alone and in pain in a hospital bed, after nearly killing himself with things he swore he'd never use. Weed was fine, though he didn't indulge much anyway, preferring to sell it and make some much-needed money than to smoke it himself. But coke? Nah, he knew how epically stupid it would be to even try that shit.

And yet he did.

A party to celebrate the release of their first single. One lapse in judgment while flying so fucking high that nothing could touch him. One bad decision was all it took for him to succumb to the effects of the white powder.

The high he felt after snorting his first line had been magical and he's been chasing that feeling ever since, blind to all he's sacrificed in the process.

It changed him, he knows. Every euphoric high that made him talk a mile a minute, overly affectionate, loud and brash and in love with the whole world would inevitably end in a crash. He became irritable and hostile toward the people he loved, thinking they were out to get him. Whenever his friends or Wayne or Steve so much as looked at him the wrong way about his new habit, he would lash out at them.

He became increasingly angry and accused them of trying to control him, of envying him his success and happiness.

That's when he started drinking, too. He drank himself stupid so that he wouldn't have to think about the way Steve was starting to look at him as if he didn't even know him anymore. To forget the sad look in Wayne's eyes or the way his friends had started to avoid him. When he was drunk out of his mind, he could forget the way the Coffin boys had started talking about him behind his back, could ignore the murderous looks Robin kept sending his way.

Thinking back, Eddie felt like everything had spun out of his control so fast.

It's like one day he comes home to Steve, ecstatic about signing their first record deal and celebrating the start of a new chapter with the love of his life by dancing around their living room barefoot, laughing and kissing each other, promising happiness and forever.

Only to throw that love right back in Steve's face the next day by calling him needy, clingy, and full of bullshit.

He claimed that Steve was holding him back and that Steve didn't love him, that he just didn't want to be alone. He also said that Steve still thought he was better than Eddie, better than the town freak, the fuck-up, the trailer trash.

You don't want me to succeed and finally step out of your perfect shadow, because then what would stop me from leaving you, right?

Eddie regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Secretly, he had always feared that his success would cause a rift in his relationship with Steve. Eddie had no desire to leave Steve, because Steve was still the best goddamn thing that ever happened to him, but he couldn't help but feel that he was losing him anyway. Even more so when he had seen Steve's face crumble, when he had seen the exact moment when his heart had broken into a million pieces.

He had wanted to take Steve in his arms and apologize for saying cruel things he didn't even believe. It had been his own insecurities that had caused him to lash out, and he had hurt Steve before he had a chance to be hurt himself.

Instead, in true Munson fashion, he had run away and hasn't seen or heard from Steve in six long months that have felt like years.

Steve looks almost exactly the same as he did the last time Eddie saw him.

That's not a good thing, though. Because Steve had been driving himself crazy with worry about Eddie for months before Eddie had taken Steve's heart and torn it apart right in front of him.

Back then he had the same dark circles under his eyes that he has now. The usually golden skin is still too pale and Steve's trademark hair looks even more disheveled from how often he's run his hands through it. His well-fitting jeans, which once hugged his ass just right, now sit baggy on his too-slim frame and Eddie hates it.

He hates that Eddie could still hurt Steve even after he left. That even from a distance he managed to ruin the only person who ever really loved him besides Wayne. There should be some kind of warning sign on him: Beware, do not get attached, will hurt you.

"You're awake," are the first words out of Steve's mouth, and despite everything, Eddie can't stop his heart from responding to the sound of his sweet voice. Steve sounds tired, weary, but to Eddie's ears his voice is better than any Metallica song could ever be.

He tries to smile at him, but he feels as tired as Steve sounds, so it lacks the usual spark.

"Sure am. From what I heard, I have you to thank for that," Eddie adds, unable to help himself. He still doesn't know why and especially how Steve knew he needed help. If this were a Nicholas Sparks novel, their love would have created an invisible bond that made Steve feel when Eddie needed help.

But this is real life, and no matter how much he loves Steve, there is no invisible bond holding them together. Just an unbridgeable chasm.

Steve is still hovering at the door and Eddie thinks he is fighting the urge to wring his hands. Eddie knows his tells by now and he figures Steve isn't sure he's welcome here. Which is ridiculous, because even at his worst, Eddie will always want Steve around, no matter what crap Eddie tells him.

It takes a lot of effort, but Eddie manages to sit up and lean out of bed to pat the chair next to his bed, his eyes never leaving Steve.

Eddie sees Steve's shoulders slump, some of the tension visibly draining from his body at the gesture, and Steve walks over to him and sits down tentatively.

"So..." Eddie begins, dragging out the 'o'. "What happened?"

Steve looks up from his hands in his lap, obviously surprised by the question. "You don't remember?"

"No. The last thing I remember is sitting on a leather couch with a bunch of people I don't know and don't care about, fooling myself into thinking I was having fun." Eddie has had plenty of time to think about his life and where he went wrong, so he decides to stick with honesty. Steve deserves as much and more. "Someone handed me a bottle of whiskey and I opened it and started drinking straight from the bottle. That's the last thing I remember. The next thing I know, I wake up in an ugly bathroom that smells like disinfectant, my whole body hurts like I've been hit by a train, and I have no idea where I am."

Before he can bring himself to say the next part, it's Eddie who has to look away, his eyes focused on his hands playing with the edge of the blanket.

"They told me it was you who called 911 and helped them find me. They said without you I would have died lying in my own vomit." He swallows audibly, tears burning in his eyes, wondering how he could have cried more in the last ten hours than in the last ten years. "They also said you were the only one who came to see me."

Eddie forces himself to look up and into Steve's eyes as he says, "Thank you, Steve. You didn't... I don't deserve you doing this. Not after..." The words die in his throat and he feels like he's choking on them.

He can't do this. He's a fucking coward, not worth saving. Not even worth looking at someone as good and beautiful as Steve.

There's a crease between Steve's eyebrows that Eddie used to smooth with his thumb and lips every time he saw it, and his fingers itch to do it again.

"You called me," Steve tells him, his own hands playing with the edge of Eddie's blanket. "At the party. You called me from the bathroom. I thought it was a butt call or maybe drunk dialing, I hadn't heard from you in months, Eddie."

Eddie winces at his words, but Steve chooses to ignore it.

"But then you sounded so small on the phone. You called me 'Stevie' and 'sweetheart' and then you started to cry." Steve looks like he's about to cry, too. His eyes are glassy and Eddie gets lost in the way the light breaks in them, gold and brown and green all mixed together.

"You told me you weren't feeling so good, that your stomach hurt and the room was spinning so you had to lie down. Your voice -" And here Steve's own voice breaks, after it had already started to shake badly, and without thinking Eddie grabs Steve's hand and holds it tight.

"I'm here, Stevie. You saved me. I'm okay."

"But you almost weren't!" Steve insists, his voice rising, and Eddie finally understands the depth of Steve's feelings. After all these months, after everything Eddie had said and done, Steve still cared deeply for him.

"You talked like you were dying, Eddie. You weren't drunk dialing, you were calling to say goodbye, asshole. You were telling me all these things that I needed to hear you say for months. But I wanted to hear them with you in the room so I could punch you in the face and then kiss it better. Not like this. Not as your last words over a fucking phone call."

That's when Steve breaks down, the tears finally overflowing and he buries his face on the bed at Eddie's hip, their joined hands pressed against his wet cheek.

"Baby," Eddie whispers, shocked, his own heart aching worse than ever as he begins to run his fingers through Steve's messy hair. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm so, so sorry, Stevie. I never meant to hurt you, but it seems like that's all I did."

Taking a deep breath, Eddie continues. "I don't know what I told you on the phone, but since I woke up I've had time to think about it all. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you. Or to Wayne and the kids, Gareth and Jeff and Grant. If I will ever deserve your forgiveness, but I want to try. I want to deserve it one day. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but... I will go to rehab. I will quit drugs and alcohol, I will clean up my act. And then, if you let me, I will try to make it up to you every single day for the rest of our lives."

Steve slowly lifts his head from the bed and looks at him, searching Eddie's eyes for something.

"Why?" Steve asks, his hand gripping Eddie's even tighter.

There are so many reasons, so many things Eddie wants to say, but in the end there is only one simple answer.

"Because I love you."

The smile on Steve's face tells him it's the right answer, even more so when Steve presses a kiss into his palm. But then he turns serious once more.

"I haven't forgiven you yet, Eddie. You hurt me too much and I need time. But I need you to stop trying to run away from me. I don't want you to go to rehab and clean yourself up before you come back to me. I want to be with you every step of the way. Do it together. Because if you love me, you have to let me take care of you. You have to let me in, Eddie. Let me carry you for once, like Sam carried Frodo when he couldn't go on. Trust me not to let you fall. Please."

"Did you really just make a reference to Lord of the Rings?" Eddie demands and Steve rolls his eyes.

"Is that what you get from everything I just said?"

Eddie sobers up immediately. "No, it just made me fall a little bit more in love with you, and I didn't think that was possible."

"So what do you say?" Steve asks, chewing his lip between his teeth, and Eddie suspects he's not even breathing.

"It's going to suck, Stevie," Eddie says in a quiet voice, stroking Steve's knuckles with his thumb."Are you sure?"

"Yes." No hesitation, no wavering in his voice. It's the same tone, the same determined look on his face as when he told Eddie "Fuck'em," when Eddie told him people in their small-minded town would talk if Steve held his hand in public.

"There's a bunch of brochures of places to check out. Wanna help me pick the least horrible one?" Eddie says, pointing to the table in the corner of the room.

Without another word, Steve gets up to grab them, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie allows himself to hope.

[defectivehero]

Please write about a nb hero who is big on "not owing anyone money" and "its my problem and weight, let me carry it" and "please let me pay u back" and "its your money even if you spend it on me"

And a nb snarky millionaire (by evil methods) villain who is obsessed with their hero and is like "let me spoil u bbg" and *casually throws money around for hero* and very big on "I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR U" but hero is too fucking dense to actually believe rhe villain.

this snippet completely spiraled out of my control (as most things do).

It all started with that damned news article. In hindsight, perhaps the hero shouldn't have been as forthcoming as they were. But, they wanted the world to know that the life of a hero wasn't always glamorous. They just... didn't expect for the journalist to capitalize on the single remark they made, the single huff of laughter they let out when asked about the wages. Days later, when the article released, the hero was stunned.

Heroism: A Thankless Job

The hero remembers the dread coiling in their chest as they opened the newspaper to find the article, apprehension increasing as they digested the information. That picture of their apartment complex... they don't remember consenting to release that information. Granted, the journalist kept them as a nameless, anonymous hero. But, it wouldn't take a huge leap in logic to connect the dots—to find the building's tenants and cross-reference those names with the hero agencies nearby. The hero just hoped an average reader wouldn't take the incentive to do something like that. They spent the rest of that day struggling to keep their paranoia at bay. It took them a while to fall asleep that night.

Fortunately, they slept well and their anxieties seemed to fade. The hero stumbled through their morning routine and opened their front door an hour later, ready to greet the day, only to nearly trip on a package. They had frowned and taken the package inside, unable to shake the recognition that they hadn't ordered anything to be delivered. Upon opening the package, they found a single unmarked envelope. Their jaw had dropped to the floor once they found the bills inside—an amount more than their typical paychecks.

Little did the hero know, this would be far from the last time they received an unmarked package with a far too generous, entirely unexplained gift inside. At first, the gifts were just small things: a collection of medical grade bandages and antiseptic, a new sweater after they spilled coffee on theirs at work, a care package with things like cough medicine and tissues that appeared the day they got sick. The hero was still profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of some mysterious benefactor providing them with these things, but at least the packages were small. The magnitude of the first gift hadn't been matched since, and the hero couldn't help but feel grateful.

Amidst their hero work and their daily life, the hero found their mind quickly returning to the question of their gift-giver's identity. It had to be someone they interacted with fairly often, considering the far too accurate timing of several of the gifts. One time could be dismissed as a mere coincidence; a box of cough medicine a mere hour after they found themself bedridden, however... That is an entirely different story.

The gifts continue, but, thankfully, they are small in scale. The hero still feels horribly guilty about being entirely unable to pay this person back, but there's almost nothing they can do. Their benefactor clearly doesn't want to make themself known, and that's fine. Really, it is.

Until there is another envelope. This time, their mystery patron doesn't bother concealing their gift within a package. Instead, the hero opens their mailbox to find an unmarked burgundy envelope. Dread coiling in their chest, they look around—foolishly hoping that their gift giver would somehow have a change of heart and decide to show themself—before heading back inside. The hero sits on their sofa and takes a deep breath, before opening the envelope with care.

What they see is enough to make their hands tremble and their grip falter, allowing the envelope to slip down to the floor. They hold their present in disbelief.

It's a check—for more money than they could possibly fathom having. This sum is so large that the hero wouldn't have to work another day in their life. They would be able to live comfortably without earning so much as a single penny on their own.

The thought sickens them. "I can't accept this," the hero breathes aloud. They look down at their apartment's hardwood flooring as if it will give them the answers they're looking for.

"I don't recall asking you to." The hero jumps, looking up to find the villain standing before them. How they got there, the hero doesn't have the faintest idea. They blink at them for a moment, wondering how they didn't connect the mysterious gifts to the villain sooner. Their enemy has always had access to extremely high-tech weaponry and state of the art medicine (judging from their utter lack of scars despite their numerous fights); not to mention, they've had an inexplicable disregard for finances for as long as the hero can remember. It's all beginning to make sense now.

The villain takes a step closer and the hero remembers their remark. "I'm serious," they say with a frown. "Why are you doing this? Do you want me to owe you? ...Is that what this is? Want to, I don't know, kick me while I'm down? You're such a good person, helping the needy." The latter statement is spoken with venom.

"No, of course not," The villain argues.

"Then why?" The hero repeats, the volume of their voice rising as they get more frustrated. They take a deep breath and clench their fist at their side. They're still holding the check in their other hand, and despite the fact that it's nearly weightless, they can feel a pressure pushing their hand down. "And, more importantly, how in the hell did you get this much money?" The hero hears themself ask.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," the villain says lightly. There's a darkness to their eyes that suggests the hero should cease this line of questioning. They take another deep breath.

"You're assuming I'll just... accept this," the hero realizes aloud. That familiar itching feeling is rising to meet their skin, and they're becoming less convinced that they should stop it.

"Perhaps."

The hero blinks at them once, twice. The villain refuses to break eye contact; their gaze almost urging them to do it—to use their powers to turn the check to ash. The hero gives into the flames prickling along their skin and summons their fire in the palm of their hand. It will only take a moment, maybe two, for the bottom of the paper to char. From there, it will only be a matter of time. The hero watches in anticipation.

...But nothing happens.

"Did you really think I'd be foolish enough to give you a check you could just burst into flame?"

The hero stares ahead blankly, their ears ringing. The villain's expression blurs into a twisted smile. A figment of their imagination or reality? The hero hears their breaths, ragged and half-panicked in their ears.

"I don't understand," the hero repeats hollowly. They don't understand anything that's happening—anything that happened that led them to this very moment, standing before the villain and holding a check that their enemy gave them.

"You don't have to understand," the villain says, crossing their arms over their chest. "I'm not asking you to understand. Hell, I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm ordering you to cash this check."

The hero's tongue is ironed to the roof of their mouth. Even if they desired to speak, they don't think they'd be able to.

The villain notices their speechlessness and sighs. "I didn't want things to come to this, but..." They break off. "As I predicted, you're stubborn as hell, and self-sacrificing to a fault." The hero doesn't have the energy to be offended or outraged.

"So," the villain drawls, their arm falling to their side quickly. The hero blinks and they're suddenly being held at gunpoint. "Go to your bank. Now." The hero suspects the weapon is more than a gun—and they don't care to find out just what it can do. It appears they really have no choice. The villain is forcing their hand.

An hour later, the hero is walking out of the bank with sunken shoulders. "There," the villain says, clapping a hand on their shoulder and leading them out of the building. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Upon closer examination, the villain's weapon is nowhere in sight—as if it simply vanished in thin air. The unlikely pair walks down the street and heads back to the hero's car. The hero ignores the domesticity of it all, securing their seatbelt over themself. The villain doesn't seem keen to wear their seatbelt, so the hero reaches across and buckles their rival's seatbelt for them before they can object.

"I'll transfer the money back to you tomorrow," the hero announces as they're driving down the street, back towards their apartment. Their eyes are locked on the road, yet they somehow know that the villain's gaze is fixated on them with frightening focus.

"We both know you won't," the villain hums with certainty. The hero hates that they're right, hates that their rival can read them so damn easily. Their hands tighten around the steering wheel and the rest of the ride is suffocated with a horrible silence.

When the hero arrives back home, they can't shake the realization that the villain seems deeply pleased. They say as much to their enemy, who hums.

"Of course I'm pleased," the villain says, "If I knew this was all it would take to get you to accept a much-needed gift, I would've done it eons ago."

The hero takes a deep breath, struggling not to cry. It's been a long day, and they're reaching their limit. "I think you've humiliated me enough today," they announce. "Can you leave?" Please, the hero thinks to themself.

"I suppose," the villain sighs dramatically. They take one step to the door, then another. Just before their hand can clasp the doorknob, the hero feels one last objection fall from their lips.

"That money could go to far more deserving people and causes," the hero chokes out. They're choking on their own pride, choking on the simultaneous acknowledgment that they need money and the horrible knowledge that almost no one in their situation has an out like the one they were just presented with.

The villain turns around to face them, clearly moments away from rolling their eyes. "Do I look like a philanthropist to you?" The hero shakes their head, their throat burning. Their enemy nods in confirmation and turns back around. They twist the doorknob and tug the door open.

"You deserve nice things, you know." The villain's parting remark is murmured so quietly that the hero convinces themself they imagine it. The hero watches their front door close and waits a few moments before locking it. They turn around, their back to the door, and slide down to the ground with their head in their hands.

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[honeyboylovee]

i can do it (for you)

Pairing: Non-idol!Vernon x reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: Fluff, Angst(just a little cos I can’t, for the life of me write angst), implied strangers to lovers

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, reader refuses to accept any help, mentions of negative experiences from the past

A/N: Before saying anything else, I have to say that I am not satisfied with the ending. But I really do not know how to end this. Also this is a little different from my previous works. This may or may not be written from personal experiences. Also, I did a little word play in the title if you guys notice that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading! Feedbacks are appreciated.

You believe yourself to be self-sufficient. It hadn’t always been this way. Several times in the past, there had been instances when you’d had to ask for people’s help- be it your peers, friends or your then-partners. And more times than not, these people, after helping you, made you feel like you owe them something. Their help started to feel like an obligation. You hated the feeling. You still do.

As you grew both mentally and emotionally, you stopped asking people for help. It wasn’t immediate. It took you time to get rid of. You wouldn’t care how difficult a task would be, you never asked for assistance or help. It was almost as if you had a point to prove. You didn’t know who you were proving it to, but you were.

This wasn’t a habit you were particularly proud of. You hated that you couldn’t trust someone enough to ask for help or accept the offered help. You hated that you were scared of people imposing an obligation on you. You hated it. And yet you did nothing about it.

That was until you met Vernon. You met him at a party. Your friend introduced him to you as her coworker. As you chatted, you discovered you had similar taste in music. And so the conversation flowed. You later discovered that you didn’t have a ride back home since your roommate left early. And it was too late for you to find a taxi. Vernon was quick to offer a ride back home. That’s when your habit of declining anybody and everybody’s help kicked in. You politely refused making a lame excuse. An excuse that you needed to sober up and so you’d walk back home. He didn’t want to push you on that. After all you’d just met. You ended up exchanging numbers with Vernon that day.

It was early on in your relationship when Vernon started noticing this habit of yours. He was observant when it came to your mannerisms. You loved and hated that at the same time. There had been an instance where he offered to bring you some lunch at your workplace. You had been late that day and hadn’t gotten the time to make any food. You had once again denied his offer.

‘I love the ramen from the cafe downstairs. I’ll just have that today.’, you’d told him.

You ended up eating two protein bars for lunch since you had a meeting at lunch and didn’t find the time or energy to go and have actual food.

Another time, it was a task as minuscule as tying your shoelaces. He noticed they were untied before you did. And so like any boyfriend(not all of them but that’s not the point) would, Vernon proceeded to bend down to tie them. That’s when his hands were stopped mid-air by your hands.

‘Wait wait wait…I’ll tie them’, you were quick to say as you beant down to tie your laces.

To say that he was dejected was an understatement. Man, he just wanted to tie his girlfriend’s shoelaces! Was that too much to ask for? As an ‘acts-of-service’ man that he was, he often became sad when you did that. He had to have a conversation with you soon.

As you reached home, he had been looking for an opportunity to start the conversation. He could see the opportunity from a hindsight when you complained about how sore your shoulders felt. He knew what he had to do then. He casually offered to massage them to make you feel better. And as he had expected, you refused. Frustration bubbled in him. But he managed to remain calm.

‘You never let me help you, lovie.’

He watched as your eyes widened for a second. Then, you were normal again.

‘That’s not true. They’re not that sore anyway. Maybe I just need some sleep and I’ll be fine.’

‘I’m not just talking about your shoulders. It’s just in general that you never accept any help from me or from anyone.’

Now you were the one getting frustrated. He could see it in the way you sighed. But he wasn’t going to leave the topic right now.

‘When have I ever refused any help from you?’, you said with a raised pitch to your voice. That was another indication that you’d lose your temper soon.

‘When have you not?’, he continued. He knew it was a tricky shot but he hit it anyway.

What he didn’t expect was the tears in your eyes following your prolonged silence. How could he forget? The raised pitch of your voice also meant you could cry soon. He was quickly on your side comforting you as you sobbed a little.

‘I don’t do it because I don’t want your help or because I think you can’t do a task.’, you spoke through your tears. ‘I just don’t want to be a burden on you. I have always done that to everyone around me. And…people, sometimes even my own friends made me feel like I owe them something even if they were the ones who offered to help me. It’s not the help that makes me anxious but the feeling after.’

You looked at him through your damp eyelashes. He was speechless, to say the least. When he decided to confront you about this, he hadn’t expected the reason to be that. Hell, he had even expected you to change the topic or make a poor excuse. His first instinct then was to engulf you in his arms till your sobs turned to sniffles.

‘You’re not a burden on me, lovie. You know I like helping you with chores, right? It makes me happy when I’m able to help you, be it making you food, tying your shoelaces or ordering your skincare for you. I feel zero burden doing that. Trust me, lovie.’, you listened to him as he poured his heart out, not looking at him.

You nodded then, not saying anything else.

‘What am I supposed to understand from that, hm?’

‘I’ll let you do some of the work from now.’, you said so softly that he would’ve missed it if he didn’t have all his attention on you.

‘You don’t need to ask for help. It’s good that you can do your work yourself. But if you ever need some, let me know, okay?’

[tsimvkas]

fa cup winner — mason mount.

A/N: hii 👋🏻 so some of you liked when i tried this last time and i think this one deserved something similar! not my best work tho but i wanted to post tonight. hope you like this one

It had been a while since Mason won a trophy.

833 days, to be more specific. He checked the info when he couldn’t sleep the night before the big day, and it only made him feel more nervous.

His club was finally going to a final again.

A different one, yeah, and this still made him feel a bit weird, but he shook the thought out of his mind whilst wearing his suit. He needed to focus.

Even though he knew he would be lucky if he even get to play a few minutes, he wanted his mind to be there. Feeling the moment, with his team.

He wanted to share positivity and good feelings, and thinking about what he left behind wouldn’t help. He must think about what he could conquer from now on.

Wembley holds lots of memories for Mason and walking into the stadium wasn’t easy for him, but he managed to do it confidently.

‘Fake it till you make it’ is something Mason says to himself for years now. No matter how broke you are, you just need to hide long enough for you to be whole again.

He stuck to this mindset the entire season. No matter what, smile. No matter what, focus on your recovery. No matter what, it won’t last forever.

With this still in mind, he changed into his trainers and followed his teammates to the warm up. The atmosphere in the stadium could be felt already, and he smiled at the number of people on the red side, travelling all the way down from Manchester to support them — even though they disappointed them several times this season.

Mason knows the fans like him, and that they’ll like him even more when he shows up more next season. He waves a few times and when they all headed back inside, his anxiety kicked in.

Even if United wins, will the world consider him a champion? With a terrible season and probably only playing the end of the game. Will his medal mean anything when he barely played for months?

When Luke tapped his shoulder, Mason tried to shoot him a smile. Between half hugs and screams of “we can do this” and “let’s do this together”, Mason left the locker room to go sit on the bench, smiling excitedly at the sight of his teammates lining up.

He knows that on the other side there’s Manchester City. A club hard to beat. The winners of the league, their biggest regional rival.

But he also knows that nothing is impossible when you want something the way United wants this title.

Mason makes sure to jump and scream as hard as he can with his team’s goals, and happily gets ready when they call him in the end.

He only plays three minutes, but he doesn’t even care. When the referee blows the whistle, he has the answer: it doesn't matter if the world will consider him a champion. He feels like one.

Hugging his friends and teammates, feeling the fans’ screams pulsing on his veins, looking for his family in the stands and being incapable of holding his giggles, he feels like a kid who just found out the love for the sport.

They all wanted to win, desperately. But more than just wanting, Mason needed to.

He needed to hear the whistle blowing and half of the stadium screaming. He needed to see the defeated expression of his rivals whilst he ran to his friends’ arms.

The heavy trophy, the fans chanting and everyone screaming when it was his turn to lift it. He needed that.

Mason spent an entire season thinking about whether he had made the right decision or not. To see his friends successfully scoring, on top of the league and being loved by their clubs had hurt him.

He was so happy for them, but also so jealous. He wanted that. He deserved that.

But now, whilst posting his little dump on Instagram, Mason felt his heart heavy with happiness. Everything happens when it has to.

He spent a season wanting what others had, only for in the end to be the champion amongst them.

[wheelie-sick]

this is going to be a long post, it's kinda just me writing all my raw unfiltered thoughts on ABA therapy as someone who actually went through it

-> TW for ABA therapy, child abuse, suicide <-

I was functionally diagnosed with autism at the age of 3 but it wasn't until I was 13 that I was actually formally evaluated for it and given an official diagnosis. I was behind in social skills and developmental skills

[ID: "was also described as a sensory seeker. She does not currently have any friends and has struggled to make and maintain peer relationships throughout her childhood. Difficulties with social skills were initially noted when she was in preschool (years before the onset of clinically significant symptoms of anxiety and"]

[ID: "Social functions: [blank]'s mother also completed a questionnaire rating her social responsiveness. Her responses on the SRS-2 indicated that [blank] is demonstrating severe deficits in the areas of Social Communication (reciprocal social interaction and nonverbal and verbal communication), Social Motivation (motivation to engage in social-interpersonal behavior) and Social Awareness (perceiving social cues) and moderate deficits in the areas of Social Cognition (understanding social cues). Severe Repetitive and Restrictive Behaviors (stereotypical behaviors or highly restricted interests) were also reported. The total T-score on the SRS-2 indicates severe deficiencies in reciprocal behavior that are likely to result in interference in everyday social interaction"]

[ID: "%ile) are mildly impaired, while her social skills are moderately impaired (2nd %ile). By domain, demonstrates mildly to moderately impaired abilities in six adaptive skills areas, including self care (9th %ile), communication (5th %ile), home living (5th %ile), self-direction (2nd %ile), social (2nd %ile), and leisure (1st %ile)"]

and ultimately all this ended up with the number one recommendation after my autism evaluation being for ABA therapy.

[ID: "Recommendations: Based on the above results, the following recommendations are made for [blank] and her family.

1. ABA therapy: [blank] May benefit from an intensive treatment program to foster cognitive and communication skills, improve independence and adaptive functioning, and help manage interfering behaviors (i.e home-based, 1:1 instruction, task analysis, etc.) Most private and community programs are based on principals of operant conditioning and taught in home with 1:1 instruction"]

*I'm getting misgendered here. my pronouns are he/him

"operant conditioning"-- like a dog 🐕🐕. woof woof.

my mom didn't know any better so she put me in ABA therapy with the Center for Autism and Related Disorders. she regrets this. I regret this more.

my autism evaluation was cruel, it dissected all my flaws as if I was a bug under a microscope in a highschool laboratory. my evaluation was passed around to ABA therapists, a line of high schoolers peering through the microscope examining the most vulnerable parts of me.

and I choose the highschool analogy quite deliberately. most of the ABA therapists at my center were recent highschool graduates with no degree and little training. they knew nothing about autism and had no qualifications. you need more certificates to become a professional dog trainer than to become a professional human trainer.

"operant conditioning"

and I wish I could say it was just a poor choice of words but ABA therapy was dog training for children. my dad used to call me an "it" and somehow I felt less dehumanized by that than the entire experience I had in ABA therapy.

I was the oldest person at my center (I did not receive in home therapy) with the next oldest being approximately 3 years younger than me. at the time I felt babied. I was surrounded by 5 year olds and I was treated as if I was not just a 5 year old but an autistic 5 year old and anyone who has been a visibly autistic 5 year old knows what that feels like. I had escaped being an autistic child and now I was being treated like one again. The head of the program tried to console me by telling me adults received their services too.

[ID: "Following the principles of applied behavior analysis, CARD has developed a treatment approach for children and adolescents with"]

this was the first lie they told me. CARD does not work with adults.

I was not allowed the privileges of being a 13 year old. because I was an autistic 13 year old and therefore I was the equivalent of a 5 year old. I was in psychotherapy at the same time and I had grown very accustomed to some level of freedom in therapy. I was allowed to use the bathroom independently. in ABA therapy I was not allowed to use the bathroom independently. I tried once, me and my therapist were on an "outing" to the grocery store and I told my therapist I was going to the bathroom and walked off and I got a very stern talking to about how I needed to "stop eloping" and if I didn't stop it would "become a behavior"

eloping became a common theme used to control me and squeeze money out of my parents.

out of everything I hated in my life, including severe physical abuse at home (which they did not report), I hated ABA therapy the most. I would repeatedly make serious threats of suicide to try to get out of ABA. no one cared. everyone thought I was being dramatic but there were times I wrote out suicide notes and ABA was among the reasons I listed. ABA made me feel hopeless, depressed, revolting, disgusting, inferior, and less than human. between ABA, my home life, and my social life I had never felt so hated and it was boiling through my skin. I acted out, I was bullying people, I was behaving recklessly, I was starting fights, and all this only made the oppressive force of ABA crack down on me harder. I was a cat hissing in the corner begging to be left alone and ABA brought a net to try to tame me further. every time I scratched back it was listed as a reason I needed to be there.

I was "disruptive" and "rebellious" and "uncooperative" and "resistant to treatment" and no one could figure out why I was "regressing" despite me shouting the answer. I was screaming and no one was willing to hear me

I hated myself and my autism. my autism diagnosis made me want to die. I didn't feel freed by it or understood I felt ashamed and disgusted. I felt incompetent and like I had failed. I was ashamed to be at ABA, it was my biggest secret. I'd lie to my friends about why I couldn't hang out and I'd lie to people in public about who the woman I was with was and I'd lie about all of it to try to cover up my most shameful secret.

ABA therapy did nothing but foster this. In ABA therapy I was mocked for being autistic and what was happening only clicked when a young kid, maybe only 4 or 5, was flapping his hands and a therapist took out her phone and recorded him. we were circus animals. it was all an entertaining show to them while they poked and prodded at us with metaphorical hot irons to make us dance. the first time a therapist laughed at me for rocking back and forth I wanted to throw up. I almost did. it was systematic bullying of children I was forced to watch and experience.

my point is: the last place on earth I wanted to be was the ABA center.

so of course I tried to leave. my mom would bring me McDonald's and I'd beg, sobbing real tears, to leave early because only she could sign me out. every time I'd go to meet her I'd be marked as "eloping" and my hotel stay in hell would get extended.

my natural response to a stressful environment (leaving) was pathologized. I was eloping this way and that way and never once did I actually, truly elope. that word was a weapon used against me. they used my "elopement" to justify extending my stay to my parents. they ate it right up.

they argued I needed to stay there because I was making friends. this was true, I'm great at getting along with children it's part of why I want to go into pediatrics, but I had also made real friends with people my age at my highschool. ABA was getting in the way. I wanted to spend time with my friends outside of school but ABA took up all my time from the minute I left school to 6pm and all day on weekends. I was doing a full time job's worth of hours. I complained about how I was missing out on spending time with my real friends (as in, over the age of 7) and I was met with almost no wiggle room in my schedule. I was allowed to pre-plan time to spend with friends but every time my friend group wanted to do something spontaneously? I had to say no, and I had to lie about why. my friends would share stories about driving around town with 2 people in the group stuffed in the trunk, of hanging out in the woods together, of taking part in ordinary highschool activities as ordinary high schoolers and it made me cry because I was not an ordinary highschooler and I was not allowed to participate in ordinary highschool activities. I was one of those weird, unpleasant, socially awkward autistic people instead. eventually, they just stopped inviting me. I was forced into the out group by ABA.

I'll never get that back. I'll never get a chance to be a normal highschooler ever again.

when I did have time available to hang out with people I never had the energy to. at the time I was living with an undiagnosed physical disability and I was begging to see a doctor but no one would believe that it wasn't just anxiety. the people who believed me least of all were the people at the center.

I was constantly told I was trying to get out of therapy by "feigning" very real pain and fatigue. I tried to explain spoon theory, and that I had limited spoons, and in response they made a task for me to name things to "regenerate spoons" that's not how it works. I wasn't the only physically disabled person there. there was a wheelchair user who was constantly forced to stand for periods of time despite being in agony doing it. he wasn't allowed rewards until he did it.

rewards were used to train us like dog treats are used with dogs. sometimes the treats were fun! I'd get to cook, play Mario kart, and go on outings. other times the treats were "using the correct name and pronouns for me." I'd constantly be threatened with deadnaming and misgendering if I was being "noncompliant."

misgendering because of my autism was a theme in my life. my neuropsych evaluation report misgendered me. my parents misgendered me. the staff at ABA misgendered me. at one point the head of the program suggested that my "gender confusion" was because of my autism. my abusive father latched onto this and still claims that the reason I'm "confused" about my gender is because the evil transgenders tricked me into thinking I'm one of them because I'm autistic and therefore easily impressionable.

the two therapists I had were nice because I refused to work with the others. they weren't on a power trip and both eventually left because they realized the harm the organization was doing. other therapists were not so kind. other therapists were on a power trip, because in their mind lording over autistic 5 year olds (and autistic 14 year olds) makes them powerful and strong. occasionally I'd get stuck with one of the other therapists when my usual therapists were out. they would talk to me in a baby voice. they would make fun of me for rocking back and forth, for not making eye contact, for talking about Skyrim "too much" and generally just for being autistic.

I never really knew what I was supposed to be doing, just that I was doing it wrong. the therapists there rarely actually told me what my tasks were they'd just mark yes or no on them, judging me for something I wasn't aware of. I was never actually supposed to graduate, I was never supposed to get out, if they wanted me to succeed they would have taught and explained what was happening but I was intentionally left in the dark.

I continued threatening suicide to get out. no one took me seriously. I was seriously considering it. there's no happy conclusion where someone finally realized it was all wrong, or I figured out how to be allistic and graduated, or I felt more comfortable there. I only got out when covid struck and shut the center down. it's gone now, replaced by a family advice center. I hope their advice for autistic children is to never put them in ABA.

there is no grander message here just suffering. I'm sorry if you were expecting some sort of great point at the end of this. there's not one. it happened, I wish it didn't, and I hope no one else experiences what I did ever again.

okay to reblog

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter one : honeymoon (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 6.7k

summary : you've been married off to a far away prince, turns out, he isn't your prince charming. however he did gift you a bodyguard as a wedding present.

warnings, etc. : arranged marriage, language

Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” That’s what they had told you when they adorned you with the gaudy sapphire jewelry. “He’s going to love this.” That’s what they had told you as they pinned your hair into uncomfortable curls, braiding in unfamiliar flowers. They were horrendous, far too large and the smell of them nauseated you, or maybe that was just the nerves, who knows. If you were fortunate enough maybe you would discover a surprise allergy to the flowers and your throat would close and your face would turn blue. You wondered if the prince would like that.

Blue had once been a comforting color but not this blue. This blue was intense, harsh, hard to stare at for too long. Nothing like the blue that made you think of home. On the rare days where the snow stopped falling briefly and the sky was clear, Hoth was beautiful. The blue back home was quiet. The color of the sky seemed to swallow the snow and everything became one soft mix of periwinkle. This is not that. This is loud and garish.  

  The two girls who had been dressing you took a step back and smiled at you waiting for approval as you took in the sight of yourself in the floor length mirror. The dress itself was beautiful, if accompanied by tasteful accessories you might have actually found yourself almost nice to look at. A simple off the shoulder satin gown. On anyone else you were sure it would be absolutely stunning but it was so hot here, nobody had told you it would be this hot. The dress felt as though it was sticking to your skin, you hated the way it made you feel like you were trapped in some sort of fabric prison. But even with the thin sheen of sweat covering every inch of you it was the rest of the ensemble that made you look like you were supposed to be attending some sort of costume party, and not your own wedding. To say that the amount of accessories was excessive would be an understatement. Bracelets, bangles, arm bands, several tacky necklaces, even an anklet you couldn’t even see under the gown. All of the sapphires were so bright they seemed to glow, if you swayed your arms fast enough it almost mimicked the sight of hyperspace. The two ladies-in-waiting who had been assigned to you started to give each other nervous looks as you purse your lips silently taking in the ridiculous blue eyeshadow that adorned your otherwise unmade up face. The young Togruta girl speaks up first.

“Is everything to your liking ma’am?” 

No. You look like you should be working in a pleasure house, not marrying a prince.

But the anxiety in her voice is enough to soften your gaze as you speak what might be the first words to leave your mouth since you landed on Naboo. It seemed like everyone was comfortable speaking for you and you knew none of them cared what you had to say so why bother.

“You two have done a wonderful job… thank you.” You turned around to face them, giving them the warmest smile you could muster considering the circumstances. The relief on their faces as you spoke gave you more comfort than you’d had in days. “I am truly grateful to have such wonderful staff, thank you for making me feel so at home. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your names earlier?” 

“I am Elaine and this is Lysa.” The Togruta girl is the one who speaks up again, pointing to herself and then to the human girl. They both smiled as they turned you back towards the mirror and began to do last minute touch ups. You all stood in silence once more until Lysa spoke.

“You look so lovely, he is going to adore you.” She spoke softly, almost as if it was meant more for her own comfort than it was for yours as she straightened a flower in your hair.

He. That was how they referred to him. Nobody spoke of him other than to tell you how lucky you were, and how grateful you should be for this opportunity. No one described him to you in the slightest. No one even said his name, you were pretty sure it started with a “K.” Your betrothed was nothing more than a stranger. And as you stared at yourself in the mirror once more that was what you saw. A stranger. You didn’t recognize the woman in your reflection. She was not the young princess from Hoth, she was simply an item to entertain this “he.” Dolled up to be more appealing for a man she had never even met, adorned in his favorite color to make her more attractive to a man she had already decided she did not care for. 

“What is he like?” You cocked your head slightly as you deliberately observed the girls facial expressions for a reaction, you immediately regretted that decision because of the glance they gave each other. It was enough to make you not want to know the answer so you quickly stammer out another question. “What does he look like?” The Togruta girl clears her throat, you make a mental note that out of the two girls she seems to be the voice. 

“He is very handsome, my lady.” She straightens out your dress one last time and they both take a step back and observe you. “He dresses very well. Just like most of the royal family he has very defined features, striking blue eyes.”

“Oh yes my lady, he is very well known for his beautiful blue eyes.” The human girl smiles at you as she speaks nervously standing behind her partner now. A small part of you started to pray that his favorite color was not blue simply because that was the color of his eyes. They both seem to be struggling to come up with any other defining features of your intended which doesn’t exactly put you at ease. 

“He is also blonde.” Elaine chimes in with a reassuring smile as you watch your reflection frown.

You had always had a preference for brunettes. 

✩

He could be worse. 

That was what you had to keep reminding yourself as you sat now in the large dining hall, it seemed like everyone was laughing and chatting it up except for you. The seat to your left reserved for your husband was empty, you could see him in the crowd toasting with a group of men you assumed were cousins or brothers purely based on the physical similarities. Honestly you wouldn’t be able to tell your husband apart from the rest of them if he wasn’t wearing that horrendous electric blue suit. Your table at the back of the room, facing the rest of the hall, was empty. Save for you and Leodall. 

After your husband had so graciously run off after the ceremony to chat it up with his friends or whatever it was that was apparently much more important than you, you were walked to the reception by an orange Twi’lek who introduced himself as your personal servant, Leodall, Leo for short. No one seemed to even glance at you as they began to take to the dance floor. Of course your loving husband didn’t ask you to dance, why would he when he seemed to be taking the hand of a rather pretty red headed girl and wrapping his arms around her waist, laughing as they began to sway to the music. Prince Kodo Harand. That was his name, at least that is what the priest had said during the ceremony. He had given you a rather cocky “hello” once you had walked down the aisle, and he had kissed you with far more tongue than you would have liked, and now you sat alone. Princess Harand. Lucky you. And of course your family wasn’t here to keep you company, you don’t even think they were invited, why would they be? This wedding had nothing to do with you, it had everything to do with finding someone of royal descent to marry the prince of Naboo in exchange for trade deals. You wondered if there had ever been someone who felt as lonely as you did right now, at their own wedding. 

“Leo?” You turned to where he was standing directly behind you. He was also staring at the prince with a rather annoyed look on his face.

“Yes my lady?” He turned his gaze to you. He was far too serious for someone who only seemed to be a few years older than you were.

“I am getting rather tired, I should like to retire to my chambers.” 

You also should like to not watch my husband dance with some of the most gorgeous girls you’ve ever seen. Seems like he has found a rather attractive brunette now to keep him company on the dance floor. Leo looks to the prince and then back to you.

“It is rather early my lady… perhaps you could stay just a bit longer? It is after all your wedding.”

“Is it?” You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows at him, gesturing to the empty chairs surrounding you. Before he could object you stood and began marching towards the exit. 

“My lady! Perhaps you might enjoy some refreshments! And perhaps you might reconsider your early departure!” Even in the gown you were more agile than him as you weaved through the crowds, waving off muttered “congratulations.” Once through the large doors of the great hall you felt as though you could finally breathe. The halls out here were dark, a few guards seemed to be passing around a flask but they immediately straightened up as they saw you, you pretended not to see them, hoping they might resume they’re drinking. After all, someone should have fun at your wedding. You lifted your skirt slightly and tried to remember where your room was as Leo finally caught up to you.

“Was it right or left…?” You stare down the nearly identical hallways as you hear two sets of footsteps approaching you.

“Wife! Where are you off to? I have a wedding present for you!” How fortunate that you married someone with such a distinct, nasally voice so you can plaster on a faux smile before you face him. You turned to see a disgruntled Leo following behind Kodo. Great. Your clearly drunk husband has a present for you on your wedding night. You have to physically resist rolling your eyes as he takes your hand and begins dragging you towards your chambers, Leo stumbling to keep up with you.

“Are you sure this cannot wait until tomorrow dear husband?” It’s unlikely he’ll want to put this off but there’s no shame in trying. 

“No no no… trust me you are going to love this…” 

Well he certainly is confident in his abilities.

He stumbles through the many confusing halls of the castle until arriving at your door, stopping just outside. He opens the door just a crack and peers inside before shutting it again, putting his hands on your shoulders, a big dopey grin on his face as he drunkenly slurs. 

“I must be getting back to the party my dear wife but your present is inside, I left you a little note on your vanity.” He leans forward and gives you a sloppy kiss, you do your best not to recoil.

“I’m sorry? I don’t quite understand?” You managed to pull him off you long enough to speak. But he’s already walking away.

“Do not fret, wife, you will love it. I will see you at dinner in a few days!” He yells over his shoulder before rushing back down to the party. You turn to stare at Leo who is just as shocked as you are as you can’t help but double over in laughter.

“Is he serious?” You’re laughing so hard you’re practically crying, Leo doesn’t seem to find the situation as funny as you do. You wipe a tear from your lash line as you straighten up. “If our marriage is anything like today has been I suppose it shall not be all that bad.” You manage to say through your laughter. He doesn’t speak, he simply opens the doors to your chambers for you, placing his hand on your back to usher you inside.

“I suppose I should not have expected any less of our prince.” Leo mutters as he closes the door behind the two of you he begins lighting the lamps around the dark room. “Shall I summon your ladies-in-waiting to help you undress my lady?” You open your mouth to answer but you’re stopped dead in your tracks as you stare at the suit of armor in the center of the room. The mannequin it appears to be resting on is rather tall. You can’t help but stare at the way the lamp light flickers against the Beskar. A Mandalorian statue? What an odd gift. You instinctively walk towards it as you mumble.

“That won’t be necessary… it is late, do not wake them, I can do it myself.” Leo looks as if he is about to protest but the note on the vanity catches his eye, he holds it between two fingers and begins to read it to himself as you stand directly in front of the armor now, your fingers raised to trace one of the gauntlets. “It certainly is a beautiful set of armor… I just don’t understand what exactly he wants me to do with it.” You run your hands across the chestplate, admiring the fine craftsmanship before you turn to face Leo, a concerned look on your face. 

This better not be a weird sex thing.

“He doesn’t expect me to wear it, does he? Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” You find yourself looking back to the armor nervously. “It’s far too large for me… I think I would look rather foolish, like a child wearing her mothers clothing...” You bring a hand up to the helmet, a small shiver running down your spine as you stare into the lifeless visor. 

“Princess… perhaps you should wait a moment.” Leo stares at the note for a moment more before his mouth opens slightly to speak again as he gives you a warning look. But it is too late, you lift the helmet a fraction of an inch and let out a startled shriek as the armor shifts to grab both of your arms in one large hand, pulling your hand back down.

“Don’t.”

 The voice that comes from the modulator is low, it is gentle with you but is by no means joking as he releases his grip on your arm you stumble backwards. 

“Maker! You scared me half to death.” You bring your hand up to your chest as Leo rushes to your side to stabilize you, you stare at the Mandalorian in surprise for a moment before your gaze turns angry and you poke a finger into his chest. “What is your problem! Why didn’t you say something!?” He only shrugs in response.

“I was instructed not to speak to you until you read the note.” 

Bastard. 

Leo leans forward to whisper to you.

“It should appear that the prince has hired the Mandalorian to be your personal bodyguard, my lady.” Leo’s voice shakes as he stares up at the intimidating silhouette of the armored man but you are not so easily swayed, clearing your throat as you speak.

“You are dismissed Leo.” Your eyes never leave the steel visor.

“My lady, are you sure it is wise-”

“If my husband deems him fit to protect me then he is fit to protect me. Unless of course you are questioning the prince’s judgment?” You turn to glare at the Twi’lek who is now nervously tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He does nothing but stare back at you for what feels like minutes until he finally sighs and makes a beeline for the door.

“As you wish, my lady. Ring for me if you require anything.” He closes the door and you turn back to the Mandalorian, who unsurprisingly hasn’t moved an inch, other than the way his helmet seems to shake ever so slightly but you ignore it as you walk over to your vanity, crumpling up the note and tossing it in the bin before starting to remove your jewelry, setting the ugly pieces onto the table.

“So what exactly is your job?” You don’t give him the courtesy of facing him, not after he scared you like that. 

“It was all written in the note.” 

It’s annoying how unbothered he sounds. You take off the last piece of jewelry, lifting your skirt and raising your leg to rest your foot on the ottoman to unclasp the anklet, you swear you see his helmet tilt in your direction in the mirror, but when you turn to face him he is in the same position, staring at the wall.

“I don’t care about the note. I want to hear it from you.” You fetch yourself a nightgown as you step behind the screen next to the vanity, carefully slipping out of the dress, out of sight of the Mandalorian.

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” He speaks so quietly you’re surprised the modulator even picks up his voice. Once dressed you step out from behind the screen and take a seat at the vanities mirror, wearing a gray silk nightgown. It’s fancier than what you’d usually wear but it doesn’t seem like they bothered to unpack any of your clothes you brought from home. You silently pray that they didn’t throw them away.

“So you just… follow me around?” You can feel the frown forming as you begin to carefully remove the now wilting flowers from your hair.

“Yes.” 

Not much of a talker this guy.

“Actually I’m good.” Your voice is snippy and you know you’re being a bit blunt but you’ve had a rough day. Finally, he deliberately moves, his head turning to watch as you undo the pin curls, your hair falling down in waves as you do.

“Excuse me?” Finally, some sign of emotion. Even if it is a twinge of anger.

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.” You rifle through the drawers until you find a rag to wipe the makeup from your eyes before turning around to stare at him. “You’re dismissed.” 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” His voice is tense, if you could see his face you were sure he’d be scowling. It’s good to know he is capable of emotion. Even better to know it isn’t difficult to rile him up.

“I don’t know if you know this but I just married the eldest son of the king and queen. That makes me the future queen, I’m pretty sure I have the authority to do whatever I please.” You hadn’t said those words aloud until now, you hadn’t even thought them. It lifted a weight off your shoulders, somehow it made things a bit easier, to know that despite this entire situation you found yourself in that at the very least you found yourself in a position of power.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I have direct orders from the eldest son of the king and queen to not let you out of my site from the moment you leave this room until you return to it.” He mocks your tone exactly as he crosses his arms.

Shit. He’s got you there. Did Kodo have to pick this man to guard you?

“Well… I’m in this room now. So I don’t require your presence. You may go.” You wish you could come up with something more witty but you're tired, you just want to be alone, to have a single moment to try and process what a whirlwind these last few days have been. You swear you hear an annoyed huff come through his modulator. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” His voice is sharp and he speaks with a finality that makes you want to argue further.

But he doesn’t give you time to respond. He simply leaves. Once he is gone you rush to the door to lock it and begin to dim all the lamps in the room. In the pale light you stare at the comically large bed and your stomach drops. For the first time since arriving on Naboo you feel cold. The idea of spending your wedding night in such a big bed alone makes you feel sick. Were the ceilings of this room always so high? You find yourself opening the closet. It’s the size of your room back home, it’s perfect. All of the fabric of the unfamiliar clothes that were now yours made it quiet, and soft, and warm. You grabbed a lamp from one of the many small tables around the room, (who needs this many tables?) and bring it to the closet, closing the door behind you as you rummage through the many drawers until you find one full of blankets and pillows, making yourself a nest before settling down in it. It was just as comfortable as your bed back home and you wrapped yourself around one of the larger pillows.

You wanted to cry. 

You should be crying but you're not. You’re just staring at the flickering lamp. There were a million things you could think about to make yourself cry but at this point it wasn’t even worth it. You’re tired, and there will be plenty of time for crying later, after all this was your life now. So instead you closed your eyes and pretended you weren’t here at all, that you were back home, and you weren’t completely alone, your many siblings were just down the hall in their respective rooms. But they aren’t, they’re back on Hoth. You’re on Naboo. They are all still together. 

And you are alone.

✩

He won’t leave you alone. 

It’s been ten days since the wedding but it feels like ten months. And the Mandalorian will not leave you alone. You have only seen your husband twice since the wedding, short dinners the night of every fifth cycle, last night he had told you that he saw no need to produce an heir until his father died.

How romantic.

But as much as you yearn for companionship you cannot help but be grateful that he has not ever joined you in bed. He doesn’t repulse you by any means but he just seems… indifferent. Like he couldn't care less for you, which is fine considering you aren’t exactly infatuated with him. But you’re lonely nonetheless. Conversations with your husband are one sided, once you realize he doesn’t care for anything that comes out of your mouth your dinners become much less awkward, he would ramble on about anything he found interesting for an hour and then leave. You heard a servant in passing whisper something about him going to a brothel after your second dinner. You wanted to be more upset about that but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. As long as it kept him out of your chambers. 

Elaine and Lysa are sweet but they are clearly intimidated by you, or at the very least they are afraid of upsetting you. So you’ve found that it’s best to just not talk to them at all unless it is to praise them or thank them. They show up like clockwork every morning to dress you and in the evening to undress you. You’re starting to feel like a doll. But they do not comment on the makeshift bed in the closet so you decide they are your favorites. Leo on the other hand has made it quite clear he doesn’t approve of your sleeping situation, you don’t bother trying to explain yourself because you know he won’t care, so now you let him watch you get under the covers of your ornate bed every night before you retreat to the closet. He can be a bit uptight and he’s terrible at conversation but the best thing about Leo is that he doesn’t hover. You honestly don’t know where he runs off to but he’s always there when you need him and he doesn’t overstay his welcome. 

Speaking of overstaying his welcome, you can see the Mandalorian over the top of the book you are currently pretending to read. 

He has become your least favorite person in your new life. He is ranked even lower than Kodo. You were currently dedicating your life to exploring every inch of the castle and mapping it out, you had taken to carrying around a small journal and noting locations you liked and places to avoid. This might be an enjoyable challenge if it weren’t for the walking hunk of metal that seemed to always be standing just out of arm's reach from you. It’s infuriating the way he always stands in your peripherals, you are always aware of his presence even when you are doing everything in your power to ignore him. 

Neither of you had spoken much since your first meeting. He had been rude, why would you speak to him? (Of course you had been rude as well but that's besides the point.) He waits outside your door every morning, and he is there when you return at night. Two days ago you had daydreamed about escaping out the window to avoid him, but considering your chambers were on the fourth floor you decided against it. 

A few days ago was when you had reached your boiling point. He had to sleep eventually, that was what you had told yourself as you opened the door to your chambers at 3 a.m. Under all that metal he was still just a person. (Or at least you were pretty sure he was.) So you donned a robe and a glowrod as you slipped into the hall. For the first time he wasn’t standing there. You just had to find your way to the library, you wanted a few books and you didn’t want to feel his steel gaze judging your every choice, you wanted something cheesy and romantic, something you could read in the closet when you couldn’t sleep. (Which was most nights.) Everytime he followed you into the library you found yourself too nervous to read so now was your chance. Surprisingly it only took you a few minutes to find it. Creeping inside you managed to find five books, clutching them in your arms you stepped back out in the hall and as you closed the library doors as quietly and quickly as you could you turned around and slammed into metal, stumbling backwards and landing on your ass, your books going everywhere. 

“Gods…” You groaned in pain as the back of your head knocked against the door, your eyes adjusted to the darkness as the glowrod illuminated a familiar pair of boots. “You are just- the nerve of you- I can’t even begin to-” Your mind stuttered through a million different insults but eventually you just gave up, huffing angrily as you picked up the light, he reached down to help you up and you shoved his gloved hands away. Leaving the books, you storm off, back towards what you hope is the direction of your room. He didn’t speak as he followed silently behind you, the only indication that he was still there was the reflection of the dim light against Beskar. You looked down two hallways trying fruitlessly to remember which way to go.

“Left.” 

Maker, he didn’t even sound tired. If looks could kill the glare you gave him as you turned left would have him six feet under. As you finally see the doors to your chamber you sigh in relief, just wanting to forget about this silly attempt to have a moment of normalcy. 

“I knew that.” Is all you can manage to mutter, still fuming to the point that you know you can’t form witty insults as you open your chamber doors.

“Sure you did.” 

As you turn to give him a piece of your mind you find yourself in the dark corridor alone. Oh you hate him. This is why he is your least favorite.

You don’t know much about Mandalorians, your mother had always said they were dangerous but that was all that was ever said about the topic. He doesn’t seem all that threatening. Sure he’s tall, and his shoulders were ludicrously broad, and he wore impenetrable armor but you’ve been sitting here staring at him for two hours now and honestly you were pretty sure at this point that you could beat him in a fight.  

Okay you might be starting to lose it. 

You haven’t had a real conversation with anyone since your wedding night, it’s not your fault if you’re starting to feel a little scatterbrained. Maybe you could push him out a window. That armor certainly wouldn’t save him from a fall. That might be too risky, with your luck you’ll end up going out the window with him. As you begin to ponder if Beskar is fireproof a familiar modulated voice breaks the silence causing you to drop your book in shock.

“Don’t.” 

In your fantasies of knocking a candle over onto his cape you hadn’t realized his helmet was facing you now.

“You really seem to love that word.” You cock an eyebrow at him. “You also seem to love scaring unsuspecting girls.” You mumble. 

“I heard that.” 

Stupid helmet with its stupid abilities. You really need to start keeping a list of what that thing is capable of. Maybe the helmet is what makes his stupid voice so deep.

“Of course you did.” You lean back in your chair as you look him up and down. “What exactly is it that you don’t want me doing?” 

“Don’t act like you can outsmart me.” 

Wiseass. 

“I wasn’t doing that, I don’t know if you can see through that visor of yours but I was reading.” You scoff at him as you cross your arms.You hear him hum softly through the modulator as he walks in your direction, standing between you and the book on the floor.

“What were you reading?” 

Dank Farrik.

You’re pretty sure you can see his shit-eating grin through the Beskar. 

“I’m not even going to humor the accusation you’re getting at.” For a split second you swear you catch the start of a laugh before his modulator cuts it off. Soundproof, you can add that to the list. He leans up against a bookshelf as he stares down at you now.

“Maybe it was another romance novel?” Maker, he's the worst. You fight back the pink that threatens to tint your face as you play dumb.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be.” You wondered if you could have him beheaded. Do they do public executions on Naboo?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about..” Is all you can manage to spit out as you reach to a nearby shelf and grab the first book your fingers touch, it looks to be some sort of architecture guide. Better than nothing. “Leave me be, I’m trying to read.” You open the book quickly and as your eyes glance across the pages, much to your dismay, you don’t recognize the language it’s in, he doesn’t need to know that though.

“You left some books out a few nights ago.”

You try to hide the way your breath hitches. There’s no way he went back for them. Unless he did. Why would he do that though there would be no reason. Why is your heart racing like you’re on trial? Why can’t you stop the pink that tinges the tips of your ears?

“I read a lot of books, you can’t possibly expect me to remember every one.” You turn a page and continue scanning your eyes across the unfamiliar text. 

“The Smitten Paladin… My Barbarian Love… Interstellar Bride… The Tongues of-”

“SHUT UP.” You slam the book shut and you can’t fight the rose tint that fills your face now. 

“As you wish, princess.” 

Oh you were definitely gonna kill him now. How hard would it be to get your hands on a vibroblade…? You didn’t speak now, you couldn’t even look at him. There’s no way he had seen those that night when you dropped them, the bastard went back for them. If you could find out where is quarters were maybe you could smother him in his sleep. You assumed he would resume his mockery of you but he never did, he just stared for several minutes as you returned to your book, doing your best to pretend that you knew what it was about until he finally broke the silence. 

“So how were you thinking of doing it?” 

“Doing what?”

“Outsmarting me. Or escaping me, or killing me? Whichever one it was you were plotting.”

You wonder if he was sweating under all those layers as you allowed yourself the first indulgence of really taking him in. He wears heavy black fabric under all of his armor. You wore light and flowy dresses and you always felt like it was too hot. You also can’t stop yourself from wondering if he purposefully makes his voice lower, he must scream into a pillow or something to make it that raspy. You didn’t like how warm it suddenly got in here. This stupid planet and its stupid heat. 

“Well I can’t just tell you my top secret plans, what will you give me in exchange?” You hated the way his helmet tilted to the side to mimic you. 

“How about a walk through the gardens?” 

“We have gardens?” Your eyebrows furrow in disbelief, just when you thought you were starting to map this place out… He nods and you ponder it for a moment before holding your hand out for a handshake. “Deal.” He takes your hand in his and gives you one firm shake but you hold him there and stare at his hand. “Your gloves are stupid, why are the fingers yellow?” He groans as he pulls away.

As he pulls his hand back you catch a glimpse of his bare wrist. You hadn’t really thought about what he might look like under the armor up until now. You’re sort of surprised by how tan his skin is. As you stare for what is definitely too long he clears his throat and you find yourself face to face with his visor. 

Shit, shit shit. 

“Sorry, I got distracted by how stupid your gloves are.”

“Keep talking like that and I won’t take you to the gardens at all.”

“That’s fine, now that I know they exist I’ll just find them on my own.” You stand up, making your way towards the library exit.

“You do realize I follow you everywhere right?” 

“You’re very observative aren’t you?” You scoff.

“You won’t find them on your own. You’ve lived here two weeks and you still can’t find your room without help from Leo.” 

“This is why you’re my least favorite.”

“What?” He doesn’t even pretend to sound hurt, his voice is filled with genuine curiosity and for a fleeting moment you want to give in because for the first time in weeks you aren’t thinking about how alone you are in a castle surrounded by people. Because for the first time since you arrived on this planet you were having a real conversation, and even though you hated him he was the first person who seemed like he actually cared about what you had to say, and not just because you were royalty and it was his job.

“Do you want to hear about my secret plans or not?” You decide to change the subject and watch as for the first time, he walks next to you, not behind you, as he nods.

“I’d love to know how you plan on getting away from a trained bounty hunter.” 

Bounty hunter. You’ll have to ask him about that later if he allows you to keep talking to him. A small part of you hopes that he will. 

“I thought I might start by pushing you off of something high up.” You grin at him. You can’t remember the last time you smiled and it wasn’t for the benefit of others.

“Wouldn’t work.”

“Oh come on, your armor isn’t gonna save you from a fall from one of the castle towers-” He pulls back his cape to reveal a jetpack and you shut up. “Okay new plan, I throw your pack off the roof first.” He nods.

“You would never be able to get it off me but sure. Next plan.” Maker, you hate how smug he is. You want to slap the stupid smile you have to assume he is currently donning off of his face. 

“Well I really only had two plans, plan number two was to light your cape on fire.” 

“Fire’s not gonna kill me, that's just gonna make me angry.”

“Well in that situation I wouldn't be trying to kill you, the fire would be a distraction as I make my escape.”

“There is not a single situation in this world in which you are capable of hiding from me.” 

Why does he have to say it so huskily? Why does it suddenly feel so hot in this stupid castle? You decide he deliberately makes his voice sound deeper to make himself more intimidating. 

You open your mouth to protest but you remember the bounty hunter thing and decide to save yourself from any more embarrassment. He stops walking and you stare at the familiar doors to your chambers.

“Hey! You promised me gardens!” He opens the door for you before taking a step back.

“It’s too late for gardens. We’ll go tomorrow.” You want to argue, you want to do anything to keep talking to him, even if you loathe him and his terrible attitude. But you don’t want to ruin this, and a part of you likes the prospect of more conversation tomorrow. 

“Promise?” You hate how eager you sound.

“Promise.”

You begin to step inside your chambers but he puts a hand on your shoulder. It makes you let out a small gasp as you turn to face him.

“Before you go I have to tell you something, princess.” The voice that comes from the modulator is hushed, he leans in as if he is going to tell you a secret and your eyes get wide, you can see your reflection in his helmet, your face is going pink again.

“W-what…?” It’s embarrassing the way you stutter but he’s so close now that you can’t help it, if he got any closer your breath would fog up the Beskar. You had no idea what he was about to say but for some reason your heart was beating out of your chest. God what is wrong with you today? The heat must be messing with your head.

“It was in Galactic Basic.” 

Well now he just wasn’t making any sense. Maybe the heat was messing with his head too.

“I don’t care for riddles.” 

“Your book, earlier, the one about architecture. The one that you couldn’t understand.” He takes a step back and you furrow your brows, how the hell did he know you didn’t understand it, but more importantly, obviously you spoke Galactic Basic.

“I didn’t realize you were capable of telling jokes.”

“You were holding it upside down.” His hand drops from your shoulder and he takes a step back, waiting for a response but any snarky comeback dies on your tongue as your face burns up, realizing he’s right. Is he leaning forward in anticipation? 

Scumbag.

“Good night, Mando.” As you start to close the door you can hear him chuckling. 

“Good night, princess.”  

Jackass. You hope that he’s ugly under the helmet. 

You also hope he’s brunette.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 1)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (1)

Masterlist (other parts here)

(Slow start, but it'll pick up, I promise! I love little details, how am I doing for my first ever fanfic? :))

(*Slow burn hopeless romance with Lucy Bronze x reader. :) Smut in chapter 8.*)

Eyes closed, she took a deep breath in and out. The sea breeze whipped a few strands of hair out of her messy bun. She opened her eyes to look at the last rays of daylight as the wind shifted suddenly. A storm was coming – she could feel it. She smiled and looked up at the darkening clouds. She loved the feeling of the darkness creeping in, and the storm. She was unsure whether it was the potential violence of it, or the uncertainty, but she still loved it nonetheless. She felt comfortable in that space. She looked around the beach and saw nobody. It was so different to Australia, where people would be sitting on the beach regardless of the weather. Her eyes searched the beach for any sign of life, and out of curiosity, she checked the little alcove at the top of the sand - barely big enough for a couple. Sure enough, as had been the past several sunsets, she saw her again. She was a petite thing with a kind face, yet it held a frown and sad eyes. She had her arms wrapped around her shins, her chin resting on her knees. Her clothes, although the right sizes, looked like they were drowning her, and her expensive white trainers were ruined by the sand. She held a thousand-mile stare over the water and YFN wondered what she was thinking about. She looked like the kindest person, with the face that had the potential to light up at the smallest of things. She had been here every sunset for the past four days – which is how long YFN had been in the city. Who knows the actual number of times the woman had actually been coming here.

YFN puzzled over her. She wanted to make sure she was okay, but didn’t want to overstep with a complete stranger. YFN knew that look though, and would never be able to forget if she didn’t at least try.

She stood and walked slowly over to the woman, careful to not startle her. As she stopped in front of her, the woman lifted her head from her knees, a small look of surprise and worry crossing her face. Though, the surprise was one of a people-pleasing nature, a look that said she didn’t want to interrupt someone to go out of their day just to speak to her.

YFN sat diagonally to her so as not to block her view or force a close proximity to sit beside her. “Hey, I hope you don't mind me coming over to say hello. I just noticed you seem to be the only person here to appreciate sunsets as much as I do.”

The woman gave a little smile and her eyes softened. “I never really watched sunsets much in my life to be fair. This is a completely new thing to me.” Her accent was unmistakably English though YFN had no idea from where as she was so new to the country.

“Why the change, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I think it calms me. It helps relax my mind.”

YFN nodded. “I get that. I’ve always been a sunset and beach baby though. It’s just so… peaceful? I’m not sure if that’s the right word.”

“Do you like sunrises as well then?”

“Interestingly enough, no. I really don’t. I can admire how pretty they are, sure. But they give me anxiety more than take it away.”

She rested her chin back on her knees. “Ah. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Is the accent that bad?”

“You sound quite English to be fair, but you speak a bit different. Where are you from?”

“Australia. Landed about four days ago, actually.”

“Australia?! I love Australia. No wonder you’re at the beach. You don’t sound very Australian though.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She laughed. “I’m YFN.”

“I’m Jordan.”

“Nice to meet you, Jordan.” She smiled and received a genuinely happy smile in return. “To be honest, you’re the first person I’ve had a proper conversation with here, and I hope you don’t take this in a negative way at all, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Jordan’s head lifted again in surprise, again that people pleasing worry that someone was going out of their way to worry about her was present. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. YFN continued to fill the void. “I’ve seen you here the past four days and I don’t mean to overstep, I just noticed you looked a little…upset…perhaps, and wanted to come over and offer myself as an ear or a friend, whatever you may need.”

Jordan’s lips twitched and she pressed them together as if she were trying to stop her tears from starting. Her chin quivered and she tilted her head back slightly in an attempt to stop the tears before they began.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Jordan.” She said her name to create a common ground between them. “Honestly, I pride myself on being the most understanding person you’ll ever meet so please, I’m right here if you need to talk, or need a hug. Anything you need. I’m right here.”

Jordan gave a little laugh and used the cuffs of her baggy shirt to wipe her tears away.

“I’m sorry I’m just blubbering away like a child.”

YFN pulled herself up the sand so she was sitting right next to her. “Don’t be sorry at all. I’m right here. To be honest, who else is better to talk to than a stranger you might not see again, hey?”

Jordan smiled and gave another little laugh, though the tears were increasing. YFN took a risk and put her arm around Jordan’s little body. She clutched her far shoulder and rubbed it to soothe her. Jordan leaned into her, her whole body a quivering mess slowly becoming undone.

“I…I…I’ve lo…lost everything.” Her hands went up to cover her face and YFN turned slightly, wrapped her other arm around her also, pulling her close. Her body was so little and fragile. She cried louder, letting herself be held by YFN.

“You’ll be okay, Jordan. Let it all out. I’m right here. Just take your time and let it all out.” Jordan relaxed a little and continued to cry, sniffling into her hands. YFN took a few tissues out of her pocket and slipped them into her hands.

“Th…th…tha…” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. After she calmed a bit, she leaned back, her eyes red and puffy, with an attempt at an apologetic smile. YFN gave back the most heartfelt, empathetic smile she could. She kept one arm around her.

“Oh – I definitely needed that.”

“I think you did. I think you need a bit more to be honest, but that’s a good start.”

Jordan blew her nose again and a shiver rippled through her spine. YFN rubbed her shoulder to give her some warmth.

“Would you like to talk about it, or we could sit in silence if you’d like?”

Jordan looked at her. She felt relaxed and like she could be herself around the woman. She felt like a genuine, nice human. Jordan also assumed from everything that she had no idea who she was and what she did for a living. That helped encourage her to open up. “I just feel so sad all the time lately. I don’t get it – it’s not me.” YFN stayed quiet and let her talk. It was healthy to talk. “I lost my partner, I lost my c…club of over ten years…it was my h…home. I lost my spot on the England squad. I can’t even represent my c…country. I’m just.. really not doing well at the moment, and I don’t know what to do or who to talk to.”

“You’re an athlete?”

Jordan nodded. “Football.”

“Ah, I heard that’s pretty popular here.”

Jordan laughed. “Yeah, we’re a bit obsessed over here to be fair.”

“Do you have a new club?”

“Yeah…yeah I do.”

“Was it your choice to leave?”

“Yeah it was. I wasn’t getting enough play time. I’m a footballer – I need to play. And my ex is at the club, and it was getting hard to see her every day. Leaving was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.”

“Did someone help you make that decision?”

“Yeah actually, I had a friend who I was speaking to about it all. She was really encouraging about it all, to be fair. She said leaving was the right choice.”

“Well I don’t know this friend but I’m one hundred percent certain she was right. You made the right choice for your career, and for your emotional health. It may feel like you’ve lost everything, but you need to look at it instead as a new beginning. Because that’s exactly what it is. New beginning with new friends in a new location. More play time. Time to yourself and away from your ex. This is such a positive step!”

Jordan smiled and her body relaxed as she looked up at YFN. “Really?”

“Really. I promise. It’s only hurting because it’s all so new. Change is scary but it’s a good thing for you. It’s exciting to be honest! So much more opportunity.”

Jordan nodded. “You’re right.” Her lip quivered again. “It’s just so hard at the moment and I feel so alone in all of this.” She shivered as a gust of cold wind swept over them.

YFN rubbed her shoulder again. “Who’s your friend who helped you make a decision? Can you call her to spend the night and help give you some advice and support?”

“L…Lucy. She should be in London for camp at the moment actually.”

“Perfect. Maybe we should call her and you can spend the night. Do you think she’d like that?”

“Y…eah. I just wouldn’t want to ruin her camp.”

“She’s your friend. I’m sure she will prioritise you above all else, hm? Friends come first.” Jordan looked unsure – her people pleasing face on again. “It’s okay to ask for support.” YFN whispered to soften the blow. She rubbed her shoulder. “Can I call her for you?”

Jordan nodded and took out her phone. She brought up the contact and gave the phone to YFN.

“I’ll be just a minute, okay?” YFN took the phone and moved away from Jordan. She shivered again, her little body not dealing well with the wind. YFN knelt down in front of her and took off her jacket, ignoring Jordan’s protests as she put it on her. Jordan gave her a thankful smile. YFN smiled back and stood, walking just far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to hear. She dialled the number.

“Hey Jords, what’s happening?” Again, another English accent, though this one was stronger and still just a mystery to YFN.

“Hi…Lucy? This isn’t Jordan, it’s YFN. You don’t know me, I only met Jordan ten minutes ago.”

“Is she okay?” The voice was immediately worried and concerned.

“She’s okay. We’re just at the beach. I noticed she’d been coming down here for a few days, and looking a little upset and lost. I just came over to make sure she’s okay and she’s not. I think she’s had a rough time lately with her ex and her club and the England squad she mentioned? Anyways, I think it’s best if she had a friend to talk to and spend the night with.”

“Absolutely. Which beach are you at? I’ll come right now.”

“I’m not sure actually, and I think that’ll be a bit too much for her. She needs support but I’ve noticed she doesn't like the idea of putting anyone out. I think you turning up here might be a bit too like an intervention. She mentioned she didn’t want to ruin your camp also.”

“Argh Jords.” She sounded frustrated and worried. “Okay well do you think you can get her to my place at all? I’m sorry to ask more of you.”

“No, it’s okay, I promise. I don’t mind at all. She seems like an amazing person, and so do you, to be honest. I just want her to be okay and know that she has support. It’s really important.”

“Yes, it is. Okay come to mine, Jords knows the address, and I’ll see you soon, okay? Let me know if you need me to come get you from anywhere.”

“Thanks Lucy, we’ll see you soon.”

YFN hung up and walked back over to Jordan who was zoned out again, staring at the sand. She knelt down and gave her phone back with a smile. “Lucy seems lovely. She’s excited to see you.”

“She’s a good friend.” Jordan smiled in return.

“She wants you to stay the night. Do you know how to get there from here?”

She nodded and paused, looked up at YFN. “Can you come with me?” She asked hesitantly, as she struggled to ask for help.

“Of course I can!” She took Jordan’s hands and helped pull her up. She went to take the jacket off and YFN caught her. “Nuh uh uh. Keep it for now, please. You look freezing.”

They walked up the beach to the stairs and ascended them, the wind getting even more aggressive. Jordan stopped at the top and took her shoes off one at a time to empty the sand out. The wind almost knocked her little body over as she was balancing and YFN caught her before she fell, holding her steady while she put her shoe back on.

“Jeez, you’re like my guardian angel.” Jordan laughed.

“Chivalry isn’t dead when I’m around, mate!” YFN put on a strong Australian accent.

They walked in comfortable silence for a bit, YFN not wanting to push her to talk or to get emotional again. The silence was the good kind though, the comfortable kind. They would brush against each other by accident, setting a pace perfect for them both. YFN looked up at the dark storm clouds above them and smelled petrichor. She loved the smell of coming rain.

“I never asked anything about you. What are you doing here?”

“Are you about to tell me to go back to my own country?”

Jordan laughed. “No, of course not!”

“I’ve always wanted to visit and was sick of waiting for people who always had excuses, so I decided to do it alone. Best decision. Have you travelled much?”

“I mean, I’ve travelled a lot with football, but mainly in Europe. We had the World Cup last year over in Australia though. That was the best time of my life. The beaches and the weather were incredible.”

“Do you have anywhere else you want to go?”

“So many places, but I always expected to go with Leah, you know?”

“Your ex?”

Jordan flinched, realising she had just mentioned Leah Williamson, Captain of the England Squad and world-wide known celebrity. She looked for a reaction at the name from YFN and didn’t get one. It comforted her that YFN genuinely had no clue about any of them. “Yeah… yeah. We sort of…fell apart. I don’t know how I can love someone else. She was perfect. I was so lucky.”

“What happened?” YFN asked softly. Jordan hesitated. YFN opened her mouth to give her an out.

“She grew. I didn’t. I stayed the same. Same old me. Never getting games, just happy to be there. Watching my friends all get game time and do amazing things while I was only there because I was dating the Captain. She learnt so much and I just… wasn’t enough anymore.” She was crying again, harder. So hard that she couldn’t see where she was going. YFN offered her arm and she took it, letting her lead the way. It started raining then, and it didn’t begin slowly, it came down hard, hard, harder. Big droplets. They were both soaked in an instant. They continued to walk, almost unable to hear each other in the rain. YFN saw a little alcove and pushed Jordan back into it so she would be dry for a bit. YFN, however, was still in the rain. The alcove was only big enough for one.

“Is it far?!” She almost shouted above the rain.

Jordan shook her head, and YFN could see that the rain had sombered her mood even further. “I lost everything. I lost her. I lost my family. My club. Everything.” She let herself feel her emotion loudly, being comforted by the deafening sound of the rain. YFN’s heart broke and she wrapped Jordan up into an all-encompassing hug. She knew the feeling all too well. Jordan sobbed loudly, as she clung to YFN as if she were a life support. YFN rested her chin on her head and rubbed her back. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I promise. I’ve got you.”

Jordan clung tighter, her whole body quivering with grief. YFN felt Jordan’s phone vibrate and let her continue to grieve, grabbing the phone out. Several missed calls from Lucy, as well as messages. Just as she was about to message back, she called again. YFN held Jordan tight against her with one arm in the little alcove, her other answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“YFN? Is she okay?”

She tightened her grip around the woman. “We’ve just had to make a stop with the rain.”

“There’s a storm. That’s why I’ve been calling. I’m in my car driving around to find you two. Where are you?” Lucy’s voice was worried and commanding.

YFN looked at the store window they were leant up against. “Daly’s Deli? Do you know where that is?”

“I’m just turning the corner now. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The phone hung up and YFN pocketed it. She placed her arm back around Jordan.

“Everything…everything…Leah…Arsenal…my England squad…my friends…”

“Jordan… you need to stop following this grief. Allow yourself to grieve, yes, but we need to think of the positives also, okay? New club, new people, new opportunities, more play time. It’s scary to start new but it’s incredible. You’re going to have so many new opportunities!”

A car quickly pulled up by the curb behind them and a woman stepped out, car still running, and came over. She didn’t seem to care about the rain, her focus on the two women holding each other in the alcove. Lucy’s dark brown hair was up in a messy bun, her clear framed glasses getting soaked in the rain. She wiped them as she hurried over. Her eyes met YFN’s and she paused, blinking. The two shared something, and then their attention shifted to Jordan.

“Jords, I’m here.” Lucy placed a hand on YFN’s back, and Jordan’s head, as if to protect them both in their little alcove.

“L…Lucy?”

“I’m here, Jords. Let’s get you warm and dry. Come on.”

Jordan refused to let go of YFN as they all made their way to the car. Lucy opened the door as the two slid into the back. Lucy got into the driver’s seat and drove the rest of the way to her house. She pulled into the garage where it was dry and they managed to get Jordan out and into the house.

“Alright Jords, straight into the shower please. Warm yourself up. I’ve put some clothes in there for you. I’ll be right out here, okay?”

Jordan nodded grabbed YFN’s arm. “You’re not leaving, are you?” It was a question that sounded like a plea.

YFN looked at Lucy. “If that’s okay.”

“Absolutely. She’s staying Jords. Now go warm up please.”

Lucy and YFN took a seat at the kitchen bench, both drying themselves off with towels.

“Coffee? Tea?”

“No thank you, I don’t drink either.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows like she was impressed. “She’s going to want you to stay the night, you know.”

“How do you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jords has been one of my closest mates for over a decade. I know.”

YFN couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. “I don’t know if that would be appropriate. We did only meet an hour ago..”

If YFN didn’t know better, she’d say that Lucy looked disappointed. “Well, you’re more than welcome. I have a spare room and spare clothes. If you do end up going, at least let me drive you there so you avoid the rain.”

“I love the rain.” YFN almost whispered.

“Me too.” Lucy stated, sharing a look. “But we can’t have you getting sick or walking home alone. Where is home, by the way?”

“Ah, I’m just staying at a hotel in town.”

Her dark eyebrows raised again. “You’re not from here?”

“Australian. Visiting. Arrived four days ago.”

Lucy looked even more intrigued. “I love Australia. That explains the accent. How long are you here for?”

“I didn’t really set a timeline, I was hoping to be in England for at least two weeks, then onto some European countries.”

“Are you travelling with a partner..?”

YFN smiled at the question. “No partner, just me.”